Page 5 of Mechanic

“Excuse me,” I say, tapping my fingers on the countertop.

She glances at me through her lashes before focusing back on her phone.

“Excuse me,” I say again, more forcefully this time.

The nurse continues to ignore me. After waiting a bit longer, my anger gets the better of me, and I reach over the counter, grabbing the phone from her hands.

She huffs out in indignation, her anger now matching mine.

“Do you mind?” she sneers, reaching for her phone as I step back, well out of reach.

“Yes,” I start, trying to calm down. “As a matter of fact, I do mind. My grandmother”—pointing down the hall toward her room—“is a fu-freaking mess. When was the last time she was given a bath? Why did I find all of her clothes wreaking to high heaven, hidden in the corner of the closet?”

My voice gets louder the longer I speak, gaining a lot of attention. The nurse begins to turn as red as a tomato as people look on. A throat clearing to my right has my head turning in that direction. The owner of the voice, a stout woman with gray hair and oversized glasses perched on the end of her nose, glares at me. Her gaze starts bouncing between me and the nurse.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asks, her tone flat.

“Who are you?” I question, my tone more severe than is probably warranted, but if I don’t stick up for Grams, who will?

“My name is Margaret Frost. I am the nursing supervisor. What seems to be the issue?”

“The issue?” I ask in indignant outrage, my voice rising in pitch. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I soften my tone slightly, starting over. Setting the phone on the counter, shooting the nurse behind the desk a glare, daring her to pick it up, I cross my arms over my chest, fully facing Margaret.

“My grandmother, Virginia Delgatto…” I let my voice trail off momentarily. “She is a mess! When was the last time she was bathed?”

Margaret opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off, not giving her the opportunity.

“I checked her room and foundallof her dirty clothes stuffed into the corner of her closet.”

Margaret’s eyes are bugging out of her head by the time I finish speaking. Her face is red. I’m not sure if it’s just embarrassment or if it’s from anger as well. She’s embarrassed that I walked in and caught this situation, that’s for sure.

“Ca-can you please, uhm, take me to her room?”

Without saying a word, I spin, walking back down the long hallway toward Gram’s room. The click-click-click of Margaret’s heels on the tile let me know she is following me.

Stepping through the doorway, Margaret gasps. The smell in here is almost overwhelming. How I missed it before, when I first walked in, is a wonder.

The woman’s mouth gapes before she runs from the room. Before I get the opportunity to question what is happening, Margaret comes back in, several orderlies following in her wake.

Each man carries either cleaning supplies or clean linens. A woman comes in, approaching Gram. She speaks in a soft, childlike tone. Getting a head-bob in affirmation of whatever the woman said to her, Gram tries to rise from the chair. The nurse or aid, unsure which, moves quickly to help Gramrise, immediately heading toward the bathroom. Once the door closes, running water indicates the shower is starting.

While Gram is in the shower, the staff rushes around cleaning the room, changing the sheets, and removing the offensive laundry from the closet. Tears fill my eyes in relief. Between rent, tuition, and trying to help pay for this place, my cupboards at home are empty. Moving Gram to a nicer home would be ideal, but this place will have to do until I get my dealer certification.

The pay difference between dealers and waitstaff can make a difference. Adding tips on top of my base pay, I can start looking for a better home for the woman who helped raise me. It’s the least I can do for her. No one deserves to live like this.

Once the room is clean, I take a seat opposite the chair Gram was in earlier. My eyes track the staff as they finish making the bed. The bathroom door opens, and a now clean Gram gets escorted to her chair. Since her clothes are dirty, they have her dressed in a hospital gown. A frown mars my face, but I bite my tongue about how she’s dressed. My breath rushes from my lungs in relief at just having her washed.

Making a mental note to stop back in a couple of days, I try to enjoy the rest of my visit. I don’t understand how this can happen. Do the supervisors not check up on their staff or patients? Does the state not do random, unannounced inspections on conditions?

Deciding a couple of days isn’t good enough, I make sure Gram is okay and set off to find Margaret Frost. Searching the entire building, I come up empty. Checking in at each nursing station, no one seems to know her whereabouts. When I finally get to the reception desk, the clerk tells me that she has left for the day, and asks if I want to leave a message. I hate having to keep Gram here. This place I horrible.

Chapter 5

Roderick

The casino is coming along nicely. Last week, the crew broke ground on the new hotel that is on the adjacent property. It took a bit of sweet-talking to the town officials, but once we explained the hotel’s benefits, they couldn’t sign the building permits fast enough.

Staring at the blueprints and swatches of fabric and wallpaper samples, the ringing of my phone has me shaking my head.

---