They called it a charity hospital when the Catholics used to run it. It's under new ownership now, maybe a little less charitable, but some vestiges of the old regime remain. James works the third shift here.
He likes to spend his breaks in the basement. It's deserted and actually pretty creepy in the middle of the night. The morgue is down there, and the beige tiled walls of the hallway feature black and white photos of two or three generations of nuns who once took care of the mad and indigent residents of this old neighborhood. The nuns are dressed in stiff habits and elaborate, terrifying headgear just like Sally Fields wore in The Flying Nun. The Sisters in these photographs aren't at all cute and endearing though. All of them wear dour and severe expressions. At the far end of the hall stands a statue of the Blessed Mother with her hands extended downward. She wears an expression of compassion.
It is James' habit to greet her each night when he walks past. Tonight he reached out and touched her plaster hand on his way to the bathroom. He'd never touched her before and doing so started a train of memories in motion. Catholic high school, his years of service as an altar boy, incense, baptisms, funerals, solemn boredom and daydreams.
The bathroom smells of equal parts urine and bleach. In a hurry now he unzips with one hand and locks the door with the other. He hears the bolt slide into place, steps toward the urinal, realizes that the latch has broken off in his hand.
He likes to spend his breaks in the basement. It's deserted and actually pretty creepy in the middle of the night. The morgue is down there, and the beige tiled walls of the hallway feature black and white photos of two or three generations of nuns who once took care of the mad and indigent residents of this old neighborhood. The nuns are dressed in stiff habits and elaborate, terrifying headgear just like Sally Fields wore in The Flying Nun. The Sisters in these photographs aren't at all cute and endearing though. All of them wear dour and severe expressions. At the far end of the hall stands a statue of the Blessed Mother with her hands extended downward. She wears an expression of compassion.
It is James' habit to greet her each night when he walks past. Tonight he reached out and touched her plaster hand on his way to the bathroom. He'd never touched her before and doing so started a train of memories in motion. Catholic high school, his years of service as an altar boy, incense, baptisms, funerals, solemn boredom and daydreams.
The bathroom smells of equal parts urine and bleach. In a hurry now he unzips with one hand and locks the door with the other. He hears the bolt slide into place, steps toward the urinal, realizes that the latch has broken off in his hand.
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