Page 31 of Never Stop
Chapter thirteen
Via
2023
Night shifts are long, and they take a toll on me. By 6:30 a.m., I am usually pretty run down. Just as I start to tell Dessa goodbye for the day, the call bell goes off, and as she realizes who's requesting assistance, she looks up at me with knowing eyes and a soft smile.
"It's your man!" Dessa says as she laughs.
Dessa and I met through work two years ago, and our friendship developed quickly. What started as a work friendship promptly evolved into a sisterhood between her, Izzy, and me.
For the longest time, it was just Izzy and me. Now, I can't imagine our tiny circle without Dessa.
Izzy is the hotheaded wild child who freely speaks her mind without hesitation. She's the one who you'll find dancing on the bar top after three beers or completely sober. Izzy is never afraid to be seen or be authentically herself. People find that intimidating, but I love it about her.
Dessa is the levelheaded, outgoing, easily approachable, bubbly one who is so friendly that she could probably make friends with a rock if she wanted to.
Then, there's me. I'm the blend-in-with-the-crowd type who's a little awkward, introverted, and entirely too softhearted. I try to solve everyone's problems and thrive on sarcasm and quick wit. It's all about balance, and we indeed balance each other well.
Dessa is beautiful and spunky, all wrapped into one. She stands about five feet tall, curvy like me and has short brown hair clipped into the cutest long bob. She has a very girly sense of fashion and a way of making even scrubs look good.
"Here I was thinking he stood me up this morning," I reply with a laugh as I throw my purse back under the desk and hurry towards his room, wasting no time.
"Well, hello, Mr. Earl, it's good to see you up and at 'em this morning. Ready for your walk to get some coffee?" I chirp as I help the fragile elderly man up from his bed. The smile he throws my way as he welcomes my presence into his room always warms my heart. We aren't supposed to pick favorites, but it's too bad. He's mine.He knows it.
His conversations always bring me peace. He's our grumpiest resident at the assisted living facility and hasn't gotten visitors in over four years. I've made it a point to give him someone to talk to once my shift is over every morning that I work. I have no one and no reason to rush home, so it works out for us both.
For a while, he was a tough nut to crack. He didn't open up to me easily or at all for a long time. He would sit there in silence with his arms crossed tight over his chest. The only sound I'd get from him was a stubborn huff of approval or disapproval as a response to short questions I'd ask to attempt conversations to fill the silence that always seemed to linger between us. That didn't matter or last long.
We're a lot alike in that manner. I never pushed him to talk about anything specific, significantly more than he was willing to. He's never pushed me, either, unlike many others. Our conversations all come organically; although he's seventy-six years old, we have a special bond.
He isn't the friendliest by a long shot. He's rough and rugged around the edges yet is still incredibly swift with his wit and sarcasm. Those attributes are some of the things I love about him.
Once our friendship evolved and he finally opened up to me, he told me about his family. He told me about his beautiful wife, who he loved dearly. She died during labor with their only child. He told me how, after his wife's passing, he tried not to blame his only son. His heart was so broken that he turned to alcohol, and he did not make his son's life pleasant. He was the furthest thing from a 'good father,' and he hated himself for it. He's told me about how, before coming to the assisted living facility, he cleaned up his life and tried to make amends with his son, but the damage was too far gone.
Earl Jacobs is convinced he is far from a good person. After getting to know him and getting a first-hand view of his personality, hearing him describe himself in his self-deprecating way has me questioning whether 'good people' even exist.
Are we really all just 'good or bad'? Is life indeed that black and white? Or are we all capable of both good and bad, where neither outweighs the other?
"There's my favorite nurse. I thought I missed you today," He says with his grumpy, rough voice and the softest smile he's capable of forming on that stone face of his.
"Now, you know I can't leave here without my coffee, and some company before heading home isn't so bad either," I say jokingly as I assist him into his wheelchair, and we head toward the social quarters.
We sit silently for a bit, sipping our coffees and enjoying the fresh air while relishing the company and comfortable silence. That is until I nudge him softly as someone across the patio catches my eyes, as she usually does.
"Oh, Mr. Earl, you must still have it going on. Clara Jean is giving you the googley eyes again," I whisper as I laugh innocently.
As always, he rolls his eyes at me and laughs as he shoves me softly.
"Thank God you're a better nurse than you are at trying to play matchmaker. " His warm laugh reaches my heart this time.
"Touche', but at least I'm trying. You know you should give her a chance. She's lovely," I say. Clara Jean has had her eyes on Mr. Earl since she became a resident here. She couldn't make it any more obvious. He proves that age doesn't make men any wiser when it comes to women because he's completely blind to her subtle hints and thinks I'm making it up. I see the way he looks at her. Like she could be his second chance, the pain and fear in him won't even allow him to talk to her.
"Trying? Trying would be going on a date for yourself. You're young, and I'm old. You're more worried about my dating life than your own. You need to reevaluate that, honey," He deadpans, raising an eyebrow at me and leaving me almost speechless.
Almost.
"I'm happy to report that I have a double date tonight with Izzy, Maverick, and one of his work friends. So now, it's your turn." He smiles at this, and I can tell he's more pleased than I expected.
