[title subtitle=”WORDS Sarah Phillips-Burger
IMAGE Africa Studio/Shutterstock”][/title]
Kelly woke that morning, as she did most days, to the quiet chime of the alarm on her phone, which she kept tucked under her pillow. She always rose before her husband, Mark, and in an attempt to not wake him, she tried to stay as quiet as possible. She stood, her feet aching in protest, and made her way to the bathroom. After showering, she put on her mauve scrubs and Nikes and applied a little mascara before twisting her long brown hair into a bun. She gave herself one more glance before pinning on her badge and turning off the light.
In the kitchen, she silently thanked her husband again for their new coffee maker. Not since Christmas had she come downstairs and had to impatiently wait for the coffee to brew. The aroma already filled the air and she ate a banana nut muffin with her first cup. She filled a travel mug and grabbed her purse, whispering “I love you” in the general direction of her family before heading out the door.
It was early, only 6 a.m. Most of the neighborhood was probably still in bed. Kelly loved this time of the morning. The dark, deserted streets made the drive peaceful and helped set the tone for her day. Plus, she was off in the afternoons which allowed her to pick her girls up from school and help them with their homework, which was important to her. As she turned off her street, she took a sip of her coffee and turned on the radio.
“One of the biggest lottery jackpots in history could go to a lucky winner tonight. Over 750 million dollars are up for grabs, folks! What would you do if you won that kind of money?”
Kelly changed the stations a few times, not finding anything she wanted to listen to before turning it off again. Light after light was green, and she arrived at the nursing home a few minutes before she was expected, so she took the extra time to text her husband.
I love you. Have a wonderful day. Dinner and a movie tonight! So glad it’s Friday. xo
Kelly entered the red brick building and scanned her badge at the check-in station. “Morning,” she said to Melissa, her fellow caregiver.
“Hey, girl! How did it go last night?” asked the woman in between bites of a chocolate donut.
“Actually, it wasn’t bad for a high school concert. Savannah said that her clarinet squeaked, but I didn’t notice anything,” she replied after putting her purse in her cubby. “How were things here?”
“Quiet. Mr. Henderson got up a few times, as usual. But I think everyone else slept okay.”
Kelly checked the last notations made in each chart and then headed off to start the day. “Let Margaret know, when she gets in, that I’ll be in with Miss Beatrice.”
She opened the door labeled ‘B. Sims’ and turned on the small bedside lamp. She erased Melissa’s name from the whiteboard by the TV and wrote her own.
“Miss Bea,” she said, as she stroked the old woman’s arm. “Good morning, Miss Bea.” The old woman’s eyelids parted, the wrinkly skin folding and creasing multiple times, revealing eyes the color of a lagoon. The look she gave Kelly was always one of confusion, sprinkled with curiosity. It was the same look all of the patients at the memory center gave her. Soon enough, her mind resigned to trust Kelly, and with the most subtle blink of agreement, Beatrice sat up in her bed.
After a trip to the bathroom, she helped Beatrice brush her teeth and hair, and then change into her day outfit, taking special care to move slowly with the woman’s frail body. “Would you like to eat breakfast in the dining hall this morning, or would you rather I bring your tray in here for you? I think they have oatmeal and bacon. Those are your favorites.”
Beatrice took her time contemplating this and ultimately decided to walk to the dining room. After placing her meal in front of her, Kelly headed off to another patient’s suite. This ritual was completed three more times, with more or less the same result.
There, among the clinks of silverware, the scooting of chairs and the quiet shuffles of slow feet, she overheard morning TV show hosts talking about the lottery, which seemed to be the biggest news of the day. “If I win, you’ll know it because I won’t be here tomorrow,” one host said with a laugh.
Kelly continued with her work, cleaning the suites and making the beds. By the time she was done, it was lunchtime and the ritual started again. She looked at the charts and noticed that Mr. Giles did not eat his breakfast, so she took his meal to him last. Ham, mashed potatoes with gravy and cornbread filled his plate along with her turkey sandwich. She sat next to him, feeding him bite after bite in between mouthfuls of her own lunch while Gunsmoke played quietly on the TV above them. They talked about the show and the food, him calling her by his daughter’s name throughout the conversation.
She made a few notes in the charts for the weekend staff and said her goodbyes. But before she left, she popped her head into Beatrice’s room and found her sitting in a chair, rubbing her hands together, the soft rustling of her dry skin sliding back and forth, the repetitive motion a sign of anxiety. Kelly knelt in front of her with a bottle of lotion, making eye contact. “Hi, Miss Bea. Would you like some lotion on your hands?”
Blue eyes watched cautiously as Kelly took the fragile hands into hers and began to gently massage the lotion into her dry skin, taking special care around the purple blotches and tight knuckles. Beatrice’s breathing slowed and she began to look a bit drowsy with relief; Kelly knew the fear had subsided. She felt a gentle squeeze to her own hand that said, “Thank you, I’m okay now,” but when she gazed again into the woman’s eyes, there was no response.
Later, on the way to the elementary school, she stopped to buy gas, standing in line with two others, both of whom were buying lottery tickets. She handed the cashier a twenty-dollar bill. “Pump 7 please.”
“No lottery ticket?” the man asked with a grin.
Kelly shook her head, “Just gas today, thanks.”
Once in the back seat, her younger daughter, Maddie, talked nonstop about her day, flooding the car with details of what she ate, what she did on the playground, which boy liked which girl, the book she picked out at the library. Savannah was huddled in a group of her friends when they arrived at the high school, turning and waving goodbye to them as she got in the passenger seat. “How was your day?” Kelly asked.
“Good,” Savannah replied before putting in her earbuds and taking another selfie. Kelly pulled away, smiling and shaking her head at the contrast between her two daughters, before she noticed a man standing on the corner, holding a sign indicating that he would work for food. She saw someone at that particular intersection most days, rain or shine, and they always reminded her to be grateful for what she had.
She turned the radio channel again as she drove towards home, landing on Fleetwood Mac’s Gypsy, one of her favorites. “Can you turn it up?” Savannah asked, removing her earbuds.
She did and the music filled her car, the notes dancing around them as Savannah started to sing with her mother. Maddie joined them while she gazed out the window, her voice louder during the chorus, which she knew best. Lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice, they all sang as Kelly beamed with joy, loving her two young gypsies.
That evening Mark made pizza, the gooey mozzarella cradling the other toppings. They ate piece after piece standing around the island in the kitchen. Maddie chatted away as usual as she reeled in long strings of cheese to her mouth like a fishing line. Savannah took pictures of the pizza and texted, but must have been paying attention to the conversations around her because her eyes rolled at every one of her dad’s jokes.
It was Maddie’s turn to pick out the movie, and for the next couple of hours they sat on their giant sofa, bowls of popcorn between them as they watched WALL-E and EVE fall in love. Kelly noticed halfway through that Savannah had put down her phone and was just as engrossed in the story as her sister, who laughed as though she hadn’t watched the movie a hundred times before.
She then looked at Mark, his face lit up by the TV, the grey hairs at his temples framing his gorgeous, familiar eyes. She ran her hand down his arm and laced her fingers through his before resting her head on his shoulder.
“Your mom squeezed my hand today,” Kelly told Mark later as she climbed into bed. “She hasn’t done that in a long time.”
“I’m so glad she has you,” Mark replied. “Thank you for looking after her like you do.”
They lay next to each other while the news recounted the day’s events.
“Next up, we will have tonight’s drawing for the Mega Millions Jackpot, so get your numbers ready,” the co-anchor announced with a smile.
Kelly brought up the remote and pressed the off button, leaving the room in complete darkness.
“You don’t want to find out if you’ve hit the jackpot?” Mark teased with a squeeze of her waist.
Kelly thought briefly about her day and about those around her that she loved so much. She nestled even closer to her husband. “I believe I already have.”
