Irby

Ashton Irby 8825615-830-5685aeiwrites@gmail.com

The Homeless Patient

November 2008: Barack Obama elected 44th President of the United States

*

Cadence gave the end table one final swipe with the rag and stretched. That was the last thing

left to clean in this room. She double checked the two green chairs by the window, the wrinkle-

free bed, the fake plant on the table. Cadence cocked her head. One of the leaves looked skewed.

She tugged on the silky plastic until it straightened and laid pleasingly flat like the others.

It was a lot different adjusting fake leaves than arranging fresh flowers in a guest

bedroom at her parents’ B&B.

Cadence rubbed her back and rolled her feet so the burning sensations wouldn’t start until

after she had cleaned five rooms. At home, that was all she had to clean for the whole day. Here,

it felt like people were changing rooms every ten minutes. And every patient was a brand new

guest with brand new bedding and a brand new need. And ten Clorox wipes for each. Cadence

rolled her neck. It was enough to make her head spin.

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Cadence stacked the rag and spray back on the yellow cart behind her. She checked her

clipboard and put a check mark by room 300. Nine more rooms to go on this hallway. She hung

the list back on its hook and shoved the cart forward. The wheels had a rhythm over the floor

tiles that was almost soothing. Click-click-click-click–

Thud!

The plastic cart smacked the front of a metal gurney. Cadence jumped back, seeing a

gaunt man glaring at her out of a pale face.

“Who do you think you are, Danica Patrick? Why don’t you learn how to drive?” The

man curled his lips to display his teeth before collapsing back on the gurney. He looked up at the

transporter and Cadence ducked her head. “Do y’all not know how to hire competent staff? Or is

she just a bimbo?”

Cadence backed the cart up and angled it to the other side of the hallway.

“She’s my wife, sir, and she’s actually quite qualified. Just distracted today, apparently.”

Cadence glanced up at the transporter. Dawson! He was smiling at her, his badge turned

cockeyed on his scrubs as always. Cadence felt almost dizzy with relief. She mouthed a “thank

you” and hurried around them. Dawson’s voice droned on behind her. He could fix her mistake.

*

Cadence left room 309 and found Dawson trying to look busy in the hallway. He was

pacing, really, but most people wouldn’t be able to tell. He checked every gurney and wheelchair

on the hallway for proper maneuverability, he smiled and talked to every worker and visitor

passing through, but really he was counting the number of tiles between where he was standing

and where she was. He told her that a few days ago.

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She tried to keep her shoe squeaks as quiet as possible, but Dawson was waiting for her.

He stood up and spun around, nearly falling back onto the gurney he was just checking. Cadence

grabbed his arm and steadied him, trying not to laugh. “Did you need me for something? I see

you’re stalking the halls.”

Dawson grinned, but it faded. “That patient was pretty upset. You might want to go say

something.”

Cadence looked at her shoes. The tops were covered in creases. “Yeah. I’ll go do that.”

Dawson’s hand touched her shoulder, the metal band on his finger catching the light. “Is

everything alright?”

Cadence forced her cheeks to smile. “Yeah, of course!” Dawson didn’t smile to match

her.

She glanced at the blue uniform perched upon his shoulders. His nametag was still turned

sideways. “Except your nametag, as usual.” She reached up and flicked it counterclockwise until

it swung back to the middle.

Dawson glanced up and down the hallway and kissed her. “Thanks for keeping me

straight.” He winked and strode out of the corridor.

Cadence sighed. She guessed she was pretty lucky to have him.

Cadence crossed back to her cart and glanced over her checklist. All major needs had

been met. There was just that angry patient to apologize to. She took a deep breath.

The oak door looked dark from a distance. With every step, step, step that Cadence took,

the door got darker, too. Another deep breath.

She put up her hand and rapped on the door. One, two, three. “Sir, I’d like to apologize

for running into you earlier. May I come in?”

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“No!” The voice shot like arrows through the door. “Apology accepted. Just watch where

you’re going.”

Cadence rocked on her heels with her hand still on the doorknob. “Yes, sir. Again, I do

apologize.” Cadence bit her lip so the flesh stung. “Is there anything you need before I go?”

“Just leave me alone!”

Cadence spun slowly, her heel sliding on the laminate floor she cleaned once a day. More

than once a day, usually. She heard the man’s voice grumble through the door again. “Shoulda

gone to Vandy.”

Nurse Anne was staring at her from the nurses’ station. Should Cadence wave? She

didn’t think Nurse Anne would approve. Not that Nurse Anne approved of much of anything.

Cadence scurried back across the hallway. Great. Now not only had she ticked off a

patient so badly that he wanted to transfer hospitals, Cadence had no doubt that it would get back

to Nurse Anne and Nurse Anne would be ticked off. Then Nurse Anne would say something to

Cadence and Cadence might not be able to hold her tongue this time, and Dawson would find out

that she hated working in the hospital and he would think she regretted marrying him, and then

Cadence didn’t know what she would do.

Cadence really, really wanted to kick something.

One of those tables with the fake plants would do.

*

Dawson nodded and waved at the family crammed in the old Maxima. The man drove the

car forward through the roundabout. His wife reclined in the passenger seat, hands on her

stomach. The excitement of a new baby! The sunlight hit the hair of two small kids and grandma

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holding the baby carrier in the back seat. Dawson didn’t envy their ride home. Three kids were

definitely too much.

Dawson turned to the door. He checked his step and made sure he didn’t run into

anybody entering or exiting the building. “Aye, Dawson!” The valet waved him over. “What you

think about the Titans, man? They doin’ great, ain’t they?”

“Yessir! And in this crazy weather, too!”

Tony shook his head. “Don’t I know it, man!” He leaned over the black podium. “So

when are you and the Missus gonna start building up ya own football team?” Tony’s eye had a

glint to it.

Dawson readjusted his cap. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.” He

pictured Cadence with a round belly. She looked glow-y.

Tony laughed. “Seems like you wanna talk about it.”

Dawson smirked and turned to leave. “Take care of yourself, Tony!”

“You, too, man! You too.”

Dawson pushed a wheelchair back through the sliding doors. They looked like solid

plates of blue and green. Sometimes they even got a yellow hue. It looked like life, anyway.

Dawson thought that fit a hospital.

It was amazing how many people Dawson spoke to on his walk from the entrance to

General Medical. That was how a hospital should be: bustling and full of life. For every bad

diagnosis, Dawson wanted to give ten smiles. For every death, three how are you?s. For every

Subway sandwich, a Dairy Queen blizzard. Well, those were more taken than given, but still. It

was the only Dairy Queen for miles!

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Maybe he could get Cadence one before they went home. He’d surprise her; that always

seemed to make her day. Let’s see, her favorite was mint chocolate oreo. No, that was his

favorite. She liked the peanut butter cookie dough one. But it was November, so they probably

had a pie flavored blizzard, and Cadence did love pie. Maybe he’d just see what was available

when he got there. Dawson was sure he had enough money for a small, and then he could sneak

a bite of hers before she saw it. Yeah, that was a good plan.

Dawson pushed the stainless steel button for the elevator and waited for the doors to

open. He nodded to the dietician headed downstairs with food for… well, based on the giant

pitcher of ice chips, either someone in surgery or a new mother. Dawson hoped for the new

mother. That was much more pleasant.

Cadence would make a great mom one day. Dawson melted at the image of her with a

baby on her hip. Then he froze. He could barely afford to get Cadence a pick-me-up ice cream,

let alone feed a whole other person. And with this economy… Dawson felt sick to his stomach

just thinking about it.

Ok, so maybe no ice cream so Cadence wouldn’t like him too much and they wouldn’t

end up with a baby.

The elevator door opened, and Dawson crammed in with the dietician and a patient and

the wheelchair in his hands.

But did Cadence deserve to suffer, on a day when she felt as down as this, just because

Dawson wasn’t ready to be a father? And a Blizzard sure sounded good. Dawson pushed his

shoulders back and stood up straight. No, they would have ice cream tonight!

The dietician looked at Dawson through the sides of his eyes. Dawson smiled back, but

not before slumping his shoulders just a little. The dietician rolled his eyes.

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That dietician must not have a wife.

*

Cadence stopped by the supply closet to swap out fresh towels and replenish her bleach.

Cadence took a deep breath before twisting open the spray bottle. No matter how many times she

did this, the chemical smell always made her feel sick. She missed the lemon-scented Pledge and

lavender Comet from home. Those smelled comforting, so long as she didn’t get the dust and dirt

up her nose first.

Steps and the clack of cart wheels sounded behind her. “Hello, Cadence!”

Cadence turned. Vanessa stopped, her face lit up in a big smile as always. Cadence didn’t

know how she did it, working in the ICU and all. Maybe the pay raise for translating made the

difference. “Hi, Vanessa! How are things in ICU?”

Vanessa waved her hand at Cadence. “Good, good! But I have something to tell you!”

Cadence set down the bottle. Happy as Vanessa always was, she wasn’t usually this

excited. “What is it?”

Vanessa waved her hands as she spoke. “Have you met Mr. Charles Williams II yet?”

Cadence cringed. “Yes, unfortunately. I ran into his gurney with my cart.”

Vanessa’s face contorted. “Ay, and I bet he said all sorts of ugly things when you did.”

Vanessa waved the comment away. “No worries, that’s just him. Or so we thought!” Vanessa

punched the air with her finger. “Do you remember that drug addict that came in here a month

ago?”

“The one that bit the Anesthesiologist?” Stories like that stayed in the hospital gossip for

weeks.

“Yes, that one! Well he is the one who brought in Mr. Williams!”

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“They didn’t get a restraining order on him?” Cadence shook her head. Taking care of

people sure got complicated sometimes.

Vanessa’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know. But anyway!” She punched the air

again. “The drug addict told everyone in ICU that this man, Mr. Charles Williams II, was the

reason that he came and got help. He even said”–another punch for emphasis–“that Mr. Williams

not only took him to the hospital, but Mr. Williams paid for the treatment, as well. So how do

you figure that?” Vanessa shook her finger. “A homeless man takes another homeless man to the

hospital and pays for his care. Now this first homeless man is himself a patient. So who’s paying

for the first homeless man?” Vanessa crossed her arms. “You tell me that!”

“That is a mystery.” Cadence grabbed a stack of rags and put the bleach back on the

shelf. She turned back to Vanessa. “Why wouldn’t he just let the addict come in on charity care?

And now that the homeless man is here, is he on charity care?”

“That’s the thing!” Vanessa practically threw herself across her cart. “He’s refusing

charity care! But when they ask for insurance, he won’t give them a card. Cadence”–Vanessa’

eyes got real big–“he has no identification. But this drug addict, he says the man is rich.”

Vanessa stood back. “It is the mystery of the month for me!”

Cadence laughed. “So you’re believing homeless drug addicts now, are you?” Vanessa

opened her mouth, then popped it shut. “The people in charge of getting paid are gonna have a

lot of fun with that one.”

Vanessa nodded. “Yes, but I want to find the story out first!”

Cadence laughed and pushed her cart forward. “Good luck with that!”

*

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Cadence smiled even though her body felt heavy. Mrs. Smith looked so content propped

up on the pillows. She didn’t even look at the knitting in her hands as the yarn flew across the

needles. She was too busy sighing every time Eric Braeden came on screen from The Young and

the Restless. “How are Victor and Nikki doing?”

“Oh, terrible as always.” Mrs. Smith’s eyes stayed glued to the TV. Victor wasn’t in this

scene, but she refused to miss even a moment of seeing him. “He really ought to move to

Nashville. He’d be much happier with me than that old witch, I assure you!”

Cadence bit her lip and scrubbed the dust off the table with a little extra force to keep

from laughing. Mrs. Smith also thought Melody Thomas Scott was one of the most beautiful

women in the world. She often suggested that Cadence style her hair like Melody’s from the

seventies. Apparently, nothing would catch Dawson’s eye more than big, bouncing waves. Not

that Cadence needed help catching Dawson’s eye. He’d been staring at her a lot more often than

normal lately. She just wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing.

The music “bum-bum-bum”-ed and the screen faded to black. Mrs. Smith’s fingers

slowed from whipping yarn around and between the needles. She sighed and smiled at Cadence.

“I do love seeing my boyfriend every day.”

“I’m sure!” Cadence quickly swiped the rag across the TV’s face so no dust would

obstruct Mrs. Smith’s view of her boyfriends. “How is the food treating you?”

“Oh, Cadence!” Mrs. Smith clasped her hands to the frills of her nightgown. “I wish I

could take those cooks home with me! I could eat that chicken every single day! And the smell

belies what lovely flavors are beneath!” Cadence ran a duster over the window blinds and

adjusted them back to open. “I don’t know what I shall do without my daily Jell-o cup, either!

It’s always a mystery what kind they will bring me.”

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“Perhaps I can get you the recipe.” Cadence smiled as Mrs. Smith continued listing food

on her fingers. She knew Mrs. Smith was on a simple diet. Her hip may have been the problem,

but neither did the doctors want to overwhelm her with sodium-filled seasonings. So, plain

chicken it was. And a whole lot of ketchup.

Cadence had finished her rounds for the hour so she lingered by Mrs. Smith’s bed. In a

week, Mrs. Smith would be recovered enough to go back home. Cadence had heard the Smith

children whispering about assisted living in the hallway, but she hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

Maybe it would be good for her, though. Mrs. Smith sure liked talking to people.

Nurse Anne rushed in the door, nearly running into Cadence’s cleaning cart. It wasn’t her

fault this time! “Cadence, you’re needed. Room 300. It’s an emergency.”

Anne’s face nearly looked sympathetic. That was never a good sign. “I’m on my way.

Goodbye, Mrs. Smith!” Cadence waved, but Mrs. Smith was staring at her knitting now.

“Goodbye, dear!” Mrs. Smith didn’t even look up.

Cadence pushed her cart across the hall. The smell of what she was being called to clean

hit her and nearly made her gag. Apparently the green beans smelled worse when they were half

digested.

*

Dawson’s heels squeaked on the floor. The sound echoed down the hallway. It was

surprisingly quiet around the corner from the cafeteria. Other workers stared at their clipboards

and charts. They were gonna run into something if they weren’t careful.

The Blizzard was freezing Dawson’s hand. He swiped the chocolaty goodness before it

could hit the ground. Mmmm, and just enough peanut butter! Cadence should like it. Dawson

hoped, anyway. It seemed like the most he could get these days was a lift of the corners of her

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mouth. Certainly not one of her full-on, bust-out-the-sunglasses smiles. Lately she’d been

looking like a bunny. A sad, sad bunny. Who needed a carrot.

Their kids might like a bunny.

Dawson took another swipe of ice cream. Ooo, cookie dough. He enjoyed this indulging

a little.

He could build the bunny a little pen. A two-by-four and some chicken wire and he could

knock it out in one morning. The bunny might like a sibling, too. Maybe each kid would like a

bunny.

They could have a little kid/bunny farm!

Two kids, two bunnies, two parents… This could work!

Dawson slowed by the massive picture windows. He turned towards the park across the

street. They could bring the bunnies to the park. Well, maybe not. Those big golden retrievers

might eat them. Definitely the German Shepherds.

A drop of ice cream hit his hand. Crud, now his hand would be sticky. He licked it. Still

tasted good.

Dawson picked up speed. He needed to get this ice cream to Cadence before it was all

gone.

*

Dawson saw Cadence hunched over her cart. She was twiddling her pen. In high school,

it was never good when she twiddled her pen. She usually slammed it on the desk ten minutes

later and covered her face with her arms. She never did like science.

“Cadence!” Dawson waved the cup of ice cream at her. The long red spoon looked funny

poking out of the top of the cup.

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Cadence brushed her hair back out of her face and rubbed her eyes. Good news! No

slammed pens today. Dawson pushed the cup into her hands. “I tested it. No poison!”

The corners of Cadence’s mouth lifted. Dawson caught his breath. She scooped a small

bite and put it in her mouth. “You got my favorite.”

Dang it, Dawson still didn’t need sunglasses. He was running out of tricks up his sleeve.

“I tried!”

Cadence buried her head in his shoulder. Dawson couldn’t see the ice cream. He was

afraid it would get on their uniforms. Then she’d be all miserable having to scrub their clothes

when they got home…

Dawson put his arm around her. She was really warm. Her hair stuck to his chin. “Is

something wrong?”

Cadence looked up and tried to grin. “No, of course not. How could there be when my

husband brings me ice cream?”

Dawson tugged her forward. Maybe she’d feel better when she got to put her feet up on

the couch. He leaned toward her ear. “I checked the account first. We had enough money.”

Cadence nodded against his arm. “I trust you.”

One of the new nurses passed them in the hallway. Dawson nodded. Cadence looked the

other way.

It seemed like Dawson needed a lot more than ice cream to get a bunny pen.

*

Cadence looked at her clipboard and smiled. She could let her mind wander for a few

seconds. Dawson was just so sweet, bringing her ice cream yesterday. Of course, she knew it was

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largely because he wanted some ice cream, but the gesture was sweet nonetheless. They could

finally afford a reason-less Blizzard, and that was enough for her.

Mrs. Smith’s room was dark and silent today. When Cadence had asked to enter, she

heard only a resigned “yes” breathe through the cracks in the door. The TV was a dead black, the

blinds were snapped shut, and even the lamp by Mrs. Smith’s head seemed to waver its light. Her

knitting sat in a heap on the movable tray and her wrinkled fingers perched quietly on the bed’s

blanket. She didn’t blink.

“Mrs. Smith, is everything alright?” Cadence left her cart by the door and took a step

towards the bed.

Mrs. Smith’s head slowly swiveled to Cadence. Her eyes looked like the blue glass of the

hospital exterior. Her eyelids drooped and never closed. “My children want to sell my house.”

“Oh, Mrs. Smith!”

The petite elder lady stared at the doorframe. “Their own childhood home! The place

where their father and I spent the whole of our marriage, where we raised them and taught them

ABC’s! Where his picture hangs above the fireplace and his memory sits in every corner! They

can’t take him from me, Cadence, they just can’t!”

Mrs. Smith’s eyes wrinkled shut and tears poured down her face. Her hands fluttered

between her face, her knitting, and Cadence. Cadence rushed to crouch beside her, the hard

plastic of the bed frame digging into her knees. “Mrs. Smith, I’m so sorry!”

Mrs. Smith nodded her head and waved her hand towards Cadence. The wrinkled hand

trembled when Cadence caught it and tried to press some warmth back into the emptiness.

Cadence started praying. Lord, help this poor woman!

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“They say I’ll like the assisted living place they found me. Apparently local school

children frequently come by and sing.” Mrs. Smith sniffed. Cadence passed her a tissue from the

box on the table. “And there’s a nice bright dining room with a plantation-style staircase in the

entryway. And apparently there are lots of events to get the residents together.” Mrs. Smith’s

chest heaved. “Oh, doesn’t the word ‘residents’ just sound awful? So… condescending! Like

they know we don’t want to be there so they’re trying to be nice to us so they can get our

money!” Mrs. Smith smacked the bed. She crumbled back on the pillow like all her strength was

gone. “Oh, Cadence, I just miss him so much!”

Cadence gently squeezed Mrs. Smith’s hand. “You miss your husband?” Mrs. Smith

nodded. “I can’t even begin to imagine.” Cadence looked at the loops of yarn on the tray as

though they would give her something to say.

Mrs. Smith reached over with her other hand and pressed Cadence’s. They felt soft and

frail, like being surrounded by baby bunnies or chicks. “I pray you never lose your Dawson like I

lost my James. And that your children never have to make this kind of decision. To put you out

of your own house because they can’t take care of you.” Cadence bowed her head over their

stack of hands. Her chest felt tight. Surely there was something they could do.

Cadence pressed her lips together. “Is there any way to keep the house? I mean in this

economy, you might get more money renting it than trying to sell.”

Mrs. Smith tilted her head and trained her eyes on her knitting pile. “Yes, I suppose I

could speak to them about that. I’m not helpless yet! And they can’t sell without my permission.

Right?” Mrs. Smith turned her eyes to Cadence, the glassiness starting to fade.

“I wouldn’t think so!” Cadence shifted so her thighs would stop burning from squatting

by the bed.

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“But I still wouldn’t get to live with James’ memory anymore.” Mrs. Smith’s face

contorted.

“I’m sure the place will let you hang his picture in your room! And you could keep all of

the things that remind you of him close to you!” Mrs. Smith’s face relaxed and she tentatively

brushed her fingers across her knitting. Cadence took a deep breath and hoped what she was

about to say wasn’t blasphemy. “I am sure, based on all the stories you’ve told me these past few

weeks, that your husband would never, ever leave you.”

“Oh, no!” Mrs. Smith brought her hand to her chest. “He was positively taken with me!

He always said he would never leave my side, even if he died.”

Cadence smiled and Mrs. Smith looked surprised. “So see? He’ll still be with you in the

new place! In fact, I believe that means he’s still with you here.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Smith’s eyes grew big and looked at the TV. “You don’t think he’d think I

was serious about all of my TV boyfriends, do you?” Mrs. Smith looked around the room and

cupped her hand around her mouth. “Don’t worry, dear, they are nothing compared to you!”

Cadence laughed. “I’m sure he understands. And if he didn’t, Jesus would, and I’m sure

He’d let Mr. Smith know you were kidding.”

Mrs. Smith settled back on her bed. “Yes, you are quite right!” She took her hand back

from Cadence and reached for her knitting. “Now, dear, would you mind passing me the remote?

I don’t want to miss today’s soaps!”

*

Dawson sat across from Cadence. The cafeteria table overlooked the tree-filled lobby

below. Sunlight poked through the tinted skylight overhead. It landed on Cadence’s hair just

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right, but it made the circles under her eyes more noticeable. Was she pregnant? “Are you

alright? You look a little tired.”

Cadence nodded, but she hesitated. That couldn’t be good.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

This time Cadence chuckled. “Yes, I’m fine.” She looked away at the trees. “Mrs. Smith

is being sent to assisted living and her children want to sell the house.”

“Good luck in this economy.” Dawson took a bite of his sandwich. The shredded lettuce

clung together in tough little strands. He looked back up. Cadence had pursed her lips. Oh, that

might not have been the best thing to say. “Sorry!” But the ham muffled his words so it came out

more like saw-wee.

“I asked her if she could rent the house instead. Surely she could get more money that

way than trying to sell.”

Dawson nodded and made sure the mayonnaise didn’t drip. “Sounds right to me!”

Cadence kept staring at one of the leafy fake trees. Dawson grabbed a potato chip and

popped it in his mouth. “Whatcha thinkin?”

Cadence pursed her beautiful lips and then parted them. “What if we rented her house?”

Crunch. That sure was a salty potato chip. Dawson took a swig of Dr. Pepper to stop the

dryness. “Because that costs money?”

Cadence rolled her eyes and finally looked at him. “Obviously. But we’re paying for that

apartment already, and this would be closer to our families.” Cadence chewed her lip. “We

wouldn’t have to fight over the sink every morning.”

Dawson stuck out his lip. “But I like squeezing past you.”

Cadence took a swig of her Coke. “As if that’s gonna change.”

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Dawson grinned and chomped on another potato chip.

A strand of hair fell towards Cadence’s face and she brushed it back. So she wasn’t

pregnant. Or she was and wasn’t telling. Is that why she wanted the bigger house?

“I know that they might not even rent the house, and it might be more than we can afford.

But would you consider it?” Cadence picked at her sandwich and stared at a pickle.

Dawson emptied his bag of chips. Mostly air. He had about three chips left. Three small

chips. Three small, not-super-filling chips.

Cadence was looking at him now. She took another sip of Coke.

Dawson smacked the bag flat. “Ok, fine! We’ll think about it.”

Cadence nearly jumped out of her chair and squealed. It screeched. The doctors in white

coats and financial officers in suits turned to stare. Cadence realized the attention and ducked her

head. She rearranged the napkins and wrappings in front of her.

The skylight had nothing on Cadence’s face after that.

*

“What do you mean, charity care? I don’t need charity care! I can pay my own way,

thank you very much!”

Cadence wanted to cover her ears from the obscenities streaming out of Room 300. She

maneuvered her cart down the hallway and glanced at the drama from a safe distance. Mr.

Charles Williams II’s room was the only one she had left to clean on this wing. She grabbed her

pen, dangled it over her checklist, and looked at the room from the corners of her eyes.

Mr. Williams’ face had actually turned red in contrast to the pale green gown on his

shoulders. He was shaking his hands at two women, one in a suit coat and the other in leather

pumps. Billing and HR, Cadence guessed. Mr. Williams still had to pay his bill. But why

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wouldn’t he let the hospital cover it? He was homeless! Surely he was under the poverty

guidelines.

Unless what Vanessa said was right.

“Sir, do you have insurance?” The HR woman was trying to keep her voice smooth and

sweet, but her hands trembled as she clasped them together.

“Of course I have insurance! Why wouldn’t I have insurance?” Mr. Williams rolled his

eyes and let loose more words Cadence didn’t like.

“Mr. Williams, since you don’t have ID or an insurance card on you, is there someone we

can call to bring that information for you?” The billing lady tapped her pen on the clipboard.

After five clicks, the woman grimaced and tucked her hand in her coat pocket.

Mr. Williams’ eyes opened enough to see the pink-tinged whites. It was the first time

Cadence had seen him without a scowl. She could feel his nervous energy from here.

“Sir, we’re here to help you, but we’re also running a business. Can you please tell us

someone we could call? I see you have a ring on your hand; are you married?” The HR woman

kept shifting her weight between the leather pumps on her feet.

Mr. Williams’ head jerked. “No! I left her for a goshdarn good reason and I won’t call

her! And you won’t be calling her either!” Mr. Williams yanked on the edging of his blanket. “If

you have to call someone, call my business partner. He has all the information you need.”

“Cadence?”

Cadence jumped when Nurse Anne stepped in front of her view of Mr. Williams’ room.

“Yes ma’am?” Cadence gulped.

“Don’t you have a room you need to be cleaning?” Nurse Anne tapped her forefinger on

her crossed arms.

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“Yes ma’am.” Cadence grabbed the rag from her cart and turned to leave. She stopped.

Nurse Anne hadn’t moved. “Umm, it’s room 300. I was waiting for them to finish.”

Nurse Anne uncrossed her arms and walked to the nurses’ station. “Then why don’t you

make sure the waiting room is still in good order. It’ll keep you from eavesdropping on things

you don’t need to know.” Nurse Anne threw the last words over her shoulder. Her stupid gray-

streaked bun sneered at Cadence.

Cadence gave the cart a good shove and nearly tipped it over in a 175 degree turn. What

did it matter, anyway? It was just something else to clean.

*

Dawson stood at the door and waved at the young couple as they drove off. Their baby in

the backseat was cute. It had little dimples. The mama had knit a little hat that perched on the

baby’s head like a protective little bird. Dawson couldn’t believe how small the baby was! It

really was cute.

He really needed to stop thinking about babies.

“Hey, Dawson!” Tony waved him over. An older woman stood next to the valet. Her

back was straight and she wore a coat with fur at the collar. When Dawson got closer, he saw

black smudges around her eyes. So, that meant she’d been crying. That messed up her… what

did Cadence call it? Mascara? “Can you show this young lady to the General Medical floor? I’m

gone make sure her Jag stays safe.”

Tony’s eyes were huge. He pointed behind him so the lady couldn’t see. Sure enough, the

sleek black XJ hunched in the roundabout. Dawson raised an eyebrow at Tony. He better not

have too much fun parking that car. Tony grinned and winked. So much for that idea.

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“Yes ma’am! Come with me.” Dawson offered the lady his arm. She took it and stared at

the windows. Her red lipstick bled into the cracks of her skin. He could only see it up close, but

the lines were there.

“Who are you here to see today?” Dawson nodded at the other faces walking by.

The woman twisted a wedding ring but stared at the walls and ceiling. “An old friend.”

Her grip tightened on his arm. “Or enemy, depending on who you ask.”

Dawson chewed his lip. He punched the elevator button. Not much he could say to that.

*

Cadence scrubbed a spot of something that was stuck real good to Mr. Williams’ floor.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what on earth it had been before it dried. Cadence forced

herself up, ignoring the popping sound her knee made. The way her knee twisted was harder to

ignore. Maybe she could get a knee brace from Materials Management. Somebody could at least

tell her where to get a cheap one. Cadence straightened the stiff fabric of her pants.

“Darlene! What are you doing here?” Mr. Williams leaned against the bed frame, shaking

and looking ready to jump.

Cadence turned to the doorway. Dawson stood behind a woman who looked to be Old

Southern Aristocracy. Her nose was turned up a little too high, though. That was a threatened

Old Southern Aristocrat, no doubt. And her perfectly manicured claws were sure to come out any

second.

“I told them to call Ben! Why are you here? I don’t want you here!” Mr. Williams

scooted even closer to the bed rail and reverted to the grotesque language of yesterday. Cadence

didn’t know how much more she could take.

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“A good man out of the good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things: and an evil

man out of the evil treasure bringeth forth evil things. Matthew 12:35,” the lady named Darlene

said.

“You! You always condemn me!” Mr. Williams shook. Cadence grabbed the bed so it

didn’t tip over.

“You refuse to admit you have once been wrong. Jesus called out the Pharisees for their

piousness.” Darlene’s voice was like melting ice. She stayed in the door, a small Coach purse

clutched in her hands.

“Mercy! Did Jesus not give mercy?” Mr. Williams raised his arm and covered his face.

Darlene’s lip quivered and she stared at the wallpaper. Cadence glanced at Dawson. He

looked ready to run for security, but he stayed. Probably because she was trapped in here.

“Perhaps I have been too harsh.” Darlene’s nose titled higher. “But it was only because I

loved you.” Her eyes dropped to her feet. “I suppose I lost you anyways. So it was no matter.”

Mr. Williams stopped shaking and turned so his back rested on the bedrail. Cadence let

go of the bed and took a step back. Not that there was anywhere to go.

Darlene stared at Mr. Williams, her fingers rubbing her shining manicure. He didn’t

speak. She adjusted the fur at her neck. “Well, if you still have nothing to say to me, I’ll go pay

your hospital bill.”

Darlene took a step towards the door, her low heel clacking. She looked back. “Just know

that I tried, Charlie. It’s in your hands now.”

Dawson stepped back to let the Old Southern Aristocrat pass. Mr. Williams was shaking

again. Cadence grabbed his empty cup and filled it with water. She lifted it to his pale, cracked

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lips. He took a sip. When his eyes met hers, they seemed empty somehow. Cadence sat the cup

on the tray and turned to gather her things.

“And good riddance!” Mr. Williams’ voice cracked when he yelled it at the empty

doorway. Cadence saw a tear pool in his eye. She ran into the hallway.

*

Dawson chewed his lip. No, stop that! Cadence was always getting on to him about that.

It would ruin his teeth, apparently.

The waiting room was exactly thirty steps from end to end. Well, thirty steps from entry

to the chair at the back. Dawson did the best he could counting, but that chair was in the way.

That chair probably needed to be replaced soon. Dawson cocked his head and stared at it.

The white stitching showed through the blue pleather. There were cracks like a horseshoe on top.

A lot of backsides sat on that chair since they bought it. A lot of worried backsides.

Dawson swiveled. Nurse Anne was watching him from the Nurses’ Station. She touched

her pen to her lips and looked back at the paper in front of her. Three taps against her cheek. She

went back to writing.

Where was Cadence?

Dawson stepped to his right. One foot per square. Two squares per chair. Seven chairs,

turn to the right.

Cadence hadn’t looked at him when she left Mr. William’s room earlier. She ducked her

head and ran for the supply closet. A chunk of hair fell out of her–what was it called again?–

umm, ponytail. She didn’t fix it. She always fixed it.

Why didn’t Cadence fix her hair?

Turn to the right.

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She didn’t regret marrying him, did she? No, that couldn’t be it! Maybe it was mommy

hormones! Dawson had heard something about that.

The fluorescent lights left a white haze on the centers of the chairs. It was like a dusting

of snow. But inside.

Maybe it would be cool if it snowed inside. If the lights were really clouds and all those

pools of light were actually layers of snow.

Turn right.

Dawson had to find Cadence. This was driving him crazy!

He burst out the door and turned to the left.

*

Cadence sat in the floor of the supply closet. She was ruining her uniform that way. Oh

well, her shift was over. She had cleaned every room. She could wash her scrubs when she got

home. She would scrub her scrubs! Scrub off the dirt and dust that clung to the corners of the

rooms. Scrub off the bleach of the cleaning supplies. Scrub off the germs of sick patients. Scrub

off the feelings they brought out.

Mr. Williams didn’t really regret marrying Darlene, did he?

Cadence ran her hand through her hair. It caught on the pony holder and left a tangled

mess at her neck. She reached back and yanked on the ponytail. It stretched, trying to pull all the

hair off her head. Her scalp burned until the ponytail released, her hair flipping back to the other

side of her head. She slipped the band around her wrist and buried her hands in her hair. It fell

forward and covered her arms. She could disappear behind this hair.

She wanted to disappear behind this hair.

Knock, knock, knock! “Cadence! Are you in there?”

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Dawson’s voice was too loud and fast. He was worried about her. But did she really want

to open the door?

“Cadence?” There was a pounding and a sigh. Footsteps retreated from the door.

Dawson had given up on her. He regretted marrying her and now he was gone.

Cadence gripped her hair tighter til the burning started again. She couldn’t lose him.

“Dawson!” Cadence yanked the door open and reeled back.

He was still standing in front of the door. A doctor disappeared down the hallway where

she thought Dawson had gone. But Dawson’s always-twisted name badge was right in front of

her face, and he was blocking the doorway.

He held out his arms. She grabbed him tight.

*

Cadence rubbed her arms a couple times before walking towards the next cleaning job on

her list. Dawson’s hug yesterday made her feel so much better. He hadn’t asked her any

questions when they got home, thankfully. At least now she knew for sure she didn’t regret

marrying him!

Now if she could just convince her parents to let her take over the B&B. And tell Dawson

she didn’t want to work at the hospital anymore. And somehow do it without hurting

everybody’s feelings.

Yeah, great plan.

Cadence turned to room 300. Mr. Sunshine was up next. She felt her shoulders start to

slump. No! She would not let Charles Williams II, in all his self-righteous glory, ruin her good

mood! She had a sweet husband, and God loved her, and that was enough!

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Cadence heard the voice on the other side of the door grumbling away already. She rolled

her eyes. Jesus loved him, too. She knocked on the door and felt its strength. “Environmental

Services. I’m here to clean your room. May I come in?”

Cadence heard a “harrumph.” That was probably the only answer she’d get.

She opened the door slowly. “How are you today, Mr. Williams?” Just remember, God

loved her and God loved Charles Williams II and God loved Dawson and Dawson loved her, and

Dawson was the sweetest husband on the planet, which just proved–

“What are you so happy about?” Charles Williams II sneered at her from his bed. The

expression emphasized his gaunt face bones.

Cadence debated how honest she should be. “It’s my job to be happy.” She trained her

eyes on the lines where the floor tiles met and swept a broom across them. She let the swish-

swish-swish of bristles on laminate turn into a metronome. God loved her and God loved Dawson

and–

“Humph. Some job.”

–God loved Charles Williams II, too. Cadence straightened and smoothed her uniform.

What did she say to that? She couldn’t deny it.

“Well it pays the bills. In this economy I’m thankful to have a job at all.” Cadence bit her

lip and swept a little harder. That was mainly true…

Charles Williams II slammed the remote on the bed and cursed. He turned and pointed a

finger at her. Cadence’s heart jumped in her throat. “Tell me this, missy!” His eyes were trained

on hers and she felt her face turn red. “Why does my wife get all caught up on this ‘confessing

my sins’ idea?” Charles whipped his head towards the wall. “I spend all my life making sure her

life is comfortable. I move to the streets and make sure the homeless don’t die. And still she says

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it’s not enough!” Charles’ body shook. “I don’t see why God would be upset with what I’ve been

doing if he’s as loving as she says he is.”

Cadence slowed. She didn’t remember them covering this idea at church. What if

somebody really didn’t think they sinned? Cadence looked at the ceiling and hoped God could

hear her through the foamy tiles. She needed some help!

“Maybe what your wife was trying to say was that God wants humble hearts. That you

have to see what you can’t do before you can see what God can do.” Cadence watched the

bristles brush at the speckled floor and prayed she’d said the right thing.

“Well what exactly is God doing if all those people are living on the streets in December

and dying from drugs and untreated medical conditions? Other than send a bus around once a

week, those church people aren’t doing anything, neither!” Charles huffed. “Seems like I’m

doing more than God and those people who claim to love him are.”

Cadence felt her shoulders tensing and it wasn’t just the work of pushing the broom.

“Don’t blame God for His people’s shortcomings. And yes, you did good things for the

homeless. But do you ever wonder why your wife let you leave? Seems to me like you might not

be so innocent.” Cadence felt the blood rush to her head. Why on earth had she said that? Nurse

Anne would kill her!

Cadence glanced over at the bed. Charles’ face had gotten paler. He tried to glare at her,

but his eyes just turned glassy and his voice came out weakly. “Well what would you know?”

Cadence returned to her sweeping. “I apologize for overstepping my bounds. If you don’t

need anything, I’ll just finish cleaning this room.”

Charles didn’t respond, just kept his drooping lids glued to the TV with men in suits

talking about football.

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Swish-swish-swish.

*

Dawson was shocked when Cadence told him what she said while cleaning. His mouth

swung open. He tried to close it for ten seconds before he got his jaw to move. Cadence just kept

stacking supplies on the maintenance closet shelves. Her cheeks were tinged pink, though. She

was embarrassed.

Dawson didn’t know what to do. The smell of bleach didn’t help his brain cells get to

moving, either.

She had said that to Charles Williams II!

Dawson stared down the empty hallway. They couldn’t leave him like that. “Cadence,

we’ve got to go talk to him again! This is, like, a matter of eternal life and death!”

Cadence had raised her eyebrow at him. “Well, the man had a point about those

Christians who don’t do anything to help the poor but condemn the nonbelievers who do.”

Ouch.

Dawson nodded. “Then let’s make it up to him!”

They marched to room 300. He glanced at Cadence from the side of his eyes a couple

times, but she was always focused straight ahead.

Mr. Williams hadn’t seemed too happy to see them. He rolled his eyes and crossed his

arms.

He turned down the TV volume, though.

And then the conversation got interesting.

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Cadence asked Mr. Williams why he believed that God wasn’t on the streets with the

homeless too. Mr. Williams turned so pale he blended in with the sheets he was tucked under.

Cadence asked if Mr. Williams believed that God was only with the people who went to church.

Then Mr. Wiliams started talking about Demos’! Dawson scratched his head at that one.

He wondered if Mr. Williams was avoiding the question.

It seemed that Mr. Williams used to eat scraps at Demos’ whenever he could. He liked to

talk to the homeless who stayed within two blocks of Broadway. So Mr. Williams was standing

in front of Demos’ like usual when a tourist in a cream cowboy hat grabbed his arm. “Look! It’s

Jesus!”

At this point in the story, Mr. Williams started waving his arms. Apparently remembering

Jesus gave him his energy back. Dawson wondered if everyone had stories that woke them up

like this.

Mr. Williams’ voice kept raising. “The guy’s cowboy hat fell off his head, he was so

excited. Holy-rolling tourist. But the guy was right. Smack dab in the middle of the sidewalk,

trotting down Commerce Street. It was Jesus.”

Cadence wasn’t pressed against Dawson anymore. They both leaned forward to hear this

story.

“‘It’s not every day you see Christ walking the streets of Nashville,’ the guy says. Then

he pops his hat back on his head and leaves.” Mr. Williams shook his head. His eyes flicked

between the TV and his audience. “I’ve tried to forget that. But every time I close my eyes, I see

Jesus running down Commerce in a white robe with a Bible in the crook of his arm.”

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Mr. Williams turned and stared at them. “Did Jesus have grey-brown hair? It couldn’t

really have been Jesus. Maybe it was the diabetic whatcha-call-it. Yeah, just a hallucination.

Right?” His eyes were huge.

Dawson didn’t know what to tell the guy. Jesus walking Nashville sounded strange

indeed!

Cadence apparently knew what to say. She cocked her hip and started drawing an

explanation in the air. “Whether or not that was actually Jesus, I do believe that Jesus has His

Spirit and His angels on every street in the world, including Commerce.” Cadence wrung her

hands. “See, God loves everyone on this planet, and He takes care of them, too. It just might not

be how we expect. Like He sent you to take care of their healthcare. Whether you meant to or

not, you were doing His intended work. So maybe one of those people had somebody praying for

them, a mama, maybe, who wanted her baby to come home safe. And you helped that!”

Dawson could have hugged her right then. Cadence would make a great mom. No doubt!

But Mr. Williams wasn’t convinced yet. His arms were still crossed.

“Maybe. So if I’m doing this stuff for God, why does he still want me to apologize to

him?” Drat, Mr. Williams asked tough questions!

Cadence straightened. “Because your wife is still praying for you to come home, and

you’re still kicking her out of your life. She might not be coming after you, but you aren’t giving

her much reason to, either.” She shook her head. “Look, even good people make mistakes. And

the mistakes tend to be towards the people closest to us. And those people need to know that we

care and that we’re sorry.”

Mr. Williams looked at the window. They were covered by blinds. Dawson wondered if

he was imagining his wife at home missing him. Dawson wondered if Mr. Williams thought of

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kids living in their own homes. If those kids worried about their dad running away to live on the

streets. If they missed hearing from their dad when they called home. If they prayed for their dad

to find Jesus, too.

Dawson hoped he never made his kids feel like that. Wow, parenting was big.

Mr. Williams stared at them for a minute. “Come back tomorrow. I’ll consider what you

said. But I’m not making any promises about coming to Jesus.”

Cadence’s ponytail bobbed. Hair flew out the sides. “That sounds great!”

Dawson wondered what he had gotten them into.

*

Cadence was ready. The sun was out, Nurse Anne hadn’t gotten on to her all day, and her

Bible was waiting in her purse for when her shift ended. In fact, though she felt like the clock

ticked twice as slowly as usual, she finished cleaning the rooms in half the time. Cadence prayed

every time she took a breath. Yes, she felt ready!

Cadence knocked on Mr. Charles’ room, her fist bouncing off the wood door like rubber.

“Mr. Charles, it’s Cadence. I’ve returned for our chat as promised.” She leaned her ear to the

door.

“Come in.” Mr. Charles didn’t sound excited, but he actually responded! Cadence was

gonna take that as a good sign.

Mr. Charles had a piece of paper folded in his hand. He gripped it like a lifeline, but his

face looked serene. Cadence knew he must be feeling a billion emotions. She knew what that felt

like.

“I thought about what you said. I’m not sure I buy all of it, but you were right about one

thing. Darlene does get the brunt of my mistakes.” Mr. Charles looked like he just ate something

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bitter. “So please give this number to your husband and have him tell Darlene this message. I’d

like to talk with you until she gets here.” His eyes were large, and Cadence wondered if he feared

Darlene might not come. Her chest felt full.

“Yes, sir. I’ll stay.” She grabbed the paper from Mr. Charles and ran to the hallway.

“Dawson!”

Once she caught his attention and sent him to the nurses’ station with Mr. Charles’ note,

she walked straight to the chair by Mr. Charles’ bed and relaxed. “Now where would you like to

begin?”

Mr. Charles leaned back and faced her. His eyebrow was raised, but his mouth quirked up

in a smile. “So I really have to apologize for making mistakes?”

Cadence laughed. “Yes. Would you like me to find that in the Bible?”

Mr. Charles threw his head back. “You better, missy! I’m a lawyer; I need my evidence!”

Cadence smiled and threw her Bible open. This was definitely the best day at work ever!

*

Dawson threw his arm around Cadence when she came out of Mr. William’s room. She

was beaming. Beaming! He actually needed sunglasses today! Dawson sure wished he could

have gotten that smile from her instead of some crotchety old man, but he would take it.

Mr. Williams’ voice seemed smoother when it mixed with Darlene’s. Dawson liked their

voices following he and Cadence down the hallway. He looked down at the place where

Cadence’s shoulder fit against him. They were like one blobby blue person. Dawson liked that.

He hugged her close. They could make it, so long as they were together.

31