Wedges of shadow criss-crossed the buffed floor in a mosaic pattern of grays. Partially opened doors sliced the dim light into triangles that overlapped, folding on each other like works of origami art. Night lights down the south hall wavered. Fluorescent bulbs above the nurses station flickered, as if trying to decide whether or not to go out completely. Passing cars pierced the darkness with halogen beams as blue and blinding as lighthouse beacons.
Someone coughed behind a closed door. A toilet flushed in a dark bathroom. Light sleepers rolled in their narrow single beds, clutching thermal blankets that were thin and inadequate as they pulled wadded pillows into shoulder crooks or between bony, arthritic knees. Heavy sleepers snored, sprawling in oblique angles like silent corpses on slabs of cold stainless steel.
The noises in the dark were unfamiliar to me, unfamiliar and unpleasant. Shadows changed shapes as bathroom lights flicked on and off, startling me as though there was something unnatural or disturbing about old people using the toilet in the night.
I tightened the clip in my hair, the curls as dark as mahogany. My scrub pants were tight, the elastic pinching at my waist. My bare arms felt vulnerable, chilled by a breath of air from a crack in a window frame or a demons howl.
The night stole the color from our clothes and our eyes and thoughts, leaving my blue shirt looking like charcoal and the sweeps of curtains appearing as slate. A faded gauze form floated across the hall.
At the end of the corridor, the illuminated green EXIT sign tempted me to run. My heart thundered. The rush of blood surged a flash of pain through my head and shortened my breath. I inhaled with shallow reassurance.
I didnt see anything. I didnt actually see anything.
Taking an awkward step, I jerked my neck to look up the opposite end of the hall where tile merged with wallboard and suspended ceiling in a rectangular tube of gray.
Everything was quiet and appeared to be in order. I took another step, studying the innocence of doors Id opened and closed a thousand times, in the daylight, without the ominous feeling of dread sucking at my soul.
Is someone there? I whispered, hurrying up the hall without waiting for an answer. My white nursing shoes squeaked, mocking me, and I considered taking them off, but didnt. Polished linoleum showed black wheelchair marks and the reflection of lights up the perimeter of the walls. I missed the bustle of day.
When I reached the nurses station, Phyllis looked up from her paperwork. She was accustomed to working the graveyard shift. Fleshy bags drooped beneath her eyes, attesting to perpetual fatigue. She lifted her eyelids as though she were a sleeping cat, her voice lowered toward conspiracy. Did you see it?
I steadied myself at the desk, willed my heart to slow it pounding. I didnt see anything.
But you felt it, she said, more alert than Id seen her all night. I can see it on your face. You felt it.
Phyllis was a squatty woman, shorter than some of our slight eighty year old residents. She was in her late forties or early fifties, but kept her age a secret like a waning Hollywood goddess. Her hair was long, the thin strands streaked with brittle gray. White hairs around her temple were coarse and wiry. Creases ran deep along her mouth and forehead, more evidence that life had not always been easy or kind. It was two in the morning, but sometime during my absence shed managed to apply a thick layer of lipstick.
I didnt see anything, I said again.
Were haunted, she announced with a surreal serenity. It was not the first time Id heard the story, but this time I listened with more than amused curiosity. She grinned and I noticed a smudge of orange on her front tooth. All nursing homes have a ghost.
I had no interest in the paranormal and no desire to develop such a fascination. I was tired, too tired to even consider the possibility. It was the middle of the night and the only reason I was there was because our Director of Nurses begged.
Across the window that spread like a wide-screen television in front of the nurses was a valance the color of cream with points of lace that shivered at the slightest change in the current of air. It was easy to imagine supernatural forces tugging at the fringe, zombies beating the doors with the pulse of the wind. The moonless sky held the threat of rain. Dark clouds obscured the stars and created the illusion that we were alone in the world.
I dont believe in ghosts, I said without the slightest confidence.
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