Honeymoon

Chapter 27

HEAD NURSE EMILY BARROWS was having one of those days. No big surprise. The computer system was down, her back was just killing her, the copy machine was out of toner, she had a splitting headache, someone on the night shift had spilled coffee on the medication log.

And it wasn’t even noon yet.

Plus, for what seemed like the hundredth time—and may actually have been just that—she was breaking in a new nurse. This one was the type who smiled too much. Her name was Patsy, which unto itself was a little too happy sounding.

The two women were sitting at the nurses’ station that anchored the eighth floor. One of the elevators, which were located right in front of them, opened. Emily looked up from the java-stained page of the medication log. A familiar face walked toward her.

“Hello, Emily.”

“Hello, Nora. How are you?”

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s doing fine.”

She and Nora basically had the same brief exchange every month, and it always ended the same way. Nora’s mother was always the same.

Emily glanced over at Patsy. The new nurse—smiling insipidly—was watching and listening to the conversation.

“Patsy, this is Nora Sinclair,” said Emily. “Her mother is Olivia in eight-oh-nine.”

“Oh,” said Patsy with a slight hesitation. A rookie mistake.

Nora nodded. “Nice to meet you, Patsy.” She wished the new nurse good luck before starting down the long hallway.

Meanwhile, Patsy’s voice dropped to a solicitous whisper. “Olivia Sinclair… she’s the one who shot and killed her husband, right?”

Emily’s whisper in reply was more matter-of-fact. “So a jury said. Long time ago.”

“You don’t think she did it?”

“Oh, she did it.”

“I don’t understand. How did she end up here?”

Emily peered down the hall. She wanted to make sure Nora was definitely out of earshot.

“From what I’ve been told—and keep in mind, this goes back a long way—Olivia was fine during the first years of her life sentence. A model prisoner. But then she just went bonkers.”

“How so?”

“She basically lost touch with reality. Started to talk in a made-up language. Would only eat foods beginning with the letter b.”

“The letter b?”

“It could’ve been worse. She could’ve chosen x, or something. At least with b she had bread, butter, bananas….”

Patsy chimed in like a quiz-show contestant. “Bundt cake?”

Emily blinked a few times. “Uh… I suppose. Anyway, then Olivia tried to kill herself. In the wake of that, they shipped her here.” She thought for a second. “Or maybe it was the suicide attempt that happened first, and then the crazy behavior. Whatever—all I know is that twenty years later, Olivia Sinclair doesn’t even know her own name.”

“Wow, that’s so sad,” said Patsy, who, to Emily’s amazement, could register concern without ever losing her smile. “What do you think happened to her?”

“No idea. It’s like a mix of autism and Alzheimer’s. She can still talk a little, do things on her own. Except none of it makes much sense. For example, you see the bag under Nora’s arm?”

Patsy shook her head no.

“Every month Nora brings her a novel to read. But then when I see her reading it, the book is always upside down.”

“Does Nora know this?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

Patsy sighed. “Well, it’s good that she can be there for her mother.”

“I’d agree, except for one thing,” said the head nurse. “Her mother doesn’t even recognize Nora.”