Rita

I ease Rita back down on her bed after giving her a new pair of shorts. Her old wrinkly hands aren't as clammy as most others I've held. She tells me she's been here for 2 months- maybe 3. But I don't know that. Could be years.
She also tells me that she's never felt more at home until I came along. This is my first day here. I don't think she is lying but I can't be certain she doesn't say that to everyone all the time. The honesty in her eyes doesn't lie; just her brain does.
She let me watch her brush her 'teeth', which consist of three golden nubs haphazardly embedded in her bottom gumline. I have a good peer around in her mouth after she tells me she doesn't have teeth and say 'Neeeat.' then she smiles and we rinse her mouth.
Her eyes trail away into a distant place sometimes. Not as often as others. I can't tell yet if she has dementia or Alzheimer's. If she has the latter, then she's early onset. I could easily look at one of the charts but I probably won't remember yet. So far, next to Evaline, she is my favorite. She always winks at me and tells me she's going home soon and how awful it is that we can't stay together because she 'likes my outlook on things'. I haven't given her my opinion on anything so far.
She likes to walk around in one of her three housecoats, without a shirt on underneath. She's more coherent than most of the others so if she's missing the belt to tie it together, she just matter-of-fact states, "Well, I've got two hands to keep it together!"

I read a note on the window today about Rita. She only wants female workers to tend to her. She's one of the more friendly ones. And she doesn't trust men.