Sleepless Nights

by Pierre C. Arseneault

  “Just Richard, Agnes. Please, I’m not a priest anymore. Remember?” he said, setting his own bowl of oatmeal down before him. He picked up his spoon in his pale white bony hand and scooped a spoonful as he watched Agnes already begin to scrap the bottom of her bowl. With a mouthful he looked at her and spoke “You’ve got quite the appetite this morning.”

  Agnes scrapped the last bit from the bottom of her bowl and stopped to lick her spoon leaving a smear of oatmeal on the dark skin of her chin. “Oh yes, and I’m still hungry,” she said.

  Twisting to look around, Richard tried to see if any of the staff would notice him in his attempt to catch their attention. At that moment an age spotted hand placed a bowl of oatmeal before the tiny old woman saying “Here, you can have mine. I’m not hungry this morning.” Walking past the pair, the old man in dress pants and long sleeve shirt did this without as much as a glance backwards.

  “Going to bed, Victor?” called Richard.

  They could hear Victor dragging his feet, his shoes scrapping against the floor as he slowly walked on. “Yes, I’m very tired.”

  Agnes scooped up a large spoonful of the oatmeal and ate it. She tilted the bowl to scoop up more and paused. “I wonder what time Lenard will be home tonight.” She took a large spoon-full and popped it in her mouth.

  Richard sank a little in his chair as he let his disappointment wash over him. Agnes’ moment of clarity was already fading slowly but he could see that she felt physically very well at this moment. At least this gave him some comfort.

  5

  Sitting on a bench in the staff room changing her shoes, Maureen was getting ready to head home. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how Agnes had made her day. Her eyes shining brightly as Agnes said Maureen’s name had overwhelmed her with a happiness that she rarely felt in her job. Taking care of people who were sometimes lost to the world sometimes took its toll on her spirits.

  Sitting up, she took the chain that had fallen out of her white uniform and ran her fingers over the pendant. A cross of silver given to her by her mother on the day of her confirmation, many years ago and she had worn it almost every day since. She sat quietly, grasping this symbol of her faith between her thumb and forefinger. She sat deep in thought until the opening of the door startled her.

  A tall black man dressed in a white uniform had walked into the staff room.

  “Darcy, did you hear about Agnes? She’s having one of her good days again,” she said with a wide joyous smile.

  “Great! Terrific!” said Darcy sarcastically as he opened his locker, pulling out his work shoes and sitting on the bench.

  Shocked, the smile on Maureen’s face faded quickly as her forehead crinkled into a puzzled look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Darcy slipped a foot into a white work shoe, sat up and without looking at her spoke. “It makes my job so much easier when they’re completely lost. You know how it is, Maureen. It’s just easier that way,” he said, bending down to tie his other shoe.

  Maureen quickly snatched up her purse, muttering “Fucking asshole” under her breath and stormed out of the staff room. She could barely hear Darcy call “What?” as she headed down the hallway.

  6

  The laundry cart’s wheel squealed slightly as Peggy pushed it down the hallway of the Sleepy Meadows Rest Home. Making her rounds to change the bedding was a duty that not many liked. Knowing full well she was the new girl, the rest of the staff had pawned off this task on her. And since only being four weeks into her new job, the last thing she wanted to do was complain about something she felt was no big deal.

  “Hi Florence, how are we today?” she asked with a large smile that the residents loved so much.

  Sitting in a chair near the window, Florence sat starring outside at the changing leaves of the fall season. “I miss Cecile,” she said in a soft trembling voice.

  Pausing in the middle of stripping the bed, Peggy looked over at the old woman by the window and replied. “I’m sorry about Cecile. He was a lovely man with such a lively laugh. I wish I would have had time to know him better. We all miss him too you know, but he’s with God now.”

  “That’s what Victor told me last night,” replied Florence. “I haven’t slept a full night since his heart attack you know. But Victor comes by to keep me company some nights.”

  Placing the dirty linen in her cart, Peggy returned with an arm full of fresh smelling clean ones and placed the stack on a chair next to the bed. “I can ask Dr Williams to prescribe you something to help you sleep if you want. I’ll ask him to come by and see you when he comes by later today. Ok?” she said as she stuffed a pillow into a pillow case. Peggy turned around as she heard someone come in behind her. Darcy was wheeling in a wheelchair with a folded bathrobe placed neatly in the seat.

  “It time for your bath, Florence. They asked me to take you there,” said Darcy, stopping the wheelchair in front of her as he produced a fake smile.

  “I’m too tired. Tell them to come and get me tomorrow,” replied Florence without taking her eyes off the red leaves in the tree outside.

  Darcy’s smile faded as he took the bathrobe out of the seat. “You know I can’t do that, Florence.”

  Spreading the bedspread, Peggy spoke “She didn’t sleep well last night.”

  Darcy looked at her with a crumple forehead. “I’m just doing my job is all,” he said turning to the old woman “Please, Florence.”

  The old woman started to get up but stumbled back into her chair. Darcy walked around and reached for her arm to help her get up but the bitter old lady swatted his hand away with hers and struggled to her feet. Slowly she turned, grabbing hold of the arm rest of the wheelchair. Darcy grabbed hold of the handles and steadied the chair as best he could. She dropped herself into the chair, a loud popping sound echoed in the room as her hip joint popped into place. Florence let out a groan as she felt a wave of pain from her arthritis wash over her. Beads of sweat appearing on her forehead as Darcy release the brake on the chair, pushing it out of the room while glancing backwards as he rounded the corner.

  Jenna, with her purse in one hand and a coat draped over her arm popped her head into the room. “There you are,” she said to Peggy who was just finishing the bed. “You don’t have to worry about Victor’s bed. I did it last night.”

  “Oh. Thanks! He’s still in bed so I wasn’t sure how I was going to change his sheets,” replied Peggy.

  Jenna smiled “I know. Victor always sleeps most of the day. That’s why I did it last night. He says fifty years of working graveyard shifts will do that to you. And after six years of working them myself, I already believe him.” Both ladies laughed briefly at the truth in the sarcasm. Peggy watched as Jenna walk away while she turned her cart around in the hallway. “See you later, Jenna.”

  7

  Standing at the sink in the small kitchen, Maureen; back to work for her next shift was rinsing a plastic glass. She placed it in the dishwasher among the other dirty dishes; closing the dishwasher she stood motionless for a moment.

  “What are you doing?” said a voice behind her. Maureen, clearly startled, turned and smiled at Jenna.

  “I was just trying to remember what Amanda told me earlier. Florence saw Doctor Williams today and he gave her something to help her sleep. I was sure Amanda said she had not given her any yet.” She held up a pill bottle and gave Jenna a serious look. “I think she gave her one before she left. And I just gave her another one.”

  “Two won’t harm her, Maureen. She could sleep through a Tornado, sure but it won’t hurt her,” said Jenna in an attempt to reassure her co-worker.

  “I can’t believe I did that. I think I’m gonna throw up.”

  “Florence will get the best night’s sleep she has had in years. That’s all.” Jenna took the bottle from Maureen and walked away saying “I’ll put them with the rest of her m
eds so you won’t have to worry about it again.”

  8

  Standing in a meadow of tall grass spotted with bright yellow flowers was a young woman, her long blond hair flowing in the gentle breeze. Her pure-white sundress glowing in the bright warm sunlight as she ran her hands over the top of the grass. There was peace and tranquility here that she had not felt in decades. The few white fluffy clouds were sailing gently through the otherwise clear blue sky. A sense of familiarity washed over her as she looked over and saw a young man standing on the horizon facing her. She was dreaming again and she knew it. She had gazed upon this youthful face but mere hours ago when reminiscing through an old photo album of her youth.

  “Cecile?” she asked, knowing full well it was a young version of her husband standing before her.

  “Yes, Florence; it’s me,” spoke the man as he smiled and began walking towards her.

  “Oh, Cecile! I’ve missed you so much the last few weeks.” She spoke softly as she felt a tear run down her cheek. At that moment she noticed her shadow rapidly growing before her. It stretched out over the tall grass like a blanket of blackness enveloping everything it touched. Spinning around, she saw the sun disappearing quickly over the horizon as the light grew dim. The dark clouds began appearing and blackening the sky and she could feel a sudden dampness in the air weighing down on her. Her sundress clung to her youthful body as she felt the air become warmer, making it hard to breath. Soon there was no blue in the sky but only dark clouds and growing darkness. She turned her gaze to the horizon before her only to find that Cecil was nowhere to be seen. He was gone. In the blink of an eye it was now nighttime. The dark black clouds parted, revealing a full moon just above the area where Cecile had stood mere moments ago. The glow of the moon pulsed brighter for a moment and when it dimmed again she could see a man standing on the horizon. She knew this was no longer Cecile but someone else. Someone dark and sinister, and yet she felt no fear. She could only make out a dark silhouette against the moonlit sky. At that very instant she felt the ground move under her feet and the sky spun above her. Feeling a sudden rush of blackness overcome her senses, her knees buckled underneath her. As a rush of warmth came over her, she felt a moan escape her lips as she awakened from the dream and opened her eyes to see the shadowy figure standing directly before her. She felt a hand on her side just below her breast and all went black before her eyes.

  9

  Upon opening her eyes, Florence saw Maureen standing above her with a worried look on her face.

  “Florence? Are you ok, Florence?” she asked with a worried tone in her voice.

  The elderly woman beaded with perspiration, still in a drug induced haze of slumber and mumbled something incoherent at first. Maureen made out two words out of the entire sentence. One being “dream” the other being “black”. Without the rest of it she had no way of knowing what this was about. Maureen stood for a moment as she watched Florence drift off to sleep again. Her breathing steady and calm now as a small smile spread across the old woman’s face.

  “Is she alright?” she heard a voice ask shaking her out of her own haze of worry. Maureen saw Richard standing in the doorway in his black housecoat holding a cup in one hand and a book in the other.

  “She’s fine. What are doing up, Father?” she asked as she straightened Florence’s blankets before walking out of the room.

  “I was getting some tea. I get bouts of insomnia but the tea usually helps.” Maureen took hold of Richard’s arm and began to walk with him to his room. “Tell me, Father Richard, how do you like living here so far?”

  “It’s fine. All the staff are lovely. But I wish everybody would stop calling me Father Richard. I haven’t been a priest for a few years now.”

  “Sorry, Father. I mean Richard. We don’t mean any disrespect.”

  “I know that,” said Richard with a gentle smile as he turned into his room. He placed his half empty cup of tea onto the nightstand between the bed and his chair. The very chair he likes to sit in to read, getting lost in books that were frowned upon when he was a man of the cloth.

  Maureen sat on the edge of the bed. “Can I ask you something, Richard? I mean you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

  “I have no secrets, my child but you might not like my answer,” said Richard as he put on his thick reading glasses.

  “Every other resident in this place has a least one crucifix hanging in their room, rosary beads on their nightstand and pictures of Jesus on their walls. I was just curious that you, a retired priest had none of that.”

  Richard laid his book in his lap and fiddled with the book mark protruding from the pages before looking up at Maureen. “I’m not retired my dear. I left the priesthood. You see in my life as a priest I have seen too many things. Things that can make you doubt your faith.” Richard shifted a bit in his chair, and when he saw Maureen wasn’t too shocked by what he has just confessed to her, he continued. “I’ve come to the realization that there is no God. And I couldn’t go on lying about it. They let me live among them for almost five years after I quit in hopes that I would find my faith again. But after all that time they saw that this would not happen and so they asked me to leave.”

  “Surely you don’t really mean that. Do you?” asked Maureen.

  “What part? The one about the fact that there is no God? I do believe there is much evil in this world. And maybe, just maybe, there was a God at one time. But I don’t think he exists anymore.”

  Maureen absentmindedly found herself feeling the crucifix she wore through the fabric of her uniform.

  “Don’t worry about me, Maureen. I’m fine with my decisions,” he said, removing the book mark and placed it on the nightstand.

  “Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all,” she said as she got up. She paused at the doorway. “Oh. And one last thing, we have a small chapel right here in Sleepy Meadows if you ever want to go.”

  Smiling, she left before Richard could reply to her comment.

  10

  Alone in the sombre light of the dining area, sat a white-haired Florence in a wheelchair, patiently waiting on breakfast. As Maureen walked by and saw someone sitting in the dimly lit room, she turned and found the light switches making the room bright again, matching the brand-new day.

  A brief moment of worry crossed her mind as she remembered the double dosage of sleep medication from the night before.

  “Florence? What are you doing here all by yourself? Are you alright, sweetie?”

  “I’m starving. What time is it?” asked Florence as she glanced towards the kitchen.

  Maureen sat in a chair next to the old woman. “Breakfast isn’t for another hour, sweetie. Who brought you here this early?”

  “Nobody brought me. I came by myself,” replied an impatient Florence.

  “With your arthritis, you could have fallen and hurt yourself. We wouldn’t want that now would we?” said a sympathetic Maureen.

  “My bones don’t hurt very much this morning. I’m just so hungry,” said Florence with a deep expression of sadness on her face.

  “Wait here and I’ll bring you something. Ok, sweetie?” Maureen got up and walked toward the kitchen.

  A hopeful Florence brightened as she spoke “See if they have any fruit cups. The ones with the cherries. And some pancakes!”

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” replied Maureen.

  In a hushed tone, a sharper than usual Florence spoke knowing full well Maureen couldn’t hear her from the kitchen. “I’d love some pancakes with some maple syrup. I’m starving.”

  Maureen returned a few minutes later with a plate of pancakes, sugar free maple syrup and a fruit cup. She placed them down on the table, along with utensils, barely setting them down before Florence snatched them up with a big smile on her face.

  “Thank you, Maureen. You’ve always been my favourite,” sh
e said as she cut a large square of pancake, dipped it in the bowl of syrup and put it in her mouth.

  Turning towards the kitchen, Maureen walked away dabbing at a tear as she spoke “I’ll get you some juice to go with that.”

  11

  Having finished his breakfast and on his way back to his room, Victor took a detour making sure to walk past the ex-priest’s room. Stopping at the doorway of Father Richard’s room and looking in, he could see feet sticking out from behind the wall. Richard sat in his favourite quiet place. Most likely with a book in hand like he always did after breakfast. Richard had only been living at Sleepy Meadows for a short time but by now everyone knew he always had a book in hand. His was the only room that didn’t have a television. He had asked for it to be removed on his very first day.

  “Richard?” said Victor with an inquisitive tone.

  There was a pause, he saw the slippers move a little and a robed man with wispy white hair peaked through thick glasses from behind the wall. Victor could see the book still clutched in the ex-priest’s hand with a bony finger inserted between pages.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  Victor stepped into the doorway and asked “It is you, isn’t it? The same Richard who was admitted to the hospital after being run over by a truck forty or so years ago?”

  What little of Richard’s face Victor could see took on a perplexed look as he replied “What? How would you know that?”

  “The same Father Richard who had the most miraculous recovery, you don’t recognize me do you, Father Richard?”

  “Should I, Victor?” he asked, ignoring the fact that Victor kept calling him Father. He inserted the bookmark into his book noting his page carefully. “At seventy-nine my memory isn’t quite as sharp as it used to be.”

  “Until I recognized you, I thought I didn’t know a soul in Sleepy Meadows. Or even the entire town of Carlton for that matter. You know, the locals say nothing ever happens in Carlton.”

  “Oddly enough, that’s also why I came here. To leave my old life behind, now I’m just Richard. A simple old man who likes to read as much as he can,” said the ex-priest as he set his book on his nightstand. “Come in, Victor.”