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After dropping Theo off at Mrs. Martin's, Kali made her way to the bus stop. If she'd been more organized this morning, more efficient, she could have walked. This time of day she preferred the walk over the crowded bus, the forced interactions, the smiles she didn't feel like giving. Not that she had to smile, but inevitably some older person would strike up a conversation or look like they needed one. And Kali couldn't be the one to disappoint the day of someone who had few days left.
At the hospital, Kali checked her room assignments. Four at the moment. All occupied. She took the few minutes before the current nurse left to ensure all her rooms were fully stocked: suctions, CPR supplies, O2 working, and the list went on. Next, she familiarized herself with the patient charts. Kali sighed. Most days she felt ready for her shift—proud in advance of the difference she'd make. Today, though, she already felt wiped.
Yesterday's fear crept over her again. If that stranger hadn't been fast enough, had been distracted by a bird, a plane, had slow reflexes ...
“Morning.”
Kali turned to Shelley, her shift supervisor and friend since grade school. The only person Kali regularly spoke to from her days in North Preston.
“Morning.”
“Doing all right? You look run over.”
Run over. Kali twitched at the term. “Good. Little tired. More rats this morning. Well, a rat.”
“You have got to get that landlord of yours in gear. Or move. Why don't you just move?”
“I know.” Kali pushed out a smile, regretting she'd said anything at all. “I should.” Just move. Like it was easy. Simple. It would be for Shelley. When you have a husband with a full-time job, a full-time job yourself, and two sets of grandparents practically fighting to take care of your child, life was easier.
“Many shifts this week?”
“Three.”
Shelley made a tut-tut noise. “Don't know how you manage. Still no luck on a new daycare? I mean we need you here. You're one of my best gals. I could get you full-time hours. Easy.”
“No luck on daycare. You know that wouldn't cover twelve-hour shifts anyway.”
Shelley nodded. “But Mrs. Martin, she could—”
“Any interesting cases this morning?”
Shelley scrunched her lips. “A few.” Her expression softened. “There's a sweet old lady in room eight. Came in with complaints of heart palpitations, though she seemed more stressed than anything, and now she's worried about her dog at home alone. Says usually her daughter would watch it but she's on vacation or something. Gene has her, but you know Gene. Mind if I switch her room to you?” Shelley thought for a moment. “I'll give Gene the man with killer indigestion.” She laughed. “Though his gas is the only thing that's killer.”
“Sure.” Kali set down the chart she was holding and headed for the next room. “I'll take her.”
“Hi, there.” Kali approached the woman with heart palpitations. She looked small in the hospital bed, which was saying something. The beds weren't big. A thin down of white hair covered the woman's head. Her eyes were shrouded by drooping lids, but Kali could almost see the woman she used to be. Regal. Poised. Or at least appearing so. “How are you feeling?”
“Flustered.” The woman gave a little sigh. She raised her hands and let them fall gracefully. “It isn't pleasant, you know, to be out of one's comfort zone.”
“It isn't.” Kali approached the bed. “How are your pillows? All right?”
“I suppose, yes. Everything is all right. Everyone has been very kind.”
Kali checked the woman's temperature.
“But I have a dog, you see? Sweet little Pomeranian. Do you know what I'm talking about?”
“Mmmhmm.” Kali had no clue, but if she revealed that she'd be in the room for an hour. She took the woman's pulse.
“Ten years I've had her, so she's not the youngest.”
So far all was well. Next, blood pressure. “But she is just the sweetest. And she needs me, you see. She's never away from me more than a few hours. It's silly, I know.”
The image of the rat flooded Kali's vision. Its little tongue. Its disgusting little tongue had been hanging out. Its eyes bulged. She hated killing it but hated more that it was in her apartment. Walking the same floorboards as Theo. As her.
“I sometimes even take her out with me. In my purse. Like in the movies.”
Kali set the cuff aside. She smiled. “I bet she loves that.”
“Oh, she does. She's just tickled by it. She pops her little head out and looks around. I imagine she feels like royalty. Like Cleopatra on her litter.”
Kali checked the woman's respiratory rate next. Her chest tightened at the thought of talking to her landlord. He'd already moved her once, and that had taken some convincing. Would he have another apartment? What would getting pest control even mean? Could they stay in the apartment during it, and how long would it take? Mrs. Martin had no space for them. She'd squeeze them in perhaps, if she had to. But Kali couldn't inconvenience the woman more than a night. Maybe two. Shelley? Shelley was her boss, or practically. Shelley's life was full of her child and her husband and both sets of grandparents stepping in and out. Kali and Theo would be in the way.
Kali stifled a yawn and rubbed her eyes. She shouldn't be here after a sleepless night. Not that she'd make a mistake. She wouldn't let herself make a mistake. But still.
“I can't carry her too often anymore, though.” The woman's voice lowered. “I get tired.”
“I'm sure she's happy just to be with you.” Kali rested a hand on the woman's arm. All her vitals were sound. A quick visit from the doctor and she should be on her way. “It sounds like she's lucky to have you.”
“Oh, no.” The woman smiled; the creases in her lined face deepened. “I'm lucky to have her. She was a gift, you know. From my Harold. Two weeks before he died.”
The woman looked to her lap. “It was like he knew. But he had a heart attack. He couldn't have known.” She looked up. “But still, we hadn't had a dog in years. Not since the kids were in the house. But then he comes home with this little toy of a puppy. He would never have wanted a dog like that. He liked big dogs. Labs. Retrievers. The type of dog you could rough-house with in the backyard.” She paused, looking at a life, a world, Kali couldn't see. “The pup was for me. So I wouldn't be so alone. I think he knew.”
“He may have.” Kali perched on the edge of the bed—she shouldn't. She was done in here. But a few moments wouldn't hurt. “Has he been gone long?”
“Well,” the woman paused, “ten years. Ten years today, actually.”
Kali's throat closed. Right, because the dog was ten years old. She squeezed the woman's hand again. “I'm sorry. This is a hard day for you.”
“Ten years.” The woman laughed. “It probably seems like forever to you, but to me it's a blink. I was with him for fifty-five years. I still wake up and expect him to be there. Still start to set out a second cup for tea.” Her voice lowered. “Lie awake at night and wish for his arm to wander over, rest against me.” The woman blushed. She waved a hand in front of her face. “Silly.”
“No.”
“The delusions of an old lady, someone the world has no use for anymore.”
Kali rubbed the woman's wrist, her skin frail, like paper. Like her grandmother's had been. “Your daughter has use for you.”
“I'm a burden. She wants to put me in a home.”
“You have grandchildren?”
She nodded. “Great-grandchildren too. But they're all so busy. They get shifty. Uncomfortable around me. They yell, as if I can't hear. I hear fine.” She paused. “I remind them of their mortality. They want to believe they'll live forever.”
Live forever? No. Kali would slip away today if it weren't for Theo.
But that wasn't true. Not really. Though some days, days like today, it seemed a simple solution to the questions she had no answers for. “Well, I'm glad you're here. Not every patient is as sweet as you.” Kali stood. Others were waiting. “And that Pomeranian. Think of how eager she'll be to have you back home.”
“I'm all right?” The woman's eyes looked young. They searched Kali's. Fear and hope and trust.
Kali gave the woman her sweetest hospital smile. “I'll have a doctor check in on you, but I think you'll be on your way soon.”
She nodded. Not relief, but resignation in her eyes. “Well, that's good then.”
Kali returned the nod and left the room. A Pomeranian she carried in her purse. A child and grandchildren who had no need of her ... or at least gave that impression. An apartment that was home to rats and mould. A son who wouldn't speak. A husband who left too soon. Nights spent staring at the ceiling, wishing, hoping, and not always knowing what for. All these troubles in the world.
Kali shook her head. She didn't have time for sad, meandering thoughts.
As she approached her next room, a commotion erupted from the ER entrance. Kali rushed toward the sound. “MVA,” Shelley yelled. “Three vehicles. Ten passengers. At least three critical. Let's go.”
Kali swallowed. Her blood rushed. Her senses heightened. That old lady wouldn't keep her bed for long. Kali scanned the injured being rushed in. At least two children. One hollering, the other staring, wide-eyed. Both covered in blood. Theirs? Or that of the motionless woman rolled in after them?
All thoughts aside. Time to work.