She sat at the table, watching the rain pelt against the soiled windowpane, rapping her fingers against her thigh

Unto the Shadows

***Disclaimer: I do not own the preceding characters of Amanda and Lee, but all others are of my own conception.***

She sat at the table, watching the rain pelt against the soiled windowpane, rapping her fingers against her thigh. She hummed an indiscernible tune from her youth and caught herself, coughing away the imbedded melody.

Her body rocked forward and back in a dining chair--its legs screwed to the floor. She blinked at the rattling dishes--cups being laid on saucers, forks tapping at the plates--and resumed her melancholy song.

"What's that you're singing there?" The man cocked his head to the side. Or was this his usual poor posture?

"Nothing," the woman said, rubbing her frail fingers through her thin gray hair.

The man grunted and turned away. Indeed his posture remained the same. He turned to another ailing woman. "What's that you're singing there?"

The woman looked at the man again, questioning whether or not he could actually hear, and stared back down at her plate. An untouched roll soaked up the corn juices, and the pork lay hard and frigid. The woman had not eaten in days. Such was fine with her though; her stomach could not handle anything solid, and it was not her place to request a liquid diet.

A voiced echoed over the emptying dining hall. "Meds--Anderson, Corwin, Cromwell, Elberman, Granson, Iwinski, Jet, Khitler, Luff, Neal, Roth, Stetson, Turner. Get your meds." A fluttering of activity--the handicapped pulled themselves along the hallway railing, those able to walk did so slowly--through the dining hall to a small counter. A woman dressed in nurse's garb dealt two small paper cups to the growing line--one filled with water, the other carrying a colorful array of pills.

The woman reached the counter last and held out her blemished hand. "Make sure you take them all, Amanda."

Amanda nodded her head and turned away. With the slightest of movements she placed the pill filled cup to her mouth and followed it with the water, wincing at the arthritic pain in her shoulders.

***

"Bingo!" A man lifted his hand in the air, beaming around at the cooing crowd.

"Bingo again, Charlie. I swear, lady luck sure likes you."

The old man chuckled and called out his numbers.

"We have a winner. What will tonight's movie be, Charlie?" A young woman acting as emcee called out from the front of the room.

Amanda raised her head from the back of the room, covering her unmarked cards.

"How about a musical?" The old man called out.

"Anything you want, Charlie. What'll it be?"

Amanda's eyes widened and the corners of her mouth lifted slowly.

"42nd Street."

The throng celebrated Charlie's decision with a unanimous "oh" and watched as a volunteer distributed another stack of cards.

"Now," the emcee declared, "let's see who's going to pick tonight's snack. "

Amanda lowered her head again; the smile long faded from her visage. She was disappointed. Her unnoticed sobs continued through the next round.

***

The herd sat in the darkness, picking cookie crumbs from their laps as wild singing and dancing flashed across the nineteen-inch screen. They nodded their heads to the beat and smiled gaily, their dentures glowing blue in the television light.

Amanda sat in the back, staring at the TV without watching. There were people, yes. There was dancing and singing. There was even talking. But all went unnoticed by the 83 year-old.

She had never seen that night's film and had not planned on ever watching it; why alter destiny at such a late date?

She hummed. Her voice was soft and frail as a trite leaf. She saw their faces staring up at her from their warm beds. Rain drops on roses. Their eyes slowly closed. And whiskers on kittens. Their breathing idled. Bright copper kettles. She tucked them in tighter. And warm woolen mittens. She kissed their foreheads.

She forgot the rest of the words.

Her humming grew in intensity and her neighbors relented.

"Excuse me," the woman beside her whispered.

Amanda refused to look up. She continued.

"Miss," the man in front of her hissed.

An attendant stepped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Okay, Amanda," he murmured. "It's time for you to get some shut eye, okay?"

She stood with his assistance. Her humming echoed as she was escorted down the hall.

"These are a few of my favorite things!" She bellowed from within the doorway to her room before shutting it behind her.

She rushed through the rest of the song, undressing to her undergarments. She stared at the pile of clothes on the floor and sang to them. "When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad…."

She was struck by her reflection in the mirror. She stepped closer and touched her cheeks. Her face had grown gaunt, her eyes and breasts had fallen slightly, and her brow was scarred with age. She grabbed at her waist and resumed her song.

"I simply remember my favorite things, and then--." She looked around. "And then--." The words escaped her.

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…." She swayed to her song and felt his hands around her as he sang into her ear. "Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens." She sang with him. "Brown paper packages tied up with strings, these are a few of my favorite things." She turned to hold him closer but he was gone. What had felt so real--the brown hair, hazel eyes, deep voice--was all in her imagination.

She looked around the room, attempting to recapture the feeling that had escaped her. It was gone. He was gone.

She fell into the bed and rolled her legs toward her chest. Her weeping was heavy. Her breath reached deep within her chest and heaved in convulsive fits as tears streamed down her face.

She stood up and walked to her crumpled pile of clothes. She knelt and reached into the pocket of her robe, removing a rainbow array of capsules. She reached in with her other hand and pulled out an even greater amount of pills--triangles, circles, squares, ovals--exposing a veritable apothecary.

She stood and slumped into the communal bathroom, closing the heavy door behind her. She twisted the faucet handle on the porcelain sink, watching the water accumulate in the basin. She drew lines in the water with her thin fingers before filling her mouth with pills. She cupped water into her left hand and poured it into her mouth, groaning though the difficulty of swallowing. She poured another handful of water and the slick pills raced down her throat. She placed the remainder of the pills under the running water and placed them in her mouth, swallowing. The pills chased each other down her esophagus, passing her heart and lungs, entering her stomach.

She slid down the wall accompanied by the shrieking of flesh. The tear tracks on her face faded within the rouge of her cheeks and her breathing wavered.

She saw a dark figure beside her sitting with its legs spread out before him. She turned to see the shadows head turn. She saw a smile in the darkness and smiled back before falling into her own shadow.