'Evacuation Plan'

Photo By Will Van Overbeek

"How's that work for you, Mr. Belacek?"

He mouths "fine" but no sound comes out. I can see the words pooling inside him.

Mary returns to the counter and whispers to me, "Talk to him."

I know nothing about the man, so I slip down to the volunteer office and check the book.

I remember Annie Mae's instructions: "These are our cheat sheets. The book is always here on the desk. Check it first thing when you come in. It'll tell you who our latest residents are, what ails them, and maybe a little about who they are."

Alfred Belacek. A Dallas attorney born and raised in Vermont. Prep schools. A dead wife. No children.

Mr. Belacek's eyes follow me as I come back down the hallway. I lean over close to him.

"I picked blueberries once in Vermont," I say. "You must have had an exciting life as an attorney, too."

His eyes are a crystal blue. He purses his lips, massaging the words, and motions for me to come even closer. I lean my ear toward his face, and he spits the words loose like chunks of gravel.

"High jump champion."

His blue eyes train on mine, and I can see into his past for a moment. The young, nimble boy grabbing the pole. Running. Taking flight.

Mr. Belacek's mouth curls into a satisfied grin, and his eyes drift shut. The effort to speak seems to have drained his battery.

"What'd he say?" Mary asks from the nurse's station.

When I tell her, she puts her palm on my forehead.

"You've got the power," she says. "You got more out of him in five minutes than I have in days. I am impressed."

Mary points to a high shelf where stuffed animals are lined up, their legs dangling down.

"My favorite patient had her daughter buy those. One a day. They were her lucky charm. Her bed was crowded with them in the end. Said it was only fitting – she was dying in a zoo, so might as well make it official. I've got her giraffe at home."

"How do you handle this job?" I ask.

Mary turned her back to me.

"Her name was Mona. I hid in the back room and cried the day she left." She turns to me, the sadness clouding her face. "I don't always do that. Lots of faces blend together. It's like at a party where you're drawn to some people more than others. Some patients are obnoxious or boring. But I went to Mona's funeral. And I cried some more. Then I read her obituary in the newspaper and cried again."

"How did she handle dying?" I ask. That's the real mystery I want answered: what it felt like to die. The cold hard facts.

"As serene as an infant taking a nap," Mary says, and puts her hand on mine. "They're not all like that."

She grips my hand tightly.

"One man grabbed me just like that, maybe harder. It was about twenty minutes before he passed."

"He was afraid?" I ask.

Her touch lightens.

"Pure fear," she says. "It was even worse after he was gone. One time my granny's cat died. I found Lil Bit on the bed with her mouth and eyes open wide. He looked like that kitty. He didn't want to go."

At that moment, with her guard down, Mary is the most beautiful woman in the world. The wrinkles, the years fall from her face. Unlike most of the people I meet in this world, she's being honest and nothing could be sexier. I long to take her in my arms and cradle her, but I don't. I just ask more questions.

"How do the other nurses handle it?"

She takes one step backward and the businesslike nurse wall goes back up.

"Different ways, Matt." She turns and jots a note on a patient's chart. "Some throw pebbles in a pond. Others burn candles. We've got a few praying types. Ritualistic crap like that. Whatever works. If you're a nurse here, you've got to grieve."

I look back at the dozing Mr. Belacek and the woman caught in chocolate time. I try to comprehend that they'll likely be dead in the next couple of days. The vulture watches.

"What else do nurses have to do, Mary?"

She holds up three fingers and counts them off.

"First off, you've got to have boundaries. Then you've got to be ready for the busy and the slow times. Thank the lord for a high vacancy rate; our souls need that break now and then. And you've got to know the truth when you see it."

Excerpted from Evacuation Plan by Joe O'Connell. Copyright © 2007 by Joe O'Connell. Reprinted by arrangement with Dalton Publishing.