Page 84 of Holy Sinner

“Aurora Smith.” When I looked up the assisted living center they had a senior spotlight on their website. Aurora’s was last week’s spotlight.

“Let me check,” the woman taps on her keyboard and then hums. “Oh, are you here for the reunion? I just think it’s so sweet that Aurora has her grandkids all visiting this week. She’s been loving it so much on account of her not getting many visitors the rest of the year.”

A reunion. Perfect. Thank you universe for this gift in the middle of a shit sandwich week.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m here for.”

“Wonderful dear. Just sign in here,” she taps the clipboard with a manicured tip of her nail and beams at me while I make up a name.

“Here you go, thank you.”

“Aurora will be so delighted to see you,” she tells me while she pulls out a visitor’s badge and hands it to me. “Now, you’ll want to go through those doors and straight down to the elevator. Then it’s floor 2 and she’s the first door on the right. Room 205.”

I nod and commit the directions and room number to memory. If I get caught trying to find Dottie I’ll repeat the directions word for word.

I slip the visitor’s badge over my head and smile gratefully. “Thank you so much. I appreciate your help. You don’t know what this means to me.”

“Happy to help. Let me know if you need anything else, dear.”

I set off towards the doors and remind myself to look nonchalant. There’s nothing out of the ordinary. No one knows fuck all about who I am or why I want to see a random resident. I could always tell them that I thought we were related but got my research wrong if I’m questioned. I push past the doors and scan the hallway. It’s quiet here. Soft music is piped in, more jazzy than the reception area but still nice. It isn’t tile underfoot but carpet and every door is open and helps fill the hallway with light.

I peek in the first door on my way past and see a woman sleeping. Her room isn’t as nice as the outside or the hallway so I guess maybe it is exactly like I imagined. She’s in a hospital bed and the room is sparse and sterile with white tile and drab beige walls. Sadness pricks my heart at seeing the sleeping woman in a room so empty but I push it away. There’s an empty receptionist desk to my left and for some reason my eye catches on a pair of scissors. They’re heavy, more like shears than scissors. I snag them and tuck them into my back pocket. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I see Dottie but taking those scissors feels right.

A room like this is exactly what Dottie Bee deserves. She shouldn’t be comfortable. She should be trapped in a shitty, cold, empty room. I keep going down the hallway, careful to scan the names of the doors as I pass so I don’t miss Dottie’s room. I get to the end of the hallway with the elevator but Dottie’s name never shows on any of the name placards on the doors.

There’s a map on the wall beside the elevator showing me where I am and that floors two and three are also for residents. “Floor two is as good a place as any to start.” I hit the button for the elevator and when the doors slide open, I let out a sigh of relief. A minute later, I’m walking down the hallway of the second floor and right away I see Aurora Smith’s room. At the end of the hall there’s a receptionist desk and a few nurses laughing over a magazine. I make my way to Aurora’s door and when I do, I see she’s sleeping. Her room is nicer than the other woman’s with plenty of flowers and pictures all around. I smile, glad that Aurora is having a wonderful reunion week. When I turn away from the door, I see a name that I didn’t think I would so soon.

Dottie Bee.

There’s a stupid silver bee sticker pasted onto the door next to her name. I cross the hallway before I realize it and when I look in, I see she’s sitting up in bed. She’s not asleep like Aurora and when I appear in the doorway, she motions for me to come in. I glance down the hallway but the nurses are still turned around so I do what she asks and enter the room.

“Hello.” What the fuck else do you say to the woman that marked the men you love?

She coughs and points to the cup in front of her. “Can you get me some water?”

I don’t move. I don’t want to leave my fingerprints on a single thing. When I don’t move, she coughs again and gives me a confused look but a second later realization colors her face.

“I know you.”

“And I know you.”

Me knowing who Dottie is isn’t that noteworthy. She was the highest paid leading lady on television before she ended up here. She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen when I was dreaming of a better tomorrow and she is still pretty. The remnants of that glamor I remember so well cling to her. She’s not old like the other white-haired women sleeping in their rooms I’ve seen today. She’s in her late fifties with only a few strands of silver in her red hair. She’s wearing a pair of red silk pajamas and makeup that looks out of place in her room. It’s not barren like the first room and everything in it feels carefully selected to cater to her image as a legendary television starlet.

And that legendary television starlet knows me.

“You’re with them,” she says quietly, her voice a rasp, barely more than a whisper.

“I am.”

‘What are you doing here with those men waiting for you?”

“I wanted to look at the bitch who raped them.”

Her eyes narrow and then she huffs out a laugh. “You know they don’t do anything they don’t want to. They wanted me.”

“Fuck you.”

“They did, yes.”

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