Sleepless Nights

by Pierre C. Arseneault

  34

  While wandering the halls, Victor overheard Amanda talking to another caregiver from the evening shift. Standing at the entrance of a room in the Lost Ward, his sharp ears heard their conversation from around the corner and down the hall.

  “He’s still in pretty good shape so he won’t have to change rooms. Not yet anyway. Not unless he gets worse.” He heard a shuffling of feet before more was said.

  “Yeah, he is definitely not ready for the Lost Ward,” a female voice said.

  “I hate it when you call it that,” he heard Amanda say.

  “Sorry,” the voice replied as Victor walked into the room that he had stood before. The resident of this room would know brief clarity before the next morning came.

  35

  Later that night as Victor watched from a room in what many knew as the Lost Ward, he could see a stretcher being placed into the back of the Carlton ambulance. A scene he had gotten very accustomed to while living at Sleepy Meadows. The flashing red lights had caught his attention as they shone through the curtains and onto the walls around him. A creaking sound distracted him for a brief moment as he turned to see Lorraine, snuggled under her freshly tucked blankets as she began breaking out in a heavy sweat. Victor had fed tonight, taking what little his dying body would allow him to. Lorraine would have a good day tomorrow. However brief it would be, her day would be better than usual. In the past, this helped him to feel better about taking from these lost souls, but not this night.

  A few hours later, Victor would overhear Maureen talking with Jenna while at the caregiver’s station.

  “Who did the ambulance take?” asked Jenna. She had spoken softly but Victor’s sharp ears had still overheard her.

  “You didn’t hear?” he heard Maureen respond. “Father Richard. He had another stroke.”

  “Oh, dear God!” exclaimed Jenna.

  Victor felt his spirit sink to a level he had forgotten was even possible as the reality of the situation swept over him.

  36

  It would be a week before Victor would see Father Richard again. This time the Father would be in his new room (which had been recently vacated) in the Lost Ward. He sat in a wheelchair as he drooled on himself, completely lost to the world around him.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” asked Victor.

  Richard could only mutter a garbled reply that Victor barely understood. It had sounded like Richard had asked if it was time to go to church yet. It sounded as if he had been asking his parents in a childlike manner of speaking. Victor’s spirit sunk as he slowly walked behind the wheelchair and grasped the handles pushing it forward. As he slowly exited the room, he spotted Amanda coming down the hallway.

  “Where are you two going at this hour?” she asked.

  “I’m taking the good Father to the chapel for a few minutes.” Victor smiled at Amanda. “I think it will do him some good. Both of us actually and I promise we won’t be long.”

  Richard mumbled an incoherent reply that no one understood as Victor pushed the chair down the hallway.

  37

  The room was quiet as Victor sat with the sleeping man, who not so long ago had called himself an ex-priest. A book lay in Victor’s lap like it had ever since Father Richard had returned from his stay at the hospital. A blue rosary inserted in it to mark the page. Since Richard’s last stroke, during his nightly visits, Victor had been reading to him each night.

  The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain.

  One of the books Richard had loved as a child and had wanted to read again but had not. One of the many things he had learned about Father Richard from the caregivers who loved him dearly. Too many books I want to read he had said to Maureen one night. The sound of Victor’s voice seams to lull Richard into a deep slumber. Victor had lost track of time many decades ago. Having had Richard to confide in had been a blessing. A comfort he had not had for a long and lonely length of time.

  Victor’s head tilted slightly as his old, but incredibly sharp ears heard scuffling footsteps from down the hallway. He waited quietly until he saw Jenna round the corner, entering the room.

  A slight smile as she spoke in a hushed tone. “Reading to Father Richard again?”

  “I was,” replied Victor as he took the book in his hand and looked at it. “I don’t know if it’s the book or my voice but it sooths him. Helps him sleep well I think.”

  “I’m sure it does. You’re a good man, Victor,” she said as she stood next to the bed. She noticed a plate of date cookies on the nightstand. Next to it was a tall glass of orange juice with a white straw floating high, like it would fall out at any moment.

  Victor looked at Richard as he spoke. “I brought those for Father Richard. I thought he looked hungry.”

  Jenna smiled as she pushed the straw down into the glass.

  “He will have a good day tomorrow,” said Victor. “Yes. I think he shall.”

  “Why do you say that?” inquired Jenna.

  “It’s a feeling I get sometimes,” replied Victor as he smiled meekly.

  “Let me know if you need anything, Victor.”

  “Thank you,” said Victor as he watched the young woman leave the room.

  “Yes my friend. You will have a good day tomorrow,” said Victor as he stood from his chair, aching joints making popping sounds. A sharp pain in his side reminded him of his body shutting down.

  38

  The shades were drawn tight as caregiver Maureen sat on top of her blankets wearing her comfortable pyjamas. The second floor bedroom of her home slightly dimmed in the early morning sunlight. Her laptop resting on her lap, she scrolled through her Facebook wall catching up on the previous evenings posts. A bloop sound caught her attention as she was alerted of having one new message. A few clicks later she saw the message was from her co-worker, Jenna.

  The message read, “You still up?”

  “Yes, just winding down,” replied Maureen.

  “Did you hear?” replied Jenna.

  “What?” asked Maureen.

  “Father Richard. He’s awake and talking today. His speech is slurred and he thinks he’s in the hospital in Boston again.”

  “Wow, really?”

  “The weird part is Victor predicted it. He told me so last night,” wrote Jenna. She added another message before Maureen could reply. “Yup and he had quite the appetite today.”

  Maureen replied. “I wonder how Victor knew he would be better today?”

  “I don’t know but I’m going to ask him tonight,” replied Jenna.

  “Thanks for letting me know,” replied Maureen. “I need to get some sleep now or I won’t be much fun to work with tonight… lol”

  “Me too, ttyl,” replied Jenna.

  Maureen couldn’t help but smile as she logged off and shut down her computer. Knowing that Father Richard was having a good day today lifted her spirits. Putting her laptop aside she fluffed up her pillow and got under the blankets. She closed her eyes, a slight smile still on her lips as she tried to clear her thoughts, focusing on getting some sleep.

  39

  Maureen sat in the staffroom. Alone, she slipped on her shoes for her last shift of the week. A smile appeared on her face again as the memory of Father Richard’s good day came back. Her only regret is that she had not been there to see it herself. He had faded back into the land of confusion that was his true self by afternoon. All remnants of his good day completely gone now like it had never happened. Maureen was startled as the door to the staff room burst open abruptly as Jenna hurriedly walked in.

  With a blank look, Maureen spoke first. “What’s the hurry?”

  Jenna cracked open her locker as she kicked off her sneakers and sat down to put on her white work shoes. “I went to talk to Victor before my shift.”

  “And?” inquired Maureen.

 
“He wasn’t in his room,” replied Jenna.

  “He must have started his rounds earlier tonight,” said Maureen. “Or he might be with Father Richard reading to him again.”

  “True. I guess I’ll see him later,” said Jenna as both ladies left the room to begin their graveyard shift.

  40

  Later that evening, Jenna made her way from room to room. She was in what many called the Lost Ward, checking on her sleeping residents. She couldn’t help but hope to stumble upon Victor during one of his usual visitations. She had been to Father Richard’s room twice already and would be there again momentarily. All in all, this had been a rather quiet shift so far and this was good since Jenna felt drained, more than ready for a few days off. As she rounded the corner into Farther Richard room for the third time this evening, she couldn’t help but feel a momentary feeling of relief. Just as Maureen had predicted, there sat Victor. Book firmly clutched in his hand which was also wrapped in a blue rosary. His head slumped down and his eyes closed tight.

  “There you are!” exclaimed Jenna in a soft tone, not wanting to wake Father Richard. “Sleeping at this hour?” she said inquisitively. She couldn’t help but think this was out of character for Victor. She walked quickly across the room and laid her hand on his shoulder.

  “Victor,” she said, gently nudging his shoulder to wake him. That’s when she realized how cold he felt. Victor always felt somewhat chilled but never this cold she thought. She shook him slightly.

  “Victor?” said Jenna as she touched his cheek with the back of her hand. Cold as ice she thought. Feeling his neck for a pulse, she found none.

  “God no!” she exclaimed. Pausing for a second in disbelief, before she could leave the room, a voice startled her.

  “Is- is he dead?” she heard a slurred voice say. Turning she saw Father Richard sitting up in bed with his brow covered in large droplets of perspiration.

  “Yes!” she blurted out before she could even think about her answer. Father Richard looked bewildered and confused as he sat up in his bed.

  “Poor Patrick,” said Father Richard who held his glasses in his hands instead of placing them on his face. “He was a confused and troubled soul.”

  In a state of shock, Jenna didn’t register what Richard had said to her but instead she ran from the room and down the hall. These would be the very last coherent words Father Richard would ever utter in the last few months of his life.

  41

  “Finally a day off after a seven day stretch and what a week,” wrote Jenna as her status update on her Facebook wall. She sat with her laptop at the kitchen table, her hair still damp from the shower and wearing her favourite pyjamas. She intended on wearing them all day, not planning to leave the house. Sipping hot coffee as she caught up on her friend’s Facebook updates.

  A bloop sound alerted her of a new message. The message was from Maureen.

  “You’re finally up. I got gossip!” the message read.

  “Miss me already did you?” Jenna typed in response.

  Maureen replied “My cousin Douglass McKinnon just got back from Vegas late last night.”

  Jenna replied “I still can’t believe Victor died so suddenly. Other than low blood pressure and arthritis, Dr Williams said Victor looked to be the healthiest resident we had.” Jenna sat back sipping her coffee as she waited on Maureen’s reply.

  “Can you keep a secret?” asked Maureen.

  “Of course,” replied Jenna.

  “Victor died early Thursday. Douglass only got back late Friday. He only went in to work on Saturday.”

  “So?” asked Jenna impatiently as she got up to get more coffee. A bloop sound made her hurry back to the table, spilling a li

  “Victor’s funeral arrangements clearly said he wanted to be cremated on the same day he died.”

  “Bad timing is all,” replied Jenna. “Is Douglass worried about complaints from the next of kin?”

  “There is no next of kin,” replied Maureen. “But that’s not the part that freaked Douglass out.”

  “Ok, now you’re pissing me off! Spill it already… lol” wrote Jenna in her reply.

  “After being in storage at the funeral parlour for two and half days, Douglass said it was like looking at a corpse that had been dead for weeks.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Jenna. “Was the cooler in the storage unit broken?”

  “I asked him that and he said that it was fine. But the decomp freaked him out. He had never seen anything like that before.”

  “Did he call Dr Williams to have a look at the body?” asked Jenna.

  “No. He is supposed to follow the residents pre-made funeral arrangements to the letter and so nobody is supposed to know this,” replied Maureen. “Which is why I asked if you could keep a secret.”

  “I’m sure Dr Williams wouldn’t mind in a case like this. It was just bad timing.”

  “Too late anyway. The cremation is already done. He didn’t even want to tell me about it but I pried it out of him. Can you believe it, he was afraid I’d tell someone,” wrote Maureen.

  “Well you did!” replied Jenna. “You told me.”

  “lol” replied Maureen.

  Bill and Frank

  1

  We both walked quietly on this grey day in the middle of May. It had rained again all last night but it had stopped early in the morning. Everything was still damp and soggy and nothing would dry without the sun coming out. But still, spring was upon us and all around the grass was now a dark shade of green. Also the trees had begun to bloom, which meant the sweet smell of spring was in the air.

  The both of us had remained quiet since leaving the truck at the abandoned Hennessey farm. All you could hear was the occasional bird and the sound we made as we traveled up the neatly groomed trail. The crunching of fine gravel as the two of us walked slowly, not in a rush to get to our destination. We would come here a lot and walk from the old farm up this trail and down to our favourite fishing hole, Jagged River. On this day I had left the fishing gear in the truck, and I think we both knew why.

  Less than a week ago we had found out that Frank had cancer and didn’t have long to live. This was all I had thought about since that day. We had worked together for the last ten years since we graduated the academy together. Not only were we partners, but we had become the best of friends and had been pretty much inseparable ever since.

  We did everything together including going fishing every spring. We spent many days at the old Jagged River sometimes not even catching anything. The river was so quiet and peaceful compared to the noise of the city. After riding in the squad car all week we would look forward to the quiet times at the river. We went there all summer, often spending hours there lost in the sounds of the rushing river. We would listen to the chirping and fluttering of birds in the dense thickets and trees all around us.

  The entire time we walked I could feel the hard steel of my .22 Glock handgun against my back, tucked inside my jeans. It was hidden by my light blue denim jacket so Frank wouldn’t see it. Somehow I think he knew what I was thinking as he never even made eye contact with me the entire walk up to the river.

  I had not been sleeping well in the last few weeks as I knew something was wrong. I would have never admitted it to anyone, but I had never really had many friends growing up and so this made our relationship even stronger for me. I think most of the guys on the force knew it too. Probably why they teased me all the time saying how Frank was the better officer of the two of us. The better driver and how I couldn’t do anything without him.

  A big part of me knew they were right on that last part. This is why knowing Frank was dying was tearing me apart.

  We sat next to the river on the damp grass for what felt like hours as I lost track of time. It was abnormally quiet. You couldn’t hear any birds or anything, only the rush of the river, whi
ch was still a little high from a combination of all the recent rain and the melting of the snow.

  Frank had his back to me and hadn’t even glanced in my direction since we got here. I was completely exhausted not having slept at all for the last few days. I was ashamed to admit it to anyone but my emotions were getting the best of me. For the last half hour I had sat here with my pistol in my hand with tears running down my face. It had taken me a very long time to even take the safety off and a part of me knew it was selfish of me as I couldn’t bear to watch Frank die a painful slow death.

  After quite some time I was finally able to gather up the courage and I aimed my Glock at the back of Frank’s head. I could feel the warm tears running down my face and my hand trembled, but I knew I couldn’t back down now or I would never have the courage to do this again. Meanwhile, Frank never even looked at me and I felt he probably knew what was about to happen. I was a crack shot but with my emotional state I was afraid of missing and not being able to muster up the guts to take a second shot. It had to be a clean shot and I knew it and so I struggled with my emotions.

  A loud crack broke the silence and was heard echoing through the forest but only the wildlife and the sudden flutter of birds acknowledged it. Gunshots were not all that uncommon a thing to hear deep in the woods behind the old Hennessey farm.

  Sobbing at the thought of what I had just done I was weak from the stress of it all. Frank lay in a pool of his own blood soaking the grass and pooling onto the ground around him. The ground was already so wet that it was not absorbing any of the blood. The puddle grew larger and larger right in front of me.

  2

  A second crack echoed through the forest that morning before all went quiet. A few of the brave birds who had not fluttered far after the first shot suddenly flew away from the commotion not knowing that this would be the last shot they would hear that day.

  3

  The sun was finally out today after the last week of sporadic rain they just had. Everything was starting to dry and people were out and about again. The rays felt wonderful, beating through the windows of the police cruiser as Sergeant Jake McGinnis drove through the Stonevalley city streets.