Just Outside the Window

Greta fidgeted with her own withered hands, anxiously stroking the phantom of a now-absent ring on her left hand. She glanced about rapidly, so rapidly, that her neck was likely in danger of becoming sprained. Suddenly, she gasped and shouted in an inaudible language. She groaned and screeched, rocking back and forth in her wheelchair. There was another shout and the poor, frail woman began pointing insistently in front of her, just outside the window.

Her gaze was fixed, but she yelled and motioned to the nearest orderly, which happened to be me. I had a feeling of what would be outside the window, but I always dreaded going to look, because I couldn’t communicate with Greta in a way that was comforting. I never understood what she was saying and I know that she desperately craved communication and understanding. I could see the plea in her eyes. I did my best, however. I put on a smile and stepped quickly and optimistically, attempting to redirect her attention. As I grew closer, her groans grew louder and more wild. She looked at me and pointed to the window with such vigor that you wouldn’t guess she was eighty-seven.

“Hey Greta. How are you this evening?” I said, patting her gently on the back. I knew she wouldn’t respond, but hoped that a reassuring touch might quell her anxiety, or whatever emotion she was feeling. It was hard to tell these days. Greta had a stroke only a month after arriving at Whispering Willows Retirement Home. Ever since then, her speech has been inaudible and erratic. She was always a sweet woman, who was easily excitable. She loved potpie days in the cafeteria and could spin quite a yarn with her friends. But these days of Greta’s life were different. She didn’t like to eat (except pastries). She didn’t like to talk, or even be around people. It was a struggle that typically required at least two orderlies, just to persuade Greta to come down from her room to the dining area. Still, there were a select few residents whom she seemed to appreciate the company of. Sue Mayweather and Liza Rodriguez had a special bond with Greta. They were able to calm her, get her to eat, and even occasionally get a laugh from the anxious woman. I was grateful that she had them.

Greta yanked at my sleeve and leaned close to my face, widening her eyes. She pointed outside and folded her arms with attitude. At last I obliged, and glanced up at the hall window. As I suspected…

Nothing.

The courtyard was empty and nothing notable lay before us. The willow trees, pines, and flower garden were spectral, covered with beautiful, dainty icicles. However, the desperation in Greta’s eyes was enough for me to know that it wasn’t the plants that had caused such urgency. I wish I understood her. I knew she must be so frustrated.

“The garden is very pretty with all of the icicles. Is that what you see, Greta?” I said, looking at her apologetically. She rolled her eyes and pointed again, this time, less urgently. She groaned with defeat, and turned away from me. My heart sank. I wish I was better at this.

Frowning, I turned and hastily walked to the game room, where Sue, Liza, Mildred, and Beth-Anne were playing cards. Sue had apparently just shown a great hand at poker. She was doing a little jig as Liza frowned and flipped her off. The table then began chuckling loudly as Sue collected a pile of winnings from the table. Upon close examination, the prize was not money, but a heaping collection of antacids. I couldn’t help but chuckle as well as I approached the table.

“You won’t tell on us, will you Alisha?” asked Sue, batting her eyelashes. I smiled and shook my head.

“I won’t tell. I promise. But I need your help with something. Can you and Liza come with me? Its about Greta.”

“Of course we will,” said Liza, patting my hand. “Anything for Greta. What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

“I think so, but something is on her mind and I can’t communicate well enough with her to figure it out. I haven’t been working here very long…or I’m just not good at understanding people. I don’t know,” I sighed. “I want to help her. I just don’t know how.”

“We’ll do our best,” said Sue, dropping her winnings into her large purse. “She can be hard to understand, but we’ve known her for a while now, so maybe we can help.”

The two women followed me at a slow pace back to the hall where Greta had been. When we arrived at the window, Greta was nowhere in sight.

I looked around anxiously. There was no sign of her. Maybe she had gone back to her room. As Sue and Liza at last arrived at my location in the hallway, I pointed to the window.

“She was just here. I will go look for her in a second, but she was pointing out the window. She was really excited or really worried about something. I have a hard time telling the difference. But when I looked, I didn’t see anything and I think she was angry or sad that I didn’t see it.” I paused to shrug. “Do either of you see anything special in the courtyard?”

The two turned their attention to the window. I also gave it another look. Liza stroked her chin and squinted. Sue adjusted her glasses. I tilted my head.

“Other than a yard that needs shoveling, I don’t see anything,” Sue chuckled. There was quite a lot of snow covering the lawn area, but I don’t think that Greta was alarmed by that. I shook my head.

“I don’t think its that. But I didn’t see anything either. I need to find Greta now. Maybe you two will understand what she means.”

The two followed me to Greta’s room, where we found the frail woman, with her hands outstretched, touching the cool glass of her own window. She was muttering incoherently.

“Greta dear. What’s wrong?” cooed Sue, with a soothing voice. Greta’s head whipped around at an alarming speed and she began shouting and flailing her arms. Sue and Liza looked at one another, confused. Greta let out a loud grunt and knocked on the window, then raised her eyebrows at the three of us, expectantly. We wandered to the window and peeked through the foggy glass. It was a bit icy around the edges. We could just barely make out the silhouette of the large oak that towered over the visitor parking lot.

I wiped condensation from the window and squinted. I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I moved aside to allow Sue and Liza to peek out as well. All the while, Greta was groaning and gesturing rapidly. Sue frowned and turned to Liza, who shrugged defeatedly.

“Greta, what is it that you see?” asked Liza. Greta tried desperately to form a coherent word, but failed. Liza perked up.

“Wait a moment. I have an idea,” she said excitedly. Liza began to delicately rummage through Greta’s cabinets and bedside drawers.

“Aha!” she said at last. She held a ballpoint pen above her head proudly and began darting her head about for something else. I realized what her idea was and began to help her search for paper. I found a notepad on the counter. Though it was covered in little scribbles, it would work. We handed the supplies to Greta.

“Draw what you see out there,” said Liza confidently. “Can you draw it for us Greta? We’d love to see.”

Greta paused a moment, thinking. She grunted and tapped the paper. Then, she began to draw. I was amazed that Liza had thought of such a brilliant idea. A sudden feeling of inadequacy crept over me. I’m the one who works here. I should have thought of asking her to draw it. I should be better at helping the residents. I sighed. At least they help each other.

Her tongue stuck out in concentration as she drew a large circle. She outlined it carefully and then, drew a diamond shape atop it. She added a few lines to the diamond shaped and looked at us triumphantly. With a huff and a nod, Greta handed the paper to Liza.

“Well…” Liza began, tilting her head. “That is a great drawing, Greta. Very pretty.” Liza turned the notepad to us. The shapes were a little wobbly looking, but it was definitely a circle with a diamond on top.

“A snowman?” I asked her. Greta screeched and began shaking her head angrily. “Okay. Not a snowman. I’m sorry,” I gulped.

“I think it’s a ring,” Sue said, looking at Greta for approval. Greta calmed and looked at Sue with wide eyes. She held up her left hand and shook it in Sue’s face. A bit taken back, Sue looked around the room.

“Maybe she’s lost her old wedding ring,” Liza said, gesturing to Greta’s bare ring finger. That had to be it!

At the suggestion, Greta let out a sound so loud that I could hear other orderlies now thundering down the hall to address the disturbance. Liza and Sue shuffled back toward me. Greta finally took a deep breath and threw up her arms. She furrowed her brow and turned away from us, looking out the window once more.

As two more orderlies barreled into the room, accompanied by the nurse, Greta shook her left hand one more time. I frowned, as Terri, the nurse, folded her arms and glared at me.

“Well, what happened?” she demanded.

“Um.. Greta was just upset. I think because we didn’t know what she was trying to tell us,” I stammered. Terri glanced at Greta, who was now nervously fidgeting.

“Well of course you didn’t understand her. No one can. You can’t get so flustered Alisha. A lot of our pat— residents are going to be like that. Toughen up or get a different job. This ain’t for softies,” said Terri. “It is time for Greta’s medicine anyhow. Can you go grab it from Marissa?” Terri asked. I nodded.

“And walk these two back to their rooms, will ya? Its almost time for bed,” Terri grunted. I turned to Liza and Sue, who looked very offended.

“I’ll escort myself, thank you very much, lady,” Sue scoffed at Terri. Liza flipped her grey hair with such an attitude that I was sure she had the same message for Terri. The three of us exited the room. As soon as we were out in the hall, Sue held up a fist toward the room and snapped, “I’d like to just pop her right in her big mouth.”

I chuckled. I think everyone in Whispering Willows felt the same way. Terri had a way about her. After Sue and Liza had returned to their rooms, I went downstairs to see Marissa. When I asked for Greta’s pills, Marissa sighed. She handed me three orange bottles with white caps.

“Poor Greta,” she said. I nodded in agreement. She had to take so much medication, just to remain functioning. But her “functioning” didn’t even allow her to communicate with others.

“At least she has some good friends,” I said, shrugging. Marissa chuckled.

“I’m afraid Sue and Liza are going to get Greta in trouble someday,” she said, smiling. I nodded again. There was an awkward silence and Marissa began to fidget with a ring on her hand. It was in that moment that a thought struck me.

“Marissa, when residents check in, you’re the first person that they meet right? You help them get settled in,” I said. She nodded.

“This is a long shot, but, when Greta checked in, did she have a wedding ring on? I know it may be hard to remember—”

“No. She wasn’t wearing a ring,” Marissa cut me off. “It was some distant relative that brought her in. He said that her husband died quite a while back and that the family couldn’t care for her. I remember she had no ring, because when her…cousin, I think he was…told me that, she looked at her hand and was rubbing her ring finger obsessively. So much that the man had to stop her. It was pretty strange,” she explained. I frowned.

“Okay. Thanks Marissa. Greta’s just been having a rough time and I thought maybe she’d lost something important,” I sighed.

“Well, I hope you figure it out,” she said, trying to sound cheery. I thanked her and headed back to Greta’s room with the medicine. It was dark outside now and the lights in the courtyard leaked through the curtains, casting an eerie shadow upon the hallway walls. I thought I could hear a distant screeching outside in the distance. I shuddered and sped up.

When I reached Greta’s room, the door was cracked.

“Time for your medicine, Greta. I snuck you a Danish earlier. Here, you can—” a screech cut me off, but it wasn’t Greta’s. I frantically burst into the room.

Greta was at the window. She was shaking and pointing outside. The only strange thing was that the curtains were drawn. Only a small sliver of the night was able to creep in.

“Greta? Are you okay? What are you pointing at?” I said shakily.

Greta raised her eyebrows and gestured to the curtain. My curiosity and the feeling of foreboding were at war in my brain. I stood there another moment before my desire to help Greta won over my fear. Slowly, I made my way to the curtain. Greta watched me intensely.

I took a deep breath and yanked the left curtain to the side. A loud screech filled the air with utter dread. I gasped as I came face to face with a pair of big, yellow eyes. I fell backwards, dropping the pill bottles on the ground. Greta screamed and then began laughing and pointing again.

Rubbing my back, I stood up slowly. Greta was laughing still, I think. The sounds coming from her were a bit confusing. I looked out the window once more to see the creature who possessed the yellow eyes.

The culprit was a large barn owl, perched intently on the branch nearest to Greta’s window. His deep brown feathers were frosted with white markings and dappled with small spots along the edge. He was beautiful, but something about him was spooky. I sighed with relief. I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t a barn owl.

“Greta, is this what you’ve been so excited about?” I asked. She made a high pitched shriek and began rocking back and forth, nodding at the owl. Terri came speeding into the room.

“Now what?” she demanded. “Is she refusing her medication?” I’d almost forgotten the medication. I kneeled down and picked up the containers, handing them quickly to Terri.

“No. There’s an owl outside the window. It just spooked us. I think the owl is what she has been trying to tell us about,” I explained.

Terri looked out the window and back at me skeptically.

“There’s nothing there,” she said blandly and began sorting out what pills Greta needed. I glanced back out the window. The owl had gone. Greta was still pointing. She only changed her position when Terri handed her the medicine. With a scoff, Terri turned and left.

“That’s so strange,” I said to myself. I slipped Greta the pastry I had saved for her. She smiled and immediately began to nibble at it. “At least now I know what you have been seeing. Though, I can’t understand how you could have seen that owl in the daytime…but at least we know. I was really confused. You must really be interested in owls, huh Greta?”

Greta let out a short chirping noise as she munched away at the Danish. I smiled. At last, I had managed to understand her. I could hardly contain my excitement. As soon as my shift ended, I drove to the nearest superstore and purchased an owl plush toy and a book about owls. Since Greta was so interested in owls, I thought that’d be a good way to begin our new friendship.

As soon as I clocked in the next day, I was off to Greta’s room. When I arrived, she was nowhere to be seen, however. I frowned. I placed the plush owl on her bed and the book on the bedside table. Then, I began to search the hall, which was also empty. I’d forgotten that it was breakfast time, which meant, pastries.

I hastily headed to the cafeteria. I almost ran right past Greta, who was eagerly inhaling another Danish. Sue and Liza sat at the table with her.

“Guess what!” I said to them excitedly. “It’s an owl! Greta has been seeing an owl outside the window.”

Sue nodded slowly and Liza clapped her hands together. “Lookie there!” Sue chimed, “Alisha’s solved the mystery. Good work dear! We were a bit worried that our dear old Greta was just seeing things.”

“So, did you get to see it?” Liza asked, leaning in. I nodded and looked at Greta, who seemed to be ignoring us entirely to focus on her Danish.

“I did see it. It scared the life out of me almost! It was right outside her window. A big barn owl. It was so close. And apparently, they don’t make hoot noises. That thing has a super loud scream. It really scared me!” I laughed.

“That’s right,” Sue said. “Barn owls have a call that’ll keep everybody in the woods up at night. We had ‘em all around my house when I was little.” We had a full conversation about owls as Greta finished up her Danish. When she was done and wiping her face sloppily, I turned to her.

“Hey Greta. Since you’re interested in owls, I got you a little surprise! I left it on your bed,” I told her happily. She began to rock back and forth in her wheelchair.

“Alisha! Room six needs their sheets changed!” bellowed a voice from the other side of the cafeteria. Terri was waiting with an empty laundry basket.

I patted Greta on the back and wished the women well. Even Terri couldn’t rain on my parade. I happily accepted the laundry basket from her. Because I was feeling a little extra brave, I whispered, “Just so you know, ‘Room Six’ has a name. It’s Johnathan Weathers.” I didn’t give her time to respond before I bounded off to change sheets.

My day was incredibly busy. I changed sheets, cleaned up spills, brought food back and forth, and fetched medicine. In between all of that, I’d peek through the windows for any sign of the owl. I never caught sight of it.

When it was almost time to clock out, I heard a scream from Greta’s room. I sped down the hall and rushed into her room in a panic. She was in the corner of her room, shaking. She pointed to the opposite corner of the room, where the owl plushie sat, dejected in the shadow. The book laid next to it. There was a new chip in the paint on the wall. Greta hissed. It was becoming clear that she might not be so fond of owls as I thought. I believe she had thrown the gifts.

“Aww Greta. I’m sorry. I left those gifts. I...uh… misread the situation. I thought you liked owls. So, I went and got you some owl-themed things. I really am sorry. I see now that you maybe don’t like them so much. That big guy outside your window was a little creepy, I guess. You have to admit, they’re pretty though,” I said, trying to put a positive spin on it. Greta glared and me.

“Okay. I will take them out of here,” I said. I gathered up the gifts and told Greta good night. With utter disappointment, I went home.

***

I arrived at work the next day at 8:15 in the morning, a few minutes later than usual. There was an ambulance parked outside Whispering Willows. I knew what that meant.

I took a deep breath and gathered my courage. When I entered the building, everyone was scrambling about. That’s what always happens in these situations. I saw Marissa talking with a paramedic.

“Who is it?” I asked with sadness.

Marissa looked deep into my eyes and I could tell what she was going to say. Her eyes watered as she said, “It was Greta.”

“Is she…?” I gulped. Marissa nodded. “Heart attack, I think.” My heart instantly dropped. It was always hard, but it was even worse because poor Greta could barely communicate with anyone before her death. She never really got to be fully understood. I found myself with tears running down my face. I never really got to understand her.

The paramedics came rushing by with a stretcher. On the top of it, was a covered body. Greta. I waved sadly to her as they went by, a gesture she would never see.

“Poor Greta,” lamented Marissa. “They’re cleaning her room now, if you’d like to be of help, Alisha. There’s no next of kin to contact.”

I silently nodded and trudged down the hall. I wish I could have unraveled the mystery that was Greta. Even when I thought I had it figured out, I was wrong. When I reached her room, the cleanup crew and other orderlies were bagging items and removing bedding. Just getting ready for the next poor soul. I scoffed. It seemed so cold and morbid to just move on so quickly.

Two men lifted the now-bare mattress and paraded it past me. I scooted out of their way and farther into the room. As I did so, I noticed a small tear in the side of the mattress. A small book slid out of the tear and hit the floor with a “thud.” I glanced around quickly to see if anyone else had noticed. The other orderlies were busy removing Greta’s clothing from the drawers. I bent down hastily to retrieve the book. Without saying a word, I left the room.

I ran straight to the restroom and locked the door. I sat down to examine the book. It was a journal. The cover looked rather old. It was fabric and had been torn in a few places. I opened it and discovered a beautifully detailed life, written in dancing cursive letters. The journal detailed Greta’s time in high school, her family, her Native American heritage, and her life before she came to Whispering Willows.

I smiled as I read about her wedding. On June 4th 1967, Greta married a man she described as a “tall, dark, handsome dreamboat.” His name was Emilio Hernandez. They had met at her old job, where she worked as a grocery store clerk. I laughed as Greta explained the time Emilio accidentally toppled a crate of fruit trying to get her attention. I cried when she recounted her miscarriage three years later. Through her writing, I could see when Greta started to change. After her miscarriage, the entries became less colorful and less detailed. Its like her heart wasn’t in it anymore. I frowned as I read on. The entries were becoming dull and lifeless, until I reached one particular page from 1972.

***

August 24th 1972

I met a man today at the fair. He was like my Emilio in many ways. Tall, dark, handsome. But in many ways, he is different. He is more adventurous. We met at a magic show. He was the magician. I volunteered to help him with a trick. He was going to saw me in half! (Not really. It is just a trick) After the show, I met him backstage. In no time at all, I was in his arms. He is strong, but so gentle. I haven’t felt this way in some time. I feel alive when I’m with Jerome.

***

The next few entries explained how the two of them managed to see each other behind their spouse’s backs. Apparently, Jerome was also married. I would never have expected that of Greta, but I never really knew her. I was learning about her now though. As I continued to read of the affair, I could see the passion and creativity return to Greta’s life. She talked of travel, animals, pastry baking, and most of all, Jerome. But that all stopped on February 14th 1973. Valentine’s Day. The beautiful cursive had changed to frantic scribbles.

***

February 14th 1973

He knows. Jerome sent me flowers this morning. He knows. Oh god. Our marriage is ruined and its all my fault. And Jerome…I know Emilio will tell his wife. I wish I knew what to do. I’m going to lose Jerome and Emilio. My life is over.

February 19th 1973

Emilio swears he is going to divorce me and then kill Jerome. Surely he wouldn’t do that. I don’t think he is serious. He will probably divorce me. I don’t know how to save my marriage. I do love Emilio. He just doesn’t understand me anymore. He just left. I don’t know if he is going to file the divorce or to kill Jerome. He was so angry. He yanked my wedding ring off my hand and threw it into the ravine behind the house. It hurt really bad. I’m afraid for my safety. What have I done? I deserve this.

February 20th 1973

Emilio didn’t come home last night. Got a call this morning. He crashed his car into a tree. I’m waiting at the hospital now.

February 21st 1973

Emilio is dead. I went to see him, in the hospital. To apologize. I cried and begged for forgiveness. But Emilio is not like that. With his dying breath he said: I hate what you have done. I still love you, but this cannot be forgiven. I’m going to come back to haunt you Greta. Just you wait. I’m going to come back as a bad omen. An animal that you consider bad luck…yes. Every time you see an owl, you can think of me. Think of the hell you have caused. Think of our life you ruined. I’ll be waiting for you, Greta.

I had to write it down so I don’t forget. I’m not scared of Emilio’s threats. I’m just sad he’s gone. I’m angry at myself for not being a better wife. I hate what I’ve done too. I wish things would have been different. I’m so sorry Emilio.

***

I slammed the journal shut. The owl. That’s why she was so freaked out about it. Memories of the past few days flashed before my eyes. She drew the ring. Her dead husband. I slammed my palm to my forehead. There I was giving her owl-themed gifts. How horrible that must have been. It was no wonder she hated them. She probably hated me too. All I had wanted was for her to feel understood, but there was no way anyone would have understood. Not without this journal. Its such a strange thing, that we see people every day, who we think we know, love, and trust. We think we understand. We think we share our struggles and triumphs, but in the end, you never know if the pictures they paint for us are even real. We can never fully know what unfathomable amount of important events and tiny moments have conspired to create the people we cross paths with.

That night I stayed late, until the sun went down. I walked to the hall that bordered the courtyard and pulled back the curtain. I pulled up a chair and waited. After about an hour, I saw movement in a tree. It was the barn owl, bold as ever, perched on a low-hanging limb. Surely, such a beautiful creature couldn’t be a bad omen. I sighed and rose up to head home. But as I was leaving, I caught a glimpse of more movement in the corner of my eye.

Another, slightly smaller owl, had appeared next to him. I rubbed my eyes. The two squawked at one another irritably. I shook my head. No. No. That had to be a coincidence. It had to be. I chuckled at myself.

I need to get a different job.