Indisputable (5 page)

Tatum

“Mrs. Marsden?”  I shake the quiet old lady on
her shoulder as she nods off into her roast beef and mashed potatoes. 
“Monica, wake up dear,” I say a little bit louder.  She startles in her
wheel chair, knocking her fork to the ground.

“Oh my,” she cries out, distraught.

“I’ll get it, Monica.  Let me get you a new one,”
I reply soothingly.  She hasn’t been feeling well lately and the fatigue
is really unlike her usual cheery self.  I cross the dining hall to the
kitchen to retrieve a clean fork. 

The dining hall, kitchen, and common room are all one
big area with hallways running down each of three sides where the bedrooms
are.  The walls are sterile and white, the floors covered in white
tiles.  The dining table seats twelve and tonight it’s all full. 
Many of the residents prefer to have meals brought to their rooms, and we try
to accommodate their wishes.  Even in old age, some people just aren’t
social creatures.  The kitchen area looks like a normal residential
kitchen, except slightly larger.  The space is slightly outdated with
white appliances, white walls, and gray countertops.  We use the kitchen
to bake and make simple snacks, but the meals are prepared in larger kitchen by
a chef downstairs.   

By the time I get back to the table, Monica’s nodded
off again. 

“Wake up you old bat!” Lucy berates from across the
table.  “Somebody wake her up or I’m gonna hit her with my roll!” 
Just as she poises her arm to lob the overcooked bread, Kelsey grabs it from
her hand. 

“Give it up, Lucy.  If you aren’t going to eat
it, I’m throwing it away,” says Kelsey 

“How dare you!”  Lucy’s temper flares. 
She’s a feisty one, still well within her own mind at 89 years old. 
Sometimes the Alzheimer’s patients frustrate her.  But she can be a real
sweetheart when she’s minding her own business.

“I’m going to take Mrs. Marsden to bed.  Wrap her
dinner, will you?  In case she’s hungry later.”  Unlocking the wheels
of her chair, I wheel Mrs. Marsden from the table without her waking up. 
Poor woman looks beat.  We walk down to 6B where I had already laid out
her pajamas at the start of my shift.  “Monica, let’s get you to bed,
okay?” I say, shaking her gently.

She rouses, and though looking exhausted, I still get
a simple nod of her head.  I try to change her as swiftly as possible
before tucking her into her sheets. 

“Goodnight.  Call for me if you get hungry. 
Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”  I give her hand a firm squeeze before
turning out the light. 

Through the darkness, she calls for me. 
Weakly.  Quietly, I hear, “Tatum?”

“Yes, Monica.  What is it?”

“Sit with me a minute.”  It’s a statement more
than a question.  She knows I will, like I always do when she asks. 

“Sure,” I respond while I take a seat on her bed
beside her feet.

“Do you believe in angels?” she asks me, her voice
raspy and thick with sleep.

I ponder her question for a moment.  My mom was
always too busy getting high to take me to church, let alone teach me any sort
of belief system while I was growing up.  Of course by 18 years old, I’m
not ignorant to the different factions of religion.  But I just can’t
understand why I’ve been allowed so much hurt and disappointment in my life,
why I have to work so hard for happiness, if there’s a higher power, angels,
god, whatever have you.  Which leads me to answer her, “I’m not sure,”
because I don’t want to disappoint her, but I can’t outright tell her no when
she may be dying in the very near future.

“You should.  I think you’re an angel,” she says
sincerely.

“I’m no angel, Monica.  I’m just Tatum, your
nurse’s aide.  I do my job because I care, but it has nothing to do with
divine power.”

“Maybe you care because of divine power.  Not
many people can do what you do, with the heart that you have.

If only she knew I didn’t really have a heart. 

“I think I’m going to die,” is the next statement out
of her mouth.  Many patients begin to talk about death when the time
nears, so I’m not overly surprised by her announcement.  However, she
doesn’t look like death is imminent to me, so curious, I press her further.

“What makes you say that?”

“It just feels like the right time.  But I’m
scared.  What’s going to happen to me?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.  “But I do
believe you’ll figure it out when the time is right.  It’s scary because
it’s a mystery.  Whatever you feel, you may feel fear for a moment, but it
will be fleeting, then everything will be revealed to you.”  She takes in
my words with a look of relief on her face.  I wish I had a better way to
help her.

“Thank you, Tatum.  I’d like to sleep now if
that’s okay.”

“Of course.  Give me a holler if you need
me.  Goodnight,” I say, patting her leg as I get up to leave.

“Goodnight, dearie.”

The dining hall is empty when I return, which means
Kelsey and the other CNA’s must be getting the others situated, whether it’s in
bed or to watch a movie or play a game.  The home I work for has a range
of patients, from those with diseases such as Alzheimer’s and Dementia, to
elderly who are mentally stable but unable to care for themselves in their
homes for whatever reason.  There are four staff on tonight to the 21
beds, and we also have a live-in nurse who has an apartment upstairs. 

There are two other girls working tonight besides
Kelsey and Myself.  Danielle and Megan are two sixteen year olds who
attend the same high school as I do.  Simply put, we don’t get
along.  They’re young and dramatic, and I don’t have time to play into
their insignificant problems about boys or catty girls.  More than once
have I heard them whisper about how I’m such a bitch.  Whatever.  I’m
not here to make friends, I’m here to make a living.

Kelsey and I, however, do get along well.  I
consider her one of my closest friends.  We’ve worked the same schedule
since I needed to pick up fulltime hours last year.  She also doesn’t like
immature teenagers, so we bonded over our mutual annoyance.  In the past,
I’ve been able to count on her when I’d found myself in a tight spot, and I’ve
recognized a kindred spirit in her. 

“Hey, Tatum.  Are you done with Mrs. Marsden?”
She calls from the end of the hallway.

“Yeah, what would you like me to do?”

“Can you come here and help me lift Helen into bed
quick?  Then would you mind starting dinner clean up?”  I love dinner
clean up.  Washing dishes is such a mindless task.

After situating Helen and cleaning up dinner, Kelsey
and I release the younger girls, so the two of us get comfortable in the
sitting room.  She turns the television on to some detective show she’s
obsessed with.  Me, not so much.  I lived my own real version of a
detective show last year, and it was more than enough reality for me. 

“Here, I brought this for us,” she says, tossing me a
bag of Doritos. 

“You brought us chips?”

“Mmm hmm, and this.”  She jumps off the couch and
runs into the kitchen.  When she returns she’s carrying a family sized tub
of sour cream and chive dip.

“Oh my God, how did you know this is my favorite?” I
exclaim, while tearing into the bag of chips, scooping up some dip when she
offers it to me.  “Yum.”

She laughs at my theatrics.  “I thought you might
be a fan.  It’s my favorite too.  Since they started the “no eating
our food” rule here,” she says with air quotes, “I’ve been starving by the time
I’m off work.  We can alternate bringing something to share if you
want.  Or I can bring it all, if it’s hard on you financially.  I
know the free food was a major plus for you.”

I kick off my shoes, slipping my feet beneath me on
the sofa.  I’m embarrassed she knows how financially strapped I am. 
“Nah, I can manage a few snacks.  I’m poor but not that
poor.”  I watch as
she takes a chip covered with dip and slips it into her mouth. 

“How is everything going lately for you?  School
started back up again today, right?”

“Yup.  Final semester of my senior year.  I
already ended up in Mr. Stephenson’s office, too,” I tell her.

“What? Why?  I hated that guy.  He’s such a
dick.”

I fill her in on this afternoon’s events, trying hard
not to laugh as her face turns red and she cracks up at my antics.  When
I’m done talking, she settles down in her seat before asking me, “Okay, that’s
funny, but seriously though, why were you so annoyed with him?  I get it,
I’d be pissed if my teacher was off getting a bj while I had to wait for him to
show up.  But you’re usually so cool and collected about shit.”

“I know,” I reply, slightly ashamed.  “I think it
was a combination of everything.  Here comes this young new teacher,
looking the way he did, probably thinks he’s a hot shot.  I could hear
girls already swooning the moment they set eyes on him, you know?  He’s
ten minutes late, and frankly, I just don’t have time for that.  Now, I
have to spend the next two weeks with him, and I just know he’s going to make
it hell for me.  He looks like he’d be a vindictive bastard.”  I
leave out the part about meeting him the week before and our short make-out
session before I bailed in a very Tatum-like fashion.  That’s too much
sharing for one eventful day.

She clucks her tongue at me.  “Or maybe, he’s
going to be totally into you, and you can bang your way through calculus,” she
says with a lift of her thinly plucked brows. 

“Shut up!” I throw a decorative pillow at her. 
“That’s disgusting.”

“Well, you did notice his fly.  What were you
doing looking at his crotch?” she teases. 

I can’t stop the blush heating my cheeks.  She
has a point, but I’m not admitting that.  “Give me a break!  His
pants were super noticeable.  It was just right there!  I bet I’m not
the only one who saw before I called him out.”

“Maybe…” she trails off. 

“Okay, so maybe I was really immature about it, but
for some reason he just rubbed me the wrong way.”

“Maybe you should get him to rub you the right way—“

Oh, I already have, Kels.  I already have. 

“Fuck off.  Since I have to spend tomorrow and
the next two weeks dealing with the repercussions, can we drop it now?”  I
ask through her hysterical laughter. 

Kelsey nods at me, still not composed enough to speak,
and we sit companionably as she gets sucked into her show for the rest of our
shift.  When the two night NOCs show up at eleven, we say our goodbyes,
and I climb into my small Honda Accord.

My phone buzzes as I pull into the parking lot of my
apartment complex.

Can I come over now?
 

Wyatt.  I forgot I had invited him over
earlier.  The text is a welcome surprise and I type out my reply. 
Sure
ill be ready in 30.

Unlocking my small studio apartment, I immediately
head for the bathroom.  The room is one big open area with a kitchen off
to the right of the door, my bed off to the left.  Straight ahead is one
door leading to the bathroom and a small closet off to the right from the
bathroom.  I have a small TV I found at a thrift store sitting across from
my bed on a black dresser, also from the thrift store.  That’s pretty much
it. 

I stole my bed, bedding, and of course clothes from my
mom’s house when I moved out, and everything else I owned fit into one small
suitcase.  I haven’t decorated or done anything to liven up the
place.  I don’t plan on being here long enough to care. 

Entering the bathroom, I fling my clothes somewhere in
the vicinity of my laundry basket and run the water for a quick shower. 
Nothing is a mood killer more than the smell of old people, stale food, and
dirty diapers.  I quickly soap my body and brush my teeth, quite aware
that I’m going to get dirty again in a very short amount of time.

Slipping on a tank top sans bra and a pair of sweats,
I heat up a bowl of leftover soup and plop down on my bed to wait.  It’s
the only seating area in here besides a few bar stools in the kitchen. 
Not ten minutes later, there’s a rapid knock on my door. 

“Come in!”

Wyatt pokes his head through before slipping
inside.  “Hey, Tate.  How was work?” he asks as he takes a seat next
to me.  I turn to face him while slurping down the remnants of soggy
vegetables.  Sexy.

“Oh you know, typical night.  What have you been
up to?” I ask, setting down my now empty soup bowl on the floor.  I hope
he keeps the chit chat to a minimum.  I’m beat and have school in the
morning.

“Cole and I have been shooting some pool for the last
couple of hours.  I’ve just been killin’ time until you called, but you
never did.”

“Sorry about that, I kind of forgot you were coming
over,” I tell him honestly.  The look of surprise on his face isn’t hard
to miss and I almost feel bad.  Almost. 

“Really?  I mean, yeah, you are pretty busy,
huh,” he quickly recovers.