Blackout (3 page)

They went down the hall, stopping at every room and changing beds. They were interrupted several times by call lights flashing. At ten o’clock Nancy said it was time for a break. She took the dirty-linen cart and wheeled it to the laundry where huge, stainless-steel machines whirled and sloshed, and the smell of bleach overpowered the smell of the resident-room areas.

Two women and a man sat at a round table in the small break room. They stopped talking when Nancy and Alice entered. Nancy introduced everyone, but Alice was too nervous to really hear her. She was glad everyone wore nametags.

One of the women asked Nancy, “You run into any of the inspectors?”

“Naw.” She took a sip of a soda she’d bought.

“You’re lucky. One cornered me and started asking what I’d do if we had a fire. Had me explain which fire extinguisher I’d get and how to use it. Had to tell her the routine for evacuating, who to call, and all that. Scares me to think about it.”

Suddenly the loudspeaker blared.

“Aerobics in the main dining room in fifteen minutes.” The woman announced it again, and Alice looked questioningly at the others.

Nancy explained. “That’s the activity director. The residents get to move to some music. Some of them really like it, and it’s good for them. And we need to transport anyone in a wheelchair who wants to go.”

“They attend in wheelchairs?”

“Yeah. They just rotate what they can.”

When they were out of earshot of the break room, Alice asked, “Doesn’t any of this bother you?” She watched people going by, some shuffling with canes, others in wheelchairs, only a few walking unassisted. One resident clung to the railing along the wall.

“What?” Nancy glanced around, her face scrunched into a frown. “Oh, you mean ’cause they can’t do everything they used to do? Nah. Most of them get adjusted to it. I got used to them, and you will, too. We try to keep them as happy as we can. Take good care of them, ya know.”

They dodged carts and residents as they went quickly down the hall toward the 200 wing. When they got there, Nancy began asking residents if they wanted to go to aerobics. She rounded up two in wheelchairs who did, and she and Alice wheeled them to the main dining room.

Nancy said, “While we’re here, I’ll introduce you to Yolanda, the activity director.” She led Alice toward a big room in the original house. Outside the door stood a whiteboard on an easel. Alice was startled to see the year posted: 1988. She realized she hadn’t even known what year it was.

Nancy saw her looking at the board. “That’s called a reality board. See, it has the name of our home at the top, then date with the day of the week, and time, even the weather. This helps the residents be less confused.”

Alice nodded. They entered a room that reminded her of a kindergarten classroom. Large tables dominated the space, and there were shelves all around the walls with craft items and games stacked ceiling high. “Used to be the library,” Nancy told Alice. At a desk in one corner sat a heavy woman with gray hair in a pageboy, wearing glasses. She wrote quickly in a resident’s chart, bracelets jingling, closed it, opened another one, and started writing again. Nancy led Alice over to the woman.

After introductions, Yolanda excused herself so she could conduct the aerobics class. “It’s good to have you here, hon,” she said to Alice as they went out the door to the dining room where residents sat in a large semicircle around a table with a tape deck.

As Alice turned around to leave, she bumped into a woman with curly red hair and green eyes who appeared to be in her early forties. Carrying a clipboard, granny glasses perched on her nose, she balanced easily on three-inch heels. A small woman, she wore a green suit on her excellent figure. Alice felt big next to her. The woman’s nametag read “Brenda Williamson, Social Services Director.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Alice said, then backed into Nancy. “Oh, sorry, Nancy.”

Nancy giggled. “You’d better stand still and let us move away from you. Brenda, this is Alice, a new aide. Alice, Brenda. She’s the Social Services director.”

Brenda looked searchingly at Alice over her half glasses. “It’s nice to meet you, Alice. How do you like Merry Hills?”

“It’s… it’s fine,” Alice stuttered. She didn’t want to offend the woman by giving her her real impressions, which included a small amount of horror mixed with pity for the residents and great relief that she herself was young and healthy.

Suddenly, music blared from the stereo, and the aerobics class began. The three of them moved out of the dining room and down the hall.

A small elderly lady approached them. She ate cheese sticks out of a bag as she walked, and her brown eyes stared at Alice.

“Do you know me?” she asked, popping a cheese stick into her mouth while her eyes bored into Alice’s.

Alice took a step backward. She felt the blood drain from her face as her mind searched frantically for recognition.

“Of course we do, Lettie,” Nancy said.

“Yes, Lettie,” Brenda said at the same time.

Lettie continued to stare at Alice as if waiting for her answer. She popped another cheese stick into her mouth. Alice swallowed hard, murmured, “You’re Lettie,” and walked quickly away. She felt as if the old woman was staring at her back as she went stiffly down the hall.

Nancy caught up with her and grabbed her arm. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Brenda’s high heels quickened on the floor as she joined them. “You all right, Alice?” she asked, curiosity in her tone.

“Yes, yes. I’m all right. She reminded me of someone I once knew.”
But who
, her mind screamed. Or was it the question, “Do you know me?” Because Alice didn’t know anyone, even herself. Tears threatened. She swallowed hard, shaking her head.
I refuse to cry.
Instead, she turned to the two concerned faces and smiled as widely as she could. “Really, I’m fine. What do we do now, Nancy?”

“The 400 wing,” Nancy said.

Brenda told them good-bye and went down a different hall, back straight, heels clicking. Alice tried to stand a little taller as she followed Nancy.

“Nancy, where have you been?” a sharp voice asked. Alice saw the director of nurses leaving a room with several other people.

“We were taking people to Activities.”

“Oh. Okay. Mrs. Lefarger in 409 needs some fresh water.”

“Right away, Betty,” Nancy said.

Alice was glad Betty had ignored her. She admitted to herself she felt a bit afraid of the director. Alice followed Nancy to room 409.

“There you are, Nancy,” a querulous voice greeted them. “I’m all out of water and so thirsty.”

“I’ll get you some right now,” Nancy said, picking up the water pitcher off the bedside table. Alice followed her toward the dining room. They skirted the aerobics class and went to an alcove next to the kitchen. Nancy showed her the scoop and explained not to leave it inside the ice machine but to put it in its holder on the side. “Infection control.”

When they got back to 409, the resident asked, “Did you hear about Ida Jenkins? She passed on yesterday. Went peacefully in her sleep.”

Alice stared at the speaker, holding back a gasp of surprise.

“That’s too bad,” Nancy murmured.

Alice realized she must seem to have strange reactions to things. But she couldn’t help it. Ida Jenkins was the woman she had visited on her way out yesterday. Something had drawn Alice to talk to her. Now she realized Lettie looked similar to Mrs. Jenkins, only plumper. She wished she were alone so she could puzzle it out, but Nancy motioned to her, and they left the room. Alice began to feel like a puppy following her master.

More beds to change, more water to fetch, more questions to ask and answer from the residents took up the rest of the morning. Many of them mentioned Ida Jenkins, some commented if she had to go, it was fortunate she did so peacefully, in her sleep.

At eleven thirty, Nancy said, “We have to start handing out meals to residents who eat in their rooms. No one can take their lunch break until all the residents have been fed.”

It took over an hour to help with the noon meal. Alice felt a slight tug of resentment. She’d been working all morning and was starving.

Hannah had packed her a lunch. Nancy went across the street to Wendy’s and brought a hamburger back to eat with Alice in the break room.

After they ate, they transported residents to an afternoon activity of crafts and helped those who needed it. The afternoon went better, but Alice was glad when three o’clock came and she could leave. Before they left, though, Nancy whispered, “Want to see something?”

“What?” From Nancy’s tone, Alice hesitated.

“The cellar. It’s where the servants used to cook and have their own dining room. It’s got scads of rooms and it’s fascinating.”

“All right.” Alice really didn’t want to. She was tired but felt she couldn’t refuse without offending.

Nancy led her to the west end of the original house and down some wooden stairs. At the bottom, they stepped into a hallway, and Nancy went to the left. In the first room they saw the remnants of a kitchen with a huge old stove, deep sinks, and cabinets with glass doors. Next they went into a small, narrow room with a counter, just off the kitchen. Nancy opened a small door and showed her a dumbwaiter. “Ever seen one of these before?”

Alice shook her head.

“You pull on this rope to make the box go up and down. This is underneath the butler’s pantry upstairs, which is between the kitchen and what used to be the morning room. The family who owned this place originally ate breakfast there. Now the pantry’s a resident’s bathroom. Betty Cranston’s mother, poor thing, has that suite. It has lots of windows and is larger than any of the other rooms for residents.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Alice asked.

“Severe stroke. She’s paralyzed from her shoulders down. Can barely turn her head.”

“That’s awful!”

Nancy shrugged and showed Alice the large dining room with a massive plank table in the middle and some rickety-looking chairs set haphazardly around it. Next they visited the laundry room, then the room with the old boiler, and finally the storerooms. “I love this old stuff,” Nancy said. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Alice replied. “It’s interesting. Are we allowed to come down here, though?”

“Sure. Who’s to care? Nothing down here to steal. Anyway, tour’s over. I got to get home.”

They went back upstairs, and Nancy showed her the elevator that had been locked up. “The top floor isn’t used anymore, either. Someday I’ll show you. You’ve got to see the chapel, too, but another time.”

“Okay.”

Alice and Nancy said good-bye in the hall. Nancy went toward the back exit to the employee parking lot. Alice went out the front door, gratefully taking in big breaths of fresh air.

A little way down the sidewalk she saw a Pillsbury-Doughboy-like figure in a flowery dress, white hair in a chignon.
Was that Lettie? Was she supposed to be outside?

Quickening her pace, Alice caught up to the elderly woman. As she did, Lettie stopped and turned to her. “Do you know me?”

“Yes, Lettie, I do,” Alice said, her stomach tightening. The question disconcerted her still. “Will you come back inside with me?”

“Why?”

“Because… because Betty wants to see you. She has something to ask you.”

A crafty look came into Lettie’s eyes. “Does Betty know me?”

“Of course she does, Lettie. Please come inside with me.”

“Okay,” Lettie said, and they went back to the front door.

Alice was glad to see Betty at the nursing rotunda talking to another woman. “Uh, excuse me. I found Lettie outside. Is she supposed to—”

“Oh, no!” Betty exclaimed. “Where’s her armband? That little devil got it off somehow, so the alarm didn’t sound. We’re going to have to monitor her more carefully.”

Alice had no idea what Betty was talking about. Betty must have seen her confusion because she explained, “Lettie and several other residents wear a Hinderguard armband on their wrists. If they try to go outside, an alarm buzzes, and we go find out who’s trying to leave. Thank you for bringing her back, Alice. You did the right thing.”

Lettie stared at the other woman with Betty. “Do you know me?”

“Yes, Lettie,” she said.

Lettie turned to Alice and smiled. “I like you. I know you.”

“Who am I?” Alice breathed, afraid of what the answer might be.

“You’re that girl who brought me back inside.”

Disappointed, Alice turned to leave.

“Thanks again, Alice,” Betty said. “Come on, Lettie. A new armband for you.”

Lettie asked, “Do you know me?” as Betty led her away.

Alice left the building, slowly walking back to Hannah’s. Would she ever remember who she was? Or would she be like poor Lettie? She shivered in the late afternoon sunlight.

Upset, Betty led Lettie to her office. First Ida Jenkins died during the inspection, then Wanda kept finding all those bedsores, and now Lettie had gotten out. She hated the Hinderguard system, but it was the lesser of other evils. They couldn’t lock the door with keys because if there was a fire, it would delay getting everyone outside. Some homes used keypads with passwords or numbers, but passwords and numbers are easy to forget, especially in a panic situation like a fire. No, the Hinderguard was best, but there were always a couple of residents who figured out how to get the armband off. Luckily, Alice Strong had had the sense to get Lettie back inside, and the finesse to do it, too. Lettie could be extremely stubborn sometimes.

“How’d you get that armband off, Lettie?”

A sly smile came to Lettie’s lips. “I’m not telling.”

Betty sighed and took a new band out of the box and attached it more snugly than she liked. She’d have to check Lettie’s wrist often to make sure circulation remained all right and to see the darned thing was still on. And now she’d have to make out an incident report within twenty-four hours, too.

As they left the office, Thomas Black, Lettie’s husband, approached. He came to visit every day. Betty could never look straight at him. A handsome man, he was younger than Lettie—Betty guessed around fifty. He evoked feelings in her she hadn’t had for years. Not since Charles had been killed in Vietnam. She made herself concentrate on Lettie and Thomas together.