We are lucky Mr. Henderson lets you stay. Don’t make him regret it. Do not touch anything. Do not under any circumstances bother the patients. Emma was good at following the rules. She was a quiet girl with pale blonde hair and watchful eyes. She observed the world. She saw the head nurse, Nurse Jacobs, who always seemed angry. Nurse Jacobs had a permanent frown and always seemed to be scolding someone. This is a hospital, not a playground. She would snap if she saw Emma in the hallway. Then there was George, the orderly. George was a large, kind man who had a habit of whistling. He would often accidentally drop a small bag of chips or an apple near the supply closet door around 400 p.m. “Floor’s dirty. Better get that before I sweep it up,” he’d mutter, never looking at her. Emma’s life was about being quiet, about not being a problem. Her mother worked so hard.
Mary’s hands were red and raw from the cleaning chemicals. At night, Emma would watch her mother fall asleep in her armchair, too tired to even walk to her own bed. Emma knew her mother was worried about money. The whispers on the phone late at night were always about bills, the rent, the car, the past due notices. Emma’s family had a history of being strong.In their small apartment, there was one picture frame that was always kept clean. It showed a young man in a uniform from a long, long time ago. That’s your greatgrandfather, Mary had told her once. Elias Carter. He was a hero. He fought in the big war. Emma loved that picture. He looked brave.
He looked like the men in the hallways at St. Jude’s, only younger.
Her greatgrandfather was a legend. But legends didn’t pay the rent. One Tuesday, the supply closet was unbearable. A new shipment of bleach had come in, and the fumes made Emma’s eyes water. She peakedked her head out. Nurse Jacobs was at the far end of the hall. George was nowhere to be seen. She slipped out just to get some fresh air.
She walked down the hall trying to be invisible, practicing the wallflower trick her mother had taught her. She passed room 210, a man who always watched game shows, the volume up high. She passed room 212, a man who had no visitors and just stared at the ceiling. And then she came to room 214. She had passed it before, but the door was always closed.
Today it was open just a crack and she heard a sound, a low, angry sounding growl. It’s slop. A voice barked. Absolute slop. Take it away. A young nurse’s aid backed out of the room holding a tray. Her face was bright red. He He didn’t like the jell-, the aid whispered to another nurse. Nobody likes the jell-, the other nurse replied. But Mr.
Porter doesn’t have to be so mean about it. Emma looked at the tray. The green Jell-O cube was untouched. So was the chicken and the mashed potatoes. She peeked through the crack in the door. Inside, an old man was sitting up in bed. He was thin with a shock of white hair that stuck up in every direction. His face was a map of deep wrinkles, and his eyes were a fierce, sharp blue.
He looked like an angry eagle. He turned his head and saw her. Emma froze. “What do you want?” he snapped. His voice was like gravel. Emma’s mind went blank. All her mother’s rules flew out the window. I I was just This isn’t a zoo, he growled. Get out. Don’t need kids staring at me. Go on, scat. Emma Scat.
She ran back to the supply closet, her heart hammering. That night, she told her mother what happened. “That’s Mr. Porter,” Mary sighed, rubbing her temples. “The nurses call him Hank the crank. He’s our most difficult patient. He yells at everyone.” “Don’t go near that room again, Emma. I mean it.” But Emma couldn’t forget the tray, the untouched food.
The next day, she took the bus to the hospital. In her backpack, she hadher math book, her spelling list, and a small wax paper bag. Inside the bag were two oatmeal raisin cookies from her own lunch. Her mother always packed her one, but she had saved yesterday’s. She went to her closet. She waited. At 3:30, she knew nurse Jacobs was on her break.
She slipped out of the closet. She walked down the hall. Her legs felt like jelly. She was breaking the biggest rule. She stopped at room 214. The door was open a crack just like yesterday. She listened. She heard the low murmur of the television.
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