Page 46 of Nicky

Those three words hit me harder than they should have, carrying more weight than I expected. A promise. An invitation. A tether.

I nodded and walked out, each step heavier than the last.

The rest of the day blurred together, one task bleeding into the next. I moved on autopilot, my hands steady and my voice calm as I checked in on residents, assisted with meals and personal care, monitored vital signs, and helped with mobility. My routine was muscle memory by now. I’d been doing this for six years—long enough to know that for some of the residents, the final place where they were alive would be here at the facility. Others would go to the hospital, never to return. I’d come to terms with it—mostly. It was part of the job, the nature of it. But there were always those who meant more to me than most. Beverly, for example. She wasn’t just a resident. She’d started living here the same week I began working here, and she’d become like a second mother to me. She was more than two decades older than my mom would have been if she were still alive, but Beverly had always stepped in with that same protective warmth. If I lost her, it would feel like losing a vital part of myself.

Every time I passed Beverly’s room, a hollow ache settled in my chest. Her absence was a gaping wound in the flow of the day.

I couldn’t stop replaying Markus’s words, the image of her lying in a hospital bed, unconscious. It didn’t make sense. She’d been a little off, sure, but she always bounced back. She was Beverly—stubborn, lively, invincible.

Or so I’d thought.

I made it to Carl’s room, knocking lightly on the door before stepping in.

“Afternoon, Nicholas,” Carl greeted me with his usual calm tone, sharp eyes watching me closely, though his voice carried the weight of decades lived.

“Afternoon, Carl,” I forced a smile, trying to shake off the heaviness from earlier. “How you feeling today?”

“Better. Been drinking more water, no need to fuss about me.” Carl waved a hand dismissively, clearly not in the mood for any more attention than necessary.

I nodded, checking off the usual tasks in my mind. “Good to hear. Just need to take your vitals and make sure you're still on track.”

I moved to his bedside, gently checking his blood pressure and pulse, making quick notes in the chart. It was a routine, a routine that had become automatic, almost comforting. But there was still that lingering weight from earlier, the worry for Beverly, and I couldn’t push it aside no matter how much I tried.

After finishing with the routine, I glanced up and added, “By the way, you'll be getting a new roommate. A Vietnam vet. He’s moving in tomorrow.”

Carl seemed to mull it over for a second, then gave a small nod. “We’ll see how long it takes for him to realize I’m the one who runs this place.”

I smiled at his bravado, knowing it was all part of Carl’s charm. “I’m sure you two will get along just fine. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll check in later.”

Carl waved me off with a smirk. “I’ll be fine, Nicholas. You go do your thing.”

After finishing my shift, I headed to the medical center. I walked down the sterile hallway, the usual scent of antiseptic thick in the air. Every step felt heavier than the last, my heart pounding in my chest. I wasn’t sure what I expected when I arrived, but the knot in my stomach only tightened as I approached the nurse’s station.

I took a deep breath before stepping up to the nurse’s station. The woman behind the desk—Clara—looked up at me. Her eyes flicked to my name tag and then back to my face, recognition settling in her gaze.

“Mr. Pearson,” she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “What can I do for you?”

“I—uh,” I hesitated, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak. “I’d like to see Beverly Morrison. I know the rules, but we’ve worked together for years. I’ve been caring for her at the senior living facility.”

Clara studied me for a moment, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the counter. I could tell she was weighing her options, but there was something soft in her expression as she glanced toward Beverly’s room.

“I know who you are,” she said quietly, “and I understand the connection. We’ve been informed about the situation, and it’s not uncommon for long-term caregivers to visit, especially when it’s someone who’s had a bond with a patient. But I still have to check with Dr. Patel.”

I nodded, trying to keep the nerves from showing. The waiting felt endless as Clara picked up the phone and spoke to Dr. Patel, her voice muffled through the receiver. My gazeshifted to the hallway, the quiet buzz of activity around me a stark contrast to the pounding in my chest.

A few minutes passed before she hung up and turned back to me. “Dr. Patel has cleared it. You can go in, but we ask that you be mindful. Beverly is in a coma, and while we encourage visitors to speak to her—it can sometimes help—we also need to keep stimulation to a minimum. You can stay for a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” I said. I could feel my pulse quicken as she led me down the hall toward Beverly’s room.

As we entered, the sight of her lying there—pale, still, hooked to machines—was almost too much to bear. The faint beep of her heart monitor was the only sound breaking the silence. I approached her bed slowly, my footsteps soft on the linoleum floor.

I couldn’t help but reach out, my hand hovering above hers before I finally took it in mine. Her skin was cool, a little clammy, but familiar in a way that settled something deep inside me. The years of laughter, of late-night talks, of quiet moments at the facility—everything we had shared came rushing back in a flood.

“You’re stubborn, Bev,” I murmured, my thumb brushing the back of her hand. “You always bounce back. You have to bounce back now. I’m not ready to let you go.”

I didn’t expect her to respond, didn’t expect her to hear me. But I had to say it. For myself. For her. It was all I had left to give.

As I stood there, the sound of a nurse entering the room broke my reverie. She gave me a soft smile, her voice gentle. “I’m afraid we’ll need to keep visits brief, Mr. Pearson. If you’d like, we can give you a moment before you leave.”

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