Part 7 (1/2)
One was having a bowel movement.
One thought again, The aides could just heave me out that window when I die.
The third dreamed of a boy in a photo alb.u.m.
Soon crows began to curse. Phones rang, trolleys clunked, and old Mr. Chang traversed the floor at a rate of six round trips per hour.
Pus.h.i.+ng a trolley bearing sanitizer, tissues, lotions, wipes, Lily arrived in 17-A. Snapped on fluorescents, clashed curtain-rings, poked the nearest resident.
”Turn over, Sally.”
”Mrs. Knox to you, f.u.c.king clumsy! Watch my jigsaw.”
Sally's bloated body didn't resist, though, and her s.h.i.+t (the workday's first stink) was neatly formed. In a fresh diaper, the resident snoozed again.
Lorraine a.s.sessed Lily's steps for irritability.
”Good morning!”
”Everything late already.” The aide jabbed a b.u.t.ton. Lorraine's bed angled up, pinching her spine. ”No fun for you today. Transfusion.”
”Please, save my menus?”
Lily yanked Lorraine's bedside drawer open, flapped at the sheets of Creamy Veg Potage, Garden Pasta, Vanilla Delight. ”Too many already.”
”Please?”
”You, you wait for Transfer.” She crossed to the third resident's bed. ”No games today, Annabel. Behave! Or Boss Lady throw you out too.”
”Who too?”
”Wanderer.”
Annabel gaped.
Lorraine managed, ”Where on earth could she go?”
Annabel kicked the aide, whose cry woke Sally.
Then Lily wrangled the flailing Annabel into her wheelchair. The resident scooted to the toilet, pulling herself by banging her heels, scooted back. Next her nightie got dragged off, underpants and camisole on, while she struggled, giggling. Resisted arms into blouse. Undid her skirt's Velcro.
”Score!”
Lily bent close, whispered. ”Your brother, he's wait for you.” Closer. ”Take you out, breakfast treat, Canada Day!”
”Eric's here?”
”Dining room.”
Annabel grabbed the Velcro.
”Stupid!” Sally.
”Don't believe her!” Lorraine.
Ninety-five pounds and years, her hair a thick silver crown, Annabel scooted out, her heels so keratinous they sounded tak-tak-tak.
Across the hall, a TV blared. In the criminal justice system the people are represented by two separate, but equally important, groups: the police, who. . .
Whir whir, the Wanderer's chair.
Clack clack of stilettos. ”Hey you! Thief, and dangerous driver. You've been expelled before. Don't think it can't happen here.”
Then to Teevee-gal, shouting, ”I said, Keep the volume down!”
Next across the hall to 17-A, shoving at Lily's trolley. ”How many times have I told you, Don't leave supplies by an open door!” She brandished a litre of surface cleanser, ivory in her black hand. ”Do you speak English?”
Stone-faced, Lily exited 17-A and waited for Josie, another aide, to accompany her into Mr. Chang's room. Its other resident, Big Man, attacked staff.
”Remember,” the Boss Lady told Sally and Lorraine, ”these people keep you alive. I want no complaints.”
Transfer arrived.
SALLY'S BUSY MORNING Maybe there'd be pancakes for breakfast?
Waiting. Calendar, meanwhile.
Always she ticked off the weekday Activities-Mon Bingo, Tues News & Views, Wed Crafts, Thurs Flower Arranging-not that she attended. I like to relax. By Fri Baking, no tick appeared. Thought so! Canada Day tomorrow. Can't fool me, Lily. Turning the page, she examined the photo of July fireworks at English Bay. Pretty. Was I there once?
Waiting, she fiddled with her sunflower jigsaw.
Whir whir, an electric chair rolling in. That heavy old woman. Feet, gone. Face creased, a softening gourd.
”Not here, no. You live with Teevee-gal in 17-B. Bee bee bee!”
The Wanderer s.n.a.t.c.hed at Van Gogh, wheeled to the window and threw a piece out, looked excitedly at Sally, threw another.
”Stop, I'll tell!”
The visitor U-turned and yanked the privacy curtain round Sally's bed.
”Pull that back!”
Invisibly the wheelchair departed. Sally rang her buzzer, rang. In time, hunger changed her priorities. ”Where's my d.a.m.n breakfast?”
With the cold food came extra Aunt Jemima.
As Sally ate, 17-B roared again. The police who investigate crime, and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders. These are their sto. . .
Sally watched the doorway. Who's got her remote this time? TV's all Teevee-gal has. I hate Lily. Why don't Melia or Josie tell her off? Roberto? She licked her plate.