Take Care

Amy Pontenski sat in the passenger seat of her fathers new Buick. She stared out the window at the passing houses, businesses, and patrol. She pressed her forehead against the plastic covering the window and scratched an itch beneath her mask as it always had a way of irritating her skin. “Stop picking,” Her father Cecil scolded. “I’m just itching,” she grumbled. She sighed loudly thinking to herself, I’ll never be old enough for him to stop scolding me. He looked at her with contempt as though he heard this.

Amy was 26. She knew she had little power over how her dad treated her. He drove her to work and classes, which he paid for. She lived under his roof and was therefore subject to his rules and regulations. So she went on staring out the window feeling the coolness of its surface through the plastic coverings.

The car slowed as they pulled up to a checkpoint. This one was new and must have been added in the past couple of days. Amy peeled away from the plastic to see the official motioning for him to crack his window. He did so.

“Man you guys really are everywhere now huh?” Cecil remarked. The man smiled and nodded, “Yes just trying to keep track of traffic flow to control the spread of infection. You know how it is.” Cecil bowed his head in appreciation at this. “We sure admire the work you guys are doing. It's tough stuff...everything going on.” The official nodded again as Cecil handed him their IDs and testing paperwork. “Yeah…” He said fumbling through the papers, “ It’s hard stuff but it’s got to be done. Hopefully this will be over soon.” He handed the paper work back and motioned them forward. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

When they stopped in front of the home her father turned to her and said “I want you to stay focused today. Don’t Just be the best you can be, be better.” She nodded. He stared intensely with a smile on his face as though his words came from a place of love and not delusions of grandeur. She noticed then the way he seemed to grow in size when he looked this way. Or is it that I shrink, she thought.

Amy had been a registered caregiver for almost two years. The job itself was emotionally draining and oftentimes hard for her physically as it required a lot of unassisted lifting of wheelchair bound patients. She buzzed the door standing with one hand stuffed in her pocket and one holding her phone as she scrolled through emails and texts she’d been avoiding checking in her fathers view.

The door opened and noise from inside poured out onto the quiet patio, a laugh track from the tv and patients cooing from inside.“Oh you're early!” Linda exclaimed. Linda had been working as a caretaker with Southern Moon for 12 years and had recently been promoted to house lead at about a dollar fifty raise. Amy admired her patience, something most people throughout her life had lacked. The woman had many qualities of the types of mothers you’d see in movies with their unwavering resilience, and humble wisdom.

Bob yelled from the common room “Where’s my money?!” He wheeled around the corner into Amy’s view. “What's he talking about?” she asked. Linda shut the door and in a low voice said “He thinks that black book of his is a wallet now i think. Calls it his money.” Amy gave a curious look and Linda shrugged. Amy walked over to Bob, “Hey you stinky old man.” He smiled. His eyes were failing him but he recognized her voice by now. “Hey butthead,” he retorted with a chuckle before remembering what he’d lost and frowning. “Where’s my money?” he queried. Amy looked around before noticing the book peeking out from his jacket pocket. She tugged at it “It’s right here silly. “Oh” He grumbled.“He’s taken quite a liking to you,” Linda remarked before whispering “No mentions of Chicago so far.” Amy beamed, “Thank the gods.” Linda chuckled before giving Amy a wink and exiting out the front door.

Amy liked her job despite its difficulties. Bob had been her most difficult patient. Many of her co-workers had quit over physical assaults or night long tantrums they endured from the elderly patient. He had terrible sundown episodes which would often begin with destruction of patient or company property and end with him trying to escape the home to go to Chicago where he had lived all his life. Despite this Amy enjoyed the challenges. She often took him on special little trips to the convenient store to buy him a small candy bar and a lottery ticket on her own dime. She had memorized the numbers by now; 16, 23, 69, and 56. She didn't know what they meant until she saw the patient number on his wristband: “16236956”. Cheeky old man, she thought.

The rest of the patients did not know how to speak due to brain injury or cognitive disorder. They cooed and cried but that was about it. This theme held a stark contrast to bob. A man with a rather booming voice and intimidating presence in comparison.

Amy was washing up when her phone buzzed. Bob had come back in the kitchen and was wheeling toward her. “Where's my money?!” he yelled at Amy, his voice hoarse and cracked. Amy sighed loudly looking up at the ceiling as she could hear the other patients began to cry from the disturbance. “Where’s my money?!” She walked up to him and tugged again at his jacket pocket lightly “Its right here Don.” He slapped his hand to his pocket whilst looking around wildly and unconvinced before reaching inside and feeling the book. “Oh,” he grumbled.

Amy calmed the other patients before going back to the kitchen to check her phone which had buzzed several times by now.

She opened and was not surprised to see multiple messages from her father and his wife Alaina. She looked at the messages from her step mother. Message one: Are you home Ames? Message two: If you're home get out. Message Three: Amy? Amy switched to the messages from her dad. Message one: Answer your phone. Message two: Answer the phone NOW. Message three: There's going to be a lot of changes when you get home. You want a car? Earn it.

She texted back that she couldn't talk and was sorry. She knew she was pawning that situation off on her other siblings by doing this but someone needed to lighten the load. Plus she was at work right now so what was she going to even do?

“I want to watch TV! Turn on the TV!” Bob yelled. Amy put her phone down and walked over to Bob. “What do you want to watch?” He looked up wide eye’d and replied “The news.” This was a common request from Bob. It was strange to Amy because he didn’t actually watch. He’d just sit by the window and hum something while drinking chocolate milk. She remembered her dad would always put the news on as well but carry on doing monotonous tasks while it just played in the background. Perhaps this was the type of background noise Bob had grown up with as well.

As Amy went about cleaning and tending to the other patients the news droned about the infection. “ In the span of a short few months America is reeling from a pandemic of Triple E, also known as eastern equine encephalitis. The disease once spread the mosquitoes recently became airborne and heavily infectious. Symptoms used to be ; fever, muscle pain, altered mental status, headaches-” the washing machine buzzed and Amy went to switch the load over. “But recently new symptoms have arisen which include extreme mania, rage, and a bloodlust to the likes of which the world has never seen.”

“The world is going to shit,” Bob sighed. “You’ve that right!” Amy cried in agreement from the laundry room. Amy thought it was strange how she felt nothing much about the pandemic. Sure, she was sad people were sick and literally attacking one another, but she had very little bandwidth for the responsibilities she had now. Between trying to please her father and trying to take care of a four patient household she didn’t really have time to even acknowledge the pandemic. If anything it was a little excitement to contrast the tedium of the day.

“Thanks Jeff I’ll now be leading us today on what is thankfully a much lighter story. Lottery officials say they are still waiting to hear back about the winner of 3.9 billion dollars. It has been two days since the numbers 16, 23, 69, and 56 were called.”

Amy who had now returned to wiping down surfaces froze.“I’ll repeat those numbers for anyone still listening that was 16, 23, 69, and 56. If you're out there come forward and claim your prize.” She straightened her back and turned to Bob who continued to hum at the window while pressing his hand against the plastic covering. The little black book sat in his lap. His money. As Amy approached she noticed a piece of paper sticking out of its simple black moleskine cover.

Bob had had the book for a long time. It was utterly full of postcards, Chicago bear tickets, grocery lists, birthday cards… the list goes on. Once Amy took a peek inside and was surprised to see a very rough sketch of Bob looking out at an alien landscape with a sword in his hand. She remembered even for a rough sketch it was quite beautiful, but eerie in a way.

Amy gently pulled at the paper to reveal the ticket they bought with the numbers 16, 23, 69, and 56.

“Were rich,” Bob said. Amy was shaking, “Oh my god Bob we won.” He laughed, “We did!” Amy sank to her knees in front of the old man and began to weep. He put his hand on her head. They sat like this for a while before Bob asked “Where are we going to go?” Amy burst out laughing “ How about Chicago Bob?!” Bob laughed at this before retorting “Screw Chicago.”