Page 20 - Vol. VI #3

Olivia Goldblatt sulks, frowning at her reflec- tion in the glass: her ghostly double trapped in the windowpanes conjured by the dawn’s pale glow: how she haunts herself these sleepless mornings. Swiveling in her wheelchair, she scowls at the rec-room of the Orange Grove Retirement Home as sunlight streams through the windows and illuminates her shriveled legs and bony shoulders, her sharp cheekbones and puckered lips. Dust motes dance about the immaculate pile of her frost-white hair as it quivers with the cold draft of an air vent above.
Where is that schleppity bitch? Olivia wonders, listening to the clock’s ticking from the room’s shadowy corner. She does not need to see its face— her bones tell her it is almost six already. How can such a sloppy cow get a nursing license anyway?
Hesitating, Angie removes a wad of bills folded down the center and held together by a rubber- band. She hands this money to Olivia, who—ex- haling smoke from her nostrils—snaps the band with her long polished but unpainted nails and counts it.
Things aren’t what they used to be, she considers. The youth of today have no hustle.
Nothing smaller than twenties. How many times have I told you that?
But at last the door at the end of the hallway swings open and Nurse Angela steps inside wear- ing her uniform and a blue sweater. She walks with a hurried step, her heels clicking, a white purse that matches her uniform swinging on her right shoulder. She carries two Styrofoam cups, one steaming with coffee and the other with Olivia’s initials written on a strip of white tape on its side. The cup is full of medication: the vitamins to keep Olivia’s health up, the anticoagulants to keep her heart pumping, the diuretics to keep her bladder flowing.
Angie looks down at her heels.
The nurse forces a smile, and her face is smeared with sleep despite too much makeup.
Angie squats to organize the money. Olivia watch- es her with an imperious stare.
Good morning, she says. Thought you might be awake, Ms. Goldblatt.
Very busy, Ms. Goldblatt. You have many visitors coming to see you today.
Yes, Olivia says. The Good Lord has provided me another day to curse this miserable hellhole. Somehow this is cause for great celebration?
My doctor and who else?
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Your doctor and your hairdresser. At noon. Then several grandchildren.
O.G.
Angie says nothing, merely handing both cups to Olivia, who downs the coffee despite its near- scalding temperature. She takes the pills too and reaches in her own purse hanging on the wheel- chair’s shoulder to withdraw a fresh pack of Virginia Slims.
Angie protests but Olivia tells her to shut up and open a window.
And where is my money? she asks.
Do you need a hearing aid? The salesperson comes every first Wednesday.
Angie mumbles an apology but Olivia casts the money in her face. The separate bills flutter all over the floor.
Pick it up—and all the portraits in the same di- rection! Why do I keep helping you?
What does my schedule look like today?
Js khan