Messy (A short story)

For Mom.

Messy, messy, messy.

She couldn’t be sure exactly who claimed to have cleaned the room last, but it certainly wasn’t done right. One of the new girls, probably. Little high school brats who cared more about spending their paycheck than doing a good enough job to earn it. Julie sniffed at the thought. In the twenty-two years she’d worked there, she had trained, worked, and dismissed countless girls like that. She had gained a reputation around Angel’s Village for getting the job done right and not accepting anything less of her crew. Julie was primed and waiting to become queen of the cleaning crew when Angela retired. She was crushed and furious when the time came and one of the directors appointed his niece to her place.

Julie sniffed again. The little bitch who had never so much as held a dust rag between her manicured fingers became head of housekeeping, while Julie, who had devoted her life to mopping up pureed peas and scrubbing stains from toilet bowls, received a photo-copied “certificate of appreciation” instead. She sneered at the thought. “Appreciation” would have been giving her what was hers, what had been promised her, and what she had worked for for so long. If she were to lose out, they could have at least given the position to someone worthy of the job. Someone with enough brains not to mix bleach with ammonia, for example.

She sighed and hobbled towards the hallway. There was no sense in wasting time stewing over that which could not be helped. Besides, the way her body ached today, she couldn’t be too far from retirement. She and Ed could take the RV across the country, just like he’d been talking about for years. Maybe they’d make it all the way to the Pacific Ocean, and she could soak her swollen joints in that clean, blue water.

Clean.

Julie realized that in her reverie she’d stopped moving. She shuffled forward the last few steps to the hallway, resting her hand on the door frame to brace herself. Lately she found herself doing this more and more frequently – getting so lost in thought that she stopped doing anything else. She have to be more careful about that. It wouldn’t do to be fired before she could be retired.

She looked up and down the hallway in confusion. Who the hell had moved her cart? Julie felt her cheeks blush with anger as she spotted the bright utility wagon down at the other end of the hall. They were always doing this to her, moving her things and messing around. All she wanted was to get her work done and go home. She was tired of this place, tired of the young girls pushing her around and disrespecting her, tired of how melancholy the place made her feel. Just tired. She stopped a minute to catch her breath.

“Are you okay, Julia?”

Julie looked up toward the chipper voice. It was one of the other cleaning ladies, one of the better ones who knew what they were doing. Julie remembered that, but she couldn’t remember the woman’s name. This, also, had been happening frequently and was becoming quite an embarassment to her. She tried to sneak a glance at the woman’s name tag, but her eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. She gave up, mustering a smile as she replied, “Oh yes, thank you. My knees have just been giving me some trouble today.”

“All right, just let me know if you need anything. Have a good day, Julia.”

After the woman turned the corner, Julie continued hobbling up the hall. The distance to her cart seemed so far, and her knee hurt her something fierce, but she had just one more room to do and then she could go home. Home! She relished the thought. Ed would be there waiting for her, and the kids, and all her friends…it seemed like so long since she had seen any of them. She’d be glad to finally go home where she was loved and respected, away from all the mean people at Angel’s Village.

Mean, mean, mean. Messy, messy, messy.

She finally made it to her cart. Slipping a pair of gloves over her arthritic fingers, she took a rag and a familiar bottle of cleaning fluid and limped into the darkened room.

The stench of death assaulted Julie’s nostrils as her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light. The woman occupying the room – Rebecca was her name – had been sick for a long time and was on her way out of this world. Julie remembered playing cards with the woman when she’d first come to the Village years ago. Now her friend was a dying shell, hooked up with tubes and wires to “life saving” machines. But what sort of life was that?

The old woman’s eyes were closed, but Julie could see the feeble chest rising and falling ever so slightly. Her friend’s time had not yet come, and Julie said a silent prayer that she not be there when Rebecca passed to the next life. But this was her last room of the day, and when she left Ed could put his arms around her and comfort her when the time came. The thought renewed her waning energy.

Spray, spray, spray.

Wipe, wipe, wipe.

“Julie…” came a rasping breath behind her.

Julie stopped dusting and turned around to see two very pale blue eyes peering at her through the mess of machines. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush again. “I thought you were sleeping, or else I’d have said hi.”

“Julie,” the voice rasped again, “you know you aren’t supposed to be doing that. They yelled at you last time. Please, Julie, they’ll take you away again…”

The poor dear, Julie thought, her dementia must have set in. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I’m just gonna clean your room up so I can go home and then I won’t bother you anymore.”

“No, no…”

“JULIA!”

Julie turned toward the new voice. One of the nurse’s aides was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, while the cleaning lady came in and tried to take her bottle away. “What do you think you’re doing?” the aide asked.

Tears welled in the old lady’s eyes. “I just want to finish up,” Julie replied, her bottom lip starting to quiver. “I just want to finish and go home.”

The aide’s voice softened a bit as she escorted Julie out of the room. “But Julia, you are home.”