Scarred Wolf by Charlene Hartnady

2

Everleigh

“What the hellam I supposed to do with her?” my boss, Hilary, shouts. She’s staring at an elderly woman who is walking in diminishing circles. The distressed woman is tugging at her hair and bumping into furniture. Hilary’s eyes widen. “I’ve tried everything. She won’t listen to me.” I’m not sure how it is she ended up being promoted. She has no patience. In this job, a college degree might be a requirement, but patience is everything.

“Where are the twins…what happened to the twins…I have to find the twins…” the gray-haired lady is muttering beneath her breath. I don’t have to be close enough to hear her words. I’ve heard them a thousand times before. She’s flailing her stick-thin arms as she speaks, then pulling at the front of her baby-pink nightgown. She tugs her hair again. It’s formed a wild silver halo around her sweetly lined face. I step closer, shooting a conciliatory smile at Hilary, who rolls her eyes and turns away. I reach the circling woman, speaking to her in a soothing tone.

“Twins!” Hilary snorts and shakes her head. “There are no twins.” She raises her voice at the poor old lady. “They’re probably dead,” she mutters to herself.

“No!” Mrs. Arbuthnot must hear her because she screams the word over and over, pulling on her hair using both her hands. Her eyes are filled with shock and devastation.

I touch her arm. “It’s okay, Mrs. Arbuthnot, everything is fine. The twins are home. They’re safe,” I say softly, then repeat the sentence, still soothing. It takes a moment for my words to sink in, but eventually she turns to me. Her wide blue eyes are as guileless as a child’s. Her hands reach out for my forearms, and she grips them tightly. I flinch as I feel a sharp nail pierce my skin when she rakes her fingers down to take my hands. I make a mental note to cut Mrs. Arbuthnot’s nails. She isn’t hurting me intentionally. Poor woman!

“Did you get them? Did you find them?” she asks earnestly, and I nod. “You’re sure they’re fine?” Her eyes are narrowed with distrust.

I smile. “All right as rain,” I assure her, ignoring the sensation of stinging down my arm. I can see her shoulders sink with relief as she gives a small nod. The lines of her face relax as the anxiety leaves her.

“I was worried, you know. Those girls can be such a handful.” She smiles, tenderly. Her lips have been painted a bright shade of pink. I know she wakes up and applies her makeup each day…just in case guests come. But of course, they never do. “You’re such a good girl, Barb. Such a good girl.” She nods as she speaks. Her eyes are on my face, but it’s not my features she sees. She’s looking at someone long gone. Someone who lives in her past. A past that she lives every day, as if it’s happening right now.

I hear my boss muttering something rude behind me, but I ignore her while I take a couple of deep breaths. That woman’s not cut out for this. She’s not fit to take care of these fragile angels in our charge, let alone manage the team. “I’ve got this,” I tell Hilary. “You have enough on your plate.” I know I should probably say something. I should file a complaint against her. I won’t. I can’t. I need this job too badly right now. Instead, I’ll keep a close eye on Hilary and step in where needed. Thankfully, her role is mostly administrative.

I lead Mrs. Arbuthnot to her chair in the sunshine. All the signs of distress have left her, as if they’d never been. She just needed to know that all was well in the world. So, I had to play along for a bit…pretend to be someone I wasn’t. I don’t care, as long as it could bring some peace to her. I drape a knitted blanket over her bony knees and pat her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll bring you your tea now. It’ll be lovely to have it here where it’s warm,” I say softly.

She reaches up and touches my hand gently, her eyes on mine. “Thank you, Evie, that would be lovely.” It’s a rare moment of lucidity, and I smile back at the woman warmly. “Oh, my dear! You’ve cut yourself!” Her eyes are fixed on my arm and I look down. Blood has caked around a nasty gash. I’ll never tell her she did it. It was an accident, after all.

“Well, golly, aren’t I clumsy?” I give a small laugh. “I must have snagged myself on something. I’ll get that cleaned right up.” She nods and tuts in concern, her rheumy eyes still on my arm as I turn to leave her. Hilary is in the corner with one of the male nurses; a beefy guy who often gets called in for security. From the way she’s looking at him, I’d say she was flirting instead of doing her job. I think I can guess how she ended up with her promotion. Rambling Rosies is better than the likes of her. I don’t have time to give her a piece of my mind, though. I see a drop of blood on the pink skirt of my uniform and realize I’d better attend to my scrape before I unsettle one of the other residents.

I head down the hallway, grab some sterile swabs and a Band-Aid from the infirmary, and head to the ladies’ room. As I drop my makeshift medical kit onto the counter, I feel a vibration in my skirt pocket. I reach for my phone and sigh as I recognize the number.

“Good day. Is this Miss Miller? Miss Everleigh Miller?” a voice says.

“Yes, this is she,” I reply, bracing myself for the conversation.

“Miss Miller, this is Nell from SW Credit. I’d like to advise you that this call is being recorded for quality purposes,” the voice goes on. I want to groan. I know what this is about. My credit card payment has returned unpaid yet again. I respond obediently with the relevant information as she runs through questions about my various identity details. Poor Nell is just doing her job, but it’s so hard to remain patient.

“Now, Miss Miller, are you aware that your payment has not been received?” Nell prompts.

“Yes, I’m really sorry,” I reply. I’m not lying. I really am sorry. I’ve been living above my means for months…if “living above my means” is what you’d call using my credit card to buy bread and milk and a couple of basics each week.

Not a lot of people would believe I’m in such dire straits. I have a gorgeous apartment in the best part of town. And my zippy little red convertible is every single girl’s dream car. But the fact is, I bought the apartment with a payout from my parent’s life insurance policy – I lost both of them in a terrible tragedy a little over five years ago, and if I had a choice, I’d trade the apartment to get them back any day.

And the cute convertible? It had been Mom’s 45th birthday present from Dad. She would have been in her fifties now – and probably still beautiful. I miss her gentle face. And I love that car so much, even though it’s getting older now. A month ago, the alternator packed in – whatever that means. Actually, I know exactly what it means – half my credit limit on the card Nell is currently lecturing me about. I’m in shit! It’s as simple as that.

“So can you make a payment this week, Miss Miller?” she’s asking.

“Um, no?” I reply. Of course I can’t. I’m living on breadsticks till payday.

“Then next Monday?” Nell presses. “Perhaps we could put through a debit from your account.”

I’m staying as calm as I can, but my frustration is mounting. “Sure you can do that,” I reply a little too sharply. “Of course, there’ll be nothing in my account when you put the request through. But fine. Go right ahead!” I can feel my last nerve giving in as my blood pressure starts to rise by the second.

Despite my tone, Nell stays placid, but she’s obviously got a list of questions to ask. “Are you unemployed, Miss Miller? Perhaps we should update your records.”

I sigh. “My details are the same.” I can see my reflection in the mirror in the ladies’ room, and I realize I’m scowling. Twin furrows mark a track between my eyebrows, darkening the turquoise blue of my eyes to something closer to emerald. I try to soften my expression, hoping it will improve my attitude.

“So, you’re still working at Rambling Rosie’s Senior Care Facility?” she asks.

I nod, then realize she can’t see me. “Um…yes, I’m still working at Rosie’s.” I glance around me as I speak. I’ve been here for four years. Ever since I graduated from college.

It’s probably half my problem. I barely made enough for transport costs when I first started. Since then, I’ve upgraded my skills from basic caregiver, to certification for specialized needs like dementia and Parkinson’s. It still doesn’t pay well, but I’d never change what I do for a living. All these moms and dads who get thrown away, when I’d do anything to have mine back. I know they’d be far too young and vibrant to be in a place like this, but somehow it makes me feel better to know I’m doing something meaningful for these folks.

I shake my head, smoothing a platinum blonde strand back into my sleek ponytail. Nell is still speaking. Somehow, I’ve agreed to pay a lump sum by the end of the month, in addition to my regular account payment.

What the hell have I done?

How on earth am I going to come up with the cash?

Nell is hanging up, and I’m left staring at my phone. I’ve got the creditors off my back for two weeks, but I’m faced with the reality that I’ll have to find all that extra money somehow. I slip my phone back into my pocket, raise both hands, and rub my face.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Evie! What are you going to do now?” I groan as press my fingertips against my eyelids, where a headache is building. As I lower my hands, I find my reflection staring back at me, my features blurred with worry. I’d better get on with it. I’m not on a break for another hour. I turn on the tap and wait until the water turns lukewarm. Then I hold my arm under the stream, expecting it to sting. It doesn’t happen. A moment later, I lift my forearm so that I can see where Mrs. Arbuthnot left the nasty scratch.

And it’s barely there, just a pale pink line. I could have sworn…would have laid my head on a block that it was way worse. I had felt the sting. I look down at my uniform and sure enough, the drop of blood is there. I push out a deep breath. Am I going crazy?