Theresa swiped her credit card and gave him a cash tip. “Thanks very much.” She began to walk toward the entrance and caught her reflection in the mirrored glass door. She looked like she had been in a bar fight. Rather than be embarrassed, Theresa thought it gave her more of an edge. Scrappy.
Cheshire Cat buzzed her in. “Oh, my. Look at your face!”
“Yes, I’ve seen it,” Theresa replied wryly.
“What on earth happened?” Smiley Face asked in earnest.
“A bit of a fender bender.” She wondered if there was any security footage but didn’t ask. She would pose that question to the police. No further explanation was needed, particularly since Theresa didn’t know which side of the fence Smiley Face was on.
“I’ll get someone to take you back ASAP!” Ms. Cheerful replied.
The more exposure Theresa had to the place and its staff, the more it felt like a creepy horror novel.
Once again she was escorted to the woman tangled in tubes. Once again Theresa spoke into the box, and once again, no response.Was she even breathing?Theresa wondered. It was difficult to tell, given the woman was on a ventilator. The woman’s skin was ashen, even more so than the day before. It was alarming. What if the woman was dying? Theresa rushed down the hallway to find someone to help. As she passed the third windowed room, she spotted the woman in the wheelchair wearing the ring. This time she didn’t stop and hustled to the reception area and banged on the door. The lock was buzzed open, and she dashed to the reception desk. “I think there is something wrong with my aunt,” she said breathlessly. “She looks awful.”
“We’ll manage this.”
Theresa’s anxiety level began to rise. She had absolutely nothing invested with her estranged aunt, except for the travel expenses, yet she felt a sense of responsibility. Regardless of the family history, Aunt Dottie shouldn’t spend her final days among cold, indifferent people. In spite of the receptionist’s permanent grin, there was an air of detachment to her. It was often necessary in this line of work, but people needed to feel cared for, especially when they were at their most vulnerable.
“And I saw that woman again. In the wheelchair.” Theresa was beginning to shake. She knew she hadn’t imagined the woman, or the ring.Who was she?The receptionist insisted there was no woman in a wheelchair.
“I know what I saw.” Theresa leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. She needed to sit down. Her head was spinning. There were no chairs, nor did Smiley Face offer her one, hence the floor was her only option. Within seconds Theresa was jolted by an alarm, and a voice came over an intercom stating, “Code Blue.”
Theresa pulled herself up using the handle of the security door. The woman behind the desk appeared to be unfazed. “What’s going on?” Theresa asked in a half-panic mode.
“Everything is being taken care of,” Smiley Face replied.
Theresa leaned against the wall again, waiting for someone to speak to her. But what would they say?There is no woman in a wheelchair. Your aunt had no jewelry. After several minutes, the phone rang at the reception desk. Theresa struggled to hear what was being discussed when the expression on Smiley’s face went blank. Her eyes darted toward Theresa; then she nodded. When the woman ended the call, she slipped the small plexiglass door open. “Nurse Turner will be with you in a moment.”
Several minutes lapsed, but they felt like an eternity. Nurse Turner came through the locked door with a blank expression on her face. “I am sorry to have to tell you, but your Aunt Dottie has passed.”
A wave of nausea flooded Theresa’s body. She didn’t know the woman, yet she felt a sense of loss. “Just now?” Her eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. It was a combination of frustration, shock, and a banging headache. “May I see her one more time?” Theresa didn’t know why she wanted to subject herself to the sight, but something urged her forward.
“If you wish,” Nurse Ratched answered with a sour tone. “Follow me.” The nurse buzzed them into the long, cold, fluorescent hallway. It was the first time Theresa realized there were no windows on the wall opposite the glass-enclosed rooms, nor were there windows in the confined spaces. Everything was hermetically sealed. It bore no resemblance to any other nursing home she had ever visited—albeit she hadn’t visited many. Still, the place struck her as odd. As they passed the room where Theresa swore she saw a woman in a wheelchair, Theresa purposely kept looking ahead until they came to Dottie’s cubicle. An orderly was in the room where Aunt Dottie’s body lay. Nurse McNasty gave the orderly a nod, and he proceeded to pull a sheet over the woman.
“What happens next?” Theresa asked.
“Your aunt signed a waiver giving us full responsibility.”
“I can take care of it.” Theresa felt it was the least she could do.
“That won’t be necessary. According to our paperwork, there were no surviving relatives.”
“Yes, but I am, was, her niece.”
“Not according to our records. We only allowed you to visit as a courtesy; however, you have not provided proper documentation of your relationship to her.”
“I still don’t understand. Are you saying I have to show you a copy of our family tree?” Theresa did not like the way the woman was speaking to her, especially her stern tone.
“As I said, according to her application, she did not list any relatives and dispensed her arrangements to Sunnydale. If you wish to pursue this, you may consider engaging an attorney.” Nurse McNasty tilted her head toward the exit, indicating Theresa should return to the lobby, or even better, leave the premises for good.
Theresa’s mind was racing. Had this been a fool’s errand? Her gut said no. Theresa remained silent as she made her way down the chilly hall. She glanced sideways into the room where the mysterious, ring-clad woman sat the day before. There she was again. The ring caught the corner of her eye. Theresa deliberately dropped her phone on the floor and bent over to pick it up. She stood slowly and snatched a glimpse of the woman behind the glass window. Theresa was now certain the woman, who looked like an older version of her mother, was indeed her aunt. It begged the question,Who was the woman who is now dead?
Theresa feigned fumbling with her purse and phone and stealthily snapped a photo of the woman with the blank expression. Nurse Cranky Pants was hot on her tail. “I’ll escort you out,” she proclaimed as she got between Theresa and the glass window.
The two women entered the vestibule. “We’ll take it from here,” the sourpuss announced.
“Are you planning on a wake? A memorial service? Something?”
