Read Online One Last Scream by Kevin O'Brien - Free Book Online
Authors: Kevin O'Brien
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slightly tattered brown sofa, a mini-refrigerator, and a vending machine, along with a coffeemaker on the counter, not far from the sink.
Karen poured herself a cup of their rotgut coffee. She leaned against the counter and checked her cell phone. Amelia Faraday had called.
She had thirty-one clients, and Amelia was the one she cared about the most. At first, Amelia had reminded Karen of someone else, someone she’d lost. Karen figured that maybe by helping Amelia solve her problems, she could help herself. It wouldn’t raise the dead, but maybe she could make some of her own pain go away.
She pushed a couple of buttons on the cell and played the voice mail. Amelia’s slightly shrill, panic-filled voice was like an assault: “Karen? Karen, I left you a couple of messages at home…” She let out a little gasp, then started to cry. “God, Karen, I’m in trouble. Something terrible has happened. I really need to talk with you. Please…please, call me back…”
She was about to hit the last call return button when Earl swaggered into the lounge. A gauze bandage was wrapped around his wounded arm.
“You!” the creepy little man growled. He stabbed a finger in the air at her. “You’re just lucky I don’t need stitches….”
Karen put down the phone. “Earl, I’m sorry about your arm—”
“‘Sorry’ doesn’t begin to cover it,” he said, cutting her off.
The nurse took off her iPod headset, sat forward in her chair, and watched them.
“I’m gonna make sure your old man gets some bed restraints. They ought to keep him tied up twenty-four seven.” Earl inched closer to Karen until he was almost screaming in her face. “Better yet, they should stick that crazy old fuck in Ward E with the rest of the lunatics before he kills someone. I don’t need this shit. That crazy old fuck, I’m gonna see to it they lock him up—”
“No,” Karen said resolutely. “No, Earl. You’re going to see to it the kitchen knives are locked up. Over a third of the residents here have Alzheimer’s or some other form of dementia, and you’re leaving knives out where anyone can get at them. My father isn’t responsible for his actions, but you are . What’s more, you wouldn’t have that cut on your arm if you’d let me handle him.”
His mouth open, he glared at her and shook his head.
“And one last thing, Earl, if you call my father a ‘crazy old fuck’ again, I swear, I’ll punch your lights out—or I’ll pay one of the attendants here to do it for me.”
The nurse watching them let out an abrupt laugh.
Earl kept shaking his head. “Listen, don’t you threaten me—”
“Earl?”
He swiveled around.
Her arms folded, Roseann stood in the doorway of the employee lounge. “Karen’s right about locking up the kitchen utensils. I’ve talked to you about that before. It better not happen again. Now, don’t you have some potatoes to peel or something?”
With a defiant grunt, he turned to glare one more time at Karen, then stomped out of the room.
Roseann raised an eyebrow at the nurse. “Show’s over, Michelle. So was your break, as of ten minutes ago.”
Nodding, the nurse took one last bite of her sandwich, gathered up her things, and ducked out of the lounge.
“Thanks for running interference,” Karen said, giving Roseann a weary smile. “How’s my dad?”
“Sedated.” Roseann plopped down at the table. “We’ll give him a rain check on the ice cream. Listen, you and I need to talk about making some adjustments to Frank’s routine.”
Karen nodded. “I’ve seen that coming for a while now.” She looked down into her coffee cup. Yes, she’d seen it coming, but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the inevitable. It meant giving up on him a little more.
“Do yourself a favor,” she heard Roseann say. “Talk to a counselor or join a family of Alzheimer’s support group. In all this time, you haven’t gotten any help at all. And it’s not just about what’s going on with
Karen poured herself a cup of their rotgut coffee. She leaned against the counter and checked her cell phone. Amelia Faraday had called.
She had thirty-one clients, and Amelia was the one she cared about the most. At first, Amelia had reminded Karen of someone else, someone she’d lost. Karen figured that maybe by helping Amelia solve her problems, she could help herself. It wouldn’t raise the dead, but maybe she could make some of her own pain go away.
She pushed a couple of buttons on the cell and played the voice mail. Amelia’s slightly shrill, panic-filled voice was like an assault: “Karen? Karen, I left you a couple of messages at home…” She let out a little gasp, then started to cry. “God, Karen, I’m in trouble. Something terrible has happened. I really need to talk with you. Please…please, call me back…”
She was about to hit the last call return button when Earl swaggered into the lounge. A gauze bandage was wrapped around his wounded arm.
“You!” the creepy little man growled. He stabbed a finger in the air at her. “You’re just lucky I don’t need stitches….”
Karen put down the phone. “Earl, I’m sorry about your arm—”
“‘Sorry’ doesn’t begin to cover it,” he said, cutting her off.
The nurse took off her iPod headset, sat forward in her chair, and watched them.
“I’m gonna make sure your old man gets some bed restraints. They ought to keep him tied up twenty-four seven.” Earl inched closer to Karen until he was almost screaming in her face. “Better yet, they should stick that crazy old fuck in Ward E with the rest of the lunatics before he kills someone. I don’t need this shit. That crazy old fuck, I’m gonna see to it they lock him up—”
“No,” Karen said resolutely. “No, Earl. You’re going to see to it the kitchen knives are locked up. Over a third of the residents here have Alzheimer’s or some other form of dementia, and you’re leaving knives out where anyone can get at them. My father isn’t responsible for his actions, but you are . What’s more, you wouldn’t have that cut on your arm if you’d let me handle him.”
His mouth open, he glared at her and shook his head.
“And one last thing, Earl, if you call my father a ‘crazy old fuck’ again, I swear, I’ll punch your lights out—or I’ll pay one of the attendants here to do it for me.”
The nurse watching them let out an abrupt laugh.
Earl kept shaking his head. “Listen, don’t you threaten me—”
“Earl?”
He swiveled around.
Her arms folded, Roseann stood in the doorway of the employee lounge. “Karen’s right about locking up the kitchen utensils. I’ve talked to you about that before. It better not happen again. Now, don’t you have some potatoes to peel or something?”
With a defiant grunt, he turned to glare one more time at Karen, then stomped out of the room.
Roseann raised an eyebrow at the nurse. “Show’s over, Michelle. So was your break, as of ten minutes ago.”
Nodding, the nurse took one last bite of her sandwich, gathered up her things, and ducked out of the lounge.
“Thanks for running interference,” Karen said, giving Roseann a weary smile. “How’s my dad?”
“Sedated.” Roseann plopped down at the table. “We’ll give him a rain check on the ice cream. Listen, you and I need to talk about making some adjustments to Frank’s routine.”
Karen nodded. “I’ve seen that coming for a while now.” She looked down into her coffee cup. Yes, she’d seen it coming, but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the inevitable. It meant giving up on him a little more.
“Do yourself a favor,” she heard Roseann say. “Talk to a counselor or join a family of Alzheimer’s support group. In all this time, you haven’t gotten any help at all. And it’s not just about what’s going on with
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