Tranquility

by Laurie Gardiner

  In the week following the soup incident, I became almost obsessed with catching Sheila in the act. Whenever I had a moment, I listened outside the bathing room door, or found an excuse to go in. I plied my residents subtly for information, bringing Sheila’s name into the middle of a conversation, asking how they’d enjoyed their bath that day, listening and observing their reactions. Problem was, they all had some form of dementia. Some of them didn’t even remember they’d had a bath an hour ago. The small bits of information I managed to gather were weak at best and offered no solid proof of abuse.

  I even spoke to Mr. Gallo, a kind, soft-spoken Italian man who, despite his own struggles with Parkinson’s, got on a bus every morning and came to Tranquility to spend the day with his wife. He helped her eat her lunch and later, sat reading in the chair beside her bed while she napped.

  It was no secret that Mr. Gallo did not care for Sheila. In fact, he disliked and mistrusted her so much that he insisted she not bathe his wife unless he was present. When I asked him why he didn’t want to leave his wife alone with Sheila he said simply, “She no good,” but the tightness of his jaw and the slight trembling of his hand were telling enough of his feelings.

  Edie, however, was more than willing to talk and had a memory better than my own. She stood out like a lone star in the dark night sky at Tranquility. She was sharp and quick to remember what had happened an hour or a week ago. I had begun to question whether she had dementia at all.

  I went into her room one afternoon before leaving for the day. She was sitting in her chair with a book open on her lap, but she wasn’t reading, she was staring out the window with a gloomy expression on her face.

  “Edie?”

  She looked up in surprise. “Sarah. Why aren’t you on your way home?”

  Mrs. Sellers moaned and stirred in the bed beside us. I pulled the curtain across between the beds and said in a hushed voice, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Edie watched me curiously as I pulled myself up to sit on the wide ledge below the window. “Is it about the Dragon?” she asked.

  “The what?”

  She leaned forward and whispered, “You know, that woman.”

  “Oh. Yes, it is. I want to ask you about your baths.”

  “Ah, I thought as much. Unfortunately, there’s not much to tell. I know she doesn’t like me, but she’s careful and a little too nice, if that makes sense at all.”

  “It does. It’s nauseating sometimes, how nice she acts. I have a bad feeling about her, Edie, but I’m new here, so I have to be careful. And the other residents don’t always remember as well as you do.”

  “Are you asking for my help then?”

  “I’m just asking you to let me know if you see or hear her do anything inappropriate. Come straight to me, though. Don’t confront her, whatever you do. I don’t want you to make her angry.”

  Edie gave a short bark of laughter. “It’s too late for that, I’m thinking. She’s had it in for me since that day I laughed at her in the dining room. Besides, she’s more likely to do something if she’s angry, don’t you think?”

  I was starting to wish I’d never said a word. I jumped down off the ledge and put my hand on her shoulder. “Edie, please don’t try to make her angry.”

  She reached up and patted my hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry yourself, lass. I’ll not do anything foolish.”

  I turned to leave, stopped, and asked, “Are you okay? You looked a little down when I came in.”

  She smiled, but her bottom lip trembled slightly. “I get that way every so often. The doctor says it’s the depression. I appreciate the concern, but it’s nothing to worry yourself about.”

  * * *

  My suspicions about Edie not having dementia were confirmed by a conversation I had with her a few days later. We were sitting together in the lounge one afternoon right before my shift ended, watching some of the residents dance to the Rolling Stones. Mr. Gallo sat beside me with Mrs. Gallo next to him in her wheelchair. He held her hand and tapped his toe to the music as she dozed.

  Edie was telling me about her second husband. “Ian was a Scot. I suppose that’s why we hit it off. He was a cop, a good one, and a good man too. I was fifty years old and he made me feel like a schoolgirl again.”

  “I can see that,” I said. “You still glow when you talk about him.”

  “I know it. I married Tom’s father out of duty, but I did it right the second time round. Ian was for love.” She sighed. “I still miss that man.”

  “So, when you say you married out of duty do you mean…?”

  Edie chuckled and patted my hand. “Don’t be so surprised, lass. It happened more than you know. My first marriage was a perfect example of why wee ones are not a good reason for marrying.”

  Sam gyrated his hips wildly to “Satisfaction”. He was surprisingly handsome at seventy-three with his thick, white hair, bright blue eyes and tall, lean frame. Lily and Beth, who had been dancing happily beside Sam earlier, began to argue when a slow song came on.

  “You have a boyfriend already, Beth,” Lily said, flipping her blonde hair in annoyance.

  “Well, he’s not here right now,” Beth replied, “and besides, I like him.” She jerked a thumb toward Sam.

  “Well, I like him too, and I saw him first!” Lily gave Beth a shove that nearly sent her toppling onto Mrs. Gallo’s lap.

  Mr. Gallo grunted in surprise and moved to get up. I put my hand on his knee to stop him, jumped up and put myself between the twins and Mrs. Gallo. “Ladies, I’m sure Sam will be happy to dance with both of you.”

  Lily was having none of it. “No, I saw him first. Beth can find her own partner.”

  Beth’s lower lip came out in a pout. “I’m telling Mother when we get home!” she said, flouncing off to sit by herself in the corner.

  I went back to my seat beside Mr. Gallo. He was leaning over speaking to his wife in Italian, his voice soft and reassuring. Only the slight tremor in his hand gave away his upset. I watched Lily smooth her hair and make her way back to Sam who was still dancing obliviously.

  Edie turned to me in disbelief. “What is wrong with these people? Are they all crazy?” She glanced at Mr. Gallo apologetically. “I’m sorry. No offense intended.”

  He shook his head sadly. “No, no, is okay.” He leaned closer and said in a hushed voice, “Is not their fault. Is the disease. It make them crazy.”

  “What disease? Are you saying all these people have the same disease?”

  “Dementia, Edie,” I said. “Everyone here has some type of dementia, like Alzheimer’s. This is the dementia unit.”

  Edie paled instantly and her hand went to her mouth. She looked away and was silent for a moment. Her eyes flew back to my face and she flushed red with anger as the realization set in. “Sae, that’s why that bitch made me go tae the doctor tae get all those tests done!”

  I glanced at Mr. Gallo. He cleared his throat and turned away to rearrange the blanket on Mrs. Gallo’s lap. I turned back to Edie. “What tests?” I asked.

  She twisted her hands in her lap. “Some sort of clock test, and others—memory tests, I think. They asked me all sorts of questions. I don’t remember much, but I know I didn’t do well. I overheard Anne later, telling Tom I’d failed.”

  She said it so dejectedly that I was sure she thought by failing those tests she had sealed her own fate. I put my hand over hers reassuringly. “It’s not your fault, Edie. There must have been some reason why you didn’t do well.”

  “I don’t know. My mind…it was muddled. I couldn’t understand what was going on. I felt confused all the time and I was forgetting things, like what day it was, and why I was living with Tom. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t go home. I’d forgotten my house had been sold because Anne didn’t think I should be living alone anymore.”

  Edie hung her head and swallowed hard before she continued. “Anne said I became ‘violent’. The ambulance came and they strapped me down and seda
ted me. I’m not even sure how long I was in the hospital. It felt like months, but they had me so drugged up, I couldn’t think straight. Finally, Tom came and took me home. Anne was there with me all the time. I couldn’t even piss without her knowing about it!” She spat the words in disgust. “Then she took me for the tests, and not long after that they brought me here. They told me it was a retirement home!” Edie sat back in her chair and angrily swiped a tear from her cheek.

  I was silent for a moment as I digested it all. Edie would pass any memory test now, I was sure of it. Could it have been an illness that had caused her confusion? Or maybe it had been drug-induced. “Were you sick at all, Edie, besides being muddled and forgetful before you went to the hospital?”

  She shook her head.

  “Were you taking any drugs then that you aren’t taking now?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve no idea. I don’t think I knew my name half the time, let alone what drugs I was taking.”

  I watched Lily stalk off the dance floor in a huff. She sat down hard, crossed her arms over her voluptuous chest and stuck her ruby-red bottom lip out as far as it would go. She then proceeded to glare at Beth and Sam as they slow-danced to Elvis’s “Are you Lonesome Tonight.”

  I smiled as Sam’s hand inched slowly downward until it rested on Beth’s ample, purple polyester-covered cheek. I squeezed Edie’s hand reassuringly. “Try not to worry, Edie. We’ll figure this out.”

  * * *

  Tracey caught up with me as I was leaving for the day. “Hey, Sarah, wanna go for coffee?”

  “Sorry, I can’t. I have to pick Kayla up from school soon,” I said, punching in the code to open the door.

  We walked through a long hallway with a wall of windows looking out onto the courtyard. I glanced at her. She looked disappointed and I felt a twinge of guilt. It was only a five-minute walk from the house to the school and I knew Gran would have been happy to pick Kayla up. “How about we plan it for another time? If I know ahead, I can arrange for my grandmother to pick her up for me.”

  “Sure, sounds good.”

  We went through another set of doors into Long Term Care. The unit was a buzz of activity. The sheer number of residents with varying needs, as well as the array of nurses, doctors and various other staff, meant non-stop activity throughout the day. The weekends were even busier, with a constant stream of visitors coming and going all day and into the evening.

  We waved at Marg, the receptionist. She peered at us over her glasses and gave a stiff nod before returning to her work. Tracey punched in another code and we exited the back door into the staff parking lot.

  “I won’t forget, you know. We’re going out soon. I’m holding you to it,” she called as she sauntered off.

  I turned my face to the sun as I strolled to my car. It had been a dreary, rainy autumn so far and the heat of the sun was a welcome change. Fall had always been my favorite time of year, and my dad’s as well. Now, the cool nights and changing colors brought only bittersweet memories. Every fall, Dad and I had raked leaves together. As soon as we had a pile big enough to cover me, I’d burrow beneath them. Dad would continue raking, whistling as though oblivious to my antics. When I was out of sight, he’d drop the rake and run around the yard calling my name, pretending to look for me as I tried not to giggle. He’d stop, close enough that I could peek out and see his feet, and say, “Sarah? Is that you?” I’d jump out, yelling and throwing handfuls of leaves at him until he scooped me up, tossed me back into the leaves, and tickled me until we both lay breathless.

  It had been nearly ten years since he’d died. Sometimes I’d hear a deep, gravelly voice, or smell cigar smoke and turn, expecting to see him, yet there were times when I could barely recall his face, and that scared me. Memories were all I had left of him. Losing them would be like losing him all over again.

  * * *

  I went home to shower and change before going to the school to get Kayla. I heard Gran’s voice from the living room and peeked in to see who she was talking to. She was sitting in the recliner, scowling at the laptop in front of her, talking to herself.

  “Gran? Is that yours?”

  She barely looked up. “Yes, it is. I’m debating whether to return it or throw it out the window.”

  I crossed the room and stood looking over her shoulder. “When did you get a laptop?”

  “Today. I’m taking a computer class at the seniors’ center.”

  I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m impressed. Do you want help with it?”

  She cupped my chin in her hand and kissed me in return before I straightened up. “No, no. You go have your shower. I’ll take it to the next class with me and they’ll help me figure it out.” She snapped it shut, placed it on the coffee table and pushed herself wearily out of the chair. She staggered as she stood and would have stumbled forward if she hadn’t caught hold of my arm as I reached for her.

  “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down again?”

  “I’m fine.” She removed her hand from my arm and stood on her own as if to prove it to me. “I stood up too quickly, is all.”

  “Hmm, into the wine again this afternoon, were you?”

  “No,” she said with a laugh. “But, it’s an idea. I think I’ll pour myself a glass of red. Would you like one?” She teetered toward the kitchen, still a little unsteady on her feet.

  I hesitated. I had half an hour before I had to be at the school. I could have a shower later. “Well,” I said, following her into the kitchen. “I can’t very well let you drink alone, can I?”

  Chapter 4 –The New Guy

  LATER THAT WEEK, I SAT down during my lunch break and went through Edie’s medical charts. I compared her previous and current medications and read through the doctor’s notes. She occasionally took an over- the-counter sleep aid and was on anti-cholesterol medication. There had been no reference made to memory loss, confusion, or any other signs of dementia, until nearly two months before Edie came to Tranquility. A few weeks before that, the doctor had prescribed anti-depressants.

  I jotted down some information and made a mental note to do some research on drug interactions after my shift. I’d also speak to Abby.

  On my way to find Abby later that afternoon, I heard a commotion coming from Hall A. An unfamiliar voice roared in anger and a slew of curse words followed. I hurried down the hall toward the voice. Rose paced back and forth outside the room, shaking her head and mumbling under her breath. Her round face was crumpled with worry.

  I hurried to the doorway. “What’s wrong, Rose?” I placed a gentle hand on her back as I took in the scene inside the room. Rose stopped pacing, but barely acknowledged me as she continued to mumble. I could feel her plump body trembling beneath my hand. A few other residents emerged from their rooms, eager for a little afternoon entertainment. Luckily, most residents were either napping or watching Bringing Up Baby in the lounge.

  The room was a mess. The beds had been ripped apart, sheets and pillows thrown in a heap on the floor. A door on one wardrobe hung at an awkward angle. Clothes were strewn everywhere.

  I didn’t know the angry, frustrated man standing in the middle of the room yelling and gesturing violently. One of Carol’s residents had recently been moved to Palliative, so I assumed this was his replacement.

  Carol and Tina, the dayshift support workers in Hall A, were in the room, but keeping their distance from the man as he raged. Carol, a crusty, middle-aged woman who rarely smiled, had worked at Tranquility nearly as long as Sheila and was almost as bossy and intimidating. Tina was slightly younger, petite and unfailingly cheerful. It seemed an unlikely partnership, but they had worked together in Hall A for years.

  Carol’s face was red with frustration. She barked orders in her usual gruff manner as though that would help the situation. In fact, every time she spoke, the man became more agitated. Tina had put the bed between herself and the angry man. She occasionally uttered a soft “There, there, dear” but could barely
be heard over Carol’s booming voice.

  The man paced erratically in front of the window. His eyes twitched and flickered back and forth nervously as he yelled, “Where are you?” and “Stupid bitch” among other things.

  I spoke quietly, hoping not to disturb the man further. “What’s going on?”

  Carol glanced over and replied, “He has schizophrenia and dementia. That’s all I know about him. His wife dropped him off a couple hours ago. He seemed okay so I went to have my break. When I came back he was like this. We need Abby. She’s going to have to sedate him.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “John.”

  I looked at Tina questioningly. She took the opportunity to move closer to me and the doorway. “Any idea what set him off?” I asked.

  She shook her head nervously and blew her long brown bangs out of her eyes. “I heard yelling and came running. Rose was just leaving his room….” She trailed off as we looked at Rose.

  Rose appeared decidedly guilty. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She began to pace again and wring her hands with worry. “Ju…just… wanted to say hello,” she muttered.

  Tina and I exchanged a knowing look. “You take Rose with you and go get Abby,” I instructed. She nodded, took Rose by the arm and hurried away as fast as Rose’s shuffling gait would allow.

  “John,” I said, entering the room cautiously, “do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” No response. I kept my distance, but continued to speak to him soothingly. “No one’s going to hurt you, John, we’re here to help you.” Gradually the yelling decreased, but he continued to pace and watch us suspiciously. I couldn’t get too near him and chance getting hurt. All I could do was continue speaking in the same soft, soothing tone and hope for Abby to arrive soon.

  Carol had finally shut up and now made her way closer to the door. “I’ll watch for Abby,” she mumbled as she leaned against the doorframe and peered around the corner.

  John paced faster. He seemed to be going off again into his own world where the sound of my voice had become an annoyance. He muttered and shook his hands violently, as though to rid them of something evil.