Wheel of Fortune Part 1

"Is all that we see or seem

but a dream within a dream?"

-Edgar Allen Poe, A Dream Within a Dream

Dedicated to: Sammy and Mr. Bell

Wheel of Fortune Part 1

Day 0: Mind Over Matter

The rubber tires of Mr. Andrew Bellinger’s wheelchair sang a desperate and squeaky song as he was pushed along the sidewalk. Goddamn wheelchair! Andrew thought, dismally. He had been getting around just fine with his walker at home! Why should he be confined to a chair like some dying old prune when his legs worked perfectly well (thank you very much)?

Dying…that word seemed to hold some forbidden truth. Yes, because that’s exactly what Mr. Bellinger’s daughter and grandsons thought of their poor old Pop Pop. They thought that he was some crooked old fool who did nothing but take up space around the house and nag at them. Well maybe both of those things were true…but hadn’t he given them a life worth living? Hadn’t he always provided supper for his daughter even when he and his wife had to go to bed with empty stomachs? Hadn’t he worked like a dog his entire life so that his grandchildren could attend college free of debt? Yes. Yes he had, and yet here he was at this exact moment, sitting in a wheelchair being pushed along like a shopping cart.

To add to the misery, it was a dreary day: the bellies of gray clouds hung low in the sky and the occasional raindrop stung the top of Andrew’s mostly bald head. Somewhere far off, thunder rumbled and, as if on que, one of the wheels of the wheelchair dipped into a large crack in the sidewalk. Andrew’s frail body leaped up out of the chair for a split second before landing back down with a jolt. Waves of pain ran up and down his arthritis-ridden spine and he let out a soft groan of disapproval.

“Sorry about that…lots of holes in this sidewalk,” Mr. Bellinger’s daughter Christine said

without the slightest hint of remorse in her voice.

Andrew looked up at her and grimaced. Every time he took a good look at his daughter he remembered how fat she had gotten all over again. She still had the shadow of a pretty face, but it was hidden under two chins and those thick cheeks. Perhaps she could be considered- at the very least- an elegant woman, but then one had to factor in the sickly orange hue of her skin that had been acquired over one too many days on the tanning bed, her excessive makeup, and the inappropriate clothes she wore out of pure denial of her age. Andrew blew air sharply out of his nose and turned front-and-center once again.

The double doors to the St. Dymphna Nursing Home loomed directly ahead. Christine turned to the two young men lagging behind her and asked if one of them could hit the automatic door button.

The youngest of Mr. Bellinger’s grandsons- Jacob, strolled over to the button with the urgency of a slug and pressed it. He was nineteen years old but acted more like an uncompromising twelve-year-old. Not only was he jobless, but he was going to college to obtain a liberal arts degree like every other young, dull, phone-staring teenager.

Andrew sighed and said, “Here we go…” as the doors slid open with an unholy clatter and his daughter wheeled him inside.

The lobby looked much like any other nursing home lobby: a mixture of semi-fancy decorations with an undertone of rundown mediocrity. There was a fake marble water fountain that had stopped working a few months prior and no one had bothered to fix it. There was an ornamental looking chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling, but it was covered in dust and only 8 out of the twelve lightbulbs were actually working. The floor looked as though it had been freshly mopped, but it smelled quite unpleasant all the same. Overall, the facility was dingy at best.

“Is this the new resident?” a voice asked to Andrew’s left.

Andrew turned to see a middle-aged woman sat at a large wooden desk with a computer monitor atop it. This woman had curly brown hair and a large mole on her right cheek and, protruding from said mole, there was a single gray hair that was the size and shape of a pen spring. Behind the cheap glasses that she wore were two boring eyes that seemed to look straight passed the new arrivals as though they were phantoms.

“Yes, he’s going to be a permanent resident. His name is Andrew Bellinger,” Christine said with a polite smile. Her eyes told a different story, however. They seemed to say: I’m sorry dad. This place really is a dump.

“Bellinger…Bellinger…Bellinger…” The receptionist repeated under her breath while scanning through her computer screen, “Found him…”

Andrew frowned with annoyance. Shouldn’t they be expecting my arrival already?

“It looks like you’re in room…119…Old Glory Unit. Just make a left out of the lobby and that’ll bring you to the atrium. You’ll see the sign for Old Glory once you get there. Just make sure you stop by the nursing station before you bring him to his room.”

“Of course. Thank you very much.”

“Not a problem, ma’am,” The receptionist turned towards Bellinger, those dull eyes resting on his forehead, “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Bellinger.”

Begrudgingly, Bellinger muttered a short ‘Thank you’ and then Christine pushed the wheelchair forward, the two teenagers trailing behind. She took the first left and wheeled her father down a short poorly lit hallway. There were corkboards lining the walls with pinned up event calendars, cafeteria menus, and arts and crafts. One such board contained several paper flowers with Popsicle sticks for stems with each stem bearing a resident’s name in shaky arthritic handwriting. The entirety of this particular cork board was surrounded by a colorful boarder boasting the words: SPRING IS HERE! IN LIKE A LION! OUT LIKE A LAMB!

Andrew rolled his eyes at this pitiful display. He was eighty-nine years old; not some prepubescent child who partook in shoddy artwork. If everyone at the facility had a brain dull enough to make Popsicle flowers in their free time, then this would be an unpleasant stay indeed.

The short hallway emptied into a large well-lit atrium. There were round tables scattered about, a few overstuffed sofas, a juke box, a murky fish tank, and a bird cage with a single cockatiel residing within. A few residents were wandering around in their wheelchairs and several others were sat at tables, talking, or playing cards games. Andrew was relieved to see a bit of life in the facility, even if the overall atmosphere was hollow and boring. Perhaps, he thought, he could meet a few interesting characters and make a couple friends before passing away. It wasn’t the best finale for a man’s life by any means, but it could certainly be a hell of a lot worse.

“Looks like ‘Old Glory’ is over there,” Jacob noted, extending a finger towards a doorway on the other side of the atrium. The boy’s vision, unlike his grandfather’s, was sharp enough to make out the sign from a distance.

“Good eyes, Jake. Why don’t you and Isaiah grab grandpa’s stuff from the car now that we know where to go?” Christine asked. She shifted the wheelchair in that direction and pushed Andrew along.

“Yeah, no problem, ma,” Jacob answered. He and Isaiah turned around, glad to escape the prison of old people for a few minutes.

The wheels rolled onwards, traversing the waxy floor. Christine opened the door to ‘Old Glory’ at the press of a button and pushed her father through the threshold. The hallway beyond was gray and drab and the scent of feces hanged obnoxiously in the air. Christine held her breath for as long as she could as she and her father made their way down the hall and towards the nursing station. Eventually, the hallway opened up into a day room, with the nursing station taking up a portion of the communal space. The station itself consisted of two large desks encompassed by short wooden walls and shelves. It was a busy place, with nurses scribbling their paperwork and their assistants manning the phones in their down time.

Christine and her father halted in front of this station. It took a minute before they could grab someone’s attention: a stressed-out young lady with her hair tied up in a tight bun. She looked up from the telephone she was speaking into and raised a single finger.

“…listen to me Mr. Estrada, I will be over in a minute…I know…okay Mr. Estrada I can do that for you…just one minute,” The woman said, her accent Jamaican.

The phone clicked into its cradle and the nursing assistant diverted her attention towards the new resident. Andrew thought that she looked like a respectable lady. Overworked and maybe a bit fatigued with life despite her youth, but well-intentioned all the same.

“How may I help you?” She asked with the hint of a smile.

“Hi, this is my father: Mr. Andrew Bellinger. Today is his first day here.”

“Ah yes we’ve been expecting you, Andrew. You’ve got room 119 all to yourself I believe…let me just double check with the charge nurse,” And with that she got up and searched for the charge nurse and Andrew’s RN.

Christine watched the young lady speak with her coworkers briefly. A few papers and binders were looked over by the three of them and then the RN crossed the length of the nursing station and approached his new patient. He was a short man with untidy facial hair and small rectangular glasses. His glasses caught the glint of the overhanging lightbulbs in such a way that his eyes were always obstructed by glare.

“Hello, sir it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Steven Petero…I’ll be your nurse for the foreseeable future,” The RN announced in a nasally voice.

Petero had the air of someone who was rather caught up in his own ego. Andrew could tell right off the bat that this man was a know-it-all and quite proud of that title. Even when he extended a hand towards Bellinger, his grip was weak and insincere. Not quite the kind of person that anyone wanted as their boss, that was for sure.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Petero,” Andrew lied.

“We’ll get to know each other very well, Mr. Bellinger. I’m just going to go over a couple things with you and your daughter and then we’ll get you into your room so you can settle down.”

Andrew nodded and the nurse briefly reviewed the medications Bellinger was taking, his dietary habits, sleep schedule, and other mundane topics. At one point in the middle of the conversation Jacob and Isaiah returned, carrying a few bags and boxes. Christine told them to take it to room 119 to get a head start on unpacking grandpa’s things.

Once Mr. Petero was finished double checking the records he had on file for his new patient, he instructed the nursing assistant to take Mr. Bellinger to his room. Without further delay, Christine wheeled her father to room 119, escorted by the CNA.

Jacob and Isaiah were busy putting clothes away and hanging picture frames when their grandfather entered the room. It was a dreary looking place. The cabinets were scuffed, the television cheap, and each wall was painted in the same ugly color. Andrew could scarcely tell if it was a faint green or a dull blue, but whatever color it was, it was a sore to the eyes. At the very least, the bed appeared to be neat and clean despite its hospital-esque design.

“Alright here’s your room, Mr. Bellinger. You don’t have a roommate for the time being but we do ask that you only store your belongings on the door side of the room. If you need anything your call button is right here. You just press the red button and speak out loud and we’ll be able to hear you over the phone at the nursing station. Breakfast is served at seven, lunch at twelve, and dinner at five…the facility cafeteria tends to be fairly consistent with that schedule but if they’re running a bit late I’ll let you know in advance.” The nursing assistant explained, “Any questions from either of you?”

Christine had nothing to say. She stared at her father and awaited a response.

“No. Everything seems just fine and dandy,” Andrew grimaced.

“Okay well let me know if you think of anything. My name is Anna by the way. It was very nice meeting you,” And with that Anna headed out of the room; probably off to solve whatever issue it was that Mr. Estrada was having.

The boys continued to unpack the many boxes and bags they had carried in while Christine and her father sat in awkward silence. There was a lot to be said between the two, but neither was in a particularly talkative mood. It was a very strange feeling to be put into a nursing home by those who (are supposed to) love you. To be told that this was it…no more work, no more family vacations, no more purpose. All that Andrew had to hold on to was the past and the current state of his mind. How long it would all hold together before it slipped out from under his fingers, he could not say.

“Hmmm…I remember this picture. How old was I in this, ma?” Jacob removed a framed photograph from one of the boxes and spun it around so his mother could take a look.

The photograph in question was of a beach trip the Bellinger family had taken many years ago. Jacob and Isaiah had their arms around each other and bared identical grins that were all but contagious to any onlooker with half a soul. Christine was in the picture standing directly behind her smiling boys and beside her was her ex-husband. She was slimmer back then and her face had a natural glow to it. To the left of those four was Andrew Bellinger who cradled his wife in his arms, the two of them laughing hysterically. It was a beautiful scene indeed: the sun was setting over the ocean behind the Bellinger family, and a slight breeze kicked a few grains of golden sand into the air like sparkling dust.

“You and your brother must’ve been eight and six. Wow…I really forgot that I packed that photo for you, dad. What a lovely day,” Christine reminisced.

Something softened deep inside Andrew when he looked at that picture. It sent chills down his crooked back and a smile almost broke through to his lips. Life had been so much better back then. Everything had fit perfectly into place like a puzzle.

“Hang that one up across from my bed. That way I can always look at it.”

Christine’s eyes sparkled when those words escaped her father’s mouth. She felt a twinge of shame for having to admit her father into a nursing home. He had not always been the best dad, and often times he was downright terrible at expressing his feelings towards his daughter, but he had a certain quiet wisdom about him. Never in his life had Andrew put his own needs above the needs of his family even if he complained about it in retrospect.

“Well, that’s everything I guess. We should probably get going Pop Pop…I’ve got band practice pretty soon.” Jacob said.

“It was great seeing you Pop Pop. We’ll try to visit every week, okay?” Isaiah chimed in.

Andrew nodded at his grandkids and bid them farewell. Then he faced his daughter.

“What will you be up to today, Tina?”

“Oh, just the usual busy work. This evening I’ve got to work on some classes, but I can stay here with you for a while if you’d like.”

Andrew sighed, “That won’t be necessary, Sweetie. Go home and cook a nice meal for my boys. I love you, okay? I’m sorry I was cranky this morning and…I’m sorry if I…”

But he could not find the words he was looking for. In that moment, his silence spoke greater volume than any apology ever could.

“Oh dad…I love you. I’ll visit as often as I can,” Christine choked up. She bent down and gave her father a hug before quickly turning around. If she looked at him a second longer she knew that the tears would flow and she did not want that. Without turning around she uttered a final, “Bye, dad. See you soon,” and then her and her boys exited the room with the empty bags and boxes.

Andrew Bellinger was all by himself for the first time in years. He looked at the beach picture and could not prevent the rising bitterness within him. His family had confessed their love to him, but their actions did not align with that sentiment. From his point of view, they had all but abandoned him to a miserable and lonely death. And what was he supposed to do now? The monotony of nursing home life loomed ahead, day after day and week after week.

Shakily, Andrew adjusted his arm to take a look at his watch. It was only a quarter to four. That meant only a little over an hour before dinnertime. Not quite long enough to do anything substantial but certainly long enough to get invested in a good movie or television program. That was it! He would watch a gameshow on T.V. just like he had enjoyed at home.

He reached for the remote and turned the television on at the press of a button. While aimlessly flipping through the channels he came across the Gameshow Network. They were playing reruns of one of his all-time favorite shows: The Wheel of Fortune.

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick, the neon-colored wheel went spinning round and round on the screen.

“Seven hundred!” Pat Sajak boomed in his suave voice.

“M!” The contestant responded.

“Yes! Two M’s!”

At that, Vanna White strolled over to the board and unveiled two M’s. The puzzle looked like this now: M-N- O-E- MA--E-

“I’d like to solve the puzzle,” The contestant announced.

The unfinished puzzle stayed up on the screen. The topic was “Phrases” but Andrew did not have the faintest clue what the answer could be. He enjoyed watching gameshows, but he had never truly been sharp enough, even in his youth, to succeed at one.

“Mind…over…matter,” The contestant went on.

The signature Wheel of Fortune trumpet jingle played, and Vanna clapped her hands with enthusiasm. MIND OVER MATTER instantly filled in the missing spaces.

“Mind over matter…” Andrew repeated out loud.

That was quite the phrase alright. In his time of despair it was exactly what he needed to hear. Mind over matter…I’ve just got to take this one day- no one meal- at a time. I’ll make it to dinner and then tomorrow I’ll make it to breakfast and so on. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Day 1: A Leak Upstairs

Mr. Bellinger opened his gluey eyes as morning light seeped in through his thin curtains. He was momentarily confused as he looked from unfamiliar wall to unfamiliar wall. Where the hell am I? He thought, feeling a sudden panic spread like an electric current across his body. His eyes darted this way and that, looking intently but still not comprehending.

Eventually, his gaze fell upon the picture of his family standing on the golden shoreline of some beautiful beach. The details of the photo were blurry and unfocused until Andrew put his glasses on with a trembling hand. Now he could see it perfectly, and a wave of understanding flooded his brain. He recalled Christine and her young boys dropping him off at the nursing home; the place where he was destined to spend the remainder of his life.

With great difficulty, Andrew sat up in bed. Aching pains shot up and down every muscle in his body as he climbed out of bed, but before long he was standing with his cane in hand. He took a couple of steps just to test the waters and soon realized that his legs weren’t what they used to be. Sure, he could walk if necessary, but why torture himself if he didn’t have to? Because I’m not a useless old hag! An intrusive thought jabbed at him.

Andrew shrugged the thought aside and took a seat in his wheelchair after a few seconds of internal debate. He slapped his watch on his wrist and gave the crown a couple of spins to wind it up. It was only a few minutes to seven…nearly breakfast time. That would be meal number two and the start of Andrew’s first day. The first day of the rest of his life, no less.

Andrew’s hand found the television remote and he flicked on the local news to pass some time. A news reporter was speaking calmly about some traffic incident from the previous night. Below his shoulders the headline read: FATAL ACCIDENT ON ROUTE 1 SOUTH; 1 PRESUMED DEAD; 2 CRITICAL.

“Late last night a deadly car accident occurred on the southbound side of Route 1 after a drunk driver ran a red light, crashing head-on into another vehicle. The driver of the vehicle that was struck was pronounced dead at the scene while two others were rushed to the hospital in critical condition. Until the wreck has fully been cleared Route 1 South should be avoided from Franklin Avenue to-”

Two sharp knocks rapped against the door to room 119. Before Andrew could so much as utter a “Come on in!”, a nursing assistant was already inside the room, balancing a tray in one hand. It was not Anna this time around but a thin older man with thick eyebrows and a mustache that was practically begging to be shaved.

“Mornin’ Mister Bell…got ya breakfast right here,” The main stated flatly as he placed the tray and a cup of coffee in front of Andrew.

“Thank you, sir,” Bellinger replied although he didn’t exactly appreciate being barged-in on.

“No problem. Enjoy and lemme know if ya need anthin’ else,” The man said. Before leaving he spared a look at the television screen and his bushy eyebrows propped up in surprise.

Catching that fleeting expression, Andrew spoke up, “Quite the tragedy, right? All because of a careless drunkard.”

“Huh? What you mean, Mister?” The aid asked, his eyes still trained on the television screen, “I jus’ thought it was kinda funny you’re watching Jonny Quest. Used to be my favorite cartoon growin’ up…”

Startled, Andrew turned his attention back to the screen only to see that a rerun of Jonny Quest was playing. The gang was zooming around in their jet on some crazy adventure like usual.

“Oh…I had the news on a minute ago…must’ve hit the remote right when you walked in. There was a pretty bad accident on the highway but…but I guess it doesn’t matter,” Andrew’s cheeks were turning red with embarrassment.

“It’s all good, Mr. Bell. News ain’t the best mornin’ television anyhow…Jonny Quest is better than all that horror.”

Andrew nodded his head and said, “Yeah I suppose you’re right. I’ll let you get back to work.”

The aid left the room leaving Andrew alone with his food. The meal consisted of greenish tinted eggs, watery grits, dry ham, and undercooked toast. Even the coffee was cold and tasteless. Disgusted, Andrew came close to pressing his call button, but he hesitated and eventually decided against such an action. He hated drawing attention to himself and preferred not to be known as “the complainer” if he could help it. He was the new guy after all and making a bad first impression on the people he would be spending the rest of his life with seemed like an unwise decision.

With a concentrated effort, Mr. Bellinger managed to shovel down enough of the food to satiate his rumbling belly. It wasn’t much, but it would keep his hunger at bay until lunchtime. Until then, he would flip through the television channels and snack from the boxes of Ritz crackers Christine had left him.

And so the day went by in a blur of daytime television and boredom. Lunch came. Then Petero arrived with Andrew’s meds. Later, Anna stopped by to make the bed and tidy things up. Before long dinner was over and Andrew was lying in bed yet again.

It was very cold that night under the thin sheets and blankets of the hospital bed. Once or twice Andrew came close to hitting his call button to summon the night shift CNA to crank up the heat, but once again his pride got the best of him. He simply pulled the covers over his head and shivered, thinking of the warm bed he had left behind at home.

He also thought of the car accident on the news that morning. How some poor soul was left without a significant other or a child without a parent. All because of some selfish fool who had been too dumb to wait until he sobered up before hitting the road after a night of drinking. It was tragedies like that that reminded Andrew to be grateful. He had lost a lot in his life and lying alone in a cold nursing home was certainly not pleasant, but at least he was alive and healthy. Even if he were not…he had eighty-nine years to see the world and have fun. Play time was surely over, but at least he had gotten a chance to experience it as opposed to the many who were not quite so fortunate.

Somewhat at peace with this realization, Andrew shut his bleary eyes and began to drift off to sleep.

Drip…drip…drip…

An uncomfortable wetness began to spread slowly across the lower half of Andrew’s bedsheets. Alarmed, the old man sprang up off the mattress, momentarily forgetting the cold and his bad back. Looking around, he could see a dark spot of moisture on the blanket near his thighs but was confused as to its source.

Drip…drip…

Andrew reached for his glasses and sat them upon the bridge of his nose. He could just barely make out water dripping from a crack in the ceiling in the darkened room. That had to be the final straw! Irritated, he pressed his call button which activated a flashing light out in the hallway.

There was a crackle of static coming from a small speaker by Andrew’s bed and then: “Mr. Bellinger, how can I help you?”

“There’s a leak in my ceiling. It’s dripping water onto the bedsheets,” Andrew grumbled. He tried to keep most of his anger inaudible, but there was still some venom in his words.

“A leak? What do you mean Mr. Bellinger?”

“When I say a leak I mean a leak. There is water coming down from a crack in my ceiling,” His frustration shone through now.

“I’ll send your nurse’s aid down to check it out, alright?”

Nurse’s aid?! Andrew thought vehemently. I need a custodian not a nurse’s aid! But nevertheless, he remained silent.

A few minutes passed before Andrew could hear footsteps approaching out in the hallway. The gait was familiar, but he could not put a face on those steps just yet. The footsteps ceased and the doorknob to room 119 twisted.

A single figure entered the room, but Andrew was unable to make out a face in the darkness in spite of the fact that he was wearing his glasses.

“Hello? Mr. Bellinger could you explain what your problem is?”

Andrew recognized the voice as belonging to Anna, but that thoroughly confused him. Anna’s shift should have ended a few hours ago and it was unlikely for such a busy and overworked individual to remain at work any longer than she had to. The only logical explanation that Andrew could come up with was that perhaps she worked 24 hour shifts on occasion.

“Hello Anna, sorry to disturb you but there’s a leak in my ceiling. It’s dripping right down onto the blankets,” Andrew explained politely.

Anna lifted her shadowy head towards the ceiling and briefly checked for any visible cracks.

“I don’t see any leaks Mr. Bellinger,” She said flatly.

Andrew was rather baffled by her lack of effort, “What do you mean? Can’t you at least turn the light on so you can get a better look?”

“No,” She said hotly, “There’s nothing there to see anyway.”

Mr. Bellinger’s mouth shot open in disbelief following that remark. He had not known Anna for very long, but he found it almost inconceivable for her to be so rude. What was the big deal with turning on a light to check for a leak?

“There’s water dripping right on me! All I need is to change rooms until it’s fixed. Can’t you just turn the light on and give a quick l-”

“Go to bed, Mr. Bellinger. I don’t have time for this.”

“You don’t have time for your job?”

“I don’t have time for you. Now shut up and go to bed,” Anna snarled. She allowed those words to sink in for a second before turning around and slamming the door on Mr. Bellinger.

Stunned beyond comprehension, Andrew laid his head back on his pillow. He wanted to press his call button again, but he knew who would be answering it. If anything, he decided that he would file a formal complaint about Anna tomorrow morning although he hated to take such actions against a person he might have to deal with for an exceptionally long time.

Exhausted and confused, Andrew managed to shove the thought of the insolent nurse’s aid from his mind. The dripping had stopped, so perhaps he would be able to get some rest at last. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Day 2: Birds of a Feather

Mr. Bellinger pulled his wheelchair next to the rusted old bird cage in the atrium and surveyed his surroundings. There were a handful of residents who were out and about, talking in small groups or simply wandering the open space of the room. At least two or three of them were sat on their own, babbling incoherently to themselves. It was an unnerving sight for those who still had their mental faculties intact to see such a pitiful display of the human mind as it approaches its demise.

“What a wacky place huh, buddy?” Andrew said to the cockatiel.

The bird’s tiny yellow head propped up. Its cheeks were a deep crimson and a few ruffled feathers protruded haphazardly from its scalp.

“Hello! Hello!” The cockatiel responded in a crackling, hissing bout of chirps.

Slightly taken aback, Andrew turned to the creature with wide eyes.

After composing himself he spoke: “You talk? Well isn’t that something?”

“Hello! My name’s Sam!” The bird replied in that same shifty voice.

A faint smile touched Andrew’s lips, “Sam? That’s a real nice name, my friend. A real nice name indeed.”

The bird let out a melodic catcall and fluttered its wings, grateful for the attention it was receiving. Andrew was beginning to like this little fellow quite a bit.

“Who’s a pretty birdie? I’m a pretty birdie!” Sam went on, bobbing his head with delight as he spoke.

Andrew felt bad for the little thing and wondered how often - if ever - the custodians let him out of his cage. Weeks maybe? Andrew didn’t know much about birds, but surely they needed to stretch their wings every now and again and fly. He presumed that they also required a fair amount of socialization with other birds or at least humans, but there were few residents with enough brainpower to entertain a pet. Sam was a lonely creature, and that was without question.

“Hey! I see you’ve met my little feathered friend!” A voice said to Andrew’s right.

Rotating his wheelchair slightly, Andrew turned to see a resident standing nearby. This man was a shorter fellow. His skin was quite tan - almost brown in fact; and in his hand he held a polished wooden cane. His clothes consisted of a red and white plaid shirt, jeans, and black dress shoes that had seen better days.

“Oh yes. I certainly didn’t expect a bird that’s been cooped up in a nursing home for so long to be that intelligent. The thing was practically having a conversation with me!” Andrew answered joyfully. He was relieved to have a normal conversation with someone for once.

“Yeah I try to talk to him every day to keep em’ sharp. Keeps me sharp too actually,” After saying this the man extended a hand, “I’m sorry I don’t think I introduced myself yet, Andy. My name’s Charlie.”

Andrew shook the man’s hand, finding his grip to be firm and welcoming. He noticed that Charlie’s hands were rough and blistered. No doubt the sign of a man who knew his way around a workbench.

“Nice to meet you. Say, what do you normally do around here anyway? I just got here the other day and…well needless to say I haven’t exactly been having the best time.”

Charlie nodded his head in understanding, “Yeah it’s no Disney Land, that’s for sure. You’re more than welcome to join me and a few of my buddies around lunch time. We usually eat out here and then play cards or just talk. I always like to find like-minded people for our group if you know what I mean.”

“Uh…yeah…that would be real nice actually. I haven’t talked to too many folks yet, but I’d love to get to know people.”

“Well then it’s settled. Meet us at that table over there at noon,” Charlie pointed towards a specific table on the other side of the atrium, “That’s where we usually set up shop.”

The pair of them talked for a short while about their circumstances and the state of the facility and then Charlie ended up bidding farewell and hobbling away on his cane. Apparently, he wanted to catch some television program before returning to the atrium for lunch.

Andrew, not having anywhere to go, simply remained by the bird cage and continued his people watching. At one point he tried asking a recreational employee if he was allowed outside for a cigarette, but the employee apologized and said that it was far too hot today and therefore residents were required to stay indoors. Guess I’ll just sit on my ass then, Andrew thought. Had he not just had such a pleasant encounter and the promise of another, he probably would have felt far more bitter, but today was shaping up to be much better than yesterday.

With somewhat elevated spirits, Andrew waited the hour and half until noon and then approached the table that Charlie and his group were seated at. There were four residents crowded around the table: one woman and the rest male. They struck Andrew immediately as a friendly bunch. Perhaps even the kind he would have spent time with in his youth.

“Hey everybody this is Andy. He’s new here but I think he’s got a good grasp on all the bullshit already,” Charlie told his group, “Andy this is Jack, Freddie, and Debra.”

Andrew greeted them one at a time and respectfully shook their hands. Debra was the last person he introduced himself to. She was an interesting looking lady, appearing to be in her late fifties or early sixties which struck Andrew as rather unusual. She wore a nice jacket and had long black hair. An undeniably attractive lady despite her age, no doubt.

“It’s real nice to meet you all. I was just talking to Sam over there and Charlie comes right up and asks if I wanted to sit over here for lunch.”

“Oh, that bird is something else isn’t he?” Debra remarked, “I feel kinda bad for him though…it must be really lonely in that cage.”

Andrew nodded in agreement and said, “Not to mention he’s gotta stare at my bald head whenever I pass by. Sometimes I scare the hell out of myself just looking in the mirror.”

Andrew rubbed his mostly bald head with a disgruntled look on his face and everyone laughed in amusement. Debra laughed the hardest. She liked that sort of dry humor and found Andrew’s facial expressions and overall mannerisms to be quite goofy.

The conversation went on from there. Whenever he saw the opportunity, Andrew would crack a joke and the whole group would laugh uproariously. Most of the time they would laugh, anyway. As it was, Andrew sometimes said things that were just outright silly or a bit too dry which left Charlie, Jack, and Freddie scratching their heads in bewilderment. Debra, however, would always laugh in that same howling screech of hers. It wasn’t the most pleasing sound by any means, but it was music to Andrew’s ears to hear her laughter.

It felt like a drug…something that left Andrew wanting for more. So, he continued his onslaught of humor, sometimes getting a bit more daring or flirtatious with his jokes and anecdotes, but Andrew was a man of deep constraint. He knew how far would be too far for a first engagement and he knew when to push the envelope.

Every now and then Charlie or Jack would tell a joke of their own and get a good laugh out of Debra which would momentarily suck the life from Andrew’s heart and replace it with a stinging jealousy. Still, Andrew kept his cool and kept the conversation flowing, always ensuring that the focus was mainly on him and Debra and not the other three.

At one point or another, lunch was served, and the group ate and went on with their conversation, though at a slower pace. The food consisted of some kind of a meat in some kind of a sauce- what kind of meat and what kind of sauce remains a mystery- a few soggy carrots, instant mashed potatoes, and an off-brand soda.

“Jesus, I didn’t think ginger ale could taste so bad. They can’t even get that right in this place,” Andrew said after taking a sip from his soda can.

“Yeah it tastes like dirty water. In time you’ll get used to it, unfortunately,” Jack answered. He was tall and lanky, with a gaunt face and bug-like eyes.

“Tell me about it. You know what just happened to me last night? Unbelievable how careless some of these nurses are…”

Debra set a fork full of mashed potatoes down and asked, “What happened?”

“Well, a little crack in my ceiling started to leak right before I went to bed, so naturally I hit my call button. I figured they would send down a custodian to clean up the water and patch the hole, but instead they sent down my nurse’s aid. She comes in and just out-right refuses to even look at the leak. I stay as polite as possible, but then she just starts insulting me and storms out of the room like a child!”

The rest of the group looked on, wide eyed.

“Wow, that’s awful! I would’ve went to the nurses station and asked to file a report,” Debra said.

“That’s the thing though…in the morning I tried to do something like that. I told my nurse everything that happened and asked to file a report but he just looked at his clipboard and told me that my aid wasn’t even on shift that evening. I told him that was nonsense and that I had seen her with my own two eyes, but he just shrugged it off.”

The group discussed Andrew’s story at length. Debra was sympathetic and suggested that Andrew should go to the front desk to complain. Charlie disagreed as he believed that whoever was working the front desk would most likely cover for the abusive nurse’s aid anyway. Jack and Freddie were both of the opinion that the entire ordeal must have been a dream or groggy hallucination given how late it was, but Andrew assured them that that was not the case. He was enraged that they would even go so far as to suggest such a thing.

Back and forth the clique of old men (and woman) went, ranting about how unkempt the facility was and how unfair the staff. The hours flew by in conversation much faster than they would have if Andrew were sitting alone in his room, brooding. Before long, it was nearly dinner time and the elderly residents were growing tired. They collectively decided to return to their rooms and meet again tomorrow around the same time.

“It was really nice meeting you all,” Andrew had said, and for once he meant it.

Everyone said their goodbyes, and Andrew could not help but notice the warm smile on Debra’s face, and the sparkle in her eyes when she remarked how happy she was to have met Andy and how effortlessly humorous he was. That stirred up a few butterflies in Andrew’s stomach and he felt a strange pain in his chest as he wheeled away from Debra and the group. Tomorrow, he thought it’s right around the corner. Right after dinner and then breakfast. Mind over matter…

Dinner came at the same time as usual and was just as drab and unappetizing as expected. Not wishing to stay awake in boredom and isolation any longer than he had to, Andrew only watched a single episode of Jeopardy before bed. He barely knew any of the answers, of course, but what fun would it be if he did anyway?

The T.V. flicked off and the lights went out. His vital signs were obtained at some point before he went to sleep as was the standard procedure before the day concluded. Then the night took its reigns over the sleepy minds of St. Dymphna’s residents.

Just as he was about to shut his eyes, something odd zapped Andrew’s brain like a laser. He wasn’t sure why the thought had been so delayed in its resurfacing, but consciousness can be funny like that…especially before drifting off into the realm of dreams.

He knew my name! How did he know my name? Andrew realized with a mixture of confusion and paranoia. Charlie had called him by his first name before the two had formally introduced themselves. Or was Andrew simply misremembering events in his old age? His conversation with Charlie next to the bird cage had been many hours ago, after all. That was certainly long enough for an old coot like himself to forget a minor detail. Not to mention there were a million and one ways that Charlie could have found out Andrew’s first name before they met: he could have heard a CNA, nurse, or other resident say it, or perhaps he had passed by room 119 and seen the name plate on the door. Yes, that must be it, Andrew said to himself. He decided upon that explanation and pushed the thought aside. How silly it was for him to dwell on such a stupid detail when he was so tired after such a busy day. Sleep was all that should demand his attention at this hour, and so he closed his eyes and let himself slip down that peculiar path to the subconscious.

Day 3: Saudade

Petero pressed a button, causing the fabric blood pressure cuff on Andrew’s arm to inflate. The machine clicked a few times and then the pressure started to release slowly. Petero got his readings and then jotted them down in his clipboard, his eyes darting from the machine to his notes.

“Hmm…significantly higher than usual today, Mr. Bellinger. Are you feeling alright? Maybe a bit stressed?”

“No,” Andrew replied, although that was a lie.

He had a lot on his mind lately. There was the obvious stuff of course: the isolation, the crack in his ceiling that had yet to be mended, and the infrequent abuse from the staff. Then there were also a few petty issues that had been messing with Andrew’s peace of mind. No matter what, he could not seem to stop thinking about his meeting with Charlie’s group of friends. The thought of Debra, most of all, made his heart race whenever his mind turned in that direction.

“Well, if that’s truly the case I’ll have to give you some new medication to keep your blood pressure down. Is that alright with you?”

“Um…I mean I would prefer it if you didn’t do that. God knows I’m taking enough drugs as it is.”

Petero did not look pleased with that answer. He raised an eyebrow and, as he did, a few wrinkles etched themselves into existence on his forehead.

“I strongly recommend that you take my advice, Mr. Bellinger. There are some real consequences to refusing your meds you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I might die and all of that nonsense…not like I’m gonna live forever anyway. I might as well just ride out my time without cramming my bloodstream full of more chemicals.”

Petero peered over his spectacles, “Oh they all say that. The truth of the matter is you don’t want to die, sir. I’ve seen plenty of residents echo the same sentiment, but when they’re sick in bed all day they lay there and wish that they had taken Old Petero’s advice while they still had the chance. So be a good sport, will ya?”

Annoyed, Andrew nodded his head and accepted the medication. He didn’t believe Petero one bit, but he didn’t want to start a huge debacle over nothing either. Last time he had pissed off a staff member it had not worked out quite so well after all.

“Thank you, Mr. Bellinger. Now if there’s nothing more I can do for you I’m going to head to the next room.”

“Actually,” Andrew blurted out, “There is something I wanted to ask about. Yesterday I asked one of the rec guys if I could go outside and they said ‘no’. Do you know if it’s nice enough to go out today and get some fresh air?”

“No, it’s much too hot out there. We wouldn’t want you overheating, Mr. Bellinger.”

Andrew wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught a smile on Petero’s face as he spoke. He turned to leave.

“Wait just one minute! It’s freezing in here! You can hardly tell me that it’s hot out there with a straight face!” Andrew fired back.

He felt instantly guilty for letting his emotions get the best of him, but this situation was ridiculous, frankly. Even if it was hot outside, he did not work his entire life to be caged up inside a dingy building. He had a right to make his own decisions however risky they may be.

“Look, sir I don’t make the rules. And even if I did I wouldn’t let my patients die of heatstroke because they think that they control the weather. Now…if you’re patient I’m certain that there will be at least a couple days this week that are cool enough for you to go outside under supervision.”

Under supervision? What is this a concentration camp?! Andrew nearly retorted, but he decided not to say anything further. Instead, Andrew merely grunted his disapproval and watched Petero leave the room with that same stupid smile on his face.

Being that it was nearly lunch time by then, Andrew shut his television off and wheeled himself out into the hallway as soon as he was sure that Petero had moved a decent distance away. The first thing that he noticed upon leaving his room was that the hallway reeked of urine, feces, expired cleaning products, and old people. Nothing too unusual for a nursing facility, and yet today it smelled especially foul.

Crinkling his nose, Andrew continued into the atrium where the smell was a tad more bearable. He looked to the tables to see if the group had shown up yet, but there were no familiar faces in sight. It was too early perhaps.

Andrew was about to wheel himself over to Sam for a little chat when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw Debra standing behind him without the assistance of a walker or cane. She looked just as overdressed and sophisticated as the day before.

“Hey Andrew, remember me?”

She had a kindness in her eyes that was a sufficient greeting on its own.

“Of course,” Andrew said, chuckling, “My bad if I came on a little strong yesterday. I’m just a goof-ball really…”

“That’s alright I thought it was cute actually. You remind me of somebody I used to know.”

“Is that right? Well since we’re out here before everybody else we might as well get to know each other better, huh? That way I’m not just the goof-ball who reminds you of someone you used to know.”

“I’d love that. How about we head outside and have a cigarette…assuming you smoke that is?”

Andrew frowned, “I’d like to, but the Gestapo have decided it’s too hot outside yet again.”

Debra rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. She appeared to be just as fed up with this place as Andrew himself.

“Whatever…I suppose we can sit over there by the birdcage instead. I might not need a wheelchair just yet, but these old legs can’t stand for long without collapsing on themselves.”

The pair began to walk (and roll) towards the couch that Debra had pointed out. Andrew could not help but be impressed by the ease in which Debra strode across the atrium floor. It made him quite curious as to why she was in a nursing facility in the first place, but he knew better than to ask such a personal question.

Debra took a seat at the edge of the sofa and Andrew pulled up next to her. Not far off to their left, Sam whistled a discordant tune that stared out as Tequila before dissolving into the theme song to The Simpsons.

“So how long have you been here exactly?” Andrew broached once they had settled into their seats.

“Oh quite a bit longer than I would have liked that’s for sure. I’d put a number on it but frankly you stop counting after a while and just accept things for how they are. How about you? Just a couple days right?”

“Yeah,” Andrew answered somewhat unsurely, “Something like that…Jesus Christ it feels like a whole lot longer though. I feel like I’ve been in this place for ages already.”

“I know the feeling. But like I said: you get used to it over time and before long it’s just life. I mean if you really think about it, how much different is the outside world? You get up, have breakfast, go to work, go through all those motions, and before you know it it’s time for bed again. If you don’t take the time to enjoy the little stuff than life just kinda passes you by…”

“Um…well it’s kind of depressing when you put it like that isn’t it? I mean it’s true and all, but there’s plenty more to do out in the real world than there is in here.”

“Of course, there is. And I don’t mean to be a downer at all. I guess what I’m really trying to say is that life is what you make of it. It can be hell if you focus on how boring your routine is or it can be fun if you focus on things that you love.”

Andrew was rather stunned by this wisdom, but he knew it to be true. He recalled how negatively he viewed Christine and his grandkids when they dropped him off at the facility, and how much better he felt once he realized that they genuinely cared about him in their own special way even if that way was morphed by the values of the western world. It was just like The Wheel of Fortune had said with a single reassuring phrase.

“Hmm. You’ve given me a lot to think about, that’s for sure. You mind if I ask what keeps you positive in here? Given that you’ve been here longer and know better than me.”

“Family has always meant the most to me. My parents, my husband, my children and grandchildren. They aren’t all around anymore, but I’m happy that I had the opportunity to meet them and be a part of their lives. And in here I’ve got my little group of friends. I think it’s important to keep people like that close and have a good laugh. Maybe forget that we’re in a dirty hospital that stinks like shit.”

Andrew became aware of the awful stench once again, and this time he determined that it smelt of roadkill and stagnant water. He looked around a bit in search of the source of the smell, but he could not find one; or least not one that was blatantly obvious. There were a few elderly residents wandering around or sitting in chairs, a few of which were lacking in hygiene or in dire need of a diaper change, but none of them could possibly smell that bad. Andrew was desperate to believe that he himself was not a contributor.

“Family means everything to me too. But I can’t help but…” Andrew trailed off.

“Feel bitter? I get that,” Debra completed the thought.

“Yeah. Part of me understands it though, and I think that’s what hurts the most. The world moves too fast these days and nobody seems to have the time to care. I’d like to think that I wouldn’t put my dad in a nursing home if I was my daughter’s age, but the fact of the matter is that I don’t know what I’d do. Maybe my anger is misplaced.”

“That’s how I think too. You know Andy…we think a lot alike for two people who just met. Charlie disagrees with me and says that he would never put his parents in jail- I mean a nursing home- no matter what, and Jack and Freddie are too aloof to care one way or the other.”

“Hmm. Well, you know what they say about ‘great minds’…”

Almost as if on que, Charlie, Jack, and Freddie entered the atrium, headed straight for their table. Andrew met eyes with Charlie and waved at him.

“Well looks like we should head over and join them. It was real nice getting to know you, Debra. It’s not often that I get to talk to a pretty lady around here.”

Debra blushed slightly and the two shared a laugh. Then they headed over to the table with the rest of the group, listening to Sam’s poorly-stitched-together songs as they did so. Andrew’s heart felt a bit lighter for the rest of the day and he managed to thoroughly enjoy himself in the company of his friends, if even for just a little while.

Day 4: BINGO

Drip…Drip…Drip

Andrew rolled over in bed and looked up at his ceiling. Although he had yet to put on his glasses, he could see the fissure with the aid of the morning’s light. Immediately, an intense annoyance began to boil within him. This time around, Andrew wasted no time in reaching for his call button and pressing it.

A voice spoke through the room’s speakers, cracking slightly with static. Andrew determined that it was Petero.

“Hello, how can I help you?” He inquired.

Andrew flinched at his voice. He had heard of ‘punchable-looking faces’ before but had never encountered a voice that was as ‘punchable’ as Stephen Petero’s.

“Hi, this is Andrew Bellinger from room 119,” Andrew paused momentarily, trying to contain himself before proceeding, “My ceiling is leaking again. Would you mind sending somebody down to fix it?”

“Hmmm. I’ll send somebody down Andrew, but I certainly saw nothing of the sort when I checked your room. Give me a minute.”

Andrew grimaced but said nothing further. He reached for the T.V. remote to keep his mind occupied while he awaited the arrival of whoever Petero was going to send down. The television lit up, displaying the local news channel.

“-as hospitals continue to fill up. Nursing facilities are especially burdened and in need of supplementary staff,” A journalist said at the tail-end of his report. He was standing outside of a local hospital with a completely packed parking lot.

“It’s my understanding that the Governor has proposed shutting down all nursing facilities. Do you have any updates on that possibility, Paul?” The news anchor questioned.

“Not at this time, no. While it may seem like a logical idea, many health officials fear that it could only further the spread. It is far more likely that stricter quarantines will be enforced as opposed to shutting down facilities.”

“Okay, Paul thank you so much for that update.”

Paul and the hospital backdrop disappeared from the screen as the news anchor moved on to the next segment.

“In other news, a fatal crash leaves one dead on Main Street. The victim has not been identified at this time due to sustaining substantial maxillofacial injuries, but this incident appears to be the unfortunate result of drunk driving.”

Aerial footage of the wreck was displayed on the screen. Andrew could see the two vehicles involved; both contorted into horrifying sculptures of metal and plastic. One of the vehicles- the one that had been on the receiving end of the initial impact- was ablaze. Thick black smoke rose steadily from the twisted hull, confirming that whoever had been inside had met a slow and grisly end.

There was a rapping at Andrew’s door. Then someone stepped briskly into room 119.

“Hello, Mr. Bellinger how can I help you?” Anna asked lightly.

Andrew tore his eyes away from the television, visibly shaken.

“You’re sweating, Mr. Bellinger. Are you feeling alright?”

“No…I mean I’m fine. I just need someone to fix this crack in my ceiling. It’s been leaking again,” Andrew’s voice was anxious and unsteady.

Anna looked both alarmed and perplexed. She looked up at the ceiling, her eyes searching for the leak.

“How long has this been going on, Mr. Bellinger? And who did you report it to?” Anna’s eyes were still focused on the ceiling.

Andrew felt like his shirt was made of angry wasps. His already electrified nerves were buzzing with contempt and frustration.

“It’s been going on for…well…pretty much since I got here! How ever long that’s been! And I reported it to you, lady!” Andrew snapped. His words had teeth.

“Excuse me…?” Anna said.

The soft contours of her face wrinkled in confusion. Upon seeing that expression, Andrew felt a twinge of something under his external shell of rage. Was it guilt? Confusion? Both of these things?

“You came in here the other night,” The fire was rapidly fading from Andrew’s voice, “I hit my call button and you came in. I told you to look at the leak in my ceiling but you…you just shouted at me and told me there was nothing wrong. You didn’t even check it…”

Anna’s eyebrow were wide with shock, “I don’t work the night shift, Mr. Bellinger. It must have been somebody else…oh Jesus, Mr. Bellinger I am so sorry that you were treated that way. You should have told me last time I was in your room. I would have reported it immediately!”

“Reported it immediately? It was you! It had to have been!”

Anna shook her head, “No-no-no…I work the day shift only. The older gentleman: Mr. Wilson is your evening CNA. Surely you have met him?”

“I have, of course. He’s a very nice man. He wouldn’t have spoken to me that way. And besides…I’ve seen him in the daytime before.”

“Not possible. I can show you the schedule if you’d like. Would you want to see it?”

Andrew waved his hand in the air dismissively.

“No I don’t give a damn about your schedule at this point! I’m just confused right now and I want this leak patched.”

Having remembered her original task, Anna returned her attention to the ceiling. She looked for a few seconds, changing angles and craning her neck. Before long, her attention was back on Andrew.

“I can’t see any cracks, sir; but I am no maintenance worker. I suppose that-” Anna froze suddenly and her eyes filled with skepticism.

She looked directly at Andrew and proceeded to walk right up to his bedside. There was clearly a wet spot on his covers, but no dripping so far as Anna could tell. She withdrew a pair of nitrile gloves from her pocket and stretched them over her hands.

“What’re you doing?” Andrew asked.

“Mr. Bellinger…I’m not sure how to tell you this but there is no leak in the ceiling. You are just wetting the bed.”

And as those words left Anna’s lips, a sharp fear pierced Andrew like a hot knife. At first he refused to believe his nurse’s aid. He sat up in bed and pointed wildly at ceiling, proclaiming that the crack was right there in front of his very eyes. But there was no crack. No leak. No water. Nor had there ever been.

As denial faded, shame took its place like a serpent devouring a rat. Andrew had never in his life felt so embarrassed and upset. His stay at the St. Dymphna Nursing Home had been nothing but a steady decline of his dignity thus far, but this had to be the final straw. Andrew Bellinger’s worst fears were coming true right before his eyes.

“It’s okay, Mr. Bellinger, it happens to everyone at a certain age. There is no shame in it,” Anna tried to explain.

Andrew cupped his hand over his forehead and said nothing.

“It is no big deal at all. I just have to change your bed and clothes, that’s all. Then we will need to make a few accommodations in the future.

Andrew was stuck in that same shocked silence for a few seconds before answering, “Accommodations? What kind of accommodations?” But he knew exactly what she was about to say.

“Well, you will have to wear diapers and have them changed regularly of course…”

Andrew flinched. He felt as though he was about to be sick to his stomach. Eighty-nine years, he thought bitterly. Eight-nine years and he had never lost control of his bladder before.

“No,” He said stubbornly, “Just…just forget about this okay? It was just a stupid mistake! I spilled water or…I don’t know. Just give me another chance…”

Anna had a disapproving look on her face, but she felt bad nonetheless. She decided to give Mr. Bellinger another chance in spite of the fact that this was bound to be a regular occurrence.

“Okay…I’ll pretend this didn’t happen for your sake, Mr. Bellinger. But know that Petero is not going to be as kind if he finds out. Now, let’s get you out of bed so I can change those sheets and get you fresh clothes.”

“Thank you, Anna. And I’m sorry for accusing you earlier…I guess I just get a little confused from time to time. The old brain isn’t what it used to be.”

Anna chuckled slightly, “Oh, no worries, Mr. Bellinger. I’ve seen far worse, that’s for sure.”

Andrew climbed out of bed and limped into the bathroom, not bothering to use his wheelchair much to the chagrin of Anna. He disrobed and put-on fresh clothes. Then he splashed a bit of water in his eyes and stared at the ugly mug that haunted his dusty mirror as of late. It was a sullen face, crisscrossed with wrinkles and shadows. It had lost its former symmetry and handsomeness. All Andrew could presently recognize from his younger self were the depths of his eyes. Not even the irises, for their color had faded and yellowed. Only that familiar shine in his pupils had withstood the test of time.

By the time Andrew had finished in the bathroom, Anna had already fixed up his bed. It was dry and the corners were folded in neat angles. Andrew tossed his old clothes in the hamper and sat in his wheelchair he did not wish to hang around for too long out of shear embarrassment.

“Heading out, Mr. Bellinger?” She probed.

“Yeah, I’ll be in the atrium if you or anyone else needs me,” He muttered.

“Okay, no problem. Petero will probably come by to give you your meds soon. I’ll just be in here tidying up for minute.”

“Thank you.”

Andrew wheeled out of room 119 and continued down the hall, avoiding various cracks and broken tile pieces as he did so. The state of the floor was appalling, and Andrew briefly wondered whether or not it had always been that bad.

As he entered the atrium, that all-too-familiar stench wafted into his nostrils. He recoiled in disgust momentarily before wheeling onwards. He decided to set course for a glum looking fish tank across the room. He enjoyed Sam’s presence, of course, but he figured he would give the poor bird a rest today.

Andrew pulled up next to the tank and stared into its murky greenish depths. It took him a full minute to spot any fish, but eventually he found them amidst the cloudy water. There were three little guppies swimming around (maybe four?), clumps of dying seaweed, and an algae covered miniature shipwreck. It was not a well-maintained habitat- that was for certain- but at least the filter was bubbling lightly. Much like Sam’s enclosure, it was bad, but there was room for it to be worse.

Something about that lonely fish tank planted a desire for fresh air in Andrew’s mind. He figured he would ask one of the rec guys or perhaps the lady at the front desk if the weather was suitable enough for a short walk. Hell, maybe he’d run into Debra while he was out there and turn it into a smoke break. He had quit cigarettes many years ago, but it wasn’t like his lungs were getting any healthier. Might as well fill his time with a cheap high.

Andrew left the fish tank and approached a rec employee who was mid conversation with another resident.

“Um, excuse me, sir?” Andrew butted in.

The rec employee stopped talking to the withered old man in front of him and turned towards Andrew. A thinly veiled smile appeared on his face. The kind of smile he had to wear for eight hours a day while entertaining various old people to the best of his ability.

“Hey, what’s up, Mister?” The guy asked. He was a young kid, maybe 24 or so.

“Hi, I was wondering if I could go outside today and get some air. I’ve been cooped up in here for so long.”

The man’s smile wavered like a television that had briefly lost its signal. Then it was back up again, more insincere than ever.

“Oh, I’m sorry, bud but nobody is allowed outside today. The weather is wayyy to hot at the moment.”

Andrew felt as though his skin were crawling with fire ants. How many days had it been since he had been outside? He couldn’t stand this prolonged isolation any longer. It was driving him mad and rapidly turning him into one of the dull, bed wetting morons that surrounded him.

“Now hold on just one second! You and everybody else here keeps telling me the same damn thing? What am I supposed to do around here anyway? I’m going mad over here!”

A few residents in the atrium who still had their wits about them took a look at the commotion. A couple of the demented ones started moaning and yelping, having been stimulated by Andrew’s aggressive tone.
“I-I’m sorry, sir but I don’t make the rules…it really is hot out there…” The man stammered.

“Enough of that! What’s going on here? I saw something about a quarantine on TV! Are we in some kind of a lockdown?”

The morning news report was beginning to flood back into Andrew’s memory.

“What? What are you talking about, sir?” And it was evident that the man was genuinely confused. Andrew calmed down somewhat, seeing that the poor rec guy didn’t have any say in the operations of the facility.

“The news…” Andrew said, his voice began to trail off, “It…there must be a flu or something going around.”

The rec employee raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He simply put an arm around Andrew’s shoulder and wheeled him back to the fish tank, ignoring the disgruntled man’s protests.

Once they were away from the center of the atrium the employee said, “Everything is gonna be fine, sir. I’m sure that you’ll get to go outside very soon…the weather just hasn’t been safe these past coupla days.”

“But-but…I don’t understand…”

“It’s okay. It’s alright. We’re going to have a BINGO game out here pretty soon. I’m sure your buddies that I always see you with are gonna want to play. Maybe you guys can do that together? It’ll be a lot of fun y’know?”

Andrew hated the man’s tone of voice. It was soft and condescending much like how a daycare teacher might speak to a toddler who was in the middle of a tantrum. Andrew wanted to yell at the man and proclaim that he was eighty-nine, not four or tell him to shove a BINGO board up his ass, but he managed to restrain himself. That would only prove that man’s point and make Andrew look like even more of an angry old fool.

“Okay,” Andrew murmured, defeated, “Sorry.”

Hours passed as Andrew sat next to the dirty fish tank, listening to the gurgling filter. Time moves strangely in a nursing home: sometimes in a blur and other times at a crawl. On this particular occasion Andrew was lucky. He blinked a few times, and then it was well past noon, and his friends were seated at their usual table.

He went over and greeted them, and just as the rec employee had said, they were all interested in playing BINGO.

“Hey Andy, how’re you doing on this fine evening?” Charlie said cheerfully, “Ready for some BINGO?”

Andrew did not reply straight away. He awkwardly surveyed his friends, looking from face to face. They were all awaiting a reply, of course.

“Ummm…I don’t think I’ve ever played before. Not since I was a kid anyway.”

“Never played BINGO? Well, you better get used to it, Andy. It’s not like we can go outside, right?”

“Ah, yes. We wouldn’t want to upset the Fuhrer now would we?” Andrew scoffed.

Everyone laughed at that, and Andrew instantly felt as though his spirits were uplifted. Something about Debra’s smile always made him feel a certain way. A bit fuzzy with an uncontrollable excitement.

They went on talking, but not too much was said. Charlie mentioned something about the front desk lady’s attitude, Jack babbled about how terribly skinny he had gotten, Freddie said something about a cold one of his kids had caught, and so on. Andrew was relieved when the rec employee finally walked over to the table to hand out BINGO cards, and he could tell by the look on Debra’s face that she felt the same. Charlie was a good man, but he could rant about nothing all day and still have more to talk about. And as for Freddie and Jack? Those two old bastards might as well have been dead already with how dull their minds had become over the years.

“So uhh…how the hell do you do this?” Andrew asked, staring blankly at his card.

“Wow…so you really weren’t joking when you said you didn’t know how to play, huh?” Debra asked, bemusedly.

“Yeah. I guess I never thought I’d make it to this age. Who would’ve known all the surprises it’d unlock,” Andrew answered.

Debra and Charlie laughed, and then they took turns explaining the rules of the game. It seemed simple enough to Andrew: the rec employee calls out a number and if it happened to be on Andrew’s board, he could cover it with a chip. A straight or diagonal line across would mean victory if he remembered to shout ‘Bingo’.

Almost every table in the atrium was full, and a misshapen variety of old folk shuffled about in their seats, focusing on their numbers and crossing their fingers. Everyone put in a dollar to make the stakes a bit higher. Now it was time to play

“Is everyone ready?” The rec employee called out to his geriatric audience.

There were a couple of yeses and a few incoherent moans from the handful of severely demented men and women who sat vegetating in their seats.

“Alrighty, let’s begin.”

The rec guy spun the handle of a rusty old BINGO cage, and a ball came rolling out. He grabbed it between his thumb and forefinger and shouted out “Seventeen!”

Hearing aids were adjusted in a horrific ensemble of discordant whistles. One person yelled that they could not hear the number that was called. Then another followed suit. Sighing deeply, the rec employee called out the number once again and a few residents echoed it.

“See look at that you’ve got a seventeen, Andy,” Debra pointed out.

Andrew examined his board and saw that this was true; so, he delicately placed a chip over the digits.

“Jeez, thanks. Looks like I can’t even play goddamn Bingo without help,” Andrew remarked playfully.

The next number was called: fifty-five. The same charade as before repeated, with the number being called out a second time. Andrew scanned his board and found fifty-five with ease. If the next two numbers called out were nineteen and seventy-five, he would be on track for a full diagonal across the board (with the aid of a free space of course).

Surely enough, seventy-five was the next number called, immediately followed by nineteen. Andrew sat, dumbfounded at his luck. Never in his life had he won a game of anything, nor had he ever had the ambition to try.

“Deb, I think I won already. Look,” Andrew whispered. He tilted his board a bit so Debra could get another look.

“Well don’t just stare at it dumbo! Say BINGO.”

Andrew shouted the word, but his lungs and vocal cords weren’t what they used to be. His voice died not far from his mouth, and the recreational employee failed to hear him.

Not wasting anytime, Debra raised her arm and pointed downwards at her friend screaming, “Over here! He’s got a BINGO”. The rec employee, who had been checking the boards of a few of the dementia patients, turned around and made his way towards Andrew’s table. Andrew’s face turned redder than a beet at the man scanned his board and determined that his victory was genuine.

A few people applauded and a few whined and complained of cheating. The choir of delirium continued to babble as per usual. After a couple short minutes, a second game began; same boards, same rules.

The first number was called and once again Andrew happened to spot it on his board. He felt a bit uneasy, but what was so odd about having a short winning streak? Maybe after eighty-nine years of walking under ladders and smashing mirrors Andrew’s luck was finally turning around.

The second number was called. Thirty-four. Andrew had it. An involuntary shiver crept down his spine like a spindly legged spider as he covered the number with another chip. Surely this was it. This was where his continuous stream of victories would come crashing down. There was no way in hell that he could possibly match seven numbers in a row. The probability of that was astronomical…it was ludicrous…it was-

“Forty-two! The next number is forty-two!”

Andrew nearly gagged. He had it again! One more number plus the free space and he would become the victor of yet another consecutive game.

Debra noticed Andrew’s flabbergasted expression and took a look at his BINGO board. She exchanged looks of surprise and excitement with him but had a hint of suspicion hidden somewhere in her furrowed brow as well.

“Wow you’re really killin’ it,” She whispered.

“Y-yeah I guess I am. What are the odds of that? Imagine if I…”

But Andrew’s voice trailed off before he finished that sentence. He had a sickening feeling of clarity wash over him that drowned out his initial anticipation. In that moment he didn’t need the recreational employee to shout out a number to know that it was resting on the top right corner of his board, forming a perfect diagonal through the free space.

“What? How the hell?” Andrew said, but his mouth was too dry to properly articulate each word.

Nevertheless, Charlie and Debra were close enough to hear and examined Andrew’s board. Their eyes widened at the sight of a neat diagonal line of BINGO chips streaking across the board.

“Jesus you won again that easy? Lucky man!” Charlie said.

“I guess I did…”

“Well hurry up and say BINGO, Andy,” Debra implored.

Andrew shouted out the magic word and his board was checked by the recreational employee who carefully examined each number. He appeared to be very skeptical, especially given Andrew’s outburst earlier in the day. His apprehension made Andrew uneasy; almost as though he should feel guilty for his beginner’s luck.

“Hmmm. Looks like we have a winner, folks. Mr. Bellinger’s done it again,” The rec guy said at last.

There were many disapproving grunts from the elderly crowd when they saw that Andrew had secured yet another flawless victory. One person shouted something about cheating. Another said that the recreational employee was taking favorites. Even those who said nothing glared menacingly at Andrew as though he had just pissed in their breakfast cereal.

Old coots, he thought rancorously, taking some dumb game so seriously…got nothing better to do. But deep down he felt an overwhelming dread rising from his stomach into his throat. This entire game felt predetermined, and Andrew had a horrible feeling that if he continued to play, he would continue to win again and again.

“It’s alright, Andy; don’t worry about them. Everybody here always gets a little worked up at BINGO,” Debra reassured.

Andrew nodded and replied, “Yeah. Real crazy odds though, huh?”

He licked his lips and focused on the new board in front of him. He could feel the sweat dripping down his face as the rec employee positioned himself in front of the BINGO cage once more.

“This next round will be a round robin. Everybody ready?”

Debra quickly explained what that meant to Andrew; to win this match he would have to have a perfect square on the outline of the board rather than a simple line across. Making all of those spaces consecutively was next to impossible.

The cage spun around, and a yellowish ball rolled out. The moderator called out the number and-

-And surely enough it could be found on the edge of Andrew’s board. Andrew wiped the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. He could feel his heart thumping against his chest, but he told himself to remain calm. Obviously, someone was playing some kind of joke on him. That seemed like the sort of thing Charlie or Debra could have orchestrated.

The next number was called and unsurprisingly Andrew had it. A feverish smile spread across his cracked lips. Of course, this was a set-up!

“Debra…Charlie…I know what’s going on here you can knock it off now.”

Yet another number was called and once more it belonged to Andrew.

“What?” Debra asked. She was smiling, but only as a result of Andrew’s smile.

“I know what’s happening here. You guys are setting me up like some sort of prank! You had me going to a while I’ve gotta admit.”

“Charlie was that you who did this?” Debra chuckled.

“What? No. I didn’t do a thing. There’s money at stake for this game, how could I even get away with a thing like that?”

Debra raised an eyebrow, “Well it wasn’t me. Maybe you’re just really doing well, Andy. I mean it’s not like this is some crazy strategic game; otherwise, I’d be wiping the floor with everyone, surely.”

Another number. Another small victory.

Andrew Bellinger had enough of this nonsense. He flipped the brakes off of his wheelchair and prepared to leave, fighting off a spell of dizziness as he did so. He felt like he would be sick if he heard another number called off.

“Where are you going? You’re not going to finish the game?” Debra asked concernedly.

“No. I’ve got to go. I’m not feeling very well all of a sudden.”

Andrew started to wheel himself away, but the recreational employee noticed. He stopped checking boards for a moment and pointed an unsteady index finger at the fleeing old man.

“Hold up, mister Bellinger! You can’t drop out of the game mid-round. Wouldn’t you like to finish?”

“No, I’m feeling unwell. Just…put my winnings back in the pot,” Andrew croaked.

A few people expressed their excitement and relief that they had a chance to earn back their losses. The demented drooled.

“Okay, if you’re absolutely certain. Please check in with your nurse if you aren’t feeling great.”

“Will do.”

Andrew waved goodbye to his table of friends and wheeled off. He rolled across the waxy atrium floor and down the hallway of cracked floor tiles, making his way back to room 119 where he shut the door behind him. He had no plans of seeking out Anna or Petero for the sickly feeling building up in his stomach. There was no medicine for this ailment.

Andrew simply laid in bed, his bones creaking as he changed into his pajamas at an agonizingly slow pace. Once he was in bed, he stared across the darkening room. His eyes found that familiar photograph from a beach day long ago.

How long ago, Andrew was unsure. He looked from smiling family member to smiling family member, but they all had a foreign look in their eyes. It was as though they were dead and haunted…their memories broken by time.

Andrew shut his eyes. He decided that he would call his daughter tomorrow. She had neglected to call him in spite of her teary-eyed promises, but she was the only daughter he had. What kind of father would he be if he didn’t show her that she was on his mind at the very least?

With thoughts of his family swimming in and out of focus through Andrew’s troubled mind, he shut his eyes and attempted to sleep.

Day 5: I Feel the World Spinning

It took a while for Andrew to build up the courage to call out Petero’s name. He wanted to make a phone call to his daughter using the phone at the nursing station, but the station was entirely empty save for Petero who was typing furiously at his computer, his fingers tapping out a storm of letters and numbers.

“Excuse me. Mr. Petero?” Andrew called out at last.

Petero’s fingers kept tap-tap-tapping away, but his head lifted and faced Mr. Bellinger. His glasses caught the glare of the overhanging lamps, obstructing his pupils from Andrew’s view.

“What can I do ya for, Mr. Bellinger?” He asked in his nasally voice.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, I’m sure you’re busy. But…I was looking to make a phone call to my daughter. I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

Petero surveyed Mr. Bellinger for a moment before standing up from his desk. He didn’t attempt to hide his disdain for Andrew, but neither did he hesitate in leaving his work momentarily.

“Do you remember her number?” Petero asked as he rested his stubby fingers on the telephone buttons.

Andrew thought hard for a moment, “…N-no…I don’t actually.”

“Hmmm. A little too much Wheel of Fortune and not enough Sudoku, huh, Mr. Bellinger?” Petero cackled at his own joke.

Andrew said nothing out of embarrassment. He simply sat there in his chair, feeling stupid.

“No matter! I’ll find out for you. It’s in one of these big binders over here…let’s see…”

Petero checked the labels on a binder or two (nope not that one) before pulling one from a shelf (there’s the bugger!). He flipped through a few pages and darted his eyes here and there. Eventually he found the number and returned to the phone to punch it in. In the next instant, Andrew had the phone in his hand and nervously fidgeted with it as it dialed his daughter’s cellphone.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

“Hello?” His daughter’s familiar voice sounded like the most wonderful sound Andrew’s ears had ever been graced with the pleasure of hearing.

“Sweetie? It’s your father.”

There was a pause.

“Oh hey dad, how’ve you been? Do you have your hearing aids in?”

“Yes honey, I do. I’m really happy to hear your voice. I feel like it’s been so long,” Andrew felt a catch in his throat, but he didn’t allow it to become audible, “I wish you’d call me more.”

She let out a little chuckle at that, “Once a day isn’t enough, dad?”

“What do you mean ‘once a day’?” Andrew asked scathingly.

“Oh…I’m a little…I’m a bit confused…are you mad at me for something?”

Andrew’s nostrils flared with indignation. He had been hurt by his daughter’s flagrant disregard for his emotional wellbeing over the course of his stay at the facility, but he would have been willing to set his grievances aside for this single conversation if not for her immature lies. Did she take him for a silly old imbecile? If there was one thing that Andrew was certain of it was that he would not tolerate being gaslit. It was bad enough that the nursing staff and his friends were toying with his mind, but to have that behavior come from his own daughter was sickening to say the least.

“Oh please, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, young lady. This is your father you’re talking to not some drooling idiot,” Andrew attempted to keep the venom bubbling up in his throat from surfacing, but his emotions got the better of him as usual.

“Dad, please you should lower your voice. I honestly…I don’t know what to say. I call you every day and we talk for at least five or ten minutes. Do you really not remember?”

“I…” Andrew stared up at Petero as though he would provide an explanation for his daughter’s behavior and the confusion that overwhelmed him. Petero, offered nothing, however- or at least not verbally.

His bespectacled eyes seemed to repeat that same phrase, leeringly. A little too much Wheel of Fortune and not enough Sudoku, huh, Mr. Bellinger?

Andrew returned his attention to the telephone, “I think…oh God what do I think anymore?”

“It’s okay, dad I don’t mean to upset you; I know things have been rough. Maybe you’re just not quite feeling like yourself lately.”

Andrew didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure how to.

“Look…what if the kids and I came by to say hello. We can spend a few hours with you and maybe play board games or something. Talk about the family and just jog your memory a bit. How’s that sound?”

“Jog my memory a bit?” Maybe I should jog yours a bit! Then maybe you won’t forget me so easily! He almost added but didn’t.

“I just want to make sure you’re alright and that the kids see their grandpa that’s all.”

“Fine. Just stop by when you can. And be honest with me. God knows I’ve tried to raise an honest family…”

Mr. Bellinger’s daughter signed, “Okay, dad. We’ll talk about everything more when I see you. Do you mind if I speak with your nurse before you hang up? I just want to go over a few things concerning your meds and thank him for all of his help.”

“Uh…sure…sure. Just a moment,” Andrew answered, a bit unsettled.

Andrew waved at Petero to get his attention (he had returned to his charting) and motioned for him to take the phone. Petero had a smirk on his face as he snatched the receiver from Andrew’s hand. He seemed to have already expected to converse with Mr. Bellinger’s daughter.

Andrew could not make out any of the conversation between his daughter and the nurse as Petero had paced to the other side of the nursing station with the telephone, nearly stretching the cord to its limit. Petero’s facial expressions conveyed a serious tone. He twirled the phone cord around two fingers and spoke in a hushed, yet deliberate, voice.

One he was finished conversing; he brought the phone back to Andrew so he could say his goodbyes. He did. She did. Petero took the phone once again and hung it back in its dusty cradle.

“Well Mr. Bellinger, I hope you enjoyed your call. Let me know if you need anyth-”

“What did you talk to my daughter about?” Andrew cut in.

Petero shook his head slowly, “Oh nothing that is cause for concern.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why do I have to break my back to get an answer around this place? Can’t even go outside in this damn prison you’re running!” Andrew growled hatefully.

“Andrew you’re sounding very hostile right now and I don’t like that.”

“Your goddamn right I’m hostile! I wanna know what the heck is goin’ on!”

“No worries, Andrew. I’ll be sending you down the corridor any day now. Just as soon as I confirm my suspicions,” Petero said severely. His eyes shone with a devilish delight.

“What does that mean, damn you!? Is that some kind of a threat? Are you threatening me you four-eyed punk?” Andrew couldn’t contain his rage any longer. The words simply came pouring out of his mouth.

Petero shook his head menacingly.

“Go away, Andrew. I’ve got work to do and I don’t have time for your attitude. I strongly suggest that you keep your behavior in check.”

Andrew scowled at Petero, ranting inanely about how he didn’t break his back his whole life to receive this kind of disrespect, but he kept from pushing Petero too far. After all, it was useless to argue with the man. He was not going entertain Andrew’s remarks no matter what verbal attacks were thrown at him.

Still seething with rage, Andrew wheeled himself back down the hallway to room 119. His room felt exceptionally bleak and dreary today. Even with the lights on, there was darkness invading the corners of the living space, filling in every gap that the glow of the lightbulbs missed.

Andrew turned to the television. It was getting late…nearly 7 pm; so there had to be something decent on television at least. Maybe a sitcom, or a film, or a nice gameshow that wasn’t just a rerun from the 80s. Phhhzzt! The TV sputtered to life at the click of a button and Andrew began aggressively scrolling through the channels, still angry at his daughter, Petero, and the entirety of his existence. How could they conspire behind his back in such a blatant fashion? Moreover, what could they possibly have to say to one another? The stray thought that they might be in some kind of romantic engagement crossed Andrew’s mind and nearly made him projectile vomit straight into the television screen. That idea was preposterous, no doubt, but then what could they have been discussing? If it was truly something to do with his medication than Andrew’s daughter would have discussed it with him first. Unless…

Unless she thought that he was incapable of making proper decisions on his own. Perhaps she was scared by his frustration. Maybe…oh god…maybe she did call him every day. No no no. That was impossible. He would remember a thing like that, surely! He had only been in this godforsaken nursing home for what? Five or six days now? Andrew didn’t doubt the fact that one could quickly spiral into insanity in record time at a facility like St. Dymphna’s, but not in under a week! It seemed more likely that Petero and Andrew’s daughter were conspiring together in some grand plot to push Andrew over the edge of madness. To what ends would they do a thing like that? Well Mr. Bellinger hadn’t figured that one out just yet, but there had to be a reason.

Fuck. Andrew found himself with his face in his hands. He couldn’t stand all of these convoluted thoughts any longer. All of these half-explanations, fears, and confusions. There had to be an answer to all of this madness. To the behavior of the staff, the leaky ceiling, the dreaded BINGO games, and his recent phone call. There just had to be!

A soft knock resounded from the door to Andrew’s room. So soft that Andrew would not have heard it if the volume were just a few ticks higher on the TV.

“Come on in?” Andrew called uncertainly to the door. He braced himself for another bout of verbal sparring with Petero.

The door creaked open enough for the visitor to poke their head inside. It was a soft, kind face with long black hair that still had most of its natural color.

“Debra?” Andrew asked as he peered through the gaps in his fingers.

Another creak. The door opened the rest of the way and Debra stepped inside, treading as delicately as a deer over the waxy floor. For a moment all of Andrew’s troubles seemed to dissipate. The zigzagging thoughts that plagued his brain were replaced by the drumming of his heart which threatened to leave his chest.

“Hey, Andy its me. I saw you coming down the hallway a minute ago and…well I guess I was a little worried about you. You looked very troubled and when I waved to get your attention you didn’t seem to notice.”

Andrew’s hand slipped down from his face and tightly gripped the side of his wheelchair. He wanted very badly to start spilling his guts out about all of his woes, but he did not wish to concern Debra. She had enough to worry about in her own life without taking on the misfortunes of her friend.

“Ah, I just had kind of a rough day, I guess. I was just about to settle in and watch TV to brighten the mood,” Andrew answered with a worn smile.

Debra returned the smile although hers was more cheerful. God that smile of hers, Andrew thought longingly. It always made him feel a particular way.

“Do you mind if I join you then?”

Andrew considered that proposition for a solid two seconds before his senses kicked in.

“Of course, please do!” Before adding: “I don’t mind,” In a purposefully less enthusiastic tone (he didn’t want to come off as needy now did he?).

“Great! I’ll take a seat right over here.”

Debra scooted between Andrew and his television and took a seat in a cushioned chair beside the bed. She settled in with a few popping joints and crossed her legs in the chair, saying nothing. All the while, Andrew was still mindlessly flicking though channels. Sesame Street, a violent car crash in some film, Jonny Quest…a wild mash-up of storylines flashing before the screen; moving far too fast to make any sense of it.

Debra gently put her hand on Andrew’s arm and lowered it along with the remote. She lifted the remote from his limp fingers and placed it carefully on the bed.

Staring fixedly at Andrew she finally said, “Look at me. There’s something very wrong. Something you need to know.”

Shocked, Andrew turned towards Debra, looking into her eyes. They were wet and shiny although she was not yet crying.

“What is it?” Andrew asked, perplexed.

“I love you, Andy.”

Andrew could feel a giant anchor sinking from his chest into the pit of his stomach. The hunk of metal was simultaneously burning hot and ice cold. He was overcome with such a rush of emotions that he felt on the verge of retching. Perhaps he would have if he had not skipped dinner that evening.

“I…I…I know. I feel like I’ve known you for a thousand years already,” He coughed out, “But I don’t know why…”

Debra leaned forward, rising from her chair slightly, and kissed Andrew on the lips. The old couple locked in this embrace for several seconds before it broke. Andrew felt as though he had just won every game of BINGO since the dawn of nursing facilities throughout its duration, but there was also an underlying sickness to that kiss. Something about the texture of Debra’s lips. The smell of her hair in his face. The taste of her mouth.

“Why do you feel so-”

“Familiar?” The tears were flowing freely from Debra’s eyes now, hot and salty.

Andrew noticed that she was no longer looking at him, her gaze was rested at some point above his shoulder. Turning around to look, Andrew began to make sense of things.

She was staring at the family beach photo on the wall. He looked into the face of the woman he was cradling in his arms. Her smile and her black hair and her eyes were all filled with love and joy on that warm summer day.

“…But how?” Andrew murmured, “I’m so confused. I just feel like everything is spinning out of control. I don’t know what is what anymore…”

“Not long after you were admitted here you started to forget things, Andy. It wasn’t so bad at first- just little things like where you left the remote or what day of the week it was. Then it got worse…”

Debra’s hand went to her mouth as she tried to suppress her sobs. Andrew offered her a handkerchief, feeling as though he were being crucified by every word that fell out of his wife’s mouth. But she had to continue. He had to understand.

“You forgot who I was in time. First it was just my name. Then you couldn’t remember anything about me. I would try to show you the picture on the wall, but you would still be confused. Eventually I just started pretending to be a friend of yours. I was hoping that you would figure it out on your own eventually- and sometimes you do but…I got tired of waiting this time. I miss you. The you who remembers me.”

“Do you mean to say that this has happened more than once? I’ve only been here for what? Less than a week?”

“No, Andy. Much longer than that. Much much longer. And very soon you’re going to forget me all over again. You’re going to forget me and if I try to explain who I am you’ll get very agitated. You’ll start to think that something is wrong with you and you’ll be in pain. I can’t stand to see that.”

This bombardment of emotions left Andrew feeling lesser than the lowliest of ghosts. He wanted to argue with Debra and tell her that she was a lunatic, or rave about how this entire facility was hell-bent on psychologically torturing him; but somewhere deep in the recesses of his brain he knew the truth. It was awful and terrifying, no doubt. To call it the ugliest thing Mr. Bellinger ever had to come to terms with would be an understatement.

“No. I won’t forget you. I can’t forget you. God, please don’t let me forget!” He half-cried out.

“But you will. Tonight, when you go to bed. You’ll wake up and maybe you’ll remember that you know me. A vague recollection that I’m a friend of yours most likely, but you won’t know that I’m your wife.”

“That’s impossible,” Andrew said alarmingly, “I have to remember. If I forget you can just remind me!”

Debra shook her head, “Reminding you doesn’t help. I’ve spent a long time trying that and it always ends up the same way. We kiss…you remember…you forget…”

“Then I’ll kiss you until the day I die. I’ll…I’ll write notes! I’ll ask Petero and Anna to remind me every time they see me."

A weak smile touched Debra's lips upon hearing her husband say these words. In times of stress he often flared up with a dramatic and endearing tone that was all too familiar to his wife.

“We’ve done all that before. We’ve had this same conversation in fact. Almost word for word. Can’t you remember that now?” 

Andrew racked his brains but he could not, for the life of him, remember. He felt desperation closing in like a black curtain, draping the whole of his life: his memory, his ego, his internal dialogue- all wrapped up and set ablaze. It was too much for him too handle. Too much and too little at the same time because he still had so many unanswered questions. So many loose ends that could never be tied and that he knew might never be tied.

“I…” Andrew started.

“Yes?” Debra asked. Her eyes were stinging with tears.

Andrew might have cried himself at the sight of his troubled wife if his tear ducts were still functional. Instead, he merely made a choking noise that was far more pitiful than any wet cry could possibly be.

“I need you to leave. I can’t take anymore of this. I need you to go so I can sort myself out.”

Andrew watched the pain fill Debra’s eyes. He wondered, briefly, how many times he had seen that look before. And how many times had she heard this very same dismissal? Did it get easier each time or more difficult?

“Andy, I’m sorry to do this to you. I’m sorry to throw this all on you time and time again. You’ll never know how much it hurts,” She said miserably.

“It’s okay. I’m not angry with you. I’m just angry. And I wish things made sense even if it were just for a minute. But right now I need you to leave Debra because I’m tired and I have too much to think about,” Andrew paused before adding, “See you tomorrow?”

Those words burrowed into Debra’s chest like a rabid animal. She was going to refute Andrew’s statement and continue explaining how quickly he would forget her, but it was pointless. That much was obvious.

All Debra could say was, “Yes. Tomorrow.”

She stood up from the bed and left quickly, tears still rolling down her cheeks. The door creaked shut and Andrew once again found himself alone. His only company was the voice of Pat Sajak and his contestants. The television had miraculously landed on the Game Show Network after Debra had taken the remote from his hand. Andrew settled into bed to relax and enjoy the show before drifting off to sleep.

The category of the current puzzle was Pharmacology and so far the board looked as such:

DI_ _E_ _ _D_ _MINE

It was a short puzzle, but once again Andrew was stumped. Not to mention his mind kept wandering back to Debra’s wide smile on that long-forgotten beach day. One second he would think of her beautiful laugh and the next he would see the pained look on her tear stricken face when he asked that she leave. Smile. Tears. Smile. Tears. The wheel spun.

Drip…drip…drip…went the ceiling.

“Y!” A burly looking contestant shouted.

“One Y, yes!” Pat Sajak affirmed.

Vanna uncovered a ‘Y’ on the right half of the puzzle and Andrew returned his focus to the screen.

“I think I’d like to solve,” The man proclaimed.

“Alright, go ahead!”

Drip…drip…

The man called off the correct answer and the signature jiggle played. Applause began and the contestant grinned contentedly.

DIPHENHYDRAMINE

The board cleared and the next puzzle popped up to replace it. The wheel spun round and round. Answers were called. Blank squares were filled at Vanna’s touch. Drip…drip…drip… Spin, spin, spin.

Andrew’s eyelids were starting to get heavy as he watched the wheel go round and round. He shut them and, for a brief moment before his consciousness collapsed into dreams, he could feel the world spinning too. Spinning, spinning, and dripping. Never would the motion cease.

To be continued...

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