“The Caregiver”
Tate Morgan is a professional caregiver in the health care field. She gets a new client, who moves in with her financially well-off daughter and son-in-law after her husband died.
During a date-night for the Barnetts, Tate is left at the house, alone, to protect her new client, Cynthia, from what appears to be a Shadow person in the house!
Denver, Colorado; USA. Present Day...
“There she is,” Tracy called out to her husband as he was putting the finishing touch to his business attire. Both were in their early-thirties and were already financially successful. Tracy was dressed for her job as a financial analyst, and she was just now finishing up laying out the drinking glasses and supplements that her mother was going to take for the day. She wanted the new caregiver's first day with her mother, Cynthia, to go as smooth as possible.
The gray SUV circled the cul de sac and came to a slow stop near the curb, by a small tree in the suburban-like residential neighborhood. Tracy and Phillip watched as the middle-aged woman climbed out of the vehicle, shut the door with her remote-key, and then quickly walked her way to the extensive grounds of the Barnett's property.
“Prompt...I like her already,” Phillip said with a contrived proper demeanor; straightening his tie as he did so.
Tracy was nodding in agreement. “Frankly, I like the fact that she's a little on the older side.” The doorbell rang and Tracy went over to open the door for her; Tracy yet speaking. “The last two I think were a little too young for...”
“Yeah, that's what I was thinking.”
The Barnetts shared an apprehensive look, then put on a smile as Tracy opened the door.
Behind the door was a pleasant-looking woman in her late-forties, though she clearly toned down her appearance for business purposes, the Barnetts reasoned. Her hair was medium in length, but pulled back in a lose-bun, while her clothes were sensibly an open-collar shirt and a pair of woman's khakis and tennis shoes.
“Well, come on in, Tate,” Tracy warmly invited her. Tate strode into the cavernous vestibule, just as Phillip was on his way out the front door. But he made sure to introduce himself before he left for his job at The Piers Group real estate agency at downtown Denver.
Tracy began the brief tour of their house before she, too, had to go to work.
“Wow,” Tate said after finally reaching the expansive basement. It was the last place in the house that Tracy had taken her. It was finished and had a myriad of vintage furniture, rugs, and other miscellaneous furnishings. “This basement is bigger than my last two apartments—combined!”
Tracy shared a proper laugh as they kept walking in the partially-lit basement. Some corners were swathed in darkness and gave the basement a more dungeon feel to it!
“Tracy,” Tate was now saying, “you and Phillip certainly have done well for yourselves.”
“Yeah, well, all of this,” she indicated the furnishings all around them with one of her hands, “is pretty much my dad's. We're just lucky to have the space to store all of this down here after he died and mom moved in with us.”
Tate's face turned almost apologetic, and, innately, the two women slowed down their pace. “I'm sorry for your loss, Tracy...I'm a few years older than both of you. So I've already lost both of my parents. I can certainly relate to your sorrows and adjusting during this very hard time in both of your lives. Especially you, since it was your father.”
Tracy's head cocked inquisitively. “Thanks, Tate. But you're not so old yourself. You've already lost both of your parents?”
“Yeah...they were both killed while on vacation in Mexico...the chartered bus from their church they were riding in slammed into an on-coming semi, just outside of Mexico City.”
“Oh, my god!”
“Yeah...that was about, hmm, five years ago,now?” Tate was lost in memory for a few seconds.
Tracy had a hand on one of Tate's shoulders, her eyes almost tearing up.
“Hey,” Tate said, her voice more animated now, “enough about me. You are the one who lost a father recently and who needs her mother looked after!”
They shared a social laugh.
“Yeah, I suppose I should take you to see her...” There was a bit of hesitation in Tracy, Tate noted. She waited until her new employer felt comfortable to say more. Indeed, Tracy lowered her voice, even though her sleeping mother was on the third floor and they were in the basement.
“Look, Tate...if you happen to notice my mom—converse with herself while she's sleeping, please don't let it bother you. And we ask that you don't try to wake her up, when you see her do this. Phillip and I took her to a psychologist and the center did a scan on my mom's brain. You know; just to make sure that all her talking wasn't some form of dementia setting in.”
“Oh, I understand...better safe than sorry,” Tate interjected.
“Exactly! But it turns out, according to Dr. Davis and from his office's scan, mom's brain is totally fine! Dr. Davis thinks when she does her talking-spell that it's just her way of dealing with my dad's death.”
Tate was nodding. “Well, that would make sense, and I can't say I blame her.”
“Thanks for that open-mindedness, Tate! You'd be surprised how very few people are about it.”
Hmm?, Tate wondered to herself...
“Ok, let's go peep in on mom and see if she's asleep!”
…....................................................