Rabies and Rosaries, Gabrielle DeMarre

“If you are ever bitten by a bat, you are supposed to catch it, alive, and bring it to the hospital with you so it can be tested for rabies.” This was the extent of my training to work here for you. As I cue your rosary tape, you smile and mumble, “Where have all the flowers gone?” Clearly they are still somewhere beneath your thinning hair—growing inward rather than outward now. As I press play, an Irish voice starts to lead you through the rosary. In the other room, I watch The Wild One with the volume turned up, hoping Brando’s angst will drown out the angst of the 80-year-old house because I am certain every creak is a bat waiting to give me rabies.