by NT Franklin
double espresso
Becky walked into her Dad’s room at the Cedar Creek
Nursing Home and said, “How are they treating you here?”
He glared at her. “Nursing home? Bullshit. Look at the
people in this place, waiting to die.”
Becky leaned in close like she did with her kids and
whispered, “Dad, we’ve been over this. This is where you need to be. You’ll be
safe and properly cared for here.”
“Bullshit.”
“Dad, this is the third nursing home you’ve been in over
the last six months. Coarse language upsets the staff and the patients. In case
you’ve forgotten, your behavior and language caused you to be removed from the
past two places.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Becky rolled her eyes.
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady. I’ve been
telling you that your entire life.”
Becky closed her eyes for a moment to gather her
thoughts. Dad had always been in charge, always took care of everything, but now
he couldn’t. “This is the only nice nursing home left. I don’t want to put you
in the one run by the county, it’s really depressing.”
“Then don’t, Becky. Take me home.”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Dad. This is
your home now. Your house was sold to cover medical expenses for you and Mom.
The proceeds came up way short. You know all this.” Becky’s eyes
moistened.
“Yeah, fat lot of good that did. What’s-his-face doesn’t
want me. That’s why I can’t come home with you, isn’t it?”
Becky sighed. “His name is Randy; he’s my husband, the
father of my children, your grandchildren. You know I can’t provide
round-the-clock nursing care like Cedar Creek.”
This wasn’t Becky’s regular visiting day She’d only
placed him in this nursing home five days ago and they’d already called about
him verbally abusing the staff and generally being rude and uncooperative.
She stressed in the entry interview that the last six
months had been difficult for everyone. He wasn’t dealing well with the loss of
his wife and being wheelchair bound. Despite that, he was healthy for his age
but was losing his will to live without his wife of 50 years. None of this she
could have said if he was present.
Becky pushed the wheelchair toward the games room but was
intercepted by a huge but jovial orderly. A towering man stopped in front of the
wheelchair, bent down and said, “I’m Jerimiah, who do we have here?”
Becky cleared her throat and said, “I’m Becky, and this
is my dad, Eugene.”
Jerimiah stood up and smiled a wide, toothy smile. The
white teeth were a sharp contrast to his dark skin and warm brown eyes. “My dad
was named Eugene, so we’re already friends. He’ll love it here. Come along,
bingo starts soon. Becky, let me take the stern and guide this gentleman to the
game room.”
Before Eugene could protest, Becky stepped aside,
saluted, and said, “Aye, aye, Capt’n.”
Jerimiah let out a belly laugh that shook his whole
frame. “We’ll soon be friends, too. Follow me. The game won’t start without me
calling the numbers.” Jerimiah winked at Becky and pushed Eugene to the game
room.
Becky relaxed her shoulders, releasing tension.
Jerimiah’s deep musical voice filled the room as he
announced, “Hey everyone, please welcome Eugene. He’s going to be playing bingo
with us.”
Becky smiled a half smile when a chorus of “Hi, Eugene!”
filled the room.
Jerimiah turned the wheelchair back to Becky with a nod
and went to the front of the room.
“See, Dad, this is going to be a great place.”
“Take me out of here, Becky,” he growled.
“Why?”
“There are nine other players. With one card per player,
the odds of winning are ten percent. I need better odds to play.”
“For Christ’s sake, Dad, play the game and don’t worry
about winning. Can’t you enjoy yourself without having to be in
control?”
“No. I can’t.”
“Learn to. We’re staying.”
“B 7,” came the deep, rich voice. Followed by “G 55”,
then “N 41.”
“Where’s your card, Dad? This could be fun.”
“Becky, with ten players, odds are there’ll be a winner
by 26 balls. Unless these old bats aren’t paying attention. Do we really have to
wait until then before we can go?”
Becky fought back tears.
When Bingo was called, the winner received a crisp, new
one-dollar bill as a prize. Becky wheeled her dad back to his room.
Becky was trying to think of something to break the
uncomfortable silence, but didn’t have to.
“You know, Bob and Martha two doors down have it
made.”
“Glad to hear you’ve made friends here,” Becky
said.
“They’re not friends, just names on the door.”
“But you’re socializing with them?”
“Hardly. They cleaned out their room yesterday. Seems
that Martha died one day, and Bob died the next day. Nice that they went
together.”
Becky sat on the edge of the bed and searched for words.
“Maybe you should try to talk to some people here, Dad. I’m sure you’ll find
someone interesting.”
He stuck out his lip like a pouting child.
“Harrumph.”
Becky looked into his sad eyes and knew she had to leave
or she would break down. “I’ll be back later in the week, Dad. Be nice so I
don’t get an unpleasant phone call from the nursing home. Try to enjoy yourself.
Please try.”
“Nursing home. Bullshit. It’s a place to die, it’s
Heaven’s Waiting Room.”
Becky cried the whole way home thinking, maybe Dad’s
right.
About the author
NT
Franklin has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction
on the Web, 101 Words, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf
Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories,
Dime Show Review, among others.
N.T.
Franklin
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