Tranquility

by Laurie Gardiner

  “She is.”

  “If you could get her for us please, we need to speak to her as well.”

  I turned to go to Hall B. My mind raced. Why did they want to talk to Tracey? Of course she was there, in the bathing room with me and Abby. I took a deep breath to calm myself and glanced over to see if Georgia had left yet.

  Lloyd was there, helping his grandmother out of her seat. He looked from me to the police and back questioningly. I gave my head a slight shake, smiled reassuringly and hurried to Hall B to find Tracey. She was in Mrs. Amaral’s room, helping her settle in for a nap.

  “Hey, Trace. The police want to talk to you.”

  “Oh boy! Are they hot?”

  “Well, Fletcher’s tall and not bad looking. Moore’s only about five foot four, but she’s really fit.”

  “Hey, I haven’t completely ruled out women. It would double my chances.”

  I rolled my eyes and nodded toward Mrs. Amaral. “They’re waiting for you in the staff room. Do you need help finishing up in here?”

  “No, I’m good,” she said, pulling the bedrail up and locking it into place. Mrs. Amaral was already snoring.

  Tracey and I walked toward the main hall together. “Find me later,” I said just before I turned into the lounge. “Let me know how the questioning goes.”

  “Will do.”

  “Oh,” I called after her. “And just so you know, you are not sleeping with me if you ever stay over.”

  The sound of her laughter followed me down the hall.

  We met up again in the change room when our shift was over.

  “How did it go with the police?” I asked as we walked out of Dementia.

  “Fine. They asked questions, I answered them. I have nothing to hide.”

  I looked at her with a raised brow. “Really? Nothing?”

  “We’re not talking about that here, remember? But we will tonight. What time are you coming over?”

  “After I put Kayla to bed and help Mom with Gran.”

  We walked into Long-Term Care. Marg looked up and our eyes met. She smiled. I blinked in surprise, wondering for a moment if I’d imagined it, then raised a hand and smiled in return. “Did you see that?” I asked Tracey.

  “Sure did. Apparently she’s happy Sheila’s gone, too.”

  Tracey and I parted ways in the parking lot. “See you tonight,” Tracey called as she walked to her car. “It’s your turn to bring the wine.”

  * * *

  Kayla and I spent a couple hours in Gran’s room, talking to her and playing cards. Before I left the room, I repositioned her.

  “Why do you have to do that, Mommy?”

  “Because Gran can’t move herself, so we have to do it for her. If she’s in one position too long she could get bedsores and they’re really painful.”

  I gave Kayla one of the small pillows. “Here, help me put this under her feet. The pillows help keep her heels and elbows from rubbing against the sheets.”

  We placed pillows under her elbows as well. Kayla helped me pull the blankets up to Gran’s chest. I pulled the bedrail up and locked it in place. “I’m going to help Nana make dinner. Are you coming?”

  She picked her favorite storybook up off the nightstand and climbed onto the chair. “No, I’ll stay here and keep Gran company.”

  Mom had already put the chicken in the oven. We cut up sweet potatoes, put them into the bottom of the roast pan, and made a salad. When we’d finished, I went to my room to call Jay.

  “Are you okay?” he asked right away. “My dad said the police were talking to you.”

  “I’m fine. There was an incident at work yesterday and the police were following up.”

  “Uh-oh. Was anyone hurt?”

  “Edie took a fall. She’s in the hospital, but she seems okay. I stopped in to see her yesterday after work.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Will you have time for a coffee tonight?”

  I frowned in disappointment. “I can’t, I promised Tracey I’d spend the evening with her. Do you have plans tomorrow night?”

  “That depends. Are you asking me out on a date?”

  I laughed and we made plans to meet for coffee the next night.

  I’d barely put down the phone when it vibrated. It was Tracey. I picked it up. “Hey, Trace, can I call you back? I’m about to eat dinner.”

  “No, Sarah, it’s important.”

  I knew right away something was wrong. “What is it? What happened?”

  She was quiet for a moment before I heard her take a deep, tremulous breath. “It’s Edie.”

  I closed my eyes. My whole body went cold. Please, let her be okay.

  “Connie just texted me. She said they heard from the hospital about an hour ago that Edie had a heart attack.”

  I swallowed hard and blinked back the tears. “Is she…?”

  “She died, Sarah. I’m so sorry.”

  Oh, my God. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my chest was caving in on my heart.

  “Sarah, you still there?”

  I choked on the pain and guilt, but managed a sound of confirmation.

  “Why don’t we put off watching the video? We don’t have to do it tonight.”

  I could barely talk past the lump in my throat. “No. I want to. I need to see it.”

  I hung up and sat in my room in a daze. I heard Mom call me for dinner, but couldn’t seem to make my body move. She came to my door a few minutes later, stopping short when she saw my face. “Sarah, what’s wrong?”

  I put my face in my hands and started to cry. Mom hurried across the room and sat on the bed beside me. She put her arm around me and pulled me close. I buried my head in her shoulder and sobbed quietly.

  She waited until the sobs subsided to an occasional hiccup before saying, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I took a deep, shuddering breath and sat up straight. Mom handed me a tissue. I explained it to her as I wiped my face dry. “Tracey called to tell me… my resident, Edie, died.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I know how special she was to you.”

  “Thanks. I’m not feeling hungry anymore. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to Tracey’s early.”

  Chapter 27 - A Night at the Movies

  I PACED BACK AND FORTH with a glass of red wine in my hand, trying to make sense of the situation as Tracey set up her laptop. “I knew something was going on. Edie wasn’t herself yesterday morning. I should have talked to her. I could have stopped her.”

  “Sarah, it’s not your fault. She had a heart attack. There’s no way you could’ve stopped that from happening.”

  “But maybe it was the pills or the stress that caused the heart attack. We have the footage of Mrs. W. Edie didn’t have to do what she did, damn it!” I sat down hard on the sofa beside Tracey, nearly spilling my wine. I set my glass on the coffee table and hung my head in my hands.

  Tracey put her arm around my shoulders. “Stop blaming yourself. Edie did what she felt she had to do. Now we need to make sure it wasn’t all for nothing.”

  I sat up and wiped the tears from my face. “I know. I just…I can’t believe I’m never going to see her again.”

  “I know, hon. She was one of the special ones. You ready?”

  I nodded, picked up my wine, and sat forward with my arms on my knees to watch the video.

  The first image to appear was of me putting away the stool and leaving the bathing room. There was nearly half an hour of an empty room before Sheila came on shift, so Tracey skipped ahead to the footage of Mrs. W’s bath.

  Sheila came in and started the bath water running. She worked methodically and efficiently, gathering everything she needed.

  The door opened and she went to hold it for Carol, who wheeled Mrs. W into the room. They exchanged pleasantries before Sheila asked, “How is she this morning?”

  “Cranky and complaining as usual,” Carol replied. They laughed as though sharing some private joke. Carol helped undress and transfer Mrs. W int
o the bath seat before she left.

  Sheila raised the lift and lowered the seat into the tub. The moment Mrs. W’s feet touched the water, she began to squirm and whimper. The water covered her legs and came up over the seat. She yelled and grabbed onto the side of the lift as her body was slowly immersed.

  “Stop your yelling,” Sheila said. She continued to lower the seat until the water was up to Mrs. W’s chest.

  Her body trembled. “Co, co, co, co,” she stammered.

  “Complaining already. I guess Carol was right,” Sheila said, grabbing the washcloth and dipping it in the water. She rubbed some soap on it and washed Mrs. W’s face. “Maybe, if you would behave, you could have a nice warm bath. But you can’t can you? You’re just like my mother. All you do is whine and complain. You don’t appreciate what I do for you.” She grabbed Mrs. W’s hair and yanked her head back so she had to look at her. “She didn’t either. She treated me like a piece of shit when I was a kid. But she regretted it when she was old and helpless and needed me to take care of her.” She gave one final yank before she let go, causing Mrs. W to cry out loudly. Sheila gave her a sharp cuff across the back of the head. “You shut your dirty mouth or I’ll give you a reason to scream.”

  I heard Tracey’s gasp of horror and glanced over at her. She was staring at the screen with her hand over her mouth. “You don’t have to watch this with me,” I said.

  “No, I have to. It’s kind of like watching a horror movie. I don’t wanna to see what happens next, but I can’t look away.”

  I felt the same way. I just hoped it didn’t get worse. I took a gulp of wine and turned back to the laptop.

  Sheila went on to wash the rest of Mrs. W’s body. She scrubbed so hard, the poor woman cried out and tried to move away. Sheila ignored her as she scrubbed and ranted. “I know why your kids never come to see you. You treated them like shit. I know you did. I overheard your daughters talking when they brought you in here. You were a mean, nasty woman and you deserve everything you get.”

  Sheila pulled the plug. She was quiet while she washed Mrs. W’s hair. She left her sitting with shampoo in her hair while she went to the sink, filled a paper cup with water and stood sipping it. Mrs. W sat in the cold tub, shivering and crying. Globs of shampoo crept down her forehead and slid into her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut and swiped at them frantically.

  “Oh, what’s wrong?” Sheila asked in a nauseatingly sweet voice. “Do you have soap in your eyes?” She laughed, tossed her cup in the garbage and strolled casually back to the tub. She turned on the hand held showerhead and proceeded to rinse the shampoo from Mrs. W’s hair. Steam rose from the tub. Mrs. W cried out loudly and lurched in pain when the hot water hit her.

  “What? Now you’re complaining it’s too hot?” Sheila said, once more slapping her across the head. “You’re never happy, are you? Now stop your complaining.”

  Mrs. W sat quietly, despite the stream of hot, soapy water running down her face.

  “Put your head back,” Sheila ordered.

  Mrs. W tilted her head back slightly.

  Sheila sighed loudly. She put her hand on Mrs. W’s forehead and pushed her head back roughly. “I said to put your head back,” she gritted through clenched teeth.

  Mrs. W roared in pain and anger and flailed an arm wildly in Sheila’s direction. Sheila ducked out of the way. She grabbed the arm and twisted it down until her face was inches from Mrs. W’s. “Don’t you ever try to hit me, you dirty, nasty, Polack bitch. Do you understand me?”

  Mrs. W whimpered.

  Sheila made a sound of disgust and dropped her arm. “It’s time to get out.” She raised the lift and left Mrs. W hanging in the air while she went to get a towel.

  Mrs. W continued to moan and whimper. She shifted in the wet seat, causing her big body to slip sideways, gave a terrified shriek and grabbed onto the lift.

  Sheila sighed loudly and walked back to the tub with towel in hand. “Yelling doesn’t make me want to put you down. If you want down, you need to sit there quietly and behave.” She walked away again, picked up Mrs. W’s toiletry bag and laid everything out neatly on the counter.

  Mrs. W closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around her body and sat shivering and whimpering quietly. Her skin was covered in goose bumps and her lips were tinged with blue. Finally, when Mrs. W’s teeth began to chatter, Sheila went back to the tub and lowered her to the floor. She worked in seething silence, drying her with short, terse strokes, then tossed the towel into the laundry bag and picked up Mrs. W’s comb.

  Mrs. W whimpered.

  Sheila bent down and held the comb in front of Mrs. W’s face. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like having your hair combed?” She laughed and walked around the lift to stand behind her, comb in hand. Mrs. W’s hair hung past her shoulders in a thick mess of curly, grey tangles. Sheila lifted the comb and ripped through a section of hair.

  Mrs. W cried out in pain and reached up, grasping at the comb.

  Sheila grabbed her hand and held it tightly as she leaned forward to speak softly into her ear. “Behave yourself, old woman, or I’ll tie your hands together and torture you like the Nazis did.”

  Mrs. W’s body became rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut and sat without moving.

  Sheila clucked her tongue and let go of Mrs. W’s hand. She continued to pull the comb roughly through the tangled mess as she spoke. “Did you watch them rape your mother? Did they rape you? Poor little girl. Such a horrible life you had. Is that why you’re such a nasty old bitch?”

  A tear slid down Mrs. W’s cheek, then another. She winced in pain every time she felt the yank of the comb, but remained quiet. Sheila stopped talking and finished combing Mrs. W’s hair in silence.

  A few minutes later, Carol came in to help Sheila get Mrs. W dressed and back into her chair. As they left the room, Sheila called out, “Have a good morning, Mrs. W. See you at breakfast.”

  * * *

  Tracey paused the video. She closed her eyes and took a deep, tremulous breath. We sat in stunned silence for a moment, digesting what we’d seen. When Tracey opened her eyes again they glittered with angry tears. “My God, Sarah. How long has she been doing this to these poor people? This is what we’ve been sending them to every day.”

  I couldn’t speak. I was choking on guilt and tears.

  We took a short break. I’d barely touched my first glass of wine, so Tracey topped hers up and left the bottle on the coffee table. She went to the kitchen and came out a few minutes later with a plate of crackers, cheese and grapes. She set it down beside the wine and popped a grape in her mouth.

  My stomach growled.

  Tracey put a piece of cheese between two crackers and handed it to me as she sat down.

  “No, thanks.”

  She gave me a stern look. “I know you’re hungry. Eat something.”

  “I can’t. My stomach can’t handle food when I’m upset.”

  She snorted and took a bite of the little sandwich. “I wish I had that problem. I eat more when I’m stressed out. No wonder you’re so skinny.” She shoved the second bite into her mouth and picked up her laptop. “Okay, here goes,” she mumbled around the mouthful of food. “You sure you’re ready to see this? It could be bad.”

  “I’m ready. Let’s get it over with.”

  * * *

  Sheila cleaned and sanitized the tub, then turned on the water for Edie’s bath. While the tub filled, she cleaned the lift seat and wiped up the floor. Finally, she went to the door to get Edie. She ushered her in, closed the door and went back to the tub to turn off the water.

  My heart clenched when Edie’s face appeared on the screen. I choked back a sob and felt Tracey’s consoling hand on my back.

  Edie placed her bag on the bench beside the door, then turned and stared at Sheila’s back balefully. Her face was pale. She lifted a trembling hand from her side and slid it into her robe pocket.

  Sheila turned and squinted at Edie. The lines between her brows deepened as she scow
led. “Why are you just standing there? Take your housecoat off and get ready. I don’t have all day.” She turned her back without another thought.

  Edie locked the door.

  Shelia turned with an angry yell, “You know we’re not allowed to lock—”

  Edie pulled her hand out of her pocket and pointed a gun at Sheila.

  “Oh, my God,” I said.

  Tracey gasped in surprise and looked at me incredulously. She paused the video. “Whoa! Did not see that coming. Did you know about this?”

  “Of course not!”

  “But you said you talked to Edie….”

  “I did, but she didn’t tell me much. She said she didn’t want me to have to lie, so the less I knew the better. She told me she took sleeping pills and that she ‘set Sheila up’. I wasn’t even sure what it all meant until now. She was exhausted. Her words were jumbled and she kept nodding off in the middle of sentences.”

  Tracey peered at me skeptically. “Fine. You’re off the hook.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

  She flopped back onto the couch and started the video again.

  “What the hell? What are you doing?” Sheila asked in disbelief. “Where the hell did you get a gun?”

  Edie laughed. Her cheeks bloomed with color. Her pale blue eyes flashed with anger. She sounded so wicked, my sweet little Edie, and the gun looked so comfortable in her hand, as though it belonged there. “It’s your turn to have a bath today,” she said, waving the gun carelessly. “Strip.”

  “Pardon me?” Sheila gasped. Her face was an awesome combination of panic and outrage.

  Edie lifted the gun with both hands until it was level with Sheila’s chest. Her frail little hands trembled slightly with the effort, but her face was deadly serious. “I said strip. Now!”

  Sheila shook her head in disbelief, but wisely kept her mouth shut and began to slowly undress. She removed her shoes and socks, pulled off her scrubs, folded them and placed them carefully on top of her shoes. She stood facing Edie defiantly in her underwear and bra.

  Edie was having none of it. Her voice dropped to a low, threatening tone. She enunciated each word carefully and slowly, as though speaking to a disobedient child. “I know how to use this. My second husband was a cop and he taught me everything he knew about guns. I suggest you do what I say. I’ve nothing to lose. Now, take off the rest and get into the lift.”