Elsie’s thin hand pressed the afghan into a tight space between her leg and the wheelchair arm. Her sister had crocheted it, this green and orange thing, her lifeline to the outside.
“Ready to go back?” A staccato voice.
“Yes.”
“Eat your desert this time?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl. Want me to push you?”
Her soft blue eyes shifted. “I can do it.”
“Good girl, Elsie. It’s important to take care of yourself some.
Elsie released the brake, carefully, one wheel and the other, slowly, not to betray herself. Back from the table, aim at the door.
“Elsie!” The staccato nurse.
Elsie froze.
“That blanket’s filthy, I’ll get it washed.”
Elsie pressed the tight space again. “No!” Then softer, “It’s fine.”
She searched for a good line, “I’m cold.”
“It’s seventy degrees in here.”
“I’m cold. Please.”
“Well, whatever. You want that nasty thing, I offered.”
Elsie waited. Must not appear rushed, hurried. Slowly to the door.
“Elsie, you taking anything from the dining hall this time?” Another bossy nurse.
Elsie couldn’t speak. She shook her head.
“Show me your hands.”
Slowly Elsie held her palms up, like a small child. Empty.
“Good girl.”
When the nurse had gone and the path seemed clear Elsie rolled into her room. She loosened the afghan and pulled a small napkin-clad square from the tight place, and smiled a little; mischievous, younger and alive.
Savoring the moment, Elsie pulled back the napkin, knowing the brownie would taste like freedom.
Photo: freeparking
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Writer, coach, goat farmer, and pooh-bah. MA candidate in English.
{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }
Terry,
thanks for sharing this short story. I can see Elsie in front of my eyes!
Ulla Hennig’s last blog post..Still Standing
@Ulla: I couldn’t ask for a nicer compliment. Thank you, Ulla!
The thing is, there are so many layers here. The sister, the concealment of Elsie’s strength and cunning.
I want to know more. A good story leaves you wanting to see them again right?
Diana’s last blog post..By: MosaicMoods
@Diana: Thank you, Diana. I’ll have to think of further adventures for Elsie; she has stayed in my mind for about a year, so evidently she has more to say.
Super. I’ve spent quite a bit of nursing home time with family.
Elsie is definitely there.
Ken Armstrong’s last blog post..Holy Thursday - 33 Years Ago
@Ken: Thanks for the encouragement. I’m glad to see the nursing home part is clear since I didn’t mention it, was a little worried.
That’s interesting. Given the photo, I thought Elsie was a young girl in a wheelchair, having some kind of infirmity. Just goes to show you how people see what they know. A nursing home patient never occurred to me.
Diana’s last blog post..By: MosaicMoods
@Diana: At first I thought it had to be a nursing home. But I’ve realized it can be a girl like you described. After all, that is how Elsie sees herself regardless what her physical age may be. That’s sort of why I used the picture; she is both in her own mind, isn’t she?
Yes, we are always all ages. And since I remember stealing slices of bread as a girl, I just assumed…
Diana’s last blog post..By: MosaicMoods
Has Elsie become incontinent? There’s a reference to a filthy blanket…In aging there’s wisdom and grace. But a few steps more: loss of control and host of indignities that seem trivial to us but can be so hurtful for the infirm.
Elsie has come full circle; she’s become a child again.
Admirable control of material. What you’ve left out evokes just as much anxiety and little hints of terror as the spare but telling details you slipped in.
But then again, I maybe just reading too much into the story. It does force me to remember a lot of hurtful things my mother went through in the last couple of years of her life. I never thought micro fiction can be fatal. I’ve almost given up the ghost reading this.
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@Jan: I’m sorry to put things together and realize now you’ve lost both your parents. I don’t like touching a negative chord with people, but hopefully something good comes of your experience with Elsie.
It’s an exquisite little story. And I love it - Elsie.
Part of what makes my personal experience raw several years hence is because I have not previously given it form. I just dumped it in the back-burner. Perhaps it’s time to put it on paper so I can properly deal with it. Or tame it. Or give it rest.
jan_geronimo’s last blog post..Blogging Tip: How To Build Your Personal Brand
@Jan: Ah, writing out our demons can be a powerful exorcism.
The Count being only a few short steps from a wheel chair and facing another back operation is fortunate to live with his wife as we can help each other through these little crisies at home. The Count understands Elsie’s attitude as you do, Terry. One gets by day by day, by never giving up. Small victories count. We do not become children again. Not all of us! When you have looked death squarely in the face several times and walked away, your mind becomes clear finally. The brownies of life are but a treat. Life itself IS the brownie. The basis of humor is sorrow, not joy. I cannot remember the source of this thought, but it is true. It is confronting life without blinking
or weeping. Or, perhaps, it’s hiding brownies. My best Count Sneaky
@Terry: Indeed it is so.
@Count Sneaky: I think it’s Terry’s good friend Mark Twain who said your lovely quote.
I’m praying for your good health, sir. We so need your clear mind and unblinking good sense that it has become a compulsion for some of us here. Okay, let me speak only for myself then. Also - we need you to hide Terry’s brownies, too. Only you can successfully pull it off, methinks; Unless you can spare some time to teach us, of course.
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I read your story about Elsie and of course being the big crybaby I am I cried. I knew from the beginning that it was about a nursing home. But for some reason I instantly thought of Karen, not that she was in a wheel chair but because she was in a nursing home I guess. I can only hope dear brother that I can learn to write with half the personality that you do. I am so proud of you my little brother. You are strong and a force to be reckoned with.