A Norwood short story by D R Hood
"Well, butter my biscuits and call me surprised!" Elise exclaimed, stunned by what she was witnessing just after breakfast. The meal was one of her favorites, too: a crisp piece of bacon, two eggs sunny side up, and a butter biscuit. She was not supposed to have bacon, but the nutrition worker, Stephanie, had always had a soft spot for Elise. Perhaps Elise reminded her of her grandmother, or someone else special. Elise liked to think the worker just liked her best.
When Elise had settled into her seat with her eggs and biscuit, Stephanie walked by greeting others at the table. While speaking with them, she slid Elise a napkin with bacon wrapped inside. What was wrong with one piece of bacon a week, anyway? It wasn't like Elise planned on eating a whole plate daily. Gineva, Esther, and Wilma shook their heads when she unfolded the napkin and placed the bacon on her plate.
"I know I didn't just see that happen again, sweetie," Wilma said as Elise bit into the delicious forbidden food. She clutched the pearls at her neck and gave Elise a scolding but playful look.
"Mind ya business, if it pleases you. I haven't done anything you wouldn't do." Elise smiled and kept chewing. Esther and Gineva chuckled at that. They too had witnessed Wilma getting chocolates from Daniel, the young CNA from the city, back when her sugar was being watched.
The four of them were no angels, with a lifetime of experiences behind them before ending up in Providence Hall. It was one of two wings that housed long-term nursing home patients and temporary guests receiving post-hospital care. One wing housed all the females. Gatewood housed all the males. Both were designed the same way, but thankfully the heat and air were better on this side.
There was a cafeteria, a therapy room, a small doctor's office, and a hospital area in the center of the two wings, making up the entire Norwood Rehabilitation Center building. The cafeteria was where most of the co-ed intermingling happened, under the watchful eye of workers and volunteers. Oh, the volunteers were always a favorite of the residents — usually bright-eyed high school and college students logging hours for their diplomas and degrees. Some would go into medicine, some into social work, and some were just here to be here. You could spot who was who by how they interacted with everyone. Everyone, of course, had their favorite volunteer type.
At Mooney's table sat a high school senior with beautiful curly hair. She had a Milano-type complexion and chatted casually while the two of them played cards. With each turn, the girl helped Mooney discard and draw. In between turns, she helped Mooney eat and drink her breakfast. The sweet soul even wiped yogurt drips and decaf coffee spills from her mouth. Mooney had been in Norwood for over a decade. Few residents lived past ninety, and here she was at 101, still having fun each day. How could anyone smile as much as Mooney? This girl had to be part of that — a contagious positivity around her like an aurora. Clearly, this child was headed for work with the needy, patient and kind as she was to the elderly relic of the nursing home.
On the other side of the cafeteria, a college-age man with buzzed hair and a neatly trimmed beard assisted staff with Armon's walker. The young man was professional and attentive to Armon and his hobbled balance. Another future worker in the mix, bettering the lives of the needy. Right next to them, though, a blond girl scrolled on her phone, oblivious beside three women who looked barely awake. She just needed hours, and unfortunately those ladies were stuck with her until she'd logged them.
Elise liked all the types, because they brought youth and excitement into the home. She often wondered what her peers thought of all the help coming in, although most of the males loved the attention of any pretty young woman helping, regardless of intent. That was one of many differences between the two factions of Norwood.
Providence Hall was the calmer of the halls. The women tended to keep to themselves or socialize in smaller groups, like Elise and her girlfriends. The other side had lots of problems, one could say. Gatewood had incidents: breaking of TVs, fights among the male residents, unauthorized visits from ladies coming down from the PH, as some called it. Elise tried to stay out of trouble, but sometimes trouble crept into her neck of the woods. Never by her own accord — usually it came with the company she kept.
Most specifically Esther, who had been known to court past lovers off and on in a cruel game. Those men were entrapped by her beautiful, ageless smile and quick wit. Though trapped isn't quite the word, as her boy toys were not complaining in the slightest. Elise never nagged her about it, but it crossed her mind from time to time.
They were her best friends, and she loved them dearly. There was Esther, easy with men, and Wilma, the chocolate fiend. Gineva had her quirks too — a whole drawer of silverware she'd hoarded from the cafeteria. Elise firmly believed the signs on every trash can, reminding residents to put utensils in the soapy bucket and not the trash, existed solely because of the thief in their posse. Elise had to chuckle at that.
Of course, none of that was on her mind now. She stood in the doorway of her room and stared at what waited within.
"Well, butter my biscuits."
There it was, spread across her bed in neat little rows: every last piece of Gineva's hoarded silverware. Forks, spoons, butter knives — the whole stolen drawer, laid out like a showroom. And propped against the pillow, a note in Gineva's shaky hand: "They were getting heavy. Figured you could use the company."
Elise stood in the doorway and laughed until her sides hurt.
Enjoyed it? Get the Prologue and Chapters 1–2 of Before the Violet Tide free.