moan, but she never woke up. And then that horrible woman crawled on all fours, out of the room again. Thank God she didn’t look at me again. Her eyes. Her terrible eyes…”
“And who was this awful woman you thought you saw, Mrs. Ferrin?” Kelly asked soothingly, as if calming a child who’d had a bad dream.
“It was Mrs. Weekes…that awful Mrs. Weekes…”
Mrs. Weekes? Mrs. Weekes indeed. Mrs. Weekes was a vegetable, catatonic; Kelly had been wiping the drool from her chin since she’d begun here. Yes, her blankly staring eyes were unsettling—the whites were so alarmingly bloodshot that they appeared entirely red—but she was as harmless as a flower vase, and no more capable of movement. Kelly straightened up. “Mrs. Weekes won’t harm you or Mrs. Carter, Mrs Ferrin, don’t you worry.”
“Watch her!” the old woman whispered. “Watch her!”
* * *
It was morning at last and Kelly would soon be leaving. Thank God. Third shift was a hard one to acclimate to. She craved coffee and breakfast in the cafeteria; she didn’t think she could wait long enough to eat at home. Her charges were beginning to awaken, and the first shift to trickle in. She finished up her final round…and out of some odd curiosity, poked her head into Mrs. Weekes’ room. She had peeked in on her twice during the night, but of course both times the elderly woman had lain there unmoving, a dark shape in the gloom. She was currently alone in her room; another nurse had told Kelly that Mrs. Weekes’ room-mate had passed away the week before Kelly started.
Kelly expected to again see a prone, silent husk, if this time at least lit by the gilded sunlight slanting through the curtains. Instead, what she saw plucked her heart half from her chest. Mrs. Weekes sat upright in bed, her back propped against two pillows, and she was staring at the door as if she had been expecting Kelly or at least someone to enter just then. Her red eyes were dark against pallid wrinkled flesh. The old woman’s mouth spread into a toothless grin.
“Hello, my dear,” she cooed softly in a British accent. “Would I be able to get a cup of tea?”
“Tea?” Kelly hesitated, strangely, before stepping into the room. “Mrs. Weekes…I thought…this is…this is the first time I’ve heard you speak.”
“Yes, well…I haven’t been well, I’m afraid, but I feel much better today. Might I also have two pieces of toast with marmalade? I’m dreadfully hungry, my dear!”
“Oh, yes…sure…of course.” And Kelly darted from the room to see to her patient’s needs, her thoughts all aswirl.
* * *
Kelly knew better than to grow attached to her patients, but how could a human being not? She’d grow tougher with time, she was assured, but she was not certain she ever wanted to grow so tough that the death of someone like Mrs. Ferrin would not affect her.
She’d only been at Eastborough Nursing Home three weeks, and already she had seen them take out Mrs. Carter and now poor Mrs. Ferrin. Kelly was so upset when she heard the news that she even cried in front of her boss, but she didn’t really care what the others thought of her. She found too many of them to be callous.
If it was any consolation, however, some patients apparently improved at the same time others declined. Mrs. Weekes, for instance, seemed to be strengthening every day. She was amicable and charming in the way that Kelly remembered Mrs. Carter as having been in the beginning. But despite this charm, Kelly found herself avoiding the woman more and more, looking in on her only when absolutely necessary. And at night, not at all…because a few nights ago she could have sworn Mrs. Weekes lay awake in the dark, her red eyes open and gazing at Kelly under the cover of murk.
But she couldn’t shirk her duties altogether, could she? So this morning she went to look in on the old woman’s needs.
But the bed lay starkly empty, for the first time
“And who was this awful woman you thought you saw, Mrs. Ferrin?” Kelly asked soothingly, as if calming a child who’d had a bad dream.
“It was Mrs. Weekes…that awful Mrs. Weekes…”
Mrs. Weekes? Mrs. Weekes indeed. Mrs. Weekes was a vegetable, catatonic; Kelly had been wiping the drool from her chin since she’d begun here. Yes, her blankly staring eyes were unsettling—the whites were so alarmingly bloodshot that they appeared entirely red—but she was as harmless as a flower vase, and no more capable of movement. Kelly straightened up. “Mrs. Weekes won’t harm you or Mrs. Carter, Mrs Ferrin, don’t you worry.”
“Watch her!” the old woman whispered. “Watch her!”
* * *
It was morning at last and Kelly would soon be leaving. Thank God. Third shift was a hard one to acclimate to. She craved coffee and breakfast in the cafeteria; she didn’t think she could wait long enough to eat at home. Her charges were beginning to awaken, and the first shift to trickle in. She finished up her final round…and out of some odd curiosity, poked her head into Mrs. Weekes’ room. She had peeked in on her twice during the night, but of course both times the elderly woman had lain there unmoving, a dark shape in the gloom. She was currently alone in her room; another nurse had told Kelly that Mrs. Weekes’ room-mate had passed away the week before Kelly started.
Kelly expected to again see a prone, silent husk, if this time at least lit by the gilded sunlight slanting through the curtains. Instead, what she saw plucked her heart half from her chest. Mrs. Weekes sat upright in bed, her back propped against two pillows, and she was staring at the door as if she had been expecting Kelly or at least someone to enter just then. Her red eyes were dark against pallid wrinkled flesh. The old woman’s mouth spread into a toothless grin.
“Hello, my dear,” she cooed softly in a British accent. “Would I be able to get a cup of tea?”
“Tea?” Kelly hesitated, strangely, before stepping into the room. “Mrs. Weekes…I thought…this is…this is the first time I’ve heard you speak.”
“Yes, well…I haven’t been well, I’m afraid, but I feel much better today. Might I also have two pieces of toast with marmalade? I’m dreadfully hungry, my dear!”
“Oh, yes…sure…of course.” And Kelly darted from the room to see to her patient’s needs, her thoughts all aswirl.
* * *
Kelly knew better than to grow attached to her patients, but how could a human being not? She’d grow tougher with time, she was assured, but she was not certain she ever wanted to grow so tough that the death of someone like Mrs. Ferrin would not affect her.
She’d only been at Eastborough Nursing Home three weeks, and already she had seen them take out Mrs. Carter and now poor Mrs. Ferrin. Kelly was so upset when she heard the news that she even cried in front of her boss, but she didn’t really care what the others thought of her. She found too many of them to be callous.
If it was any consolation, however, some patients apparently improved at the same time others declined. Mrs. Weekes, for instance, seemed to be strengthening every day. She was amicable and charming in the way that Kelly remembered Mrs. Carter as having been in the beginning. But despite this charm, Kelly found herself avoiding the woman more and more, looking in on her only when absolutely necessary. And at night, not at all…because a few nights ago she could have sworn Mrs. Weekes lay awake in the dark, her red eyes open and gazing at Kelly under the cover of murk.
But she couldn’t shirk her duties altogether, could she? So this morning she went to look in on the old woman’s needs.
But the bed lay starkly empty, for the first time
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