Sing it, Sam

by Jennifer Ryder

  Hearing that some of the residents have that problem is heartbreaking. Imagine having no control, and being reduced to wearing a nappy like a child. There are parts of growing old that really suck. Note to self: do pelvic-floor exercises more often.

  “That would explain the smell of disinfectant then,” I say.

  “Bingo. Anyway, I’ll sort this out. Go see Sam.”

  “Thanks.” I swoop up a few coloured flyers from my desk. In a few weeks, Scrapbooking 101 is going to be big hit—I can just feel it. Mrs Cassidy has been asking for a class for months, apparently, so I’m happy that she’ll finally get her wish.

  I stick a flyer on the notice board on the way to the dining hall, and when I reach the big open room I take down the floral workshop flyers, dispose of them in the nearest bin, and put up new notices in their place. I tack the last notice on the wall a few doors down from Sam’s room.

  “Knock. Knock,” I say as I rap gently on his door.

  “Come in,” he says from the bed. He looks over at me and smiles. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

  “Okay I guess. Housekeeping stuff. And I took Butch for a walk and spent some time in the garden.”

  “Butch?”

  I take my phone out of my pocket and sit on his bed. I scroll through my photos until I find the pic I want.

  A smile spreads across his pale face as he eyes the selfie of me and Butch, snuggled up on the lounge. “Huh. He’s cute. Not so butch, though.”

  “Oh, he’s adorable alright. My little rolly-polly sausage dog. He’s on a calorie-controlled diet at the moment. His belly’s been known to scrape on the ground. He’ll eat anything in sight. He’s a walking vet bill.”

  “I bet,” he says and chuckles.

  “Did you do any more reading yesterday?” I ask as I spy the book on his bedside table.

  “Can’t find my glasses, remember? Besides, we’re in this together now. You’re my personal Audible.”

  I can’t help but laugh. I’ll have to do something about Sam’s glasses. Maybe they’re in lost property. Is that why he’s avoided reading all this time?

  “I can come read some more at lunch, if you want?” I offer.

  “Yeah, cool. I think I’ll be done with physio by twelve, so whenever after that.”

  I take a long look at Sam and decide now is the time to hit him with the big question. “Can I ask you something?” I blurt out before I lose my nerve.

  “Sure.”

  “I mean, tell me if I’m overstepping the mark, okay?” I add with an assuring nod.

  “Now you’ve got me interested.”

  “Is this a permanent thing? You living here?”

  He lets out a loud breath and closes his eyes for a moment. When he re-opens them, crystal blue orbs stare right through me. “It’s not supposed to be.”

  My heart beats that little bit faster. “How did you get here?”

  “Long story. That’ll take more than a minute to explain. I don’t wanna get you in trouble. You’re supposed to be working.”

  Kathleen said take my time, so I will. If he’s prepared to talk I’m not about to rush out of here. “Nah, I’m sweet.”

  He takes in a deep breath. “I spent eleven months in hospital, but they needed the bed. If I had someone at home to care for me, they might’ve released me, but without enough funded carers in the area they had to look at other options. I had to be somewhere that could meet my needs with physio and meds, and other stuff. There was a bed here, so this is where they dumped me.”

  He says it like they were disposing of waste. My heart squeezes tight. “Where do you live? You know, normally?”

  “I had a townhouse on Badenoch Street. Near the school.”

  “That’s only a few minutes’ walk from my place.” Wait a second. “What do you mean by you had?”

  “I couldn’t afford to pay rent while I was in here, so Ben sold my furniture and put the rest in storage. The real shitty thing is that I had to give up my dog.”

  My breath catches. Noooooo. I’d die if I had to give up my fur-baby. A member of my family. “That sucks. I mean, the whole thing does, but saying goodbye to your dog, that’s—”

  “Yeah, pretty sucky.”

  “How did you end up in hospital in the first place?”

  Sam rakes his fingers through his messy hair, and scratches at the back of his neck. “I had a pretty horrific case of gastro. Lasted a week, and then I had to be admitted for fluids. When I got home, things started to taste strange, then a few days later I thought I was having a stroke. Went numb down one side. Luckily, I rang the ambo before I collapsed. They had to break the door down. Things went downhill once I got to hospital. Before too long I was paralysed from the neck down.”

  My hand rushes to my neck. “That’s horrible,” I say and gasp. “I’ve never heard of anything like that happening from gastro.”

  “It wasn’t gastro that paralysed me. It took the doctors nearly a week to diagnose it. After they did a spinal tap, they confirmed GBS.”

  Huh? GB what? “What does that stand for?”

  “If you ask any of the physical therapists, they’ll tell you ‘getting better slowly’, which pisses me off no end, but it stands for Guillain Barré Syndrome.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “I hadn’t either. I was on a ventilator for two weeks, then they eventually weaned me off and I could breathe on my own. Once the breathing tube came out, I started to get better every week, but the process was incredibly slow. I spent nearly a year in hospital in the general ward. Had physio every day to stop me from getting bed sores, and the rehab was intense. I had to learn how to do simple things all over again. Toughest thing I’ve ever been through. I’ve come a long way, though.”

  “So, you’re still getting better?” I grab a hold of that glimmer of hope and lock it up tight in my heart. He’ll get through this.

  “It’s hard to tell some days. Sometimes I won’t have any improvements for weeks. Then there are days when I do something and it dawns on me that I couldn’t do that before.”

  My god. I couldn’t even imagine. “How about your legs? Can you feel them?”

  “I can. Problem is my right foot is still pretty bad. It’s the constant feeling of pins and needles that’s the killer. I’m trying to switch over to the walker, but my balance is still off and the therapy … the first few steps are always agony. It’s hard to describe, but can you imagine what it might feel like for your calf muscles to tear away from the bone? I know in my head that that’s not what’s happening, but the pain is so excruciating. Some days are worse than others.”

  “And I’m guessing the day I brought you the book was a bad day?”

  He nods. “The whole thing is fucked up. I mean, there’s apparently a one in a hundred thousand chance of getting GBS, and they can’t pinpoint exactly how you get it. Why the hell did it have to happen to me?”

  “You’ll get there, Sam. You just have to stay positive. It’ll happen.” What am I promising? I know nothing about GBS.

  “The more I try to do, the worse it gets. It’s pretty fucking hard to be patient when recovery is moving at a glacial pace.”

  “Miss Jane,” a female voice barks in the hallway. I turn to see Mrs Cassidy in a fluffy pink dressing gown, her platinum grey hair sticking up every which way.

  “Yes, Mrs Cassidy?” I rise from the bed and walk closer to the door.

  She throws up her hands in defeat. “I’ve looked high and low. I can’t find Snuggle Muffins. She’s gone walkabout again.”

  I turn to Sam, and mouth, “I’ll be back.”

  Sam rolls his eyes and leans back into his pillow, his eyes focused on the ceiling once more. “Old people,” he mumbles as I leave the room.

  I place my hand on Mrs Cassidy’s shoulder. “Mrs Cassidy, you don’t have a cat.” I guide her back towards her room. No one is allowed to have pets in here, and thank God for that because there’s no way I could work in this place if cats we
re allowed to roam the halls.

  “Young lady,” she barks out, “I think I’d know very well if I have a cat or not, and I would appreciate it if you could help me find her.” Her grey brows pull together, forming a ‘V’ between them.

  “But you don’t—”

  “Didn’t your parents teach you not to back chat? Now are you going to help me?”

  “Of course, Mrs Cassidy,” I say as we reach her room. “How about you get dressed and I’ll look for her right away?”

  She walks farther into her room, taking off her dressing gown to reveal long flannelette pyjamas with black and white cats against a grey background. “What did you lose this time, Frank?” she mutters to herself. “You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your body.”

  “I’ll let you know if I find it, Mrs Cassidy,” I say, taking that as my cue to leave as she takes some clothes out of her chest of drawers.

  “Find what, dear?” she says, throwing a vacant stare in my direction.

  “Your cat.”

  She chuckles and shakes her head. “My dear, I don’t have a cat. You kids, these days.”

  I blink a couple of times, then step backwards, trying to subtly make my getaway before she changes her mind and I have to hunt for an imaginary feline. “Sorry. My apologies.”

  I return to reception where Kathleen is flipping through a cooking magazine.

  “Mrs Cassidy lost her cat. But then she didn’t.” I tilt my head to the side. “I’m confused.”

  “Mrs Cassidy has dementia. Every so often she remembers her cat and goes searching for her. It’s quite sad. It’s best to humour her. She can get quite upset otherwise.”

  “Okay, got it.” I nod.

  “Oh, and Shirley just rang and said she can’t find her glasses. She’s searched her room and the dining hall. They’re dark purple, with diamantes on the sides. If you don’t see them around, would you mind popping in to see if Gloria has somehow acquired them?”

  “Why would Gloria have them?”

  “Ah, we haven’t had the Gloria talk yet. Apologies. If someone around here is missing glasses or teeth, Gloria Bushell in room twenty-three is usually the culprit.”

  I lean in closer. “She steals teeth?” I whisper, shocked that this is actually a problem. Surely, I just misheard her.

  Kathleen chuckles softly. “Yes, she does.”

  Gross. “Oh, okay. I’ve only met her once I think. Her door is mostly shut.”

  “That’d be to protect her pretties. She’s very private, keeps to herself, but unlike Sam, she does venture out of her room. Mainly to focus on new acquisitions though.”

  I bite down on my lower lip, doing my best to stay professional. “I can go take a look around now if you like? Check Gloria’s room? I know how much Shirley loves to read.”

  “That’d be great,” Kathleen says and grins. “You’re really getting to know everybody, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I’m trying, but there’s always something new to learn every day. Gloria, for example.”

  Kathleen grips my shoulder. “Never dull, huh?”

  “Definitely not.”

  I excuse myself and make my way to the dining hall. Trying to be subtle while the residents are in the room, I search the tables, the unoccupied chairs, underneath the couch, and behind its cushions. Is there really a thief among us or has Shirley just misplaced them?

  After five minutes, I’ve come up empty and decide to visit Gloria.

  Seconds after I knock on the closed door, a slight woman with short fiery red hair pries it open, just enough for her beady green eyes to fill the void.

  “Yes?” she says in a croaky voice, then coughs. The rattle in her chest tells me she probably smoked a pack a day for a good part of her life. Urgh.

  “Hi, I’m Jane—”

  “Yes,” she repeats before I get to tell her why I’m visiting.

  “I’m doing the rounds. Just looking for a pair of reading glasses? You wouldn’t have happened to have seen them, by any chance?” Because I’d hate to come out and openly accuse you of lifting them.

  The door creaks open farther, revealing a small woman in a floral moo-moo dress. She narrows her eyes at me, looking me up and down.

  “Someone is having a lot of trouble seeing without them,” I add to try tug at her heartstrings.

  “What do they look like?” she asks, turning and waddling over towards her bedside drawers.

  I take a step farther into her room, which is like walking into a wall-to-wall trinket shop. Side tables and bookshelves are jam-packed with snow globes, ceramic animals, and bowls—anything and everything really. It’s fascinating. She must spend a lot of time cleaning in here, because everything is shiny and free of dust. Her collection must keep her busy.

  “Well?” she asks expectantly.

  I take my eyes off the ceramics and focus on the deep wrinkles which carve out her cheeks. “Um, sorry. Purple.”

  “People shouldn’t leave ’em lying around,” she growls, her back to me as she pulls open the second drawer and starts rummaging around. She puts one set of false teeth on the top of the drawers, followed by another, and then a series of spectacles in various stages of decay.

  Oh my god … are they her teeth or someone else’s? What does she do with the teeth that aren’t hers? Does she wear them? Is this some kind of weird fetish?

  A little bit of vomit makes its way up the back of my throat. I gulp down and grimace.

  Gloria takes out a navy pair of glasses with a gold chain looped over each arm, a black pair with white tape in the centre of the frame as if its holding the glasses together, and then a purple pair. “One of these?” she asks, her painted on brows raised.

  I glance over her offerings and take the purple pair with fake shiny diamonds. These must be glasses in question. The remaining pairs don’t look like anything Sam would wear.

  “I think these are a winner,” I say and smile. “Thank you so much.”

  Gloria goes back to tinkering in her drawer. I take that as my cue to leave, walking backwards until I find the door. There is a hoarder amidst us—a taker of teeth. No pair of glasses or falsies are safe …

  I return the glasses to their rightful owner, not naming names, of course, as I’d hate to cause a stir between the two ladies. Having solved that mystery, I return to work until lunchtime and then make my way back to Sam’s room.

  We have a conversation to finish.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam is in the same position I left him in. His eyes are glued to the ceiling. How lonely he must be. An ache centres in my chest.

  “You know, you’re not under house arrest. You can leave the room,” I tease.

  He shifts his focus to me. “Yeah, but old people,” he says, jutting his chin towards the hallway.

  “The dining room has a much better view of the mountains. You can’t see so much of them looking up in here.”

  “Very funny, Janie. I don’t like it out there.”

  “Why?”

  He snorts. “It’s hard listening to them. Some of them repeat the same thing over and over. Crazy cat woman is always harping on about Snuggle whatever-the-fuck-its-name-is, and I don’t know how many times I’ve had to tell people my name. I hate it out there. Everybody has a spot that apparently no one else is allowed to sit in. I’ve seen a full-on blue between two ladies because of it. When it’s meal time, they take their manky false teeth out. It’s like watching cows chew grass.”

  I pull up a chair and sit. “Look, I know it can’t be easy, but—”

  “Every time I talk to them I’m reminded where I am. It’s like a sea of zombies. At least in my room I can pretend. Pretend I’m anywhere but here.”

  A young soul like Sam shouldn’t be trapped here, but he can’t live his life like this either. He has choices in how he spends his time. He can make each day matter.

  “I can’t begin to understand what it’d be like to live here. I’m not discounting that, but I don’t get why you�
��d choose to spend your days alone when you could be listening to some incredible stories out there. You should take the time. I think you’ll be surprised. And you know what? I’m sure some of those people would love to sit and learn more about you. A few of the old-timers are actually pretty great.”

  “Why do you like old people so much?”

  I shrug one shoulder. “I dunno. I like helping people, and I don’t have any grandparents left. My mum’s parents lived in Perth, and I didn’t see much of them before they died. I never met my dad’s dad as he passed away well before I was born. My nan, Violet, died when I was a teenager. Even though she was alone in here, she had people who cared about her, talked with her, and who made her time special. She had a place where she could still be her social butterfly self, but also have some independence. People deserve to end their days in a happy place. If I can contribute to that, even in only a small way, well, that’s just everything to me.”

  Sam lets out a mammoth sigh and stares at me, doe-eyed. “Never met anyone like you, Janie. You’re somethin’ else.”

  Heat creeps up to my face. “I’m a lot like my nan,” I say, to shift the conversation into safer territory. “That’s what my mum reckons. Actually, the creepy thing is, you’re in the room my nan used to have.”

  His eyes widen. “That is creepy. Super creepy.”

  “I know, right? Anyway, just try it one day. Venture out of your room. If I’m on a break I’ll come out and see how you’re going. Happy to come to your rescue if you need.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” he says, and scratches at his stubbly chin.

  “What else can I do to convince you? Offering to rescue you isn’t enough?”

  “Wear the costume,” he blurts out, as if it’s been front of his mind.

  Costume? He can only be talking about the one he saw in my bag that day. “The Wonder Woman one?”

  “Yup.”

  I shake my head and laugh softly. “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll fly. Uniform is strict around here.”