Stigmata

The Brussels Review/Winter 2024

The call came on the front desk phone at 7 AM, the start of Tanya’s shift. She’d picked up on the required one ring, reciting the canned greeting.

“Good morning, Sweet Serenity, how can I help you?”

A pause loomed, then a middle-aged woman’s voice.

“Ah, thank god. I’ve been calling for an hour. My father, Henry Glaskin, room 415. I’m concerned about his teeth. I’m told he often takes them out. I can’t get there to oversee. I’m out of town. I rely on you people. He needs them otherwise he can’t eat.”

“Certainly, mam. I’ll have an aide check asap,” Tanya said, texting the only other person on shift at that hour, pale blubbery Kevin.

“No, I want you to check now. I’ll wait on the line,” she said.

Tanya pictured her arms folded, toe tapping.

“I understand that but I’m not an aide. My job is to cover the desk, that’s all. But I’ll-”

“Do I need to call the main office?”

“Okay, mam, I’ll head right down to see your Dad.”

Irritation propelled her from the desk through the social area to the darkened residents’ hall. She passed room after room of snoring old people, glancing in at turkey wattle necks cranked back, mouths open wide.

In room 415 Henry Glaskin slumbered, blankets tossed to the floor, exposing a wretched skeletal frame. The sought after teeth floated in a glass beside the bed, particles of food, like saltine specks, suspended in liquid.

“Hey, Tanya,” a voice behind her provoked a start. Kevin.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“Taking Jerry down the back elevator. Someone always pops off on Saturday night. You can count on it,” he chuckled.

“Can you put this guy’s teeth in? His daughter’s on the phone and all worked up about him starving to death or something.”

“Sure thing,” Kevin said, “Soon as I strip Jerry’s bed. I’ll get right on it.”

***

The interview occurred just one week before. Tanya wore her best flowered blouse, uncomfortable black pants, and a pair of cheap pumps. With her blonde hair cut in a pixie style - a look her ex-husband would have hated – she hoped to give off a highly responsible vibe. Wedged in the office chair , she watched the tired-looking HR woman leaf through paperwork. Sweat pooled beneath Tanya’s arms.

“I see you’ve worked in this biz a long time,” the HR woman squinted, like the small bland room was too bright, or she had a really bad hangover.

“Since high school, actually.”

“Most people go from nursing homes to private. Not the other way around

Tanya held her breath, fiddled with the ruby ring on her left finger.

The HR woman stared at some unknown spot on the back wall.

“It was emotionally draining. Getting so close to my clients and then having them, you know,” she said.

“Yup, for sure,” the HR said, “we’re all on the same train headed to the same station. Don’t I know it!” She slapped the desk, causing a gigantic Dunkin Donuts cup to tremble.

“Can you start tomorrow? We need someone answering phones on every floor, right away. We’re super understaffed but we don’t want it to sound that way!”

Tanya exhaled, relief rushing out of her lungs. There’d be no time for checking references.

***

At 10:30 Tanya’s pen hovered above 10 across, a three letter word for time period. She was writing in ERA when the desk phone rang.

“Henry Glaskin’s daughter. I’m just calling to check on the teeth.”

Tanya pressed her lips together before speaking.

“I’m sure they’re in, mam,” she said.

“Are you? I wish I could be so sure. Can you please check?”

“Again?” Tanya knew she sounded like her teenage daughter Katelyn when asked to do any chore, as though she was capable of performing useful acts only once. Tanya did not want to get involved with the patients. The whole reason she took the job was because it was answering phones. That’s all.

“Yes, again. And I don’t care that you’re not an aide. Anyone, absolutely anyone can check for dentures.”

She found Kevin in the hallway, supporting a shuffling old man, holding him by the back of his pants with one hand, like a pail of water.

Tanya feared an alert Mr. Glaskin (What if he shared his daughter’s personality?), but found him still sleeping, a repulsive pile of scrambled eggs heaped on a plate near the bed. His open mouth revealed bumpy gums and a string of saliva. The glass with the teeth absent from  the nightstand. She stepped into the bathroom. Not there. She looked in the closet, under the bed, on the roommate’s nightstand, everywhere. No teeth.

Artificial daisies in bright pink plastic planters, watched, winked, smiled from the window ledges as she dragged herself back to the phone.  

“He’s all set,” she said to the daughter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s resting comfortably, all set.”

“Teeth in? Did he eat his breakfast?”

“His breakfast-eggs and toast-is there with him. He’s all set.”

“But what about the teeth? Where are his teeth?” the daughter demanded.

She really didn’t want to lie.

“They’re there.”

“In his mouth? Secured with the dental glue?”

“Yes. His teeth are in and glued and he’s had his breakfast and today, today we’re having a Sunday Social.”

“Oh, how nice,” the daughter said, “Thank you so much. You don’t know what a relief this is.”

***

Before, she’d worked for the Angiottis, a close family who hired her to care for their demented father, Al. On weekdays from 8 AM to 8 PM, Tanya cooked all the meals, cleaned the house from top to bottom, and washed and folded all of Al’s laundry. But she mostly talked to him, read to him, listened to his Great Depression and World War II  stories. He could remember the long past but none of the present. His adult kids took over nights and weekends.

Tanya loved their cozy ranch house with all its framed photos of Christmases and Thanksgivings and weddings from long past. Her past did not include such family togetherness. Her father had pretty much always been out of the picture. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in years. At Mr. Angiotti’s Tanya watered the plants and swept the porch and emptied the dishwasher, pretending it was hers, a great escape from her own unravelling home. Katelyn, 12 at the time, went to an after-school program and then to a cousin’s house until Tanya finished her shift. It all seemed so stable, so well-planned and perfect. Mr. Angiotti rewarded her with his wife’s ring. He asked her not to tell his children, which of course she never did.

***

At noon, Judy the activities lady appeared to the set up for the Sunday Social. She introduced herself, smiling relentlessly, a firm grip on Tanya’s hand.

 “Ya wanna help? There’s so much to do and just me to do it!” Judy said, dark red hair spiking, purple crystal earrings swinging.

“I’m really supposed to be focused on the desk. They want phones answered on the first ring.”

“Suit yourself,” Judy said, still smiling, unfolding table cloths, opening tissue paper flower centerpieces, filling small plastic cups with hard candy.

Huffing and puffing, she rolled each resident in their wheel chair, one by one, some still sleeping, to the social area. She arranged cowboy hats, fedoras, and funny mustaches on the men, hung feather boas around the ladies’ papery necks.  Glenn Miller played on continuous loop. She wheeled out Mr. Glaskin last.

“Tanya, have you met Henry?”

He was awake, milky amber eyes scanning the  decorations. Tanya crouched beside his wheelchair.

His open-mouthed smile revealed perfect teeth gleaming in the overhead fluorescent light. 

“His teeth!” Tanya said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Of course. You can’t eat a cupcake without teeth, right Henry?” Judy said in a kind of baby voice.

“Sure you can,” Kevin emerged, pushing an empty gurney. “A cupcake’s easy to gum,” he said before diminishing down the hall.

Judy struggled to call out the numbers and assist the residents place their hard candy on the bingo cards.

The phone remained silent, so Tanya relented and came to assist.

She even enjoyed herself. When one old lady achieved BINGO, she rushed over to secure a plastic tiara on the giggling lady’s head. Tanya high-fived Judy, exclaiming a hearty Woo-hoo!.

Then the desk phone began its infernal ringing.

Tanya told Mr. Glaskin’s annoying daughter that his teeth were front and center. He’d just consumed a chocolate cupcake, frosting slashed his face, like a football player’s eye black, except pink.

“Wonderful!” the daughter said, adding, “but I do hope he has something more nutritious before bed.”

“Of course,” Tanya said.

***

A year before, Tanya had no idea Katelyn was having sex. When she found the pregnancy test in the kitchen garbage can she felt only confusion, not accusation, not suspicion.

“I found a positive pregnancy test in the garbage,” she said.

Katelyn, distracted as always by her phone, did not answer.

Tanya stirred seasoning into ground beef for their weekly taco night. She glanced at the table where Katelyn sat, hair hanging, covering her face.

She was crying.

“Pregnant? At 15!” Tanya sputtered, storming out of the kitchen, leaving the flame on, her wooden spoon tossed in the sink.

***

“How do you do this?” Tanya asked Judy as they cleaned up from the party, “Stay so cheery and going to all this trouble when-”

“They’re going to die soon?” Judy said, her smile fading for just a second. She swept the floor, where most of the cupcakes lay in large crumbs and shreds. “I love it. I love them.”

Judy carried out the last box of party supplies. The floor returned to its steady hum of silence. The paper smiley faces she’d hung sagged a bit, some detaching from the walls.

The phone. Tanya hesitated, allowing it to ring three times.

Of course it was Glaskin’s daughter, asking about the teeth.

Of course, Kevin was nowhere in sight.

She walked slowly down the hall, avoiding the passing rooms, the many lives snoozing their way to eternity.

Mr. Glaskin leaned to one side in his wheelchair, a black and white movie playing on the television. Tanya recognized Humphrey Bogart, her grandfather’s favorite actor. Roast beef and mash remained untouched on the rolling table. His mouth was closed. She cringed as she inserted a finger to lift a crusty lip.

No teeth, not in his mouth, not anywhere.

This time she found Kevin in the hall, sprawled on his ubiquitous gurney, mesmerized by his phone.

“Where are Mr. Glaskin’s teeth?” Tanya asked, surprised be her raised voice.

“Huh? How the hell should I know?”

“They were there before, during the party. Where could they be?”

“Relax, lady, Jesus. He probably swallowed them.” Kevin started laughing and couldn’t stop, dropped his phone on his chest as he rubbed his tearing eyes.

Two hours until the end of shift. Tanya returned to the desk, moving past darkened windows under the low lights of the social area. She considered removing the phone from its hook. Instead, she allowed herself to switch on her cell phone. How she’d love to answer one of her daughter’s persistent baby questions or gaze at a photo of her grandson, anything to escape this situation.

Inevitably, the desk phone rang.

This time, Tanya lied about the teeth, no hesitation.

***

It happened on the most beautiful summer day. Tanya walked beside Al Angiotti as he pushed his walker in the driveway, the sun glowing over their heads, the sky a faultless blue. Their long shadows stretched out before them on the black pavement.

Her phone buzzed.

Katelyn.

Mom, he won’t stop crying. You gotta come home. I . Can’t . Do. This!!!

Tanya let go of Al’s arm, began typing a response.

Somehow in that split second, he wobbled over and fell. She threw her phone down, pulled him up, checked for bruises and bumps.

“You okay, Mr. A.? You alright?”

The old man nodded and smiled a toothless smile. Later she’d find his dentures across the driveway, sugared with pieces of dirt and rock.

Back in the house, she checked him from head to toe, the dead wife’s coo coo clocks staring from various perches. Next, two fatal choices. She didn’t call 911. Then, she put Al to bed without calling the children, letting them know what happened. He just needs a good night’s sleep, she told herself.

The next morning his right arm presented a disturbing purpley red, like the tube of blood pudding she saw once at a butcher. Internal bleeding.

By the time the EMTs arrived, Mr. Angiotti was dead, his hands hanging limp at his sides, his chin to his chest.

***

For the last call, Tanya skipped the greeting, picked up, waited.

The daughter sucked  in her breath.

“I just don’t trust you,” she said.

“What?” Tanya said, having heard her clearly.

“I don’t trust you people to do your jobs. You don’t understand my situation as an out of town daughter trying to do what’s right. My father can’t eat without those teeth. How can he live if you people don’t do your jobs and keep those teeth glued in his mouth? How can I take care of him from a distance without reliable help? You have no idea how hard this is on me, my own family.”

Tanya dropped the phone, walked back as if in a trance, the rumble of the back elevator the only sound on the floor. She found room 415 still, so still. Mr. Glaskin’s blankets were again tossed to the floor. In the glow of the feeble nightstand light, she scanned his body, his knees and arms held a spidery reddish pattern. His face was frozen, lids partially closed, mouth stuck in a half-open expression, just enough to show the gums, the absence of teeth.

Returning to the desk, she noticed Judy in the staff room hovering above a table full of construction paper and markers, like a kindergarten classroom. She was crying her eyes out.

Tanya entered, gaping at the woman.

“Why are you crying? Did you know already? I thought you left after the party.”

Judy looked at her.

“What? No, I’m crying about my parents. I took care of them until they died. I always resented it. Now I miss them, I miss them so,” she broke down again, her shoulders shaking.

“Mr. Glaskin’s dead. Did you take them?”

“Dead? What?”

“His teeth. Did you take them?”

“No. Of course not. Why would I?”

Tanya didn’t know.

Kevin’s encroaching gurney rattled.

“Leave it to old Glaskin to pop off after the party!” He shook his head back and forth as he rolled the dead man to the back elevator.

Behind the desk, Tanya removed her ruby ring, tossed it into her purse. Her fingers had swelled during the day, the gold band constricted. The sound of the insistent desk phone followed her as she walked to the exit, lights flickering overhead. She could feel the warm wetness of Glaskin’s teeth, their presence a solid certainty. The arc of plastic smiled inside her pocket, weighing into her, pressing, creating a deep, dark, unmovable stain. She knew she’d carry them with her this way, forever.