Karma Wears a White Coat

When I saw the name on the bronze plaque, I nearly fell out of my wheelchair.

“Dr. Marta Jiménez — Director.”

It couldn’t be that Marta.
The Marta from apartment 3B — the one who used to knock on my door every two weeks to borrow sugar.
The one who washed other people’s laundry to pay for her studies.
The one I…

“Mrs. Beatriz Alcántara?”
The professional voice snapped me back.

I turned — and there she was.
Not the skinny girl with second-hand nurse scrubs anymore, but a poised woman in a tailored suit and a calm, confident smile that made my stomach drop.

“Marta! My dear, what a—what a surprise!” I stammered, trying to sound gracious.

“Dr. Jiménez,” she corrected smoothly, extending a manicured hand. “Welcome to Golden Years Care Home. Seems we’ve met again, Mrs. Alcántara.”

I swallowed hard. My son Roberto had placed me here without asking.
“It’s the best facility around, Mom,” he’d said.
Of course, he didn’t know that I had made Marta’s life miserable for ten years.

“What a coincidence,” I muttered weakly.

“Coincidence?” she sat across from me, crossing her legs. “Let me refresh your memory. Remember when you told the condo board that I was ‘bringing down the building’s reputation’?”

“I never—”

“Or when you spread the rumor that I was sleeping my way through medical school because, and I quote, ‘no one studies medicine cleaning houses at night’?”

My face burned.

“Marta, I was… under a lot of stress. I didn’t mean—”

“Dr. Jiménez,” she repeated, smiling wider now. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Alcántara. You’ll receive the exact same care as every other resident.”

That didn’t sound reassuring.

“The same care?”

“Of course. We’re a professional institution.” She stood and walked toward the door. “Oh, and by the way — your room is 3B. I thought you’d appreciate the number, for old times’ sake. You’ll be sharing with Gladys — lovely woman. Just got out after thirty years in prison. All legal now.”

“What? I can’t share a room! I paid for a private suite!”

Marta checked her tablet with infuriating calm.

“Hmm… it says here your son requested ‘the best available care within budget.’ The private suite costs triple. But don’t worry, Gladys only robbed banks. Never hurt anyone… physically.”

“This is outrageous! I’ll call my lawyer!”

“Of course. The phone’s available from 2 to 4 p.m.” She glanced at her watch. “Although, that’s also our mandatory nap time — so, good luck.”

“Marta, please…”

She paused at the door, her expression softening slightly.

“Look, Mrs. Alcántara. I’m not a vindictive person. You humiliated me, yes. But you also motivated me to prove my worth.”
She took a breath.
“That said — your lunch gelatin will be just a little more watery than everyone else’s. And your room gets direct sunlight every morning, right in your face. Oh, and your next-door neighbor owns a parrot that mimics fire alarms. Loudly.”

“This is revenge,” I muttered.

“This,” she corrected, “is karma. Revenge would be putting you in group therapy with all the housekeepers you used to yell at. They visit every Thursday, by the way. Pure coincidence.”

“You can’t do this to me—”

“Oh, I already did.” She winked. “But hey, look on the bright side — now you’ll have plenty of time to reflect on the importance of treating people kindly. Especially the ones who might someday decide how much salt goes into your soup.”

She left, whistling Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen.

Gladys turned out to be quite lovely, actually.
And Marta — to her credit — made sure I got excellent medical care.

The gelatin is still watery, but I’ve learned not to complain.
Now, when the sunlight hits my face at 6 a.m. sharp, I simply smile and whisper to myself:

“Be kind. Especially to the ones still climbing.”

Because you never know who might end up running the place.