Forever 51

by Pamela Skjolsvik

  Kenneth remained silent and professional, even when Bobby Lee snapped, “What you looking at, fag?”

  “Ronnie!” Frank’s voice boomed from the bedroom. “Come here and give me some sugar.”

  Veronica poked her head into the bedroom. The sight of Frank’s morning erection under the thin white sheet, normally so adorable, today brought nothing but bile-tinged memories of the hand-job Bobby Lee had asked her for when she inserted the catheter. “I’d love to, but not today. In fact, I want you to lock me in.”

  “Like that could stop you. I think I’ve replaced that door about…”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just do it. It’s been a rough night. I’ll see both of you later. I promise.”

  As soon as she escaped to the seclusion of her closet, Veronica immediately signed on to Facebook. Nothing. It was just like Ingrid to make a dramatic entrance and then slip out of the party while no one was looking. She wanted to call Paula and hash this out, but it was too early. Anger rose inside of her, white hot and directionless, and she wanted to take it out on something. Or someone.

  The two locks slid into place outside the door. “Okay, Ronnie. You and the mailman are now safe. If you need anything, call me.” She could hear his breath through the slit in the doorjamb. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” Her voice dripped sweetness. “Frank?” It would be so easy to lure him inside.

  “Yeah?”

  From the desk, the computer beeped. A small box appeared at the bottom of the screen. Veronica pressed her open palm against the door.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. We’ll see you at 8:17 on the dot.”

  Veronica stared at the instant message box. Ingrid’s picture had changed.

  “I’m in San Francisco.”

  Of course you are. The grass was always greener somewhere else.

  “How are you taking care of yourself?”

  “Blood bank. I’m a phlebotomist at Western Blood Center.”

  “So, how in the world did you manage to take a picture of yourself?”

  “You don’t know?”

  Veronica pounded the keys. “No, I don’t. That’s why I’m asking you, you ungrateful little bitch.” A wave of heat rolled over her cool skin. She didn’t know whether it was a hot flash or stress. Probably both. She reached for the fan. A bead of sweat trickled down the inside of her shirt, which oddly made her feel more human. She paused, took a deep breath and wiped her upper lip with the back of her hand. Think. Is it thoughtful, helpful, intelligent, necessary or kind?

  Nope. Calling your fifteen-year-old daughter a bitch was none of these things. She erased the message.

  “No, I don’t know and I’m very curious.” She pressed Send.

  “I’ll tell you.”

  Veronica tapped the desk in rhythm to her jiggling feet, then typed, “Yes?”

  “But you have to come to San Francisco first.”

  Like that was going to happen. Despite her seniority, it would take a Christmas miracle to pull off a last-minute jaunt to San Francisco. Marie was headed to Maui for two weeks on Sunday and they’d never let two night-shifters leave at the same time, especially with Bobby Lee Garrett and his three-ring circus in full swing. Ingrid had waited this long to make contact; it wouldn’t kill her to wait another month. The possibility of a reconciliation with her only living child filled her with hope and a certain amount of dread. Things might have turned out differently in their relationship if they hadn’t both been stuck eternally in a battle of raging hormones.

  It had been over eighty years, and yet the familiar two-word refrain of mothers everywhere sprang fresh and unbidden from Veronica’s keyboard. “We’ll see.”

  5

  It had been eight days, fourteen hours and thirty-seven minutes since anyone croaked at Heartwood Hospice. Instead of peacefully expiring like they were supposed to, people were thriving in the midst of the resident serial killer drama. Two patients had gained weight. Four patients were now craving food. And almost all patients were requesting daily walks down the halls to get a gander at the security guard or maybe a peek at Bobby Lee Garrett and his six-foot tall Norwegian wife, Annika.

  Veronica didn’t bother chatting up Patterson when she first arrived on shift. She flashed him a quick smile and pushed right past him into Bobby Lee’s room. It was 10:25 on a Tuesday night and she was hoping to find him fast asleep in a narcotic slumber. Instead she found Annika, his twenty-six year-old-bride, riding his now uncatheterized penis as if she were in a speed-screwing contest.

  “What the…?” Veronica shouted over the grunts and groans.

  “Privacy please,” Annika panted, turning to look back at Veronica like an irritated and very winded jockey.

  “Excuse me, but this, this, what you’re doing right now is not allowed here! Do you understand me? Where is the guard?”

  “He’s… not… coming yet.”

  “The guard?”

  “No, Bobby. Come on, Bobby.” Annika thrust faster.

  “Maybe he’s dead,” Veronica muttered to herself. “I mean, look at you. You’ve probably killed him with all that unbridled exuberance.” She threw her hands up in the air and turned to leave.

  “There I go. There I go. Yes! Yes! Awwwwwwww,” Bobby Lee moaned. Annika collapsed on top of him and kissed his scrawny neck. He looked straight at Veronica. “Hey, Veronica.”

  She turned to look at him.

  “You wanna get in on this? I could totally go again. Whadda ya say, Old Nelly? Want to take a ride on the Pony Express?”

  “Um, I don’t really know how to respond to that, seeing as how I just vomited a little right then.” Veronica swiped Annika’s skirt from the floor and tossed it to her. “You need to get dressed and get out of here. Visiting hours are officially over.”

  Annika stood and slipped on the jean mini-skirt that barely covered her ass. “I think we just made a baby.”

  “Well, that’s just terrific. Really. You must be thrilled.” Veronica surveyed the room and kicked a red lace thong towards Annika. “Listen, I don’t know how you two orchestrated this completely disgusting episode, but it won’t happen again. And if you thought the catheter hurt last time…” She looked towards the guard’s empty chair. “Where’s Sleepy?”

  “He had to go jerk off from looking at my beautiful wife all day, didn’t he?”

  Annika giggled, straightened Bobby Lee’s gown and tucked the blanket around him like a doting mother.

  “Out!” Veronica demanded. It was then that she saw the laptop sitting on the window ledge. The little webcam light glowing green. Recording them.

  Veronica burst out of the room, grabbed Patterson’s arm and pulled him inside.

  “What is going on here?” she roared, causing her fangs to shoot through her gums until they reached her bottom lip. She covered her mouth as if to sneeze, then fished for a surgical mask from her pocket. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she attached the mask and looked towards Patterson for his response.

  “Should I be wearing one of those? Is he contagious or somethin’?” He backpedaled towards the door.

  “No, he’s fine. Where’s your partner?” she barked.

  “He’s on break. Listen…” Patterson’s voice lowered to a whisper. “The man’s dying, and he’s never been, you know, alone with his wife. And just look at her. Jesus.”

  Patterson’s gaze fell on Annika, who was now lying on the tile floor with her hips elevated by three pillows. “It helps the sperms to find the egg this way,” she said dreamily.

  “God. Damn,” he murmured.

  Veronica breathed heavily into the mask. “Listen. She has a computer in here and I don’t know what she was doing with it, but it’s probably illegal.”

  Annika propped herself up by her elbows. “It is not illegal to, what you call it, make a sex tape.”

  Bobby Lee chuckled. “And you’re in it, naughty nurse!”

  “No, we’re erasing that right now. Where’s the compu
ter?” Frantic, Veronica scanned the room.

  “You can’t have it,” Annika clutched the laptop to her chest. “It’s mine so I can remember the moment our baby was made.”

  “Hand it over.” Veronica thrust her arms at Annika.

  “Why is she so mean, this nurse?” Annika fluffed her long blonde hair and smiled up at Patterson, whose eyes were fixated on the length of her legs.

  “I think she needs to get laid,” said Bobby Lee.

  Veronica wanted nothing more than to take out the whole room, starting with Annika and her maddening, hippy-dippiness. She looked at Bobby Lee, who met her wild eyes with a smug grin. Veronica bit into her lip. A thin trickle of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. She mumbled into the mask and fled before she could do anything truly stupid.

  When she returned to Bobby Lee’s room, Annika was gone. And so was the laptop. The guard sat in the darkness with his eyes fixated on the bed. Veronica picked up the chart and attempted to decipher Dr. Swanson’s latest scribbling, but the whereabouts of the laptop consumed her thoughts. Where had she been standing? Maybe she wasn’t in the frame after all. Annika wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box—surely, she wouldn’t notice or care about whether the grumpy bitch nurse showed up on the playback. Right?

  Like a pit bull, it was hard for Veronica to let go of things. Having to subsist on Ethel for the past week had made her weak and, despite Paula’s best efforts, she was still on edge.

  She leaned on the chair beside the guard. “How are you tonight?” she cooed.

  “Bored. So, when’s he gonna die?” he whispered.

  “Well, that’s the million-dollar question, now isn’t it? I think he’s still got some life in him. Don’t you?” Veronica moved towards the bed and messed with the IV bag, giving Bobby Lee an extra dose of morphine.

  “I don’t know about that, but he sure seems a lot happier here than when he was in solitary.”

  “I’m sure he had a ball with his wife earlier. Look at him, he’s all tuckered out.” Another Mike—so sure he’d gotten clean away with it. Another prick taunting the pit bull, knowing she was chained to the fence by rules he’d never bothered to follow.

  “That wasn’t my idea.” The guard took a swig from his soda. “I should have never let that happen. You won’t say anything will you? We could get in real big trouble.”

  “Of course not.” She gently squeezed his shoulder and smiled as warmly as she could muster. “You look sleepy. Do you want me to turn out this light?” She raised her arm to flip the bedside lamp before he could answer. Now go to sleep.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he yawned and took another swig from his soda.

  “He should be out for the night. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to buzz me. Good night.”

  From all her time in darkness, she could see that the guard’s eyes were now closed. When she stepped into the bathroom to wash her hands, she heard him snore.

  And Patterson was in the lounge for more coffee, after which he’d hit the bathroom for a good five minutes after.

  Which meant that right now, for this single rare moment, Bobby Lee was alone and unprotected… and the pit bull just might slip her chain.

  Veronica sidled back over to his bedside. She upped the morphine dose again. Decisions, decisions.

  Bobby Lee slowly opened his eyes and slurred, “What are you doing?” He struggled against the weight of sedation to lift his three-hundred-pound head from the pillow.

  “Just making sure you don’t experience any pain. Are you ready to go home now and meet your maker?” She patted him on the head.

  “Get off uh me, bitch,” he snarled, fighting against the restraints that pinned his emaciated arms.

  Veronica leaned over his body and whispered in his ear. “Did you just ask me to off you, Bobby Lee?” She smiled, exposing her long sharp teeth.

  As if bracing for a hit, he shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a middle-aged woman?” Mockingly, she sniffed at his neck, inhaling a sickening mixture of Annika’s cheap perfume, sweat and narcotics. “That was a question.” She exhaled into his ear, to mess with him.

  He opened his watery eyes. “Fuck you,” his voice cracked. Frantic, he whipped his head in the direction of the snoozing guard. “Help me!” he rasped.

  Veronica raised one slender finger in front of her lips. “Shhhhhh. If I were you, Mr. Garrett, I’d keep my voice down.” She bit the edge of his ear, piercing it with her fang. “Did that hurt? To me, it looks like Annika gave you a little love bite this afternoon.”

  Tears of pain and self-pity streamed down the sides of his drained face.

  “One more peep and you’ll wish you’d been strapped to old Sparky. Just relax, I’m not going to hurt you. It will be just like falling asleep.” And never waking up.

  He nodded, closed his eyes and accepted his fate. He was either almost dead or he’d simply surrendered to the idea that death was near. Veronica felt he deserved more pain, but torture took time and tonight was not the night to play with her prey. She felt his neck for a pulse. He was barely alive.

  As she padded out of the room, Patterson’s sleepy Texas twang echoed from down the hall. Rounding the corner, he pointed in her direction. “There she is,” he said to the uniformed officer by his side.

  Veronica froze. Marie. Safe and sound in some Hawaiian condo, she had opened her big old gossip-loving pie-hole to her cop brother-in-law. Of all fucking nights.

  “Veronica here is Garrett’s nurse,” Patterson bragged to the officer as they sidled up next to her. The portly, white-haired officer extended his arm towards her and she shook it limply, as if it were covered in excrement.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Officer Slater. I don’t know if Patterson told you about me or not.”

  “No, he didn’t. What’s going on? It’s awfully late to be visiting the hospital.” Veronica’s voice quavered.

  “Officer Slater was Garrett’s arresting officer,” Patterson said.

  Veronica raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Dallas PD?” The irritation she felt was at its tipping point.

  “Used to be. I now work in good old Grapevine. One of your coworkers mentioned that you were at the tanning salon the night of Brittany Jameson’s disappearance. When you have some time, I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that would be okay.”

  Veronica felt as if she were about to faint. “Is that why you’re here at this ungodly hour?”

  “I’m actually here for closure,” he said with all seriousness.

  “Closure?” she repeated.

  “He wants to speak with him.” Patterson interjected.

  Fuck.

  Patterson and Slater casually shuffled behind her into Bobby Lee’s room. She flipped on the light, exposing two bodies that were either dead or dead asleep.

  Slater stepped up to Bobby Lee’s bed and inspected his face. “My word. He looks horrible.”

  Patterson joined him at the bedside. “He sure does. He looks dead. Oh my god, is he dead?” Patterson fumbled around Bobby Lee’s neck in search of a pulse. “He’s dead.” Shocked surprise animated his face.

  Veronica couldn’t tell if it was a gasp of grief or glee coming from Patterson. She placed the stethoscope in her ears and joined them.

  “Aren’t you going to do something?” Patterson prodded.

  “Like what?”

  “I dunno. Like shock his heart with those things. What are they called?”

  “A defibrillator,” Slater offered.

  “Yes, that’s what they’re called, but this is hospice. We don’t do that here.”

  “But…”

  “But, what? Anyone who enters hospice signs a DNR. It’s standard procedure. We offer palliative care, not life-saving measures.” Veronica placed her stethoscope on Bobby Lee’s chest. “He’s still alive, but his heart rate is really slow. I should probably call the family.”

  Patterson’s jaw dropped. “So, you’re just going to
let him die?”

  Veronica suppressed a flash of aggravation. “That’s why he’s here. Remember? Even if he wasn’t on death row for the murder of over twenty women, he’s terminal and he’s here to die. That’s what you do in hospice.”

  Patterson looked down at the floor and wiped his eyes. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem right.”

  Typical—one prick looking out for another. “Okay, how about this? Why don’t we give the Governor a call and see if he wants you to give him mouth to mouth right now? Should we call him? What do you think, Officer Slater? Want to have a go at his chest?” Veronica forced a joking tone.

  “Johnson!” Patterson shouted. “Jesus, we’ve got a shit ton of paperwork to fill out if he dies and that asshole’s gonna sleep right through it.” Patterson shook Johnson’s shoulder. “Wake up!”

  Bobby Lee coughed violently. Slater jumped and grabbed Bobby Lee’s hand as if to greet him. He opened his eyes and mumbled, “She…”

  Slater leaned in closer, gripping Bobby Lee’s hand. “What? What was that?” Bobby Lee’s eyes widened and focused on Veronica as if to clarify, then closed.

  Veronica approached with her stethoscope and placed it on Bobby Lee’s chest. “Dying patients often hallucinate. They see things that aren’t there. They talk to people that aren’t there. It’s all very normal. For all we know, he could have seen his dearly departed granny calling him to the other side.” She listened closely as the two men watched her every move. “He’s gone.”

  As she dutifully noted the time of death and left the officers to begin the postmortem paperwork, Veronica was the very picture of professionalism—until she reached the solitude of the staff bathroom.