May 22 - The Old Woman

The old woman was asleep on his recliner when he got home. Probably in her 80s to look at her. She was frail, the skin on her arms baggy and loose, and her thin hair clung to her head, looking like it hadn't been washed in days.
When he gently woke her up, her eyes darted around the room like a frightened animal.
"Hi," he said. Unsure what to say next, he settled on, "Can I help you? Are you lost?"
She answered him in a raspy language he couldn't understand, but that sounded to him like Spanish.
"Um, sorry. Do you speak English?"
She replied in her language, seeming neither to have understood his question nor to recognize that he couldn't understand her. There was a quiet insistence to her voice, like she was telling him something important.
"Is everything OK? You," he said, pointing at her. "OK?"
She talked more, keeping her voice quiet and punctuating the end of each sentence with an extra dose of urgency like it was whispered in ALL CAPS.
He tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but his Spanish wasn't up to the task. He nodded as she spoke, giving her the impression that he understood her. But all the while, he was trying to figure out who she was and how she'd gotten there.
How she'd actually gotten into his house wasn't a complete mystery, though. Like just about everyone else in his town, he never locked his doors because there was no crime there. Other than the occasional illegal border crossings from Mexico (who always steered clear of any trouble or attention anyway), things were quiet.
As for the woman, it was certainly possible that she herself was an illegal, but beyond that, who she was and why she was in his place was beyond him.
He noticed that she was wearing what looked like a hospital wristband around her bony, liver spotted left wrist. He touched it gently and asked, "Did you come here from a hospital?" He read the writing: ID# 1086276. There was also a phone number.
Her fingers dug into the armrests of the recliner and she looked around the room. More talking. He couldn't understand any of it.
"OK, I'm going to call this number." He used his hand like a phone. "Telephone call. OK?"
He dialed the number, and a woman answered after the second ring. "Intake and processing."
"Uh, hi. Um, I'm not sure who I need to talk to but, um. This is probably going to sound weird, but I got home from work a few minutes ago, and there was an old lady in my house?" Suddenly he wondered why he hadn't called the police instead. "And, I can't really understand a word she's saying. I think she's speaking Spanish, but she's got a wristband with your phone number on it, so . . . " He didn't know what to say next. Are you missing an old lady?
"Is there an ID number on the band?"
"Yes."
"Could you tell me the number please?"
He did.
"Please hold."
A few seconds later, a different woman was on the line. "Supervisor's office."
"Yeah, hi. Um, sorry. Who am I talking to?"
"This is the supervisor."
"OK, um. The supervisor of what, exactly?"
"Research and development."
"Of?"
"Sir, I understand one of our clinical trial volunteers found her way into your house somehow?"
"Yes, but--"
"Sir, we do apologize, but we've had some changes in personnel here in the last few days, and some of our volunteers were not given the proper post trial debriefings before being processed and released. We apologize for any inconveniences this may have caused."
"No, that's fine. I just--sorry, what am I--what--Who are you?"
"This is the Solarex Medical Group, research and development division."
"OK, but--"
"You're at 57 La Jolla?"
"How did you--"
"Caller ID, Mr. Daniels. We'll send someone over right away."
The woman hung up, and a few second later so did Mr. Daniels. By then, the older woman was sitting upright. He'd nearly forgotten about her.
"Wait, sorry. Um. Just a minute. Momento, por favor. Can I get you some water? Agua?"
A moment later he came back from the kitchen and held out a glass of water for her. She took it, but didn't take a drink. She set it on the table and tried to stand.
"Please, sit."
She was talking to herself, fidgeting. He wanted to calm her down, but the phone conversation had left him feeling uneasy. He'd heard of Solarex before, but he couldn't remember where.
"Um. What's your name? Como se llama?"
Urgent Spanish was her response. She tried again to stand up, but she couldn't, seeming to lack the strength. For the next few minutes, he tried to engage her in conversation, but the only words he understood were Solarex, doctor, Mexico, illegal, examination, and what sounded like immigration.
Just before the knock on his door, he remembered where he'd heard the name Solarex before. It had been on the news. Something about medical research and a break in by some group, but what were they called? Emancipation Now? There were controversies about unethical testing or something.
There was another knock. He looked out the window expecting to see black vans and men in suits, but instead he saw an ambulance. Once again, the woman tried to stand.
"Wait here," he told her as he got up and opened the door. Two heavyset men in white uniforms and a middle-aged Hispanic woman were standing outside.
"Mr. Daniels?"
"Yes."
"Hi, I'm Maria Rodriguez, and this is James Harris and Eddie Hernandez from Solarex. I understand you called about one of our volunteers?"
"Yes, she's--"
Maria looked over his shoulder and saw the woman. "Oh, Gloria. Thank God! Sorry, is it OK if we come in?"
"Of course," he said as he opened the door wider, and they came in. As soon as she saw them, the woman started yelling and squirming in her seat. Maria spoke Spanish to her while Eddie gave her a shot and James checked her vitals.
"You're sure she's OK?"
"Yes, she's fine, Mr. Daniels. Just a bit agitated," said Eddie.
"She seems really upset."
A few seconds after the shot, she calmed down, and they continued attending to her. They seemed to forget Mr. Daniels was in the room.
After a few more minutes, he asked, "Is she OK?"
"Yes, she's fine," said James. "Just a little dehydrated, that's all."
"So," said Maria. "You just came home and she was in your house?"
"Um, yeah."
"No idea how she got here?"
"No. Like I told the woman on the phone, I don't lock my doors, so yeah. She just let herself in, I guess."
James stood up. "Mr. Daniels, does the name Liberation Front mean anything to you?"
"I don't think so. Should it?"
Maria and James glanced at each other so quickly and subtly he wasn't even sure he'd seen it.
"No, Mr. Daniels," said Maria. "Sorry. Inside joke."
He looked at James. James looked back at him and smiled. Nobody said anything for a few seconds.
"Well," said Maria. "Thank you so much for your help. And we apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you."
James and Eddie had the old woman up on her feet and they guided her out and helped her into the ambulance. Eddie sat in the back with her, James got in the driver's seat, and Maria got into the passenger seat and lowered the window.
"She's going to be OK, right?"
"Don't worry, Mr. Daniels," said Maria as James started the ambulance. "We'll take good care of her."
And then they drove away.