Love Songs: The Wrong Note - A Collection of Short Stories

One Way Ticket

When Marla got the call to come back, she groaned inwardly. Dead-tired, she climbed into the car. Mrs. Rand was giving them a fit.

A frequent flyer, as several of the staff called those individuals who seemed to show up for care through a revolving door, Mrs. Rand seemed to visit them every few weeks. It wasn't that often, but the old lady's constant requests and complaints made it seem like she never left.

Irascible, moody, acerbic, a tongue that could slice up a person's ego like a chef on amphetamines chops an onion, Mrs. Rand was just plain out hateful.

Difficult did not even begin to describe her. Yet, for some unknown reason, she'd taken a liking to Marla. Marla had a magic way with the old woman. More often than not.

"Thanks for coming, Mar. She's been asking for you. Well, wailing out your name is more like it. We can't sedate her. Her family refuses to allow it. Some wacky religious belief or something. Anyway, the others on the hall can't get any rest at all."

"Couldn't you move her to a more isolated wing?" Marla asked.

"No way. We're slammed full. If this flu keeps raging, we'll be putting them out in the halls. And it's not only the patients. We're running short-staffed. We've had three call-ins, and two of us are working sick."

When Marla entered the room, the caterwauling ceased.

"You've come," said the old lady. "You've finally come. I've been waiting. I've been waiting so long."

"Mrs. Rand," said Marla. "What's the matter?"

"Where have you been?" said Mrs. Rand. "Where? Didn't I just tell you? You've kept me waiting."

"I was home," Marla said.

"Home! You left me here to go home?"

"Yes," said Marla. "I needed to shower. I needed to eat. I needed to . . ."

"You needed to abandon me to go, what? A man. You have a man at home, don't you? You've been doing IT while I've been here languishing away!"

"Mrs. Rand, that's none . . . It doesn't matter who or what I have at home. I just needed to be there. Take care of things. Take care of myself."

"And what about me?"

"The whole staff here is more than happy to assist you with whatever you need. They . . ."

"You abandon those in need to splash some body wash and lather up in a hot shower while I lay here miserable, sick, and rotting in this carcass they call a body."

"Mrs. Rand," Marla said, "you're not rotting . . ."

The old lady looked as if she was about to spit nails. Her eyes were balls of rage. Her mouth curled in scorn.

"Don't tell me any such thing, Missy. I know!"

"Mrs. Rand," said Marla, trying desperately to recall the training she'd gone through just weeks before, "I understand you feel frustrated. You hate feeling like this, I know. But you must do whatever the doctors say to try and regain your strength."

"My strength! Whatever ounce of stamina I had ran out the door naked with the milkman fifty years ago. And I've been poorly since. Come now, sweet heart. I know you have some magic potion, some pill, some cream, some thing the will help me."

"Mrs. Rand," said Marla, "I'm just an aide. I don't have access to any medications or therapies, I assure you. If you need you bed remade, your pillow fluffed, or need to be positioned, I can help you."

"Aide? Who can aid me where I'm going? Listen to me. You're the only one who will."

The old lady had an earnest look in her eyes. Marla leaned toward her. Mrs. Rand had her full attention.

"Oh, have you heard?" the old lady whispered. "They're getting up a whole train load of us. Do you have your ticket? Do you? They're all one way!"

"Mrs. Rand, I'll be happy to get your nurse. Maybe she can help you . . ."

The mere suggestion of a nurse caused the old lady to sit bolt upright in the bed. She flung the sheet in the floor and tossed her legs over the side of the bed.

Marla stood still, shocked and unable to believe her eyes. She felt the hot stale breath burn her face.

"Didn't you hear what I just said? Put me on my feet, so I can stand on the floor when I see Jesus."

Marla pressed the call button. A nurse entered, and together the two got the old lady back into bed. Mrs. Rand was snoring within seconds.

"What are you doing here?" the nurse asked. "You've done your duty. She's scheduled to be discharged in the morning. She's not happy. The doctor says he can find nothing wrong, as usual. Go home. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Marla turned to leave.

"Thanks for going above and beyond."

The next day when Marla returned to work, the bed that Mrs. Rand had occupied was empty. Marla stopped an aide in the hall.

"How on earth did you get her discharged so early?" Marla asked, pointing to the empty bed.

"She checked out about 1:30 this morning," the aide said, between chomps on her gum. "Gotta one way ticket straight to the morgue."