Betty’s picture kind of slipped down behind the CPR chart. I reckon they’ll find it one of these days.” Sitting back in his chair, he admired his handiwork and grinned mischievously. “Birdie, just look at that sunrise. Ain’t that a promise to behold?”
I turned to the window as much as I could. Outside, the sky was ablaze with shades of amber and crimson, amethyst and rose against pure turquoise blue. The clouds that had dimmed the light and threatened rain had passed over, creating a dazzling panorama of shape and color, a glistening shore filled with possibilities.
I was reminded of something Edward said to me once, when we climbed the scaffold of an old drilling rig and, together, watched the sun descend. The most beautiful sunsets begin with the passing of a storm. . . .
Edward was always such a wise and sentimental man. He would not have shown that side of himself to others, but he never hesitated in opening it to me. We were always safe with each other. Watching the sun awaken, I imagined I was sitting with him on the patio, enjoying a summer morning, fresh mugs of coffee steaming into the air. I knew how the garden would smell. I drank it in, felt the dew in the air, tasted the faded scent of night-blooming jasmine as it turned shy in the early light.
By the window, Claude sat silent, as if he were imagining something, too. Finally, he excused himself, saying he’d better take his usual stroll before breakfast. He smiled and patted the edge of the bed as he went past, leaving me to watch the dawning sky alone.
The sunrise had come and gone by the time Betty returned. She breezed into the room, then repossessed the pushpins and lowered the blind. “Who the heck did this?” she grumbled, making it clear that the blind, and everything else in the room, myself included, was too much trouble.
“Nnnoooo,” I protested as she closed off the sky, relegating me to a narrow view of the parking lot through the broken slats.
Betty glanced over her shoulder, seeming peeved that I had some speech returning. “Hush up, now. You better rest. You’re set for a swallow study today. That oughta be somethin’ to look forward to.” The blind fell the rest of the way to the windowsill with a slap, and Betty muttered to herself, “Just what I need—one more off-the-peg tube and on mush. Like I got all day to sit around and spoon-feed people.” An irritated puff of air escaped her lips as she yanked the covers back over my legs. “G’night, Irene,” she said on her way out the door, and I listened as her spongy white shoes squeaked out of earshot.
I lay wondering if Rebecca would come again today. Had she gone to the house to see Teddy and Edward? If so, I hoped Edward was having a good day. On good days, he didn’t mind new people. Evenings were not his best time, though. It was as if the Aricept and his other medications wore off by evening, leaving him confused and restless, wandering the house but unable to remember why. Sundowner’s syndrome, the doctor called it. Kay-Kay would explain all of that to Rebecca, of course. . . .
Maybe, if she could convince Rebecca to help her, Kay-Kay would bring Teddy and Edward to the nursing center to see me. It was probably too much for Kay-Kay to accomplish on her own and that was why she hadn’t brought them to visit already. I hoped that was why. I hoped Edward’s state hadn’t worsened. If he was worse, surely Kay-Kay would have come to tell me. When had Kay-Kay last been here? Or had she been here? Had she come since I’d been transferred from the hospital? It was all such a blur—the time in the hospital, the time here. The days slid together like spills of wet paint, drab colors swirling and mixing until they formed a quiet gray. I remembered Kay-Kay standing over my bed, telling me everything was all right at home, promising she would take care of Teddy and Edward.
I hoped she had the dishes cleaned up, so Rebecca wouldn’t see the place a mess.
I turned to the window as much as I could. Outside, the sky was ablaze with shades of amber and crimson, amethyst and rose against pure turquoise blue. The clouds that had dimmed the light and threatened rain had passed over, creating a dazzling panorama of shape and color, a glistening shore filled with possibilities.
I was reminded of something Edward said to me once, when we climbed the scaffold of an old drilling rig and, together, watched the sun descend. The most beautiful sunsets begin with the passing of a storm. . . .
Edward was always such a wise and sentimental man. He would not have shown that side of himself to others, but he never hesitated in opening it to me. We were always safe with each other. Watching the sun awaken, I imagined I was sitting with him on the patio, enjoying a summer morning, fresh mugs of coffee steaming into the air. I knew how the garden would smell. I drank it in, felt the dew in the air, tasted the faded scent of night-blooming jasmine as it turned shy in the early light.
By the window, Claude sat silent, as if he were imagining something, too. Finally, he excused himself, saying he’d better take his usual stroll before breakfast. He smiled and patted the edge of the bed as he went past, leaving me to watch the dawning sky alone.
The sunrise had come and gone by the time Betty returned. She breezed into the room, then repossessed the pushpins and lowered the blind. “Who the heck did this?” she grumbled, making it clear that the blind, and everything else in the room, myself included, was too much trouble.
“Nnnoooo,” I protested as she closed off the sky, relegating me to a narrow view of the parking lot through the broken slats.
Betty glanced over her shoulder, seeming peeved that I had some speech returning. “Hush up, now. You better rest. You’re set for a swallow study today. That oughta be somethin’ to look forward to.” The blind fell the rest of the way to the windowsill with a slap, and Betty muttered to herself, “Just what I need—one more off-the-peg tube and on mush. Like I got all day to sit around and spoon-feed people.” An irritated puff of air escaped her lips as she yanked the covers back over my legs. “G’night, Irene,” she said on her way out the door, and I listened as her spongy white shoes squeaked out of earshot.
I lay wondering if Rebecca would come again today. Had she gone to the house to see Teddy and Edward? If so, I hoped Edward was having a good day. On good days, he didn’t mind new people. Evenings were not his best time, though. It was as if the Aricept and his other medications wore off by evening, leaving him confused and restless, wandering the house but unable to remember why. Sundowner’s syndrome, the doctor called it. Kay-Kay would explain all of that to Rebecca, of course. . . .
Maybe, if she could convince Rebecca to help her, Kay-Kay would bring Teddy and Edward to the nursing center to see me. It was probably too much for Kay-Kay to accomplish on her own and that was why she hadn’t brought them to visit already. I hoped that was why. I hoped Edward’s state hadn’t worsened. If he was worse, surely Kay-Kay would have come to tell me. When had Kay-Kay last been here? Or had she been here? Had she come since I’d been transferred from the hospital? It was all such a blur—the time in the hospital, the time here. The days slid together like spills of wet paint, drab colors swirling and mixing until they formed a quiet gray. I remembered Kay-Kay standing over my bed, telling me everything was all right at home, promising she would take care of Teddy and Edward.
I hoped she had the dishes cleaned up, so Rebecca wouldn’t see the place a mess.
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