fact, the other tech here, Martin? He’s basically babysitting Massani, making sure his behavior doesn’t escalate. So tonight’s not gonna work. Let’s try again tomorrow, same time.”
Freddy said, “Reeeally.” It wasn’t a question. He said it like a man talking to a child. “Really, now.”
“Yeah.”
“Tomorrow, uh? Wouldn’t that be cool. Now listen to me, ’cause I’m going to say this only once: Don’t lie to me. You don’t think I know your voice by now? I know when you’re spouting a falsehood, Lee. This ain’t no fucking game, Lee. This man’s stepping off that floor tonight . You never heard me ask your opinion in the matter, so you coming with this suggestion right here is bullshit I got no interest in. You got fifteen fucking minutes to get the man off that floor, feel me?”
The line went dead, and Leo resisted the urge, barely, to slam that phone down. He slipped into the bathroom, took yet another leak, washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He paper-toweled dry, looking at himself in the mirror. Flecks of gray hair on the sides. Crow’s-feet. He did feel old tonight. Man, he despised Freddy.
He paced the hallway with the rounds board again. A bear in a cage.
At 4:28, the nurses’ station phone rang. He walked by the door and continued down to the men’s side. The phone kept ringing, then he heard Martin’s voice. “Annex Three, this is Martin, may I help you?” Leo walking on, reaching the door at the end of the hall, turning around in the darkness, hearing, “Mrs. Wash-burn? May I ask who’s speaking, please? No, sir, your aunt hasn’t been discharged… .” Leo watching the rectangle of light from the nurses’ station, hearing Martin say, “I’m not sure why anyone would say that… . That’s right. It’s Dr. Burton.” Leo keeping still, listening to Martin going, “Yes… . Uh-huh… . Yes… . No,sir,” Freddy yakking it up, keeping him on the phone, thinking Leo was doing the deed.
A long five minutes later, Leo heard Martin hang up and saw him come to the doorway and look both ways, Leo quickly pretending to check the bathroom, feeling he could breathe again.
Fuck you, Freddy. That’s all I got to say.
LEO STARTED feeling calmer just before dawn. He’d been so keyed up he hadn’t taken a break. First time in years. He was still pacing the hall when he heard someone talking in one of the male rooms. He tracked the voice to a room on the right, slowing down to determine which one. He opened the doors, peering in, happy to find something else to occupy his mind.
A room door on the right opened and a patient trekked out, tugging at his droopy hospital-issue pajama pants, flip-flops slapping down the hall toward the bathroom. He swung open the bathroom door, the light inside illuminating the face of the new patient, Reynaldo Rivera.
Leo followed to check that all was fine, heard the man talking to himself in one of the stalls, probably hallucinating. Leo saw the stall door open, Reynaldo’s back turned to him, the man whistling a tune now.
Around six, Leo traipsed into the nurses’ station and started morning preparations. He broke out a new sheet of patients’ names for morning vital signs, wheeled two blood-pressure machines out into the hallway, a table, and two digital thermometers. Martin helped Rose set up the medication cart and rolled it just outside the door.
Pretty soon patients were wandering the hallway. At six-thirty,Leo picked up the microphone and switched on the intercom. “Goooood morning, patients,” his voice booming over ceiling speakers all down the hall, “it’s time to rise and shine and come and get your vital signs taken. Today is February sixteenth, Thursday, and that means it’s linen change day, so after vital signs, strip your beds of all linen and that means you, too, Frances Hoy. Come to the nurses’ station for vital signs, everyone.”
Here’s where things got hairy, change of shift, night staff getting
Freddy said, “Reeeally.” It wasn’t a question. He said it like a man talking to a child. “Really, now.”
“Yeah.”
“Tomorrow, uh? Wouldn’t that be cool. Now listen to me, ’cause I’m going to say this only once: Don’t lie to me. You don’t think I know your voice by now? I know when you’re spouting a falsehood, Lee. This ain’t no fucking game, Lee. This man’s stepping off that floor tonight . You never heard me ask your opinion in the matter, so you coming with this suggestion right here is bullshit I got no interest in. You got fifteen fucking minutes to get the man off that floor, feel me?”
The line went dead, and Leo resisted the urge, barely, to slam that phone down. He slipped into the bathroom, took yet another leak, washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He paper-toweled dry, looking at himself in the mirror. Flecks of gray hair on the sides. Crow’s-feet. He did feel old tonight. Man, he despised Freddy.
He paced the hallway with the rounds board again. A bear in a cage.
At 4:28, the nurses’ station phone rang. He walked by the door and continued down to the men’s side. The phone kept ringing, then he heard Martin’s voice. “Annex Three, this is Martin, may I help you?” Leo walking on, reaching the door at the end of the hall, turning around in the darkness, hearing, “Mrs. Wash-burn? May I ask who’s speaking, please? No, sir, your aunt hasn’t been discharged… .” Leo watching the rectangle of light from the nurses’ station, hearing Martin say, “I’m not sure why anyone would say that… . That’s right. It’s Dr. Burton.” Leo keeping still, listening to Martin going, “Yes… . Uh-huh… . Yes… . No,sir,” Freddy yakking it up, keeping him on the phone, thinking Leo was doing the deed.
A long five minutes later, Leo heard Martin hang up and saw him come to the doorway and look both ways, Leo quickly pretending to check the bathroom, feeling he could breathe again.
Fuck you, Freddy. That’s all I got to say.
LEO STARTED feeling calmer just before dawn. He’d been so keyed up he hadn’t taken a break. First time in years. He was still pacing the hall when he heard someone talking in one of the male rooms. He tracked the voice to a room on the right, slowing down to determine which one. He opened the doors, peering in, happy to find something else to occupy his mind.
A room door on the right opened and a patient trekked out, tugging at his droopy hospital-issue pajama pants, flip-flops slapping down the hall toward the bathroom. He swung open the bathroom door, the light inside illuminating the face of the new patient, Reynaldo Rivera.
Leo followed to check that all was fine, heard the man talking to himself in one of the stalls, probably hallucinating. Leo saw the stall door open, Reynaldo’s back turned to him, the man whistling a tune now.
Around six, Leo traipsed into the nurses’ station and started morning preparations. He broke out a new sheet of patients’ names for morning vital signs, wheeled two blood-pressure machines out into the hallway, a table, and two digital thermometers. Martin helped Rose set up the medication cart and rolled it just outside the door.
Pretty soon patients were wandering the hallway. At six-thirty,Leo picked up the microphone and switched on the intercom. “Goooood morning, patients,” his voice booming over ceiling speakers all down the hall, “it’s time to rise and shine and come and get your vital signs taken. Today is February sixteenth, Thursday, and that means it’s linen change day, so after vital signs, strip your beds of all linen and that means you, too, Frances Hoy. Come to the nurses’ station for vital signs, everyone.”
Here’s where things got hairy, change of shift, night staff getting
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