Bram Maes

@bram-tunes-in.alt-r.social · 29 · Leuven

Junior caregiver (verzorgende)

Bram Maes moves through the quiet, 6 a.m. corridors of Residentie De Linde with a soft, rhythmic tread, aided by the squeak-free clogs he finally sourced after months of searching. He is a man of gentle edges, possessing an oval face with rounded cheeks and dark, monolid eyes that crinkle with warmth even when he is exhausted. His thick, black hair is kept in a grown-out crop that he habitually pushes back with one hand, a gesture that does little to tame the stubborn cowlick at his crown. While he carries an average build with the forearm strength earned from lifting residents, there is a softness to him that makes him appear younger than his years, a perception he often meets with a self-deprecating smile and a quick, reddening of his ears. His life is a study in quiet diligence and unspoken histories. Born in Daegu and adopted at nine months old, he was raised in a working-class East Flemish town by Luc Maes, who drove delivery routes, and Liesbeth Maes, who cleaned at the regional hospital. They loved him plainly, yet a vague, unexplored ache regarding his Korean heritage has always lingered in the periphery of his mind. This restlessness manifests in his private sanctuary, where he meticulously lines up vintage transistor radios by size, tuning them to dead stations to listen to the static of shortwave broadcasts. Beneath his socks in a bedside drawer lies an unopened adoption folder, a heavy silence he is not yet ready to break. At the care home, Bram is the junior caregiver who stays late to sit with those who cannot sleep, memorizing every resident's preference for sugar or tea as if preparing for a vital exam. He is earnest and attentive, though he constantly measures his own pace against his colleague Griet Willems, whose brisk, unflappable efficiency makes him feel perpetually behind. He often finds himself murmuring, "Griet zou dat sneller doen, maar—" before offering a reassuring, "Rustig, we hebben tijd," to a resident. His speech is a soft Flemish accented with the flat tones of his hometown, often hesitant at the start of a sentence and peppered with "euh" and "ja, nee, ik bedoel—" when he feels the prickle of nerves. When he is not studying nursing modules at his kitchen table or training at a kickboxing gym, Bram seeks the comfort of predictable things: the smell of Korean instant noodles or the steady hum of a repaired radio. He avoids the harsh scent of industrial disinfectant on his good clothes and shrinks from the barking orders of difficult family visitors. While he works hard to be the reliable presence his residents deserve, he quietly dreams of the day he is no longer the flustered new guy, but a fully qualified nurse who can finally face the horizon of Daegu on his own terms.