Ellie's Crows

by MaryAnn Myers

  Ellie smiled. “Nothing. Everything. It means she is safe, that I am watching over her. It means pay attention. I made the word up when I was a little girl.”

  Grandma Betty laughed. “You are still a little girl. This is too much fun for an old woman.”

  “Come,” Ellie said, holding out her hand. “Dudabachie.”

  Lolita took flight, cawing and cawing, and with a grand swoop, flew to Ellie and landed on the side of her hand.

  “Dudabachie,” Grandma Betty whispered breathlessly, in awe. “Dudabachie.”

  From the hayloft in the barn, Victor watched.

  “This is Lolita, Grandma. She is a scarlet.”

  Grandma Betty laughed. “I can see that. She has a smile on her face.”

  Lolita ruffled her feathers, regarded them both, and then took off in flight, landing far out in the pasture, and cawing and strutting.

  “Dudabachie,” Grandma Betty said softly to herself. “Indeed.”

  It was with a sigh that Ellie got behind the wheel, and for a moment the two of them just sat there. Ellie didn’t notice Victor still watching, didn’t feel the threat. They just sat there, content with one another’s company, and treasuring the moment.

  Eventually, another car pulled in, then another. The racetrack people. They were always there early. It was time to leave. “Where to now, Grandma?”

  “Oh, I’m thinking probably the home.”

  Ellie looked at her. “Why? Are you in pain?”

  “A little.” Grandma Betty shrugged. “Not like before.”

  “Then why?”

  “I don’t think I should’ve ate yesterday. It’s all Jewel’s fault I’m still around.”

  Ellie smiled. They’d had such fun though. It saddened her to think of taking her grandmother back to the nursing home, knowing how she hated it there, how she didn’t want to be there. Knowing….

  “But we have to be practical,” Grandma Betty insisted. “You have to go to work. You’re going to be late as it is. For some reason, I’ve been given another day. And I’m sorry to say…” she added, “I think I need my diaper changed.”

  * * *

  Even though Ellie had phoned her father twice to try to avoid a panic, she fully expected to see a squad of cop cars parked outside the nursing home, lights flashing. She expected to see her father’s car right along with them, and maybe even Jewel’s. She expected mayhem, accusations, and frantic nurses. She expected questions, red tape, a complicated sign-in process. And at the very least, she expected someone to be there to answer the door. She rang the buzzer again and again, and was just about to drive around front, when finally, one of the aides appeared.

  “Oh, Ellie,” the woman said, talking fast. “It’s been a horrible night! Wait here. I’ll go get a wheelchair. Everyone’s got some kind of flu.”

  “What’d she say?”

  Ellie relayed the message.

  “Flu my ass,” Grandma Betty said. “It’s the food. It’s always the food.”

  The aide returned in a few minutes with help. The transfer from the car to the wheelchair was quick and efficient. Ellie trailed along after them to Grandma Betty’s room. In a matter of seconds, the aides had her in bed and were gathering things to give her a sponge bath.

  Ellie edged up next to her side and kissed her good-bye. “Grandma…?”

  “I’m fine, Ellie,” she whispered. “Don’t worry. I’ll have no part of dying in the daytime.”

  Ellie hugged her gently, always mindful of her frail bones. “I’ll come by after work,” she said, and looked back at her from the door.

  Grandma Betty waved. “Go,” she said, and then held her nose. Ellie laughed, only to turn and come face to face with the ex-army nurse, who was not in a good mood.

  “Perfect. You’re still here,” she said. “The DN wants to see you.”

  “The DN?”

  “Director of Nursing. Down the hall and take a right.”

  Ellie stopped off in the ladies room, washed up, and entered the DN’s office with great trepidation. All her fears proved warranted. “I was just about to place a call to the police.”

  Ellie apologized over and over, blamed it all on car trouble; Grandma Betty’s suggestion, and sat receiving a lecture. “Beds are held for only so long unoccupied, particularly Medicaid beds. We have a waiting list a mile long. This is highly irregular. She is our responsibility. You should have phoned.”

  “I phoned my father.”

  “Yes, and thankfully he had the courtesy to phone us. However, if we’d been given information as to where you were, we could have sent transport out, and….”

  Ellie nodded. That was precisely why she hadn’t. She’d feared as much.

  “What if something had happened to your grandmother? What if you’d needed medical assistance? What if she’d fallen or hurt herself? What if she’d had an attack or died?”

  Ellie stared.

  “Your grandmother is all right, isn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  The rest of Ellie’s morning followed suit. She had three messages from her father waiting for her at the office, and barely time to glance through them when there he stood, looming over her desk. This wasn’t the first time he’d ever visited her at work. It was the first time he’d ever arrived angry, however. Her boss excused herself and left the room.

  “What were you thinking?” he hissed.

  “Uh….”

  “That’s right. You weren’t.”

  “I only….”

  “No, Ellie. Don’t bother! I don’t want to hear it. I just left your grandmother’s and she told me the whole story. Do not think you’re going to do this again. Do you hear me? Don’t ever do this again!”

  Ellie nodded, full well knowing that if her grandmother asked, she

  would do it again. There was no doubt in her mind. The only question would be, how?

  ~ 17 ~

  Grandma Betty slept off and on most of the day, and toward evening, started feeling like death again. It was a depressing thought, knowing this was where it was going to take place. But then again, she did promise her son, “Not to make trouble.”

  “Betty! Betty, what are you doing?”

  “I’m not sure.” She was sideways in bed and dangling her arms over the edge as if paddling a boat. “I guess I was dreaming.”

  “Here.” The aide got her straightened around and back onto the pillow. “My word, you could have fallen on your head.”

  “I think I’ve done that before.”

  The aide laughed. “Knowing you, probably. I swear, Betty, sometimes….”

  Grandma Betty smiled. “Has my granddaughter been here?”

  “Yes, and she’s coming back. She said when you woke to tell you that she’ll be back around ten-thirty.”

  Grandma Betty nodded and then noticed something. “Oh my, look at my fingernails. Aren’t they pretty?” They were the brightest red she’d ever seen.

  “Your granddaughter did them. She asked if it was okay when you were sound asleep, and I said sure. She sang to you, Betty. She sang you a song about a horse named Wildfire. It was the sweetest sound, all soft and her believing you could hear her. I swear, Betty, it was the sweetest sound I ever heard.”

  “I love that song. “

  “I know. That’s what she said when she saw I heard her.”

  Grandma Betty closed her eyes and could hear Ellie singing it again and again.

  “April’s down watching the movie.”

  “Who?”

  “April,” the aide said. “Your roommate. Do you want your TV on?”

  “No, that’s okay. I won’t be able to hear Ellie sing then.”

  “Yes, you will. I told you, she’ll be back around ten- thirty. You rest now, hear?”

  “Am I wet?”

  “No, hon. I just checked you. You get some rest now.”

  * * *

  The inevitable happened. Ellie’s car ran out of gas. Fortunately, it was on the way home from work. She had
her paycheck and the bank first and then the gas station wasn’t that far to walk. It did put her late at the laundromat though. And the place was packed.

  Friday night yet. “Don’t you people have anywhere else to go?” she asked.

  Regulars, they all laughed.

  “And you,” she said, to a sleepy teen. “No leaving here between wash and dry.”

  She made change for whoever needed it, washed a load of laundry herself, Damian’s blanket, and tried keeping busy for the next three hours. She swept the floor. She wiped off all the washers and dryers. She emptied the trash. She even washed the windows. Old Mr. Franklin from upstairs said she was like a “Freight train going through Richmond.” Everything in her path got cleaned. When ten o’clock came around, time to lock up and drive to the nursing home, she was exhausted. She rolled all the windows down in her car and turned up the volume on her radio to try and revive herself.

  She’d never been to the nursing home this late before and was surprised upon arriving to find it somewhat transformed. It had an entirely different feel to it. Everyone was in his or her rooms, the lights dimmed here and there. No one sat lined up in wheelchairs in the hallways and gathering areas, looking frightened or confused, slumped over or tied in. No one was crying. The place seemed rather peaceful. Even the nurses and aides seemed more subdued, happier.

  “Just wait,” Grandma Betty told her after a hug and a kiss. “At midnight, the howling begins.”

  Ellie chuckled. “Oh, Grandma.”

  “I’m serious. Ask April.”

  April was sound asleep. Ellie laughed at the suggestion, another obvious joke. She pulled a chair up close to her grandmother’s bed. “How are you?” she asked softly.

  “Fine. But don’t worry, there’s no need to whisper. April can’t hear. They take her hearing aids out at night.”

  Ellie fussed with her grandmother’s blankets.

  “I’m not bleeding anymore.”

  “Good.”

  “Apparently I’m peeing again though.”

  Ellie smiled. This was it, the best they could do. Her grandmother was resigned to the fact she’d be dying here, and Ellie promised to be with her.

  “What are the nurses telling you?”

  Ellie hesitated. “That it won’t be long.”

  “Hours, days?”

  Ellie ran the words through her mind, shutting down, mottling, oxygen deprivation, dehydration. One nurse thought tonight, another, a few days. “They can’t say for sure.”

  “Too bad. I think it would be kind of nice to know. I want to make sure I have my mouth closed.”

  Ellie laughed again, and then instantly choked up. All the years she wasted, not getting to know her Grandma. “Can I get you anything? Are you comfortable? Are you warm? Are you in pain.”

  “I’m fine. Just make sure if I die with my mouth open, you close it quickly. God forbid I look like Jacob Marley. Scrooge…” she said, in her tiny frail little voice, arms out and trembling. “Scrooge….”

  Ellie found herself laughing again. “I’ll make sure. Don’t worry.”

  “And put my hands like this.” She showed her how, nice and dainty-like on her chest. “I want my fingernails to show.”

  Ellie nodded and said she would, tears springing to her eyes once more.

  “I think I’ll take a little nap now.”

  Ellie said that was a good idea, and that she’d take one, too. The limited sleep she’d had in the last forty-eight hours was catching up to her. She propped her feet on the rung of Grandma Betty’s bed, and leaned her head on the chair back. When the nurse made her rounds at one in the morning, they were both still asleep.

  * * *

  Two residents died before dawn, but not Grandma Betty. She woke off and on throughout the night, and she and Ellie would talk. Her roommate April woke several times, too, and would ask for water. “Please,” she’d say, “just a little water.”

  Ellie went and asked the nurse if it was okay to give her some. “Sure, if you want. But you don’t have to. If you ignore her, she’ll go back to sleep. She gets her nights confused with her days.”

  Ellie gave her water each time. She didn’t want much. “Just enough to wet my lips. Thank you.”

  Come daybreak, the place turned into an anthill; nurses and aides crisscrossing in and out of rooms everywhere. “I can’t believe they get people up so early,” Ellie commented. “What’s the point?”

  “The night shift has to have so many of them up and dressed before the day shift.”

  Poor April; she’d been up and washed and dressed for close to an hour now, and breakfast wasn’t for another hour and a half. No coffee, no juice, nothing, just up and dressed and sitting there waiting. “Imagine doing that at home,” Grandma Betty said. “Yeah, right.”

  An orderly entered the room and mopped the floor around them. An overwhelming smell of disinfectant permeated the air.

  “You might as well go.” Grandma Betty told Ellie. “Ain’t nothing happening here.”

  Ellie hesitated. “I wish there was something I could do.”

  “There is. You’re doing it.”

  “But surely….”

  “No. Now go. Go ride Damian.”

  Riding Damian was her Saturday morning ritual. And always, on the way home, she’d visit her grandmother and tell her all about it.

  “Go. As long as I have to be alive, I might as well have something to look forward to.”

  “But….” She looked so weak.

  “No. Now go.”

  After a shower and change, Ellie arrived at the barn. Abby was waiting for her. “Where have you been? I tried calling and everything.”

  “Why? What’s up?”

  “Everything!” She followed Ellie into the tack room. “First of all, Victor claims he caught five crows and they all got away.”

  “What?”

  “Who knows? I think he’s lying. He reeks. Anyway, listen. I had a pet psychic do a reading on Bubba, and guess what? He doesn’t like the name Bubba.”

  Ellie looked at her.

  “It’s true.”

  Ellie retrieved her saddle and bridle and walked past her.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “No, I’m just not sure I believe her.”

  “Why? Wait a minute. How’d you know it was a her?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m psychic, too.”

  “Ellie…? What’s the matter with you?”

  Ellie stopped and looked back at her. “Nothing. I’m just tired. Did you ride Bubba…I mean uh…? What are we calling him now? Did you ride him yet?”

  Abby hesitated. “No, I was waiting for you. But never mind. I don’t like you anymore,” she said, and Ellie couldn’t help but laugh.

  “All right. So what else did she say?”

  “Well.” Abby’s eyes lit up. “She said he’s very sensitive and…. Wait, there she is. Come talk to her. She’s doing Jenny’s horse next.”

  Ellie sighed. Of all days. Any other day, but today. “Abby, wait.”

  Too late. She called the woman over. “This is my friend I was telling you about.”

  “How nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” When they shook hands, tiny sparks of electricity sent shocks through both of them. “Sorry,” Ellie said, blaming it on static. “It’s probably my sweater.”

  “That’s okay. It could have been me.”

  The two exchanged what could only be described as a deep-rooted glance. Then the woman walked on and Abby turned to Ellie, her voice low. “What was that all about?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I mirrored her eyes.” She was too tired to “keep things to herself ” as she’d done all her life, to not talk about it, to hide what she knows, what she senses.

  “What? So she’s a fake?”

  “No, not really. She has some abilities. But she’s also sold out.”

  “What do you mean?

  Ellie shrugged. “That a lot of it’s for show. It’s sa
d. I think she could help a lot of people.”

  “How?”

  “By telling the truth. Not every horse is going to communicate with her, every dog, every cat, every person.” Ellie unlocked her tack trunk and reached inside for her lead shank. “But how much money would that make her?”

  “So what are you saying? She lies.”

  “Lies? No.” Ellie hesitated. “Does she tell people what they want to hear? Yes.” Ellie looked at her and smiled. “What else she did tell you?”

  Abby paused. “About when he dumps me, she said he doesn’t like how I use my legs.”

  “Did she watch you ride?”

  “No, but I told her what he does.” Abby had taken notes. She handed the paper to Ellie, watched her eyes as she read over it, and waited. “So…?”

  Ellie handed them back. “Wrong horse. This would have fit Wendy. She rides like this. You, you’re sitting up there half the time just waiting to fall. And do you know how I know - I ride with you! I see you!”

  Abby laughed.

  “Now come on, are you wanting to ride yet or not?”

  “Yes, I told you, I was waiting for you.” She followed Ellie into Damian’s stall. “So do you think there’s any truth to any of it?”

  Ellie hooked the lead shank onto Damian’s halter, gave him a hug, and thought for a moment. “Maybe.” She straightened Damian’s forelock and looked into his eyes. “Hey, Damian,” she said softly. At the sound of his name, he pricked his ears. “Do you like your name, Damian?” He pricked his ears again.

  “Wait!” Abby hurried to go try that on Bubba. “Hey, Bubba,” she said. He raised his head and looked at her. “Do you like the name Bubba?” Nothing. Not even the blink of an eye.

  Ellie watched from between the stall boards.

  “Come on, Bubba. Say something.”

  Again, nothing. He just looked at her. And with that, Abby declared the matter settled. “From this day forward, he shall be called by his registered name, Sir Winston. Sir Winston the Third.”

  Ellie bowed in his honor.

  There were no mishaps today. Both horses worked well. Saturdays were always good ride days, which, as they were cooling out, Ellie started thinking about. “It doesn’t make any sense. But then again, maybe it does.”