Chapter 26
26
Elevator doors pinged open. Matt held his arm out, allowing an elderly woman he recognized as a regular visitor to exit first. Her husband was one of the patients on the long-term care unit. They seemed like a sweet couple.
His favorite couple, though, was the husband and wife who both battled dementia and stayed in a room together at the end of the hall. Every night the wife would say, “Well, it’s getting late. You reckon we should book a room for the night?” Like clockwork, her husband would return from inquiring at the nurses’ station and say, “Don’t worry. I got us all checked in.” Then they’d shuffle off arm in arm down to room 222.
With hands stuffed in his pockets, Matt sauntered past the nurses’ station, catching the unit secretary’s eye. “How’s my grandpa today?”
“Ornery as ever.”
He smiled. That’s what she always said. He feared the day she described his grandpa as docile. Buck would probably already have both feet in the grave the day she said that.
“Oh, hey.” Matt snapped his finger as if just remembering, even though it was all he’d been thinking about. “Maybe you can help me out with a situation. One of the dialysis nurses and I have been playing phone tag.” Kind of true. “About a, um, question.” Not quite as true. “Regarding my grandpa’s dialysis.” Not true at all. “Could you by chance find out if she’s working today?”
The phone rang and the clerk held up a finger so she could answer first.
Matt hadn’t seen Rachel since they’d eaten pizza and painted her living room walls three nights ago like a couple of good friends. He’d offered to help again the past two nights, since she mentioned wanting to redo the popcorn-style ceilings, but she brushed him off. Said she had other plans.
Which was fine. Good friends are certainly allowed to have other plans, even if those plans are vague, and the good friend sees no need to elaborate on said vague plans.
But it was kind of weird she hadn’t responded to any of his texts lately. The particularly hilarious meme he sent earlier this afternoon deserved an lol response at the very least.
The unit clerk finished her call and returned her attention to Matt. “If it’s Rachel you’re asking about, I can tell you right now that she’s not here. Buck already asked me to request her for his dialysis session this afternoon, but she called in. Sick, I guess.”
“Mono.” Nurse Ratched-slash-Wanda popped her head out from behind a computer. “Heard it’s going around bad on the fourth floor. At least that’s what the X-ray tech told our dietician the other day. If that’s the case, she won’t be back for a while. Took me a month to get over it when I had it in high school. Of course that was back in the Middle Ages. People probably bounce back quicker these days without all the bloodletting.”
“Nah,” another nurse carrying a pile of linens on her way past said. “When I ran down to grab a drink from the cafeteria earlier, I’m pretty sure I overheard one of the dialysis nurses at the salad bar say something about being short-staffed today because one of their nurses was having real bad neck pain. I just hope it’s not meningitis.”
Meningitis? That sounded worse than the mono. Matt dug out his phone. “Has anyone checked on her?”
“She’s okay.” One of the techs, a young woman with pink-streaked hair and a tattoo sleeve on her right arm took the linens from the nurse. “She probably just got a little roughed up is all.”
“What?” Matt whipped to face the tech, knocking a pen holder off the counter with his elbow. He scrambled to pick up the scattered pens.
“Yeah, one of the night shift phlebotomists who’s good friends with the dialysis unit manager’s daughter knows the guy who used to date Rachel’s sister and works at that bar up in Rock Island.”
Matt was going to need a corkboard with pictures and strings like they used on old detective shows to keep following this conversation. “Wait, are you talking about Ace?”
As he recalled, Rachel had never been impressed with any of her sister’s boyfriends, but she seemed to especially detest Ace. Or rather, Stupid Face Ace, as she liked to call him.
The tech nodded. “That’s the one. Guess he showed up out of the blue in Florida, begging Rachel’s sister to take him back. She did. Then of course he started sweet-talking her for money. Before Rachel knew it, her sister somehow dipped into her account too. Ace pretty much wiped them both out, then hit the road. That’s the whole reason Rachel moved back to this area. She’s been wanting to track him down. Heard she finally did a few nights ago.”
“What happened?” Matt was almost afraid to ask.
“Nothing happened,” Wanda said. “That’s one hundred percent gossip and all hearsay. Now stop spreading rumors and get back to work.”
The tech offered a shrug on her way past Matt. “Just saying what I heard, that’s all.”
“I still vote it’s meningitis,” the other nurse muttered, heading the opposite direction.
“Well, I’m telling you it’s mono,” Wanda said from behind her computer. “Heard it straight from the on-call chaplain that the kissing disease was wreaking havoc once again. But whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll bounce back. Nothing to worry about.”
Too late for that. Matt shot Rachel a text. Hey, sort of worried you’re dead again. Can you please respond with proof of life before I knock your door off its hinges?
A cafeteria worker pushing a dining cart rumbled past. Matt took that as his cue to go find his grandpa. He’d been making it a habit lately to visit him around suppertime in hopes of encouraging him to do more than just push food around on his plate.
“What’s got you down in the dumps?” his grandpa asked a few minutes later in between bites.
“I’m not down in the dumps.”
“You’re definitely down in the dumps,” Shorty said from the other side of the curtain. “Could hear it the moment your feet hit the tiles.”
Matt’s grandpa lifted his fork in a “there you have it” motion.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Matt shrugged and opened his grandpa’s milk carton for him. “I’m totally fine.”
“Oh boy,” his grandpa said, dropping his fork on the plate.
“Three ‘fines’ in three seconds.” Shorty clucked his tongue. “It’s worse than I thought.”
“What happened? The animal shelter go belly-up or something?” This from his grandpa.
“Nah. Sounds worse than that,” Shorty responded. “His woman must have gone belly-up.”
“Nobody’s gone belly-up.” He hoped. “I told you, I’m—”
“Fine,” all three of them said at the same time.
Matt squeezed the brim of his ball cap. “You guys are impossible.”
“Better than being fine,” his grandpa said with a wink. He picked up his fork again and dug into his food. “This doesn’t have anything to do with a certain dialysis nurse not showing up for work today, does it? Because that’s certainly not fine.”
“Oh-oh,” Shorty said. “I think you might be onto something there, Buck-o.”
“Notice he’s not protesting,” Buck said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
“If I did, you’d only accuse me of protesting too much.”
Buck shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”
Matt stood. “Well, you two look like you have everything under control here.”
“Always do,” Shorty said.
Matt kissed his grandpa on the top of the head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Same bat-time,” Shorty said.
“Same bat-channel,” his grandpa finished.
Matt could hear his grandpa holler after him from halfway down the hallway. “And go check on our girl, will you?”
As if Matt needed to be told. He took the stairs, too impatient to wait for an elevator. Roughed up? Kissing disease? Meningitis?
He needed answers. Because right now it felt like his good friend was keeping a whole lot of secrets from him.
A text message pinged just as he hit the parking lot.
I’m alive. Don’t bust down any doors. Not up for company. Talk to you later.
So much for getting any answers tonight.