Second Quarter 2010: Third Place Winner
SHALL WE DANCE?
by Aisling Burke
I always imagined myself having to be strong to endure constant pain. But when your crumpled body can’t move you find that you have no choice but to endure it.
The pain is not the worst thing about being trapped in this bed. My bodily waste spews out of me into an incontinence pad and horrible mush is spooned into my slack mouth. Every day I am poked and turned and pulled. I just want it to stop. I want to be Dolly again but I’m buried deep inside this shell.
The handsome man stands in the corner of the room. Every day he comes closer to me. I long for him to pick me up and carry me off but it’s just a silly romantic fantasy. I’m an old woman clinging to the last scrap of useless life. All I have left are my dreams.
*
The creases in the bottom sheet had etched red lines into Dolly’s frail skin. Claire, the nurse straightened the covers. The loose, crinkled flesh on Dolly’s bones flapped around as Claire turned her twisted body onto her left side.
Claire’s cool hands pulled up the nightdress so she could scan Dolly’s back for red areas. Then she rolled Dolly onto her back and pressed a button on the slim touchpad that hung from the side rail. The electric bed whined as the head tiled upwards until Dolly was sitting up. Claire pushed Dolly’s grey, greasy hair back from her forehead.
“I have your tablets here, Dolly.”
“Hurry up, we have other patients to attend to,” Marie, the care assistant grumbled.
“I won’t be long.” Claire tipped the crushed tablets into a small pot of yoghurt and mixed it up with a teaspoon. Then she scooped up a little and held it to Dolly’s parched lips. “Come on, sweetheart. I know it tastes horrible but you need your antibiotics.”
“Oh for... Claire, she’s gaga. Just stick the stuff down her throat and come on.” Marie rolled her eyes.
*
I most certainly am not gaga! It’s my body that’s withered, not my mind. I stare at them through the milky film that obscures my vision. The nice one with the cold hands is here. She slips the teaspoon into my mouth again and I force down the horrid, gooey substance. I can feel the rough, nasty crumbs on my tongue.
Why do people assume just because I’ve grown old I’ve lost my sense of taste? I’ve always hated yoghurt and now I get it stuffed down my throat every bloody day along with other foul mush. I miss chocolate. And coffee. Now all I get is weak, sugary tea and even that is thickened to stop me choking on it.
At last the girl is finished. She hums a pretty song as she arranges the pillows in a soft cocoon around my fragile body. All it takes is a mere scratch against the metal cot sides to slice my skin open.
The handsome man is standing by my bed now. How is it I can see him so clearly? He holds his hands out to me.
“Dance with me, Dolly.”
Silly man! Can’t he see I’m stuck to this bed?
*
The patients were all in bed. Claire collapsed into a seat in the office and rubbed ache in her lower back. In front of her was Dolly’s file. DNR was emblazoned in red on the cover. Do Not Resuscitate.
Dolly had endured many bouts of pneumonia but Claire knew with a bone-deep instinct that came from ten years of nursing that she wouldn’t survive this one. There was no family to contact. All they could do was try to make her comfortable. Claire cursed her sense of helplessness.
“Do you want a cup of tea?” Marie asked.
“Sure.”
“Look... I know you mean well but we have a lot of patients to look after and you can’t waste time on one. They’re not people anymore. Their minds are gone.” Marie shrugged her shoulders. “It's sad but that’s the way it is.”
“Thanks for the advice.” Claire forced her voice to remain low. “But just because they can’t respond doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.”
“Well... It’s your funeral if the matron catches you wasting time. I’ll get the tea.”
*
This is hell. My creaking heart stutters in my chest and for a second it almost stops. To be honest I wish it would. My universe is compressed into this room. Then I hear the lovely music. It tugs at my crumbling limbs.
He’s standing beside my bed. Warm fingers close over my twisted hand. A blanket of peace wraps me up and the fear recedes. I want to jump up but my worn body anchors me to the mattress. I wheeze and force myself to suck in a scrap of air. He fades away and the curtain falls in front of my eyes once more.
*
The office clock creaked the time. It was three a.m. Another five hours to go until the shift was over. Claire stood up and stretched her heavy limbs. Her eyes felt as if they were filled with cement but the feeling about Dolly wouldn’t go away.
“I’ll be back in a minute. I’m just doing the hourly check,” she said to Marie.
“Don’t know why you bother. Its not as if any of them are going to jump out of bed.”
“It’ll wake me up.”
“Up to you.” Marie shrugged and returned to her book.
She padded down the corridor and eased open the door. The snores of the patients greeted her. She swept the torch over their sleeping bodies. Each one was ticked off on the chart. Then she crept over to the next room.
Claire hesitated outside Dolly’s room and then crept inside. She could hear her struggle for each breath. Disease clogged her weak lungs. Claire sat beside her bed and covered Dolly’s knotted fingers with her own. Death perfumed the air.
*
The air burns my lungs. It is getting harder to drag in oxygen. I cling to life with my swollen fingers and broken nails. My heart shudders in my chest and I’m afraid.
And yet... He is waiting for me. I long to dance with him. A cool hand covers mine. I use a scrap of precious energy to turn my head. I’m not alone. The gentle nurse strokes my skin and mutters soothing words I can’t quite hear.
“Its time, Dolly. Don’t be scared. I’m with you.” He has the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen. They shimmer with so many different hues. He holds out his hand and I reach for him. “Lay down your burdens and come with me.”
“Alright.” I slip out of my crumpled, broken down body. I can walk again, my feet skip over the ground. “Oh!” I throw my hands into the air and laugh.
“Come on. There are so many people who want to see you.”
*
Claire slumped in the chair. Her eyes drifted closed and her head bobbed forward as she succumbed to night duty paralysis, unable to move her heavy limbs but not quite sleeping. In the distance she heard a bang and she jumped up. Cursing she rubbed at her face. How long had she been sitting here? Dolly’s chest was still.
Claire touched Dolly’s neck. No pulse jumped under her parchment skin. At the edge of her vision Claire glimpsed two figures enveloped in light. One of them turned and waved to her. Claire shook her head and they were gone. She pulled the sheet over Dolly’s face and walked to the door to call Marie.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
My name means beautiful dream or vision. Nurse by day, dancer by night (sometimes the other way around depending on the shifts) and writer in between. I write on buses, trains, planes, anywhere I can find a few spare minutes. (Editor’s note: Particular congratulations to Ms. Burke. Her previous short stories entitled, “Therapy" and "Tequila Kisses" were both winners, as decided by two different judges, in the 3rd Quarter 2009 and 1st Quarter 2010 contests!)
JUDGE’S COMMENTS:
Loved the feeling in this story. The old woman was so believable, the nurse sweet. This story vied for higher placement in this competition, but the passive voice in the verbs and the predictable ending stood in the way. The verbs IS, WAS and WERE were used too often. Some serious tightening of the phrasing would shorten this piece by a hundred words and sharpen the storytelling. The story kept my interest well, however, and the descriptions of a very senior person were right on. Enjoyable.