Chapter 6
The knock came at seven-fifteen. Not a soft knock. Three sharp raps that expected an answer.
I was already awake in the chair. I'd been awake since five, watching the light change on the headboard. She was still asleep on top of the covers, on her side, hands tucked under the pillow. She hadn't moved much. Her cap was crooked.
I heard keys in the hallway. That was wrong. I kept my door locked at night.
The door opened and Helen stepped in. House manager. Mid-fifties, clipboard, navy polo with the agency logo. She did morning inspections on Thursdays. It was Thursday. I had forgotten.
She stopped just inside the doorway. Her eyes went from me in the chair by the window to the bed.
"Mara," she said, not loud.
Mara jolted awake. She sat up fast, feet hitting the floor, smoothing her uniform with both hands. Her face went red.
"Mrs. Keene," she said. Her voice was rough from sleep. "I didn't hear—"
Helen didn't look at me. She looked at the bed. The white linens were creased where Mara had lain. The pillow still had the indent of her head on top of the folded hands. Next to it, the glass of water from last night was on the nightstand, empty now.
"Why are you sleeping in a client's bed?" Helen asked. Her tone stayed flat. Professional.
Mara stood. She straightened her cap. "I wasn't— I stayed late. He had his dose at two-thirty. I wanted to monitor. He'd been in pain earlier. Leaning over the bed. I didn't want to leave him alone and fall asleep in the chair."
It was a partial truth. It was the best kind of lie because most of it was true.
Helen made a note on her clipboard. "You are not authorized for overnight stays without prior approval. You know that. Sleeping on the job, on the client's bed, is a boundary violation."
"I know," Mara said. "It won't happen again."
Helen finally looked at me. "Mr. Reyes? Is that accurate?"
That was my cue. For a second I wanted to say nothing. Let Helen do what she would do. It would be easier if Mara was reassigned. Someone else, someone who kept proper distance, who didn't fall asleep on my pillow.
But then Helen would write it up. Mara needed this job. She'd told me the second day, when I asked why she took live-in work so young. Rent with her mom, little brother, agency paid better for overnights.
I wheeled myself to the nightstand. My old pill log was there, a cheap spiral notebook where I'd been scratching times and checkmarks. I flipped it open.
"She's right about the time," I said. My voice sounded hoarse. "Two thirty-four. One pill. Every six hours. She logged it. Look."
I held it out. Helen took it. She read the last entry: 2:34 AM - 1 pill, no food, pain 7/10, monitored.
Helen frowned. "You keep your own log?"
"I started keeping one when the prescription changed," I said. "It says one every six hours. You can't take it with food in your stomach. That's what she told me. Get out. It says one every six hours you haven't eaten. That's what she said last night. Word for word. She was right."
Mara glanced at me, surprised I remembered her exact words.
Helen closed the notebook. She tapped her pen against the clipboard.
"Mr. Reyes, did you feel unsafe at any point? Did she do anything inappropriate?"
"No," I said too quickly. Then slower. "No. She helped me. I was in pain. I leaned over the bed to take pressure off my back. She stayed."
Helen studied both of us for a long moment. The room was very quiet. The hallway air conditioning hummed.
"Here's what's going to happen," she said. "Mara, you'll get a written warning in your file. No more sleeping on shift, no more using client bedding. If you're drowsy you sit in the chair, you set an alarm, you call the on-call line. Understood?"
"Yes, Mrs. Keene."
"And from today, we do an official care log. Not a spiral notebook. Agency form. Every dose, time, food intake, pain score, initialed by both of you. It stays on the nightstand. I will check it when I come. If I see gaps, we have another conversation."
She handed me the notebook back. Then she pulled a printed form from her clipboard and set it on the nightstand next to the water glass. MEDICATION AND CARE LOG in block letters.
"Mr. Reyes, are you comfortable continuing with Mara as your aide? You can request a change, no questions asked."
Mara kept her eyes down. Her hands were clasped tight in front of her uniform.
I looked at the form. At the empty rows waiting for times and initials.
"Yes," I said. "I want her to stay."
Helen nodded once. "Okay. Fill out the first entry together before I leave. Next dose is when?"
"Two thirty this afternoon," Mara said. "Eight thirty tonight."
"Make sure he eats something before then," Helen said to her, then to me, "And you, try to eat when you can. I know it's hard."
She left the door half open when she went. The hallway light spilled across the bedroom floor.
Mara exhaled like she'd been holding her breath. She picked up the official log and looked at it.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep."
"You were tired," I said. "You stayed."
She met my eyes. "Thank you for saying what you said."
I nodded. I pulled the pen from the nightstand and wrote the first line on the new form in my bad handwriting. 7:18 AM - manager inspection, no meds, log started. I initialed it. JR.
May you like
She initialed next to me. MK.
The form looked too clean for what had happened in that room all night.
