| Bad Karma |
| Her name was Irene Haney. She was the only resident in the nursing home during my four years as an aid whom I disliked. To be entirely candid, I detested her. She was ninety-four when she first came to the nursing home and had a mouth that could silence the commentator on the Iron Chef. She would insist that someone be at her side in no more than twenty-five seconds after she rang her bell or else she would call the Ombudsman. She had an egg timer. What I detested most about Irene was her left eye. She was blind in that eye which made it a hazy gray color; it reminded me of the 'vulture eye' that Poe wrote about in The Tell Tale Heart. It followed me around her room like the infrared light on a sniper's gun ready to shoot. I hated that eye. Irene was obsessed with cats. She had cat calendars, mugs, pictures, statues, pillows, and even slippers. It was a surprisingly endearing idiosyncrasy, but that obsession was the only likeable thing about the woman. When Irene died she actually left the staff her cat-related possessions and a letter requesting that each of us go to the local cat shelter to adopt a kitten. For whatever reason I complied. At the shelter one kitten in particular stood out. Maybe it was the nametage that read "Irene" or maybe it was its left eye resembling that of a vulture. Regardless, I left and immediately converted to Hinduism. |