CHAPTER 18

Mr. Callavan couldn't walk without a walker and somebody behind him just in case he falls. Because of this, it wasn't a good idea for me to sleep in my room even though it was just next door. There was a comfy sofa in his room, and I was told to use it as a bed. So, there I was at night, dozing, battling sleep. I opened my eyes and Mr. Callavan was standing right in front of me, glaring. 

The room was dark, and the shock was magnified. I gasped so loud.

"Oh my gosh!", I said under my breath.

"WHO ARE YOU?", Mr. Callavan yelled.

"It's me, Jenara.", I said as I sat up straight.

"WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE? ARE YOU HERE TO KILL ME? WHO LET YOU IN?",

"Mr. Callavan, calm down_",

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!", he yanked the blanket off my legs, "GET OUT, YOU MURDERER. WHO SENT YOU TO KILL ME?".

I was so dumbfounded. He kept yelling and getting unstable. I decided to leave his room and he slammed the door so hard behind me. All that was new to me. Back then I didn't know about schizophrenia or Alzheimer's. My immediate thought was that he knew what he was doing, and he hated me, just as I expected.

Once again, I was reminded of the woman's words from the afternoon. Was I supposed to live like that every day? It was torture.

…

I hadn't had any sleep in 3 days. Even sitting down quietly for 15 minutes was impossible. He walked almost all the time, except when he was having a meal. And that's after making me go back and forth from the kitchen to his room a hundred times. One day, he made me remake his tea 4 times; First, he said it wasn't hot enough. Then he said it was too hot. Third time he said the tea was too bitter, it was black tea. Finally, he asked me to just bring him the hot water and he'd dip the tea bag in himself. I was so angry that I couldn't even think straight.

Gillian broke her promise. She only came twice in a week, and whenever she came, she couldn't stay for more than 3 hours. I was like a machine. I was exhausted. My body was glaring at me. Sounds crazy, but I could feel it. I've never overworked my body the way I did in that week. It was hard. Thoughts of quitting started coming up. I had to do the Math. Should I quit and go back to that rapist of a brother, or suck it in and work? I was still in a dilemma. 

Next day, Gillian came. It was Sunday. I got paid for the first time in my life. I opened my envelope and there was my $500. She then proceeded to tell me about her life when she first came to the States. It was pretty rough too. I then thought to myself;

If she managed to get through it and live a lavish life now, I can do this.

I officially made up my mind to stay and work. I needed to test my strength and patience. I started laughing at Mr. Callavan's unfunny jokes and used his mealtime as my nap time. Coffee became my bestie. I had to learn about time management. 

Mr. Callavan usually fell asleep at 5 am in the morning. So, whenever that time came, I'd take a quick 30-to-45-minute nap. I'd wake up after that for a shower. By the time I'm done, it'd be almost 7 am. I'd then start the laundry machine while lightly cleaning the house. At exactly 7:45 am, I'll be in the kitchen, making his breakfast. He woke up at 8 am, and he expected his breakfast to be at the table. 

He took a shower once a week, Saturdays or Fridays. He hated diapers so sometimes he peed himself and I had to change him immediately. In the middle of the night, he'd be hungry for a snack, so I'd either fry two eggs for him, or get him a piece of cake. He loved Tiramisu from Whole Foods, caramel macarons and a red velvet cheesecake, specifically from the Cheesecake Factory. Every day I learned something new about him.

...

No matter how tired or angry I was, I never let him notice. I'd be the same cheerful person. Little by little, my dear man began loosening up to me. 

"When do you sleep?", he asked me one day as I brought his lunch.

"I sleep when you sleep.", I answered.

"But I never sleep.".

"Then I never sleep too.".

I saw a tiny smile at the corner of his lips. That night, Mr. Callavan was in bed by 10 pm. I was surprised.

"Are you alright?", I asked while covering him with a blanket, "The night is still young.".

"I want to sleep early tonight. You should too. If I need anything, I'll call you. So, sleep with your ears open.", he said.

That was the first time he was thoughtful to me. In all the 4 weeks I lived with him, he seemed emotionless. I had my first good night's sleep in weeks. 

***