Angel's Revenge

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The VA hospital in Newark smelled of sanitized pain. Amputees and invalids lined the linoleum halls.

Nurse Shirley had been working there for fifteen years and it pained her to see how her government treated the men who risked their lives. The government tossed them into half-rate medical facilities with inadequate health care coverage and left them to rot. Yet every year they held mock memorials for so-called Veterans Day. It reminded her that everyone was expendable.

The only reason she remained at the job was to try to bring her own sense of comfort to the people under her care. She had seen many die, but she had also helped many survive, physically as well as mentally. Her current priority was an old Vietnam vet. He needed dialysis three times a week for his deteriorating liver, an organ destroyed by many years of cheap liquor and poor diet.

He was a homeless man who usually ranted and raved about the war he had yet to win, a war he said he would die fighting. Nurse Shirley knew death was upon him and went to see him daily, hoping to ease his sufferings.

She entered his room with a pitcher of cold water to find him lying in his bed with his eyes closed. She didn’t try to wake him. Shirley studied his wrinkled face and furrowed brow. Even when he was asleep, he was deep in thought. His lips were usually pursed or turned down in a frown, but when he smiled, she tingled inside. Despite his unkempt appearance, his smile told her that he had been a fine man in his day. Until, like so many others, he was destroyed by the war.

Shirley put the pitcher down on his bedside table. She jumped a little when she felt his cold, clammy touch on her wrist.

“Did you make the call?” he rasped.

“I thought you were asleep,” she said, catching her breath.

“You know what they say? Every closed eye ain’t asleep,” he told her before breaking into a coughing fit.

She helped prop him up in the bed and poured him a cup of water.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully.

“My pleasure.” She smiled.

“Now… did you make that call, Ms. Shirley?” he inquired again after taking a deep drink from the cup.

“No,” she admitted with regret. “This place has been a madhouse. Two of my nurses called in sick and I…”

He held up a big yet feeble hand. “No need to explain, Ms. Shirley. You’ve been so good to this old man, I hate to press you, but… I know I ain’t got much time and the time I had, I wasted. But you see… I got some makin’ right to do with my Lord, and the people I keeps in my heart.”

She gazed into his brown eyes and smiled warmly.

“I promise. After my rounds, I’ll make the call.”

“Thank you, Ms. Shirley,” he replied and flashed a smile that would tickle any woman’s fancy.

“You are a mess, Mr. Man,” she said rubbing his thin, fragile thigh before leaving the room.

As she had promised, she sat down at her desk with the phone book after her rounds were completed. She flipped to the white pages in search of M, until she found Murphy, then fingered the rows of names until she reached D. Shirley dialed the number but got the answering machine.

“This is Delores Murphy. I’m not here right now, but please leave your message… BEEP!”

“Ms. Murphy, this is Shirley Green at the VA hospital. Please call me as soon as you can at 555-9… 3… 2… 6. I’m calling about one of my patients who believes you’re his wife. His name is Bernard James. It really is… urgent.”

Shirley hung up, happy to have done a good deed, but not knowing the Pandora’s box she had just opened.