Page 56 of Changing Lanes

“I will do no such thing. Not until he releases this nice young lady.”

Dennis tightens his grip so hard I’m gasping just as my mom’s face contorts into a shared agony. The concern written there is blinding. That or my vision is being affected.

I blink a few times, not wanting to miss any scrap of her love but it’s no use. Spots swim in front of me like sharks circling chum.

It’s gotta be now.

I thrust my head forward then, grimacing when a healthy chunk of strands rips from my scalp. The sudden move does the job of catching Dennis off guard but it also slams my forehead directly into the wall as fragments of jagged clay bite into the skin just below my hairline.

Spinning on my heel, I catch both his hands in mine and pull down—hard. When he stumbles a bit, I shoot Cynthia a look and she hurries over to inject Dennis with the calming liquid while he’s still unbalanced.

“That’s right, Dennis. Nice and easy. Everything’s okay.”

Cynthia and I make eye contact over his head, breathing out identical sighs.

“Ms. Christensen, let’s get you to bed,” Naomi soothes, leading my mother away. She’s wearing a vacant expression once again.

Together, Cynthia and I shuffle Dennis to his room. After tucking him in, I rush out to check on the mess in the hall finding Naomi, hands on her hips, already taking stock of the damage.

How can a place that smells like a tropical paradise turn into an absolute nightmare so quickly? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to me.

She glances over at me, saying, “Rosie’s on her way. I’ll take care of this if you want to get cleaned up.” She eyes my forehead pointedly.

I raise my eyebrows in thanks but end up hissing on a wince as the pain comes crashing back to me all at once. Not only from the physical assault but the emotional battering, too, and by the time I reach the bathroom up front my entire body is trembling.

Alone in the bathroom, I suck in a lungful of air, facing myself in the mirror. Who I see looking back is foreign. Completely unrecognizable. An alien from a planet I never, ever wanted to know existed.

How long has it been since I’ve seen myself? The real me, not this disoriented version. One that has no idea what the fuck she’s even doing anymore.

Hair stringy and kinked from the air-dry from earlier, eyes wired but still thoroughly exhausted, skin ashy and now bleeding, split lip on the mend—I look a hot mess. Worse than a hot mess. A steaming pile of trash only the unluckiest of garbage men would take.

When did I become this? A strong case could be made for last year when my mother went to live in her first facility. Having that lifeline taken away did damage. Damage I don’t think I’ll ever come back from.

But even through the ache of missing my mom, I always had my brothers. The four of them helped fill the gigantic void our remaining parent left in her wake on her own journey for survival. I was still able to tread water in the shallows, navigating my way back toward dry land.

Without their support though, I’ve started to sink. Plummeting into the darkest chasm with no rescue crew in sight.

Splashing water on my face to clean the miscellaneous bits sticking to my skin—blood, clay, paint, and plaster—it all runs into the sink, swirling the drain in a continuous loop before disappearing altogether.

The first aid kit was just restocked making it easy to find the items I need; so I clean the wounds as best I can, then pat them dry with stiff paper towels.

Rosie will want to know exactly what happened after a staff member and resident made physical contact. Even though I’ve worked here for a while, I’ve never had an altercation with anyone. Aside from the weird crap Vernon keeps pulling anyway, but that’s small potatoes compared to what happened tonight.

Maybe I was naïve in thinking I’d never have a resident get physical during my shift but it doesn’t make the bitter pill any easier to swallow. Given how many people were in that hallway, me being the only injured party really is the best-case scenario.

Fixed up enough to face my superior, I take one last look in the mirror.

My eyes drop immediately.

She’s still there. The lost girl. The one scrambling for some sort of floatation device before she drowns entirely. She just has a shiny forehead now.

* * *

Rosie’s office is small and quaint. Photos of smiling elderly models line the walls as advertisement. Her desk has a large bouquet of fresh wildflowers and my nose stings from the overpowering fragrance. The early morning sunlight just beginning to filter through the curtains reaches her chair as she swivels back and forth. Her hands are steepled in front of her and her gaze is unreadable as we listen to Cynthia’s take on what happened.

“Paige’s actions saved multiple people from a dangerous situation. Had she not responded quickly and effectively, I fear other residents could’ve been harmed as well.”

As valuable as nurses are, residents are priceless. They’re the ones paying the bills to keep this place open. Their families are the ones ensuring the staff’s paychecks are signed every other week. Without them there would be no us.