Marcia Talley - Tomorrow's Vengeance

‘Regardless of a nursing home resident’s age or mental capacity, they need touch and affection. Residents of all U.S. facilities have a right to romance – as long as it’s consensual. “We try to keep residents as independent as possible,” said Suzanne Garside, executive director of Emeritus at Federal Way. Residents find love and get remarried at the assisted living facility. Caregivers have also walked in on couples by accident, but unless safety is compromised, they let the fireworks continue.’

FederalWayMirror.com, July 3, 2012.

As was quickly becoming our habit, Naddie and I lingered over our coffee for so long that the wait staff had begun to loom like vultures, preparing to pounce on our dishes the instant we finished with them. ‘Guess it’s time to go,’ I said, laying my napkin down and rising from my chair.

Naddie grinned at the bus boy. ‘We can take a hint, Michael!’

When Naddie and I entered the lobby a crowd had gathered around the fish tank, so we wandered over to see what all the fuss was about. ‘The fishkeeper’s here,’ Colonel Greene explained when we asked. ‘They’ve added a cownose ray.’

During our years of sailing the Chesapeake Bay on my sister-in-law’s sailboat, Sea Song , we’d encountered schools of rays from time to time, particularly in the fall when they were migrating south. Brown, kite-shaped creatures, they swam by flapping their ‘wings,’ often being mistaken for sharks when their triangular wing tips broke the water. I peered into the tank where a woman in full scuba gear – wetsuit, tank, facemask and all – appeared to be adjusting some filtering equipment.

‘She’s from the National Aquarium,’ the colonel added helpfully. ‘They do the maintenance.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘Would I kid you, Little Lady?’ he drawled. He favored me with a thousand-watt grin. ‘The fish tank was a gift and it came with an endowment. Eventually they’ll get around to putting a plaque up about it somewhere.’

As he spoke, the new ray swam into view, and I remembered what Naddie had told me about the arrangement with the National Aquarium. The ray was just a pup, with a wing span of about twelve inches.

‘They’ve taken the stinger out,’ the colonel informed us. ‘Not that it’d do any more damage than getting stung by a bee.’

‘Let’s not and say we did,’ Naddie muttered.

‘There’s a contest to name the little guy,’ the colonel informed us. ‘Drop your suggestion into the box on the reception desk. I just did. What do you think of “Ray”? You can call me Ray, or you can call me Jay, or you can call me RJ…’

‘Must go,’ I told Naddie, feeling a desperate need to blow the joint before the colonel trotted out the whole of his Ray J. Johnson routine. I gave her a hasty kiss on the cheek. ‘See you tomorrow? I’m scheduled to be with Nancy in the morning. Jerry has some medical appointments so she’ll be on her own. She’s made so much progress lately and they want to keep her engaged.’

Naddie gave my arm a gentle squeeze. ‘I hope you’re enjoying your time here, Hannah. Maybe I’m just being selfish, but I’m glad of the excuse to be back in touch with you.’

‘The feeling is mutual,’ I said and, with a nod of farewell to the colonel, who was still muttering to himself, I aimed myself in the direction of the door.

I paused on the porch to check my iPhone for messages – Emily wanted me to run the soccer carpool for my grandson, Jake, that afternoon. I texted back that I would, then headed to the parking lot where I’d left my car. As I rounded the corner of the building I heard raised voices. Déjà vu all over again, I thought. This time, though, there were three people clustered outside the service entrance door. One of them was Safa, a standout even from a distance in her black outfit and brilliant saffron-colored hijab.

Sue me, but curiosity took over. Keeping as much of the ornamental hedge as I could between me and the kitchen door, I eased as close as I dared.

When I was about thirty feet away I separated the branches a bit and peeked through. Masud loomed tall, leaning forward, inches from Safa’s face. ‘What are you doing to incite him, Safa?’

Safa shrank back, her lower lip quivered. ‘Nothing, Masud.’ She extended her arms, palms up. ‘I am as you see me.’

Masud threw his arm back, his palm flat and stiff, while Safa flinched and covered her face protectively with her hands.

‘Sir!’ Raniero took a step toward the couple.

As if suddenly realizing where he was and what he was about to do, Masud let his arm fall to his side. ‘Go home, wife. I will have a few words with the chef.’

Safa bowed her head, backed up a few steps then spun and fled down the sidewalk, rapidly closing the distance between us. When she got even with me I reached out and pulled her into the shrubbery.

Safa sucked in air. ‘What are you doing , Hannah?’

I kept my voice low. ‘Are you OK?’

Safa brushed imaginary dust off her clothing and her face stiffened. ‘Of course I’m OK! Masud is having a little discussion with Raniero, that’s all.’

‘So I see.’

‘I need to go.’

‘Shhhh,’ I said, still keeping a light hold on her arm, as the two men raised their voices.

‘I must speak to you,’ Masud snarled. ‘You have been disrespectful to my wife.’

Raniero wiped a hand down the front of his white jacket. He looked genuinely perplexed. ‘Sir, you are mistaken.’

‘I am not. You are too friendly.’

‘I am friendly to all of the residents,’ Raniero countered. ‘It is my nature to be friendly. It is my job to be so.’

‘You talk, you laugh, you touch her arm. This is not showing respect to a devout Muslim woman.’

‘Your wife is a beautiful woman, Mr Abaza. Only a dead man would not notice. I meant no disrespect, I assure you, and I’m sorry if my friendliness is being misinterpreted.’

‘I have spoken to you about this before, Mr Buccho. Perhaps I did not make myself clear at that time. You must cease this unacceptable behavior.’ His hands began to tremble. Was it from rage, or his Parkinsons?

Raniero stood his ground. ‘I’ll keep my distance in future, sir. But you should know that in America, touching another person in a friendly way is not considered unacceptable. No court of law…’ he began, but Masud stiffened, silencing the chef with a laser gaze that could have sliced through steel.

‘I don’t care how well you cook, Mr Buccho, I can see to it that you lose your job.’

‘Sharia is not the law of this land, sir,’ Raniero continued, taking a brave step forward. ‘You choose to live here.’

Next to me, Safa tensed. ‘I have got to go! A jealous husband is a problem, but a jealous Muslim husband…’

Before I could stop her, she fled.

I started to follow, but decided it might only exacerbate the situation if Masud found me in their home when he returned. Instead, I hung back and waited to see what would happen next.

Suddenly, it hit me. I realized that it had been Masud I’d seen arguing with Raniero in the same spot the previous day. In his white shirt and black pants I’d mistaken Masud for one of the wait staff. And, clearly, the disagreement between the two men was far from resolved. Masud made a fist then drew his right arm back, while Raniero raised his own fists protectively. Still cowering in the bushes, I waited, wincing, expecting the inevitable.

Masud didn’t disappoint. His fist shot out, catching Raniero on the chin. Raniero staggered, momentarily stunned. He shook his head as if to clear it, then drew his own arm back and landed a solid blow to the older man’s midsection.