A Five-Minute Life

“Fresh Air Experience. It’s a therapeutic way of saying exercise. Residents who are up for it go outside and walk around the grounds. Usually, a nurse is assigned to each resident, but we’re short nurses, too. So either the orderlies help out, or it’s skipped altogether.”

“You mean the residents don’t get to go outside?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. Most days they do. Other days, it’s just not in the cards.” He peered up at me. “You’ve probably seen One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest too many times. This is a good place. Everyone’s treated well. The funding’s not exactly pouring in, but it’s better than a hospital. Or a psych ward. Cool?”

“Cool.”

Joaquin narrowed his eyes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Got family near here?”

“No.”

He leaned in. “Okay, so listen. This job has a way of latching on. I know I said there’s a lot of turnover, and there is. Mostly because decent employees who don’t fuck up aren’t all that easy to keep. But those that stick, like me and Alonzo, we tend to stick. I came here for a summer job. That was eight years ago. Point is, don’t get stuck on this mountain.”

He slugged my shoulder and left me to mop the cafeteria floor. Breakfast was over and the room was empty. Alone, moving the mop in figure eights over the linoleum, I turned his words over in my head.

Don’t get stuck on this mountain.

Getting stuck is what I did best. I’d probably have worked at my last job forever if it hadn’t shut down. I didn’t want much in the world. Just a place where I could work and be of help to people. And no one to bother me.

Being stuck on that mountain didn’t sound bad at all.

While the residents were all at lunch, I cleaned three rooms. Each had its own bathroom and was identically furnished with a bed, closet, small dresser, and a table and chair under a window.

All the doors locked from the outside.

I met Alonzo downstairs in the recreation room that consisted of a nurses’ station, a dozen small tables, a TV mounted on one wall, shelves full of games and puzzles, and a storage closet at the rear. Alonzo had a stack of file folders under his arm and greeted me with an approving look.

“Joaquin tells me you catch on quick,” he said. “Let’s sit.”

We took a table in the corner that had a vantage of the entire space. Only one resident was present—the older man with the dented head. He worked slowly and laboriously over a puzzle while his attendant stood at the station, chatting with the duty nurse.

“You need to get to know the residents,” Alonzo said. “That there is Richard Webb. Mr. Webb to you and me.”

I nodded.

“They each have a nurse assigned to them. Most nurses work more than one resident though, so we step in and help, time to time. But carefully. Be friendly, but don’t talk their ear off.” His eyebrow raised. “I have a feeling I won’t have that problem with you.”

The door to the rec room opened. I looked back and recognized the nurse I’d met yesterday, Rita Soto.

Thea Hughes was beside her.

She wore shapeless beige pants, a plain shirt, and loafers, but she was jaw-droppingly beautiful. A stunning work of art wrapped in a paper bag. Her blond hair fell around her shoulders in soft waves, and she regarded the rec room with bright if hesitant eyes.

Rita led Thea to a table and set her up with paper and colored pens. Within moments, Thea was bent over her work, drawing. Like a child making doodles after school.

“That’s Miss Hughes,” Alonzo said, tapping his pen on the file folders. “Of all our residents, she needs the most care. Which means she’s got the most rules.”

I tore my gaze from her and forced my voice into a neutral tone. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Only one of the worst recorded cases of amnesia in medical history.”

I stared. “Are you sure?”

Alonzo chuckled. “Am I sure? That’s one I haven’t heard before. But I get it. Miss Hughes is young and beautiful and looks healthy as a horse, but that just ain’t the case.”