The Waiting

The Waiting

By Selmoore Codfish

Copyright 2013 Selmoore Codfish

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

The Waiting

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Chapter 1

Help! They’re trying to kill me, screamed Grandma Wilde as I followed the family into her hospital room.

I scanned the room, but no one else was there, and the second bed was empty. Blanche, my mother in-law, looked worried.

No one is trying to hurt you, she said, but it didn’t soothe Grandma.

They want me to die, Grandma said as she began to cry.

Angela sat next to her on the bed and held her arm.

It was understandable that Angela’s grandma felt unsettled. She had just been moved to the Hospice from the nursing home Saturday. She had spent several weeks in and out of the hospital and it was time for her to make peace with the world. We didn’t want her to die, but we I knew that it would happen before very long.

Grandma didn’t need to keep dwelling on people trying to harm her. She had enough troubles from her health. Last week, her doctor had said that her pain could come and go, but eventually it would build beyond what she could handle. She would soon need to be in a place that managed intense pain. The family immediately sought a hospice for her because I told them that was where she needed to be.

I tried to change the subject.

We came straight from church, I said. My in-laws, Angela and I came in two cars. We skipped our usual big Sunday dinner so we could go see Grandma. The rest of Angela’s family went to eat without us and would see her another time. Beau and Faith, who were Angela’s brother and his wife, thought that it’d be too traumatic for their children.

Grandma perked up a little. She asked, Was Sire Drudgery as stale as he usually is?

Yes, I lied.

Blanche scowled at me for lying. We hadn’t gone to our normal church but were trying out a new one. Sire Drudgery was near retirement age, and there was a rumor that the church would merge with its closest neighbor so we visited that one. Grandma didn’t need to know that we were abandoning her church as she left this life.

Have they had any services here for you? I asked.

Grandma shook her head.

I thought that the Society of Thomas Brothers who ran the Hospice might hold service since they were part of the church. They had been located in midtown for as long as I had known about them. The Hospice was in the Sausage District. I had passed by it several times a couple years previously going to the Equalization Center, a gene therapy clinic.

The old hospice building looked like it could have been connected with sausage industry. It matched the style of all the buildings around it.

A man did come this morning, said Grandma, but all he wanted to talk about was if I wanted to die.

Blanche gasped in disbelief. We were back to Grandma’s fear of death.

They should have been gentler with her.

I looked towards the door to see if there was anyone to discuss the problem with. As a hospice, I thought they might have staff counselors talked about death, but if that had caused Grandma’s fears, then they weren’t very good at it.

Someone was edging towards the door.

Here we are Ms. Paquin, said a young man as he wheeled in a woman in a wheel chair.

He paused in front of Grandma’s television, and turned it on.

I stared at him. He nodded to me.

Just checking, he said.

His name was ‘Hector’ according to his badge. There were no initials S.O.T. after his name to show that he was a Society of Thomas Brother. Also, he looked a little young and unkempt to be a brother.

He pushed the woman to the second bed. She spryly got into the bed herself as Hector turned on the second TV too. Why would a woman who looked about fifty years old and healthy be placed in a hospice? However, I was more concerned with Angela’s grandma and didn’t think too much about it.

I caught Hector’s gaze.

Will we be able to talk to anyone? I asked.

Yeah. They’ll be by shortly to look over our new guest, he replied. Then he stared at the TV.

So when are you two going to get married? Grandma asked Angela.

We are married now, Angela said in an upbeat voice. She held up her ring.

Grandma Wilde was becoming senile. That was one reason to be suspicious of her claim that someone was trying to kill her. Maybe she awoke in the night, saw Hector or another unfamiliar face, and let her prejudices make her fearful.

Angela and I had been married nearly two and a half years. If we had children or if Angela had shown signs of pregnancy, it might have been easier for her grandmother to remember.

Angela was finally pregnant, but we weren’t telling family yet. Previous, we had problems when she didn’t stay pregnant past the two month mark. We were right at that point now and we were hopeful. I stood next to Angela and patted her shoulder. She reached up and squeezed my arm.

Then, a man in hospital scrubs walked in and crossed to Ms. Paquin’s bed. He looked to be about fifty years old. His hair and beard were cut very short, so you could see his dark skin through the stubble.

How are you doing? he asked grandma’s roommate.

Today is good, she said.

Praise the Lord, the man said with excessive enthusiasm.

First we need to get your weight, then I can ask you some questions, he continued. I didn’t think he was a doctor. Doctor’s didn’t weigh people.

A nurse came in with a portable scale. I could tell she was a nurse because she wore a flowery smock that no doctor would wear if they wanted any respect.

Hi, I said to the nurse.

Hi, she replied. As she faced me, I could see her badge said ‘Deanna, RN.’

They helped Ms. Paquin onto the scale, although she needed no help.

Okay, they said, and she went to the bed by herself.

The TV’s not right, said Hector, who was still standing there.

Then get Sock, said Deanna. Hector left.

I glanced at the two TVs. They both had a little fuzziness to the picture, but not much to complain about.

I watched the show because Angela’s family was quiet, and I didn’t want to intentionally listen in on Ms. Paquin’s check-in, but I did hear Deanna ask several questions about ailments, and Ms. Paquin always replied ‘No.’

The TV show was one of the Sunday programs for children that showed stories from the Holy Book. On the show, a young woman spoke to children seated on the floor around her.

"They were in a beautiful garden, but because someone ate an apple, a flood came and washed away the apple core. However, in a stall of the boat a baby was born who would be king.

When the king was older he came to the people and said, ‘I will be your king and you will be my people. I will rule over you and tell you what to do. In gratitude, you must worship me.’ Then the people replied, ‘Thank you.’

I had heard the story before and was bored. It was hard not to listen to Deanna talk to Ms. Paquin.

So is there anything wrong with you? Deanna quizzed hopefully.

Not really, said Ms. Paquin.

So you’re not dying of natural causes? Deanna asked, let down.

No.

Just then Hector came back with another man carrying a small toolbox. Hector gathered the wheelchair and stood at the door.

Sock, it looks too fuzzy, said the male nurse. He turned as he said it and I saw that his badge said Marion.

Marion to room 237, the intercom paged. He got up and looked at the other nurse.

It’s okay, said Deanna. I’ll wait for Jonah.

Sock looked at both TVs. Sock was also black, but was older, wore overalls and carried a toolbox.

It’s not bad, he said. These are older sets. You have to let them warm up.

I thought someone had done another prank, said Hector. …like the image of a ghost.

No, although, that’d be a pretty good one, said Sock. Maybe your problem is with the programming. He didn’t like the children’s show either.

Deanna, the nurse, huffed at him.

He changed the channels on the TVs to a more exciting movie. I liked the gun fights and car crashes better than the boring religious show, but the picture quality was about the same.

See, he said.

I think the church station is better for our patients, said Deanna.

Sock changed Ms. Paquin’s channel back, but when he got to ours, I spoke up.

No, thank you.

Mr. Wilde agreed with me. He had turned his chair to face the TV.

Sock and I faced each other. The name badge said ‘Vaughn,’ despite everyone calling him Sock.

You’ve fixed it for us, I said.

He nodded.

It’s amazing what you can do with the tech classes at the State Penitentiary, he replied.

I smirked. I didn’t know if I should take him seriously. Surely the Hospice did background checks. Still, Grandma Wilde’s fears were beginning to weigh on me. I glanced around. The Wildes were busy with Grandma. They weren’t paying attention to the comment.

After Sock and Hector left together, I went back to watching TV.

A few minutes later, a very old man in a traditional white doctor’s coat came in.

How’s everyone doing? he asked the Wildes. Mr. Wilde arose and shook his hand.

Good, he said.

I’m Dr. Whalen, he said. The initials S.O.T. were after his name J. Whalen on his badge, so I knew he was one of the religious brothers.

The doctor approached Angela’s grandmother.

Hello, we met yesterday, he said to her. How are you feeling?

About the same, she replied.

I’m in charge of her physical health and counseling while she’s with us, he said towards Mrs. Wilde.

Are you doing okay with the pain? he asked.

Grandma nodded.

You have your loved ones around you, he said. Are you ready to die?

No, intruded Blanche, but Grandma Wilde merely shook her head and looked away. I wondered if that’s why Grandma had been reacting badly to the counseling. It was too blunt.

Hello, I said. I’m Neal Harris. I’m with the Sacred Recluse Self Insurance Group. I wanted to review your procedures while I had this opportunity being here with my dear grandmother-in-law.

I had some power over the S.O.T. Brothers and the Hospice because I was their insurance carrier. I wanted to send a signal that they should treat Angela’s grandmother the best they could.

I winked to Mr. and Mrs. Wilde that I’d take care of everything.

You should probably start with Brother Rand, the doctor replied. He’s on the first floor.

I’ll be back to check on you, he said to Grandma Wilde, but first I’ve got to see our new patient. He walked slowly to the other bed. He took small steps as older people do when they have trouble walking.

So what do we have here? he asked.

I decided to use this as an excuse to walk around. I told the Wildes that I’d talk to the administrator. Mr. and Mrs. Wilde said not to rush. They’d be with grandma for a while.

Jonah, said Nurse Deanna without enthusiasm, she’s another elective for you.

Oh? he replied with interest.

I didn’t hear much else as I walked down the hallway. I fished in my pocket. Yes, I had remembered my ID badge, so I put it on. I felt more secure walking around the hospital with it on, because it made me more official rather than just a snoop.

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The elevator was smaller than you’d find in most hospitals, and the inner side of the door was a gate that had to be pulled closed. I managed to figure out the process to get to the first floor. I should have used the stairs to avoid the hassle.

I stood in the door of the elevator to let two gurneys pass. They went around the corner in the L-shaped building. The undertakers were removing two deceased people through the back door.

My friend Will was a mortician, but I didn’t recognize these people. He worked alone, so it must have been his competitor.

Seeing the covered corpses reminded me that the Hospice was a place where people came to die. It was like ‘the farm’ where pets were sent for good.

We had a variety of pets when I was growing up. Some died naturally, but others got so old that they couldn’t eat, or had shown that they were in pain.

Dad was open with my sister and me that the pets were being sent to be put to sleep. However, other people like my aunt talked about sending her pet to the farm. It confused me because we lived in a rural area then and had close relations on the farm.

One day I asked her stupidly, How’s Zipper doing on the farm?

Well, she replied. She looked confused.

It didn’t sink in until I was an adult what had really happened.

That wasn’t the only time that I’d been confused by it. I was in college when a friend told me that his cat went to a farm. It took me a while to figure that out too.

It didn’t seem like some of the Wildes knew and appreciated that Grandma was there to die. To Blanche, it was just another hospital.

I found the door that had ‘Br. Rand, PhD, S.O.T,’ on it. According to the nameplate, he was not a medical doctor.

The door was open, and a man that looked about sixty years old sat at a desk. He saw me approach.

Hello, I’m Neal Harris of the SRSIG.

Yes? He gave me his full attention.

My grandmother-in-law is in Room 212, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to meet you and talk about the S.O.T. Hospice.

I’m glad you came, he responded. He had to be nice to me and treat Grandma well, or I’d raise his insurance rates.

They were a captive organization, which meant they couldn’t go outside the church for insurance.

Grandma Wilde had some concerns, I said.

I’ll tell the cooks to make the food more tasty, he said.

No, she was more concerned that people, maybe including your staff, were going to kill her.

Does she want to die? asked Br. Rand.

No, I responded quickly, but I wasn’t sure if my answer was true.

Then there is little to worry about, he said.

I was puzzled by what he had said, but after a moment he changed the subject.

I’m glad that you came because I was struggling with who at SRSIG I should approach with an issue.

I’m probably the right person to talk to, I said. The other guy, Ted, in our local office was almost useless. Also, I hated it when clients tried to go over my head, and the boss had to instruct me what to do.

What’s your issue?

I’ve found a flaw in our contract with you, he replied. It is based on invalid premise. Therefore, the whole contract is a fraud.

I had to sit down. Thoughts of Grandma Wilde fled my mind. This was very serious. There was only one premise of faith based insurance. He didn’t have to say it.

There is no God, he said, so we want all of our premiums returned since our organization’s founding.

I didn’t know what to say. No client had ever tried to get a refund that way before.

Why do you say that? I finally asked.

"This world is full of agony from abuse, torture, abduction, and we all suffer from painful death. If it is intentional, then it is nothing short of maliciousness.

However, no one is that cruel. If I were God I would show more care. I would be superior to him. Therefore, there can’t be a God.

I was stunned. I couldn’t dispute anything that he’d said, but I thought that I might get him to retract his statement.

Certainly your charter says that all of your members must believe in God, I said. If they had violated their charter, then they’d be liable for retribution from the Mother Assembly, not a refund. The Mother Assembly was the main church, over which the High Sire ruled from the Sacred Recluse. It was the organization that the Hospice and I represented.

No. The Mother church only requires that we follow the example of Ralph, Our Savior. We do that because we help the sick, but we don’t believe in God.

The other brothers agree with you?

Yes. We model our lives after the Savior. The Savior didn’t have children because he didn’t want to bring them into the cruel world, and neither do we.

I don’t remember reading it that way in the Holy Book, I said.

Oh, you just need to read between the lines. It fits the patterns of his life.

Your charter says nothing about belief? I insisted on a direct answer, because that was what mattered in the Sacred Recluse legal system, not whether the other brothers agreed with him.

"No. We’ve never been believers. It hasn’t come up, because it has never been a big issue before now.

Neal, you have to remember the old days. There was nothing outside the church, so if an organization was created, it had to be with the High Sire’s blessing. No other options existed.

I’d heard stories of the church absorbing other organizations. Once, a group of ladies in a coffee club were chartered as ‘The Holy Sisters of Beans.’ However, since the Reformation, the church hadn’t completely dominated culture as it did before.

You don’t see any inconsistencies being unbelievers within the Mother Assembly? I asked.

Religion isn’t really about faith, he said. It is about maintaining power, and having a place of culture.

Doesn’t your charter require you to be members in good standing with the church? I asked.

We are, because we confess our sins and take the sacraments. There is nothing that requires us to believe, just that we submit to power. In fact, only about 19% of members are actual believers.

I disagreed with his statistic. I’d never heard anyone make a claim like that, but his made up numbers didn’t make a difference.

I needed to stall him. It was my job to protect the church no matter whether I believed myself or not. I wasn’t going to get him to change his mind right then. I needed time to plan what to do.

I checked my watch so he could see that I was doing it.

Oh, my family is waiting for me. I’ll return when I can. When are you in your office?

Basically, I’m here whenever I’m awake. Dr. Whalen is around all of the time too, he replied. He’s our only physician.

I nodded, then walked out. I headed to the main stairs. I paused while holding the handrail.

I couldn’t go back in to see the Wildes with the threat of a precedent-setting claim running through my head. I turned to look at the glossy green tile on the wall. My reflected face was too stern. I’d scare everyone if I went back looking like that.

I tried to recall why I had to visit Br. Rand in the first place. I was supposed to make sure that they treated Grandma Wilde well, but also to confirm that she was safe. I didn’t get a clear answer on that.

The Wildes didn’t need to know that I hadn’t gotten a good assurance of safety. All they needed to see was a smiling face.

I should tell Angela, but very gently when her parents weren’t around. She was right at the time where she had had the trouble with her first pregnancy. She didn’t need to be made upset now. The germs that I imagined floating over the green wall tiles in every room here wouldn’t be good for her either.

I ran up the stairs, then walked to Grandma’s room. No hospital staff was in the room, just the patients, the Wildes and Angela.

I smiled at them as I entered.

We’ve worked out that we’ll come back tomorrow morning, said Blanche, then Angela will take the afternoon off to watch Grandma then.

Angela didn’t need to use up all of her vacation days sitting in a hospital. We hoped to use her saved up vacation days to stay longer with the baby when it came.

You know what? I offered. I need to talk to the administrator quite a bit more. I can probably watch Grandma while on-the-clock. I winked at them as if they were in on a secret.

We can talk about it more later, Angela, I said.

Okay, she said. She got up as she said goodbye to her grandma, who was dozing. Then Blanche leaned over to kiss her mother-in-law, and we all walked out together.

At the front door of the hospital, we walked past the city’s crime scene van. It was parked blocking the slow lane of traffic.

I’m not so sure about this neighborhood, said Mr. Wilde.

I lived in the city for years, I reminded them. You’re best coming here in the morning. Criminals were still asleep then.

The Hospice is run by a religious order. They wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t safe, said Angela.

I wasn’t so sure about that. They called themselves religious, or partakers of the sacrament, but that didn’t mean that they cared for safety. The CSI van loomed too close to the Hospice entrance for me to be at ease.

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Chapter 2

I spent Monday morning at my office. Angela had agreed to let me watch Grandma Wilde in the afternoon. Her parents had to be somewhere by noon, so I was supposed to be there by then, but I felt that Grandma would be fine for a few minutes alone if I were late.

After I arrived at work, I had a chance to think about the Hospice for the first time. I couldn’t