Lean Into It, Chapter 1: The DSP

“The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. I know because—” she leans forward, whispers conspiratorially, “I’m her. The Queen is me.”

Royce has only been a Direct Support Provider at The Willows care facility for about a week, and already he’s heard this story a few times.

But he doesn’t mind. He offers Miss Fay another bite of puréed meatloaf and whispers back: “that’s incredible! But what are you doing here… uh, your majesty?”

Fay’s face lights up with innocent, child-like joy.

As far as delusions go, this is a happy one.

Royce watches the wrinkles near her mouth and eyes and thinks they’re really more smile lines. He has the impression she’s spent most of her life being kind.

And that kinda makes this all sadder, to see a sweet and gentle mind like hers worn to dust by the cold violence of time.

It hurt to watch.

But Royce paints over his frown. He feels an odd pressure, to wear a smile around her.

Despite her age and condition, she still exudes this magnetic impulse that begs others to be glad.

Royce dabs her mouth with a napkin.

This doesn’t seem to shame her, she does not even seem to notice.

She turns her sparkling eyes towards him and says: “I’m spying. Spying on the humans.”

Fay looks out the window, on the badly manicured lawn and her smile falters. “But I can’t report back to faerie kind because I’m trapped in this human disguise.”

Just like yesterday and the day before and the day before that, he feels an odd flutter in his heart.

In the wake of her fantastic delusions, the rest of the nursing home feels almost muffled or distant.

It’s almost like he’s got a crush, but without the sexual attraction. He wonders what she might have looked like as a young woman, and knows without ever having to see: she would have been quite beautiful. Stunning even.

But not “hot”.

She had the kind of beauty one might be compelled to bask in. The kind of beauty that heals and rejuvenates any who witness. But not the kind of beauty one would dare to consummate or possess.

Miss Fay says: “I miss the fairy world, I miss my people. I miss our morning dew fountains and our flower palaces. I miss our festivals and all our lights, and the way the golden dawn would stream through our spidersilk curtains each morning. I miss the feeling of lounging on a toadstool cushion and sleeping on a bed of living moss.”

She sighs, fixes him with a gentle gaze. “You’ve never heard water bells chiming, humans are too big and loud and far from the ground to hear that music. But I wish you could! We Fairies love the sound more than anything. And Water is a lovely singer!”

Her belief is palpable, and to him it’s heartbreaking.

All of this fantasy, just to help her cope with the existential madness of aging.

But her escapism is contagious.

While he listens, it’s like they’re on an adventure together, somewhere magical instead of…. here.

He thinks if he closes his eyes and wishes hard enough, the mundanity of his life may just melt off his shoulders. He won’t be feeding decrepit human beings or changing adult diapers anymore— he won’t be worrying about bills.

Instead he’ll sprout wings and shrink away from this life and lose himself in the soft fragrance of fallen leaves.

Ah! but her stories are pure imagination.

Her glaucous eyes blink slowly against the light of the outdoors. “Lady River was my most loyal subject. And my disappearance broke her poor, watery heart. She’s still grieving all these years later.”

Royce gently scrapes her chin with the edge of the spoon, scoops a dribble of mushed potatoes back into her mouth. “How did you get trapped in this realm, your majesty?”

“I lost my shaping locket. Without it’s magic I cannot transform. Will you help me look for it? Please? I want to be a fairy again, I miss my people.”

One of the other DSPs, sucks her teeth. She’s weighed down by all sorts of jewelry, that jingles and rattles when she moves. She looks at Fay, and mouths behind her back: “crazy bitch.”

Royce frowns at the other caregiver.

Nicolette.

He knows her name because he heard the residence manager scolding her for eating curly fries in the common area— because it made the residents resent their restricted meal plans.

Royce remembers: she tried to argue. Said it didn’t matter what the residents thought.

Nicolette.

But she probably doesn’t know his name.

And, he realizes, he doesn’t even want her to.

She kinda reminds him of a girl he knew in the 8th grade, Melissa Grounder who always used to call him “Rolls Royce”. It wasn’t because she thought he was high class… she made it painfully clear that it was because he was fat. She told him “Rolls Royce is the perfect name for you, and your belly rolls!”

He looks at Nicolette.

It’s been a lonely first week, but making fun of the residents? Calling Miss Fay a bitch? Worse than that, making fun of her for being a little out of it? That’s giving Melissa energy, and he is not lonely enough for this kind of camaraderie.

But he doesn’t have enough spine to really tell her off, so he just shrugs and focuses on Fay. “Yes Miss Fay, of course I’ll help you look for your locket.”

Nicolette rolls her eyes. She pinches her own shining necklace between her manicured fingers and places it behind the neck of her shirt.

But Fay clasps her knobby, arthritic fingers together, and grins.

“My locket is made out of very precious materials: two acorn caps, hinged together for the frame. There’s a dew drop mirror in one side and a bit of seashell— mother of pearl— in the other. If I look at my reflection in the dewdrop I stay human, but if I look at my reflection in the rainbow shell, I return to my true form. “

Miss Fay taps her nose, “But humans who don’t know any better see it all wrong! A clever enchantment on my part, to prevent unwelcome visitors from barging their way into my kingdom. Humans who don’t know the secret will not see my magic mirrors. Depending on how greedy they are, the pendant changes— some might see worthless gold or silver or platinum. The mirrors might look like plain old sapphires, or mere diamonds to the wrong person.” and Miss Fay laughs— a rare sound in a care facility like this one.

Usually residents were too drug addled— or just too tired and worn down by the mundane repition of their daily lives— to even smile.

But Fay’s joy has the potential to be contagious.

Royce smiles, and looks to Nicolette—wondering if this moment would touch her at all….

But, she’s not there.

The old man she’d been feeding, Mr. Win, has a dazed smile on his face. His plate is still 3/4 full.

Maybe Nicollete just ran to the bathroom?

She could have chosen a better time. She should have chosen a safer time.

If it was an emergency, Nicolette should have atleast asked Royce to cover her for a minute.

Win’s care plan listed him as a one on one for mealtime, due to choking and asphyxiation risk. He was a shoveler who had difficulty swallowing because of a benign growth near his jaw.

Fay was technically supposed to be supervised but she wasn’t listed as a one on one

He liked qto help her because her arthritis made it hard for her to feed herself, and she tended to get distracted to the point where she’d forget to eat. But speech pathology had not indicated her as a significant choking risk.

Royce shifts his chair to focus on Win. “I’ll be right here Miss Fay, and if your hands are hurting you, I can help you eat in just a few minutes.”

“How’s your food Mr Win? Looks good.”

Yeah, how’s my food.” Win says with a rasp. “Yeah, looks good. Looks good. Looks good.”

Royce offers him a careful bite.

After a few moments Nicolette stomps back to her chair.

She wears a scowl, and fixes Miss Faye with a nasty glare.

Royce raises an eyebrow, tries to pass Nicolette Mr. Win’s spoon.

She snatches it from him and gives Mr Win a hasty mouthful— too large— and an exasperated stare.

Miss Fay rambles on, oblivious, telling stories about her time as ruler of the fairy world.

***

By the end of his shift Royce is absolutely spent.

He opens his locker to retrieve his belongings, eager to head home to his crappy studio apartment and his creaky old couch… and some cheap snacks.

It is late. And he knows he should just go to bed.

But he needs the comfort of something salty and greasy and not good for you.

He could practically hear Melissa Grounders laughing, practically feel her pinching his love handles. “Rolls Royce! Fatty! Lard ass.”

He hangs his head, and feels the cravings all the worse.

Why couldn’t he just feel good about himself? That was the key to getting healthy, he thought. If he felt less ashamed, less pointless, less pathetic, maybe he’d be able to stop chasing away the lows with food.

This was good work he was doing, Royce tells himself. Better for the soul to be taking care of people. Better to be working for a non-profit than back in retail again. This is something he should be proud of. At least he’s not busting his ass and sweating his balls off just to help some rich piece of shit rake in more dough.

But why doesnt he feel good about any of this! What can kick him out of this slump?

He’s spent. Depleted. Drained.

Overwhelmed.

Taking care of people who are so dramatically impaired by age is… a lot of work. Some of the residents are non verbal. And most of the ones who can speak, are lost in their own delusions, like Miss Fay.

And he knew caring for them should make him feel good, but all he really feels is jaded. Maybe even a little depressed, to know that the world has all but abandoned these lonely people.

They’ve been placed in the facility by relatives who weren’t up to the task of caring for them. And that was understandable. Not every one had the money or the time or the disposition to care for relatives with illnesses or disabilities.

But the reality was, many of these residents were swept into the home, like a mess kicked under the carpet.

They were sent away, by their loved ones.

Exiled.

And this was why Fay invented her stories.

And why others retreated into their own wandering minds.

Better to be anywhere else— even somewhere make believe— than to be confronted with the scorching heat of being unwanted and forgotten.

This was the empty twilight of their lives. Beset by the illnesses and afflictions that time and bad luck thrust upon them, compounded by the loneliness of their abandonment. They’d been relegated to the peripheries, shunned and shuttered away by society.

Royce wishes that the residents had visitor once in a while.

It would be nice to see these poor folks enjoy an escape based in reality for a change.

He hoists his bag onto his shoulder, just as Nicolette comes to her locker.

“God I can’t take it here.” Her voice sounds as worn down as he feels.

He nods. He still doesn’t like her, but it: hard not to commiserate just a bit. “Yeah, I’m feeling it, and I’ve only been here a week. How long you been worked here Nicolette?”

She sighs. “Three years. I should be a manager by now, but they’re all full of shit.”

He’s not sure what to say, or who she was talking about when she said ‘they.’

But “they” were probably right. He doesn’t think she’s management material either. And the fact that she thinks she is…. That rubs him the wrong way.

People with zero self awareness scare him.

Why is honest introspection such a rarity?

But he realizes she should cut her some slack. She could have got into this job for all the right reasons.

He hopes three years from now he won’t be rolling his eyes at residents and calling them crazy bitches behind their backs, but he doesn’t really know what it was like to be in Nicolette’s shoes.

Maybe she is just struggling with burn out.

He should try to show her some patience.

He cleared his throat. “Wow, three years is a long time. But it’s gotta feel good on some level though, to know you’re making a difference in their lives.” He gestures back to the common area, where the residents who hadn’t gone to sleep yet are seated semicircle staring slack jawed and dull-eyed at an informercial on the TV.

Nicolette snickers— then noticed his face and seems to understand he was serious.

She stifles her laughter.

She shrugs. “Uh, I dunno. Does a zookeeper make a difference for whatever dumb animals they take care of? Whats the difference between their job and ours? We Clean shit, shovel some slop into their mouths. And dose ‘em up so they don’t cause problems. Maybe if we brought in a dog trainer we could get these imbeciles to Behave a little better.”

Royce frowns at her back and follows her out the door and into the parking lot.

He goes to his shitty old Pontiac. After her comments, he feels like he needs a shower even more than he needs that snack.

He glances at her in his rear view, and watches her walk to her car. He notices a shimmer around her neck, her gaudy jewelry reflecting the lights from the building.

Her necklace swings loose and he sees it fall, just as she climbs into her sedan.

He knows he could tell her.

Knows he probably should.

Royce starts his car.

He’s about to pull out, because honestly, fuck that bitch!

But he looks in the rear view one last time, and his conscience wins.

Royce gets out to warn her, but she ignores him— it almost seems deliberate— and pulls away.

He bristles, liking this woman less by the minute. But he’ll pick up her stupid necklace and return it to her next shift.

It glitters, gold on the asphalt.

But as he approaches, it sort of… wobbles. Now it’s pure copper. Then shining silver.

He blinks.

There’s nothing there but a stick and some leaves.

A trick of the light… but… he could have sworn he saw Nicolette drop something.

He turns on his phone light, and sees a pair of acorn caps, threaded to a slender green vine.

***