by Joe Sullivan
They gave her to me, put her on my floor just because I’d done it before. Did they ever think that, just maybe, I promised myself I’d never do it again?
Too many thoughts, too many questions that did her no good to think them at all. It was her job and she couldn't refuse, even if she desperately wanted to.
#
Charlotte’s room was plain; white walls, cream colored curtains over the window and pale green linoleum flooring. Its only extravagance came from a dark wood dresser with a mirror over it. It was meant to look serene, like a glimpse of the heaven awaiting each patient placed there.
Abbie left the top step in a hurry, rushing to bear the gift she brought the girl before heading home. The cage rattled and she stopped to silence it before continuing down the hallway to the last room on the right. Abbie halted at the door, the small voice on the other side told her Charlotte hadn't gone to sleep yet. Abbie knocked gently then opened the door.
“You need to rest.”
“I will soon enough,”
“You'll feel better if you do.”
“I'm dying, I'll sleep forever soon.”
“Come on now, don't talk like that.” Abbie never knew what to say when a patient talked about the end, especially the children.
“I told you that I can't sleep, she coughs all night!”
“Coughs?”
“You forgot, didn't you?”
Abbie nodded, feeling her age for having a patient, a child, remind her of something she promised to take care of hours ago.
The girl's pallid face brightened a bit at the sight of the cage, “You brought it!”
“At least I remembered this.” Abbie smiled.
“Thank you, Nurse Abbie!”
“We'll look into finding you friends to keep in it tomorrow, but now you need to rest.”
She sat the cage on the dresser, pushing aside the morbid thought of how many sets of clothing had been folded and placed in its drawers over the years, only to be bagged up and sent back to someone's widow or children. It saddened her more to think of the bags of clothing that no one retrieved and were eventually tossed out in the trash.
“Don't forget about the coughing.” Charlotte reminded her, sliding down beneath her sterile white sheets.
“I'll look in on Ms. Binter on my way out. Good night.”
Abbie closed Charlotte's door softly behind her and walked directly across the hall to Sylvia Binter's room. There was no sound coming from the other side, so she made her way back to the stairs.
#
The coughing was incessant, the afflicted hardly drew breath between the hacking. It was the sound of soggy lungs, those filled with mucous and very little oxygen. Charlotte covered her head in her pillow and let her mind drift to a place between sleep and wakefulness. She was at her mother's house, sitting in her bedroom. Her mother's voice carried down the narrow hallway and through the paper-thin door.
“I just don’t think I'm strong enough to be there at the end.”
After a stint in the hospital, Charlotte found herself in the care of Nurse Abbie. She was eleven years old, not really a child anymore, but nowhere near grown. She knew she was dying; it was a fact that followed her closer than her own shadow.
“Do you know how far away heaven is?”
The voice cut through her dreamlike state, echoed in her ears even with the pillow held firmly against them. “You're closer to hell than heaven.”
She never thought she'd fear anything again after being diagnosed with cancer, but she was wrong. Charlotte couldn't move, hardly dared to breathe more than shallow gulps of the stale air, trapped under her sheets all that night, and didn’t dare take the pillow off her head.
#
Abbie arrived the following morning alongside the day staff to relieve the night crew. She passed Virginia in the hallway, she looked like she’d been hit by a train.
“Was last night okay, Virginia?”
“Same as always.” The aging Texan answered.
“How was Ms. Binter? Did she cough all night?”
“Not a peep out of her.”
“Charlotte said Ms. Binter had been coughing but I didn’t hear anything.”
“Kind of hard to keep someone up when you're on a completely different floor,” Virginia said, “Ms. Binter was moved to the first floor, remember?”
Abbie felt foolish; the old woman had been moved.
“How could I forget?” She said tapping her forehead.
“Happens to all of us, they herd them through here like a slaughterhouse,” Virginia said and punched her timecard, “each one waiting on their day to die.”
#
Abbie made her rounds, checking on the patients designated to her care and stopped at Charlotte's room last. She wanted to spend a little extra time with the girl even though it broke her heart just stepping foot in the room.
“Good morning.” She said softly.
Charlotte was quiet but smiled at her nurse.
“Have we decided what kind of friends we want to share your room?” Abbie asked, motioning to the cage.
“Not yet.” The girl answered.
“There was a man who lived here once who brought his little dog with him.”
“Lived…” Charlotte said, “you mean died.”
Abbie didn't respond to the girl and only went about taking Charlotte's temperature and looking over her care sheet.
“Did Nurse Virginia check in on you last night?”
“I heard someone open the door but I’m not sure if it was her or that coughing lady.”
“There shouldn't be any other guests in your room.”
“Guests?”
The girl was being sarcastic again, “You mean patients.”
“I made sure Ms. Binter wouldn't bother you with her coughing.”
“She’s not the lady I'm talking about, this lady is really sick, she coughs all the time and says mean things.”
“I'll make sure no one wakes you up tonight.” Abbie promised.
She wasn't sure which patient Charlotte could be referring to, but it didn’t surprise her that some of the others might say rude things, a handful of them weren't pleasant at all.
“Nurse Abbie,” Charlotte asked as she went to the door, “how much do you know about heaven; is it far away?”
“It's closer than you think.” Abbie said with a warm smile that cracked as she shut the door behind her.
She hustled to the staff restroom and cried at the sink. Her eyeliner bled and ran down her full cheeks. The whites of her eyes stayed red for hours afterwards, making her green eyes appear irritated.
#
“Allergies attackin’ ya?” Ricardo, the maintenance man, asked.
“Yes, must be those trees out front.” Abbie lied.
“I hear ya.” He said, dragging a ladder out of the utility closet.
Ricardo fought with the ladder as he hauled it out the front door. Abbie followed behind him, holding the exit doors open so he wouldn't make too much noise around the resting patients.
Ricardo propped the ladder up against the welcome sign and climbed to the top. He was busy changing a light bulb above the words Tranquil Halls Hospice Center when he heard a tapping.
Abbie watched him work while she walked out to her car. She had forgotten the spare change she kept in the cup holder by the driver's side seat. The soda machine was calling to her and in her present mood she didn’t much care to fight the urge for a little sugar. She unlocked the door and quickly grabbed the change. She took a moment to inspect her hair, a soft blond bun was positioned on the back of her head. It made her look older than forty-three, but it kept her hair from falling in her face and was as much a part of her uniform as the scrubs she wore on a daily basis.
She had just crossed the sidewalk on her way back into the building when she heard Ricardo talking.
“Poor little fella, looks like he lost his mama.”
He came down the ladder, attempting to steady himself with o
ne hand while carrying his hat in the other.
“Be careful, you're going to fall.” Abbie warned him and ran to hold the bottom of the ladder.
He smiled as he made it to the sidewalk and pulled his hat from his outstretched hand to reveal a small nest with a single chirping chick inside.
“That lady up there pointed it out. Good thing we found him because his mama is dead on the window ledge, must've flown right into the glass.”
Abbie looked up to the windowsill, it was Charlotte's room.
“What lady?”
“Couldn't see her real well. Had longer white hair and kept one hand over her mouth because she was coughing. She just kept pointing to the birds.” He answered.
Charlotte felt a chill run through her, yet she had to admit it wasn't the first time in her many years around the sick and dying that she felt that way; ghosts came with the territory.
"Do you know much about this building—like what it was used for before it became a hospice center?" she asked Ricardo.
"I was told its mostly been a care facility. Years ago, TB patients were treated here. Many died." He answered.
Abbie nodded and wondered if people close to death were more prone to see the spirits of the past.
"So, if ya see any extra patients who just up and disappear, that could be your answer." Ricardo winked.
You're making too much of this. Charlotte is only a child who still has a wild imagination, even if she's dying.
Abbie felt foolish for letting her mind wander to such nonsense; she was happy when he changed the subject.
“Should we call a vet or something, maybe they'll know what to do with him?” Ricardo said, pointing to the tiny bird.
“I think I have an idea.” Abbie said.
#
Charlotte was buried in her blankets, her pillow held over her head.
“Charlotte?” Abbie asked, concerned the girl was taking a turn towards the inevitable.
The little girl removed the pillow and sat up in bed. Her thinning hair was tangled and sweat dotted her upper lip.
“Why are you hiding under there?” Abbie asked from the doorway.
“She won’t leave me alone.”
“Who?”
“The coughing lady. She scares me.”
Abbie didn't know what to say. She worried that Charlotte could be experiencing hallucinations, since she had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. She had already pushed Ricardo’s claim out of mind, that he had seen a woman in the girl's room.
“Maybe this will make you feel better.” She said walking into the room with the nest and baby bird held out before her.
“It's so cute!” Charlotte cried.
“Would you like it to be your roommate?”
“Oh yes!” the little girl said with the first genuine smile that Abbie had seen from her.
Abbie carried the nest over and placed it in the bird cage. The chick looked like it could be on the verge of flight. She felt guilty about putting it in the cage, but she hoped it might bring some joy into the remainder of Charlotte's short life, and the bird could always be released once Charlotte was gone. When the thought of Charlotte dying passed through Abbie’s mind, she felt her stomach turn with nauseating sadness, a pain she’d felt before. She imagined herself releasing the bird and watching it through tears as it took flight over a tiny grave.
#
“You don’t look too good.” Ricardo said as he sipped his coffee.
“I’m having a hard time,” Abbie admitted, “I’m usually just fine doing this work but,”
“Taking care of kids is hard.” He finished her sentence and she nodded.
“The first time, I took care of my own daughter; since then I have only worked with adults. That's why working here hasn’t bothered me so much.”
“Yeah, round here it’s usually people who’ve already lived a full life.”
“I’ve dodged situations like this a few times, but this time I couldn't get around it.”
“You'll make it through.” Ricardo said confidently as he finished his drink.
She smiled and watched him go back to work, but inside she felt like running away.
#
Abbie stopped by the pet store on the way home and found a book on birds. She stayed up late reading about caring for fledglings like the one Ricardo had found. It made her happy to think she would be able to answer any questions that Charlotte might have about caring for her new roommate. Her thoughts of the little girl eventually replayed Charlotte’s disconcerting complaints of the coughing lady. It made her uneasy. She thought of Ricardo's knowing wink after she had asked about the building’s history. Abbie knew that anyone dying from Tuberculosis would have tremendous coughing fits. She shook the morbid thoughts out of mind and went about her nightly routine, eventually heading to bed.
That night Abbie dreamed of her daughter McKenna. She was back in Texas, in her little girl's bedroom. Her daughter was asleep in her bed, her bald head sweating through her pillow. A shadow was gathering on the wall above her headboard. The frail child opened her eyes to stare above her. Abbie watched from the doorway, but couldn't move as her daughter's mouth gaped open, and the dark spot on the wall began to take shape in the form of the upper half of an old woman. She was haggard, filthy; blood dripped from her nostrils. The crone started to gag, mouthfuls of a thick, bloody mucous fell into her child's waiting mouth. Abbie opened her mouth to scream but her breath was stolen from her. Her lungs felt closed off and her heart beat wildly in her chest as she watched the old woman spit blood down onto McKenna's face.
Abbie awoke to her dark bedroom; she was alone but the sounds of the hag coughing up her lungs echoed in Abbie’s mind. She thought of Charlotte and felt a sickening terror fill her gut.
#
Ricardo was sitting in the break room when Abbie came rushing in to punch her timecard.
“I thought you’d called in sick; you're never late.”
“Honestly, I'm exhausted.” She answered.
“I can’t blame you.” He said with a sympathetic look in his eyes.
Virginia came in to end her day and gave Abbie the patient updates from the night before.
“It was a relatively quiet night.”
“How was Charlotte?” Abbie asked, thinking of her nightmare.
“Slept like a baby. She seemed in a happier mood.”
“That's great.” Abbie said, relieved. She figured the girl was content, now that she shared her room with the little fledgling.
#
Abbie found herself spending extra time alone with the sick little girl, and Charlotte did seem happier. They whistled to the fledgling bird and fed it bits of crackers. Its feathers were just right to take flight and she made a silent promise to herself, that once Charlotte's spirit was sent to heaven, she'd set the bird free as well.
“You seem like you’re in a better mood.” Abbie said with a smile.
“The coughing lady doesn't bother me anymore.”
“I'm happy to hear that.” Abbie said, feeling ashamed for letting a dream bother her so much.
“It's almost time for me to go home,” Abbie commented, looking at her wristwatch.
“Really?” Charlotte asked.
The little girl frowned and laid back on her pillows, obviously disappointed.
“I'll see you tomorrow.”
“What if I go to heaven tonight?” Charlotte asked.
“You look like you’re feeling a lot better. I know I'll see you tomorrow morning.” Abbie tried to appear positive, but her heart sank into her stomach.
“You're my favorite, Nurse Abbie. I want you to be here when I fly away.”
“I promise, I'll be right here beside you.” Abbie said.
#
Charlotte sat on her bed, watching the bird, remembering what the coughing lady promised.
"Soon I'll fly away."
#
Abbie couldn't help but cry as she drove home, she felt so helpless. When she got to
her apartment it felt so empty and cold. Abbie paced around her place, keeping herself busy with chores until night fell. It wasn't until she stepped into her bedroom that she began to feel like someone was watching her. A product of the nightmare of the old woman, she thought, the one coughing up mouthfuls of blood into her deceased daughter's mouth. Abbie shut herself in the bathroom, knowing her nightly routine consisted of a shower, but she couldn't talk herself into getting undressed. She already felt vulnerable and wanted nothing more than to wrap up in her blankets and try to forget every dark thought trying to worm its way into her brain. Abbie went to the sink and ran warm water. She bent over to wash her face when she heard something in her living room; a cough.
Goosebumps arose on her forearms, the tiny space within the bathroom felt as if it was closing in on her, but she couldn't bring herself to open the door. Abbie put her hand on the doorknob but halted as a rasping voice whispered.
"Fly away, little fledgling."
Abbie fell back against the sink and covered her mouth to stifle a scream.
"You'll see heaven soon."
A gurgling cough resounded on the other side of the cheap wooden door. Over and over, until the sound of vomiting replaced it. Abbie screamed as a thick pool of blood slid under the door. Her thoughts went to her nightmare, then to Ricardo relating the history of the hospice building on that sunny sidewalk. She watched the puddle grow until it nearly enveloped the entire bathroom floor, forcing her to sit on the countertop next to the sink. Her cries for help echoed off the tiled walls of the shower.
Amidst her panic, a jingling tune drew her attention away from the pooling mass beneath her. Abbie realized that her cell phone was ringing in the pocket of her scrubs. She was shaking so badly that she could hardly answer her phone once she’d tugged it free from her clothes.
"Abbie, it's time for Charlotte to pass on. She’s asking for you," stated Virginia.
Abbie looked to the floor; she was shocked to find it a gleaming white once more. She hung up the phone and ran through her apartment, grabbing her keys, and was on her way to Tranquil Halls.
#
Her headlights swept over Virginia who waited outside for her. Abbie parked partly on the sidewalk she was in such a hurry, and rushed past Virginia, who followed right on her heels.
