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joegodaNano 2010, tentatively titled "man's best friend" -
Okay. I'm back and feel all fresh and free. Now, then... where was I?
Oh yeah. The naked girl on John's bed. Ol' John was sitting there on his sofa, next to what I can only assume is his 13 year old puppy. All growed up an turned into a human being. A little bitty fuzzy headed stick of a thing, with big brown eyes and kinda thin lips and a pointed chin. To be honest, I don't know what sort of dog John had, but she definitely had a doggish look to her. A cute dog, I mean. Not one of those boogawolfs you see down here every so often. You know what I mean.
So I told him that I believed him. "I believe you, John. I don't know what the heck is going on, but yeah. I believe you." I looked from his sad hound dog face over to her sweet blank one. She looked up at John with doe eyes. No... she looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. And you can assume there's a pun there if you want to.
Something crossed my mind at that point. "Is it a full moon?" I asked. I went to the front door and looked up. There wasn't any moon at all. "I didn't think so." Still, it was a thought that just wouldn't let go.
"John," I said to him, "I think you may have a kinda reverse Lycanthropy thing going on."
"A what?"
"A reverse were-wolf thing," I explained to him.
I know that everyone's heard of the were-wolf, but I couldn't very well expect John to know what a Lycanthrope was. He grew up in Ramona, after all. Not that there's anything wrong with Ramona, mind. It's a fine town, and I'm sure that there may be someone that knows what a Lycanthrope is, but if there is, it would surprise me... yes it would. And I'm gonna shut up about Ramona now, cuz I'm just digging myself deeper.
John just looked at me and blinked.
"A were-wolf, John is..." I didn't get very far before he cut me off.
"I know what a were-wolf is, Bud. I ain't stupid."
"I never said you were, John. I know you're not stupid." I said to him. "I just didn't see any signs that you knew what I was talking about."
John got off the sofa and the little girl got off right behind him. "So... you're saying that a little while ago this was my puppy... and somehow that little puppy turned into this little girl?" He headed toward the kitchen with the girl just a-padding right behind him.
"While you're up, John, could you get me some coffee... or a soda?" It was pushing past four thirty at this time and I was getting a might dry and a might tired. "and yeah, that's what I'm saying. That little girl that's following you everywhere is little Stella. She's your dog, or was up until a couple of hours ago."
John brought back a couple bottles of IBC and I cracked mine open. Nothing like a good root beer when it's brewed right. Well... maybe their cream soda. No, I think for creme soda, I'd have to take Jones. You know that Jones is the only Clear Cream soda, right? Well... maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. I know there are others out there, because Jones has only been around a short time, you know? But for my money, you want to go for Jones, if you're going to go for a creme soda.
Lots of folks don't know, but creme soda is really just Soda water, half and half and vanilla syrup. I think sometimes I'll try to make my own at home. Just to see if I can.
Werewolves. Everyone's heard of those. Lon Chaney is, or was... in my less than humble opinion, the best werewolf there ever was. Course, it's all make-believe, right? All this were-stuff. I don't believe a bit of it. Or, I didn't. Hell, I don't know if do or not, except for this one time.
That friend of mine, down in Tulsa... that wizard? He claims that he knows folks that can change into wolves. One of the police detectives down there. Course he was pretty drunk when he mentioned it, so who knows? When people get into their cups, they're likely to say just about anything.
I stood there at John's door and looked up at the moonless night. "John... I don't know what you got. From my viewpoint, you got a half naked girl sitting next to you on the sofa. Now, my first instinct is to run out this door, call the cops, and let them deal with it. You don't strike me as being the pedophile sort...
John grabbed my arm and swung me around and then clipped me with a solid right cross. It's not the first time I'd been punched, and it's not likely to be the last. John was tall, remember, and he had a lot of leverage in that punch, and it lifted me off my feet. I came to about half an hour later.
"Buddy," John was sitting over me, "I'm awful sorry. I didn't mean to, I didn't, I swear."
"John," I said, kinda groggy and out of a mouth that felt not quite right. "I'm pretty sure you did. If someone had just called me a pedophile, I'd probably have taken a swing at them too. Frankly, I'm impressed as hell you know what the word means."
Okay, so maybe I didn't put it exactly like that. I mean, my jaw felt like it was dislocated, and the most I could do was mumble out that I understood and to get me to a hospital. We had to drive me to Jane Phillips in B'ville just to get it popped back into place. I'll get to that in a second.
The point is, I wasn't angry at John for taking a pop at me. Yeah, I wish he hadn't, but that's the way things are. And I know there are fools out there that would point at that and get all self righteous and say "See! That proves he's guilty!" and to them I say "to hell with you." Judge not till you find the facts, say I.
John, though I didn't know him real well, is a good enough guy. I remember sitting down at Renee's and hearing folks talk about him, saying what a nice guy he was and how it was a shame that he and his wife had never had kids. About how gentle he is with the kids in the 4H and the Future Farmers. And I'd played cards with him down at the Odd Fellows hall. And yeah, while all of these might point to him being one of those predators, it doesn't mean a damn thing unless you know the person. Numbers are not people! People are people and to those who judge without understanding, I say to hell with 'em all, and hope they get a taste of their own justice.
Sorry! Man, I don't know what gets into me. Everybody got their sensitive spot, you know. Mine's folks that judge before facts or proof. You know... assumptions. I got my reasons. Assumptions killed my little brother, back when... never mind. It's not important.
Anyway, John was trying to figure out what to do with me, laying on his floor, with my jaw out of joint and my nose bleeding. I was trying to figure it out too, and the most I could do was mumble "Hospital", when Stella crawled off the sofa and came over to see what was going on. She had no modesty about her, not even a lick, and John's big ol shirt hung around her like a circus tent. Might as well call her Stella, you know. That is her name, after all.
"John," I mumbled. "How bout one of Lizzie's old dresses?"
Once he figured out what I was saying, John looked like he had been thunderstruck. I guess he didn't think of it before. Lizzie - Elizabeth - was his wife. Maybe he didn't want to think about it. He loved Lizzie an awful lot.
He got a look on his face like he had swallowed a bug, nodded once and went into his bedroom. Now, I was just guessing, but I suspected that when love was that strong, like the one that John had for Lizzie, then he was bound to hold on to whatever he had that would remind him of her.
When John came back, he was carrying a bright yellow cotton dress. What my wife calls a sun dress. It had little white flowers with pink centers. I guess it was pretty... I try not to judge these things. He tossed the dress at Stella, who just let if all over her face.
This was one of those times when you say 'It only hurts when I laugh', because I did and it did. I don't know what John expected, but Stella had no clue what the heck was going on. Course, looking back on it, it was pretty funny. At the time, I didn't know any more than John did, though I think I suspected a lot.
"John..." God, I remember how it hurt to talk! Like chewing gravel. "She doesn't know."
John swallowed hard, and I could see the debate raging under his face.
"Just... over the shirt."
Not the easiest thing to say with a busted jaw, but John understood and nodded. He took the dress from where it hung over Stella's head and tried his best to fit it around her body. She just sat there with a big ol idiot's grin while he got it done. He wasn't comfortable putting Lizzie's clothing on somebody else, and he sure in hell wasn't comfortable being that close to a young woman.
Stella whined a bit when we pushed her into the cab of the truck. Well, saying we did it is kind of a stretch, because John did most of the work, pushing her from behind and strapping her in to the center seat. I was walking on that thin edge of passing out. I made it to the truck, though and managed to belt myself in.
"Hang on, Buddy," John said. "We'll get you to the hospital."
I woke up as we were pulling in to the Hospital parking lot, just off Frank Phillips Boulevard. It was about 4 am, and the emergency room was still packed to the hilt. I have no idea how so many folks can get themselves into a pickle at 4 am and have to go to the emergency room. Except me, I mean. I was there for a good reason. My jaw was busted. But I saw folks there that just needed a Band-Aid and a pat on the head or maybe just a swift kick in the pants.
We signed me in and John led me and Stella to the waiting area. It was smallish and the seats were not designed to make you feel welcome. It's not that they were the hard plastic that you would find in say... a Mac D or some crummy place like that, but they had been used so much that the foam had collapsed in on itself so that your butt was rubbing metal. Stella sat carefully on the edge of her seat, looking around and sniffing to beat the band. She had that seriously quizzical look on her face that some folks get when they don't quite understand what's going on, but are just happy to be there.
Yeah, I've seen it on a whole bunch of dog's faces, too. I had this yorkie, once... Picasso was his name... who would have that look every time he saw me. Yeah, the ex took him. I think he was the only thing that kept her sane sometimes. He was an incredible little doggie, always happy, always trying to make you feel like you were the most important thing in the world. Yeah... he passed away. Couple of Christmases ago. Didn't want to be a bother, poor lil guy. Just lay down on Christmas Eve and away he went. I still miss him.
Anyway... we were sitting in that waiting room for what seemed forever and ever. Maybe an hour or two, I dunno. It was there that Stella said her first word.
Yeah! I know. I thought she wouldn't be able to talk at all, being a dog and all. She was quiet as the dead on the way up there, and even when John popped me one, she didn't do much more than just yelp a bit. But sure as shooting, she looked over at me, all concern in her eyes, and asked me, plain as houses, if I hurt.
Well, let me tell you, you coulda knocked me off my seat. For a second there, I forgot that I was even hurting and I thought I was hearing things, what with the knock on the head I just had. And okay.. she didn't exactly say the words, "Are you hurt, or are you okay," or anything like that. She pointed to my face and said "Ouch?" And she said it with a question mark at the end.
"John?" I wasn't sure I was just hearing things. "Did she just say 'ouch'?"
With what I can only assume was the most surprise he's ever had, besides the surprise of waking up to a child in your bed I mean, John, all wide-eyed, turned to me and nodded. "Yeah, Bud. I do believe that's exactly what she said."
Then he asked her. "Stella," he said, real slow, "did you just say 'ouch'?"
Stella got this big possum grin on her face, the sort of grin that makes a person's face all crinkly and nodded about a hundred times. She pointed to me again and said "You... ouch?"
"She wants to know if you're hurting, Bud."
"I gathered that, John. Thanks." I shifted a bit on the chair, as my butt was starting to go numb. "Stella... you can talk now?"
She nodded again, really big. "Now." It sounded like a high pitched growl, but it was clear enough for me.
Right then, a heavy set woman wearing scrubs came waddling over to us. She looked at me and shook her head. "You look pretty banged up. What'd you have? A bar fight?"
"Nope," John said. "I popped him one by accident."
"By accident?" She shook head and said "Uh Uh Uh", which translates to the same thing as "Tch tch tch", I guess.
I don't know when the change between Tch Tch Tch and Uh Uh Uh happened, but I blame the Jeffersons. You know? TV show? "Movin on up... To the East Side?" Before your time, I guess. Anyway, she obviously didn't believe him, cuz she just took my hand and pulled me gently out of my seat. She couldn't have been more than 5 foot 3 or so, but her grip was not one I would want to meet arm wresting. Only thing I could think of was her weight gave her a gravity bonus.
"Come on, you." She led me through the emergency room door. "Let's see what we need to do." She stopped and turned around and said "No honey. You can't come with us." I turned and saw that Stella had followed us a ways. "Stay here with your daddy."
"I'm not her daddy," John said. He probably didn't mean it to sound as harsh as it came out, and immediately turned away, embarrassed.
The nurse just tossed him a mean look, gave Stella a soft look and gave another mean look to John. "Daddy, uncle, cousin... I don't care. You take care of her till we're back."
Now, I know she sounds like the salt of the earth and all, but up in B'ville, the only folks that show up at night are either drunk or have been shot or have been busted up in a car accident or a bar fight. And at 4 am, she was probably ready to get the heck off her shift and get on with her life, you know what I mean?
Stella just stood there, blinking her brown eyes, not sure of what to do.
"Go back to John, Stel," I said. "I won't be long."
"Maybe," Miss Bossynurse said.
"Maybe," I nodded. "Go on back, Stella. That's a good girl."
With a sad look in her eyes, she went back and sat next to John, watching me as I disappeared through the doors.
"That girl a special needs child?" The nurse asked me as she led me to a little room. Not really a room, exactly as a curtained off area. You know the type. They're in most waiting rooms.
"Yup," I told her. "Special needs is exactly what she is. And she's really not John's daughter. You might call her a half-daughter."
"Ah," she said nodding, while she took my blood pressure. "Some folks are sensitive to that aren't they? Half daughters, half brothers, half or whole... what does it matter, I ask you?" She pressed a little button and the cuff inflated.
Those things amaze me, they truly do. Those automated pressure cuffs. Technology. It's like the thermometer that they used to stick in your mouth and where ever else? Not no more! They have one they just run across your forehead. Incredible stuff.
"She just came to stay with him," I said to her, hoping that might explain a bit of John's reaction. "She showed up in the middle of the night, so he was pretty surprised. Don't take his reaction to heart, okay?"
"Well... since it's you asking... Okay." She got this weird little smile on her face.
Yeah, I know. She was acting really familiar with me. Had been since she came to the waiting room and fetched me.
"Say," I said, "Do we know each other? I don't mean to be dumb or anything, but I don't remember you." It's not the nicest question in the world to ask, cuz you never know how someone, especially a woman, will react to it. You don't want to hurt them by letting them know you don't remember them, you know? But then again, how do you ask it? Only way I know is straight out.
"Nope," she said as she wrote down my readings. "Never met you before in my life, but who knows? I get off work in about an hour and a half... maybe we could get some coffee?"
Tiny alarm bells started ringing in my head. Not big ones telling me that aliens are attacking or anything like that, but just little ones. Now, granted, she was attractive enough for being a big ol' country gal, but I was married at the time, dammit. Had the ring and everything to prove it. and back then, there were two types of women. Those who were my wife, which would be my wife, period, and those who weren't, which was everyone else.
She must have seen the shock on my face, because she just busted out laughing and patted my shoulder. "No, sugar, I wasn't hitting on you!", she said between guffaws. "You should see your face!"
Once she calmed down a bit, she finished taking my vitals and disappeared, only to poke her head back in the room just long enough to say, with just the hint of a grin, "I was just kidding. Maybe."
I sat on the cold vinyl of the emergency room bed, or whatever it's supposed to be. You know... those flat things that aren't quite a bed, certainly not a sofa, and have the potential to have stirrups put on them. And you know, that never fails to freak me out a bit, cuz I wonder if it would actually be comfortable to just sorta put my feet in the stirrups and lay back and go to sleep. I bet I could do that. My wife tells me she hates me because I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, and it's true. What? Oh. It just kinda freaks me out because of where my brain goes at those times, looking at the stirrups.
Anyway, the doc came in, chatted me up a bit, felt along my jaw and sent me home. He wasn't very personable, which I would expect for an Emergency room doc. Didn't ask me how I got in that situation or anything. He just felt along my jaw for a bit, pushed it this way and a bit of that and said, "You don't have much of anything. A bit of a nasty bump is all. Go home, take a couple or six Ibuprofen and check with your doctor in the morning."
And that, my friend, is why I really don't like doctors at all, even a little bit. What do you think he would have said if my jaw had really been busted? Probably the very same thing. What? He was a young guy, you're right. Maybe that was his problem. Give me an older saw bones any day, someone that's been around the block a few hundred times. Didn't even give me his name, the stupid little turd. Not that I'd ever call him.
Anyway, they got tired of me sitting there, and I got tired of sitting there, so I left. I don't think they even noticed. Well, maybe that one nurse might have, but that would have been about it. She's probably still wondering if I'll come see her at coffee someday. Heck, I don't know. She might be dead. Maybe I'll drop by the ER some morning and see what's shaking. It's only been 7 years, give or take.
Here's the kicker to that story, okay? I stopped by the waiting room to get John and Stella, because I figured they were sitting there waiting on me, right? Well, they weren't. They were somewhere else. I wandered around for a bit, checking out the little cafeteria and seeing if the gift shop was open, and they weren't anywhere to be found. I ran outside and checked for John's truck, and it was gone too. They had just up and dumped me.
I was pretty darned pissed, let me tell you. I was so pissed off, that I just walked home, since I lived about a mile from the hospital, woke up my wife and had her drive me to John's house. Why? Well there were two reasons. One, I was gonna have it out with him. He had slugged me in the jaw and then left me in the hospital. I was gonna make him pay for it, too, but the bastard skipped out on me. And two, that's where I left my truck.
So John had 2 folks ticked off as hell at him. There was me, and there was my wife, who was also ticked off at me for waking her up 2 hours before she had to go to work. Needless to say, I had a lot of questions to ask John, and I no longer considered him my friend.
I did find out what happened. Took me nearly a year to get there, though. That's when Stella showed up at my door step. Course... I didn't recognize her at first. For her, nearly 7 years had passed.
Whoops! Nature calls. Don't go away... I'll be back. Maybe I'll get a bit of coffee this time. Beer goes right through me.
Okay. I'm back and feel all fresh and free. Now, then... where was I?
Oh yeah. The naked girl on John's bed. Ol' John was sitting there on his sofa, next to what I can only assume is his 13 year old puppy. All growed up an turned into a human being. A little bitty fuzzy headed stick of a thing, with big brown eyes and kinda thin lips and a pointed chin. To be honest, I don't know what sort of dog John had, but she definitely had a doggish look to her. A cute dog, I mean. Not one of those boogawolfs you see down here every so often. You know what I mean.
So I told him that I believed him. "I believe you, John. I don't know what the heck is going on, but yeah. I believe you." I looked from his sad hound dog face over to her sweet blank one. She looked up at John with doe eyes. No... she looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. And you can assume there's a pun there if you want to.
Something crossed my mind at that point. "Is it a full moon?" I asked. I went to the front door and looked up. There wasn't any moon at all. "I didn't think so." Still, it was a thought that just wouldn't let go.
"John," I said to him, "I think you may have a kinda reverse Lycanthropy thing going on."
"A what?"
"A reverse were-wolf thing," I explained to him.
I know that everyone's heard of the were-wolf, but I couldn't very well expect John to know what a Lycanthrope was. He grew up in Ramona, after all. Not that there's anything wrong with Ramona, mind. It's a fine town, and I'm sure that there may be someone that knows what a Lycanthrope is, but if there is, it would surprise me... yes it would. And I'm gonna shut up about Ramona now, cuz I'm just digging myself deeper.
John just looked at me and blinked.
"A were-wolf, John is..." I didn't get very far before he cut me off.
"I know what a were-wolf is, Bud. I ain't stupid."
"I never said you were, John. I know you're not stupid." I said to him. "I just didn't see any signs that you knew what I was talking about."
John got off the sofa and the little girl got off right behind him. "So... you're saying that a little while ago this was my puppy... and somehow that little puppy turned into this little girl?" He headed toward the kitchen with the girl just a-padding right behind him.
"While you're up, John, could you get me some coffee... or a soda?" It was pushing past four thirty at this time and I was getting a might dry and a might tired. "and yeah, that's what I'm saying. That little girl that's following you everywhere is little Stella. She's your dog, or was up until a couple of hours ago."
John brought back a couple bottles of IBC and I cracked mine open. Nothing like a good root beer when it's brewed right. Well... maybe their cream soda. No, I think for creme soda, I'd have to take Jones. You know that Jones is the only Clear Cream soda, right? Well... maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. I know there are others out there, because Jones has only been around a short time, you know? But for my money, you want to go for Jones, if you're going to go for a creme soda.
Lots of folks don't know, but creme soda is really just Soda water, half and half and vanilla syrup. I think sometimes I'll try to make my own at home. Just to see if I can.
Werewolves. Everyone's heard of those. Lon Chaney is, or was... in my less than humble opinion, the best werewolf there ever was. Course, it's all make-believe, right? All this were-stuff. I don't believe a bit of it. Or, I didn't. Hell, I don't know if do or not, except for this one time.
That friend of mine, down in Tulsa... that wizard? He claims that he knows folks that can change into wolves. One of the police detectives down there. Course he was pretty drunk when he mentioned it, so who knows? When people get into their cups, they're likely to say just about anything.
I stood there at John's door and looked up at the moonless night. "John... I don't know what you got. From my viewpoint, you got a half naked girl sitting next to you on the sofa. Now, my first instinct is to run out this door, call the cops, and let them deal with it. You don't strike me as being the pedophile sort...
John grabbed my arm and swung me around and then clipped me with a solid right cross. It's not the first time I'd been punched, and it's not likely to be the last. John was tall, remember, and he had a lot of leverage in that punch, and it lifted me off my feet. I came to about half an hour later.
"Buddy," John was sitting over me, "I'm awful sorry. I didn't mean to, I didn't, I swear."
"John," I said, kinda groggy and out of a mouth that felt not quite right. "I'm pretty sure you did. If someone had just called me a pedophile, I'd probably have taken a swing at them too. Frankly, I'm impressed as hell you know what the word means."
Okay, so maybe I didn't put it exactly like that. I mean, my jaw felt like it was dislocated, and the most I could do was mumble out that I understood and to get me to a hospital. We had to drive me to Jane Phillips in B'ville just to get it popped back into place. I'll get to that in a second.
The point is, I wasn't angry at John for taking a pop at me. Yeah, I wish he hadn't, but that's the way things are. And I know there are fools out there that would point at that and get all self righteous and say "See! That proves he's guilty!" and to them I say "to hell with you." Judge not till you find the facts, say I.
John, though I didn't know him real well, is a good enough guy. I remember sitting down at Renee's and hearing folks talk about him, saying what a nice guy he was and how it was a shame that he and his wife had never had kids. About how gentle he is with the kids in the 4H and the Future Farmers. And I'd played cards with him down at the Odd Fellows hall. And yeah, while all of these might point to him being one of those predators, it doesn't mean a damn thing unless you know the person. Numbers are not people! People are people and to those who judge without understanding, I say to hell with 'em all, and hope they get a taste of their own justice.
Sorry! Man, I don't know what gets into me. Everybody got their sensitive spot, you know. Mine's folks that judge before facts or proof. You know... assumptions. I got my reasons. Assumptions killed my little brother, back when... never mind. It's not important.
Anyway, John was trying to figure out what to do with me, laying on his floor, with my jaw out of joint and my nose bleeding. I was trying to figure it out too, and the most I could do was mumble "Hospital", when Stella crawled off the sofa and came over to see what was going on. She had no modesty about her, not even a lick, and John's big ol shirt hung around her like a circus tent. Might as well call her Stella, you know. That is her name, after all.
"John," I mumbled. "How bout one of Lizzie's old dresses?"
Once he figured out what I was saying, John looked like he had been thunderstruck. I guess he didn't think of it before. Lizzie - Elizabeth - was his wife. Maybe he didn't want to think about it. He loved Lizzie an awful lot.
He got a look on his face like he had swallowed a bug, nodded once and went into his bedroom. Now, I was just guessing, but I suspected that when love was that strong, like the one that John had for Lizzie, then he was bound to hold on to whatever he had that would remind him of her.
When John came back, he was carrying a bright yellow cotton dress. What my wife calls a sun dress. It had little white flowers with pink centers. I guess it was pretty... I try not to judge these things. He tossed the dress at Stella, who just let if all over her face.
This was one of those times when you say 'It only hurts when I laugh', because I did and it did. I don't know what John expected, but Stella had no clue what the heck was going on. Course, looking back on it, it was pretty funny. At the time, I didn't know any more than John did, though I think I suspected a lot.
"John..." God, I remember how it hurt to talk! Like chewing gravel. "She doesn't know."
John swallowed hard, and I could see the debate raging under his face.
"Just... over the shirt."
Not the easiest thing to say with a busted jaw, but John understood and nodded. He took the dress from where it hung over Stella's head and tried his best to fit it around her body. She just sat there with a big ol idiot's grin while he got it done. He wasn't comfortable putting Lizzie's clothing on somebody else, and he sure in hell wasn't comfortable being that close to a young woman.
Stella whined a bit when we pushed her into the cab of the truck. Well, saying we did it is kind of a stretch, because John did most of the work, pushing her from behind and strapping her in to the center seat. I was walking on that thin edge of passing out. I made it to the truck, though and managed to belt myself in.
"Hang on, Buddy," John said. "We'll get you to the hospital."
I woke up as we were pulling in to the Hospital parking lot, just off Frank Phillips Boulevard. It was about 4 am, and the emergency room was still packed to the hilt. I have no idea how so many folks can get themselves into a pickle at 4 am and have to go to the emergency room. Except me, I mean. I was there for a good reason. My jaw was busted. But I saw folks there that just needed a Band-Aid and a pat on the head or maybe just a swift kick in the pants.
We signed me in and John led me and Stella to the waiting area. It was smallish and the seats were not designed to make you feel welcome. It's not that they were the hard plastic that you would find in say... a Mac D or some crummy place like that, but they had been used so much that the foam had collapsed in on itself so that your butt was rubbing metal. Stella sat carefully on the edge of her seat, looking around and sniffing to beat the band. She had that seriously quizzical look on her face that some folks get when they don't quite understand what's going on, but are just happy to be there.
Yeah, I've seen it on a whole bunch of dog's faces, too. I had this yorkie, once... Picasso was his name... who would have that look every time he saw me. Yeah, the ex took him. I think he was the only thing that kept her sane sometimes. He was an incredible little doggie, always happy, always trying to make you feel like you were the most important thing in the world. Yeah... he passed away. Couple of Christmases ago. Didn't want to be a bother, poor lil guy. Just lay down on Christmas Eve and away he went. I still miss him.
Anyway... we were sitting in that waiting room for what seemed forever and ever. Maybe an hour or two, I dunno. It was there that Stella said her first word.
Yeah! I know. I thought she wouldn't be able to talk at all, being a dog and all. She was quiet as the dead on the way up there, and even when John popped me one, she didn't do much more than just yelp a bit. But sure as shooting, she looked over at me, all concern in her eyes, and asked me, plain as houses, if I hurt.
Well, let me tell you, you coulda knocked me off my seat. For a second there, I forgot that I was even hurting and I thought I was hearing things, what with the knock on the head I just had. And okay.. she didn't exactly say the words, "Are you hurt, or are you okay," or anything like that. She pointed to my face and said "Ouch?" And she said it with a question mark at the end.
"John?" I wasn't sure I was just hearing things. "Did she just say 'ouch'?"
With what I can only assume was the most surprise he's ever had, besides the surprise of waking up to a child in your bed I mean, John, all wide-eyed, turned to me and nodded. "Yeah, Bud. I do believe that's exactly what she said."
Then he asked her. "Stella," he said, real slow, "did you just say 'ouch'?"
Stella got this big possum grin on her face, the sort of grin that makes a person's face all crinkly and nodded about a hundred times. She pointed to me again and said "You... ouch?"
"She wants to know if you're hurting, Bud."
"I gathered that, John. Thanks." I shifted a bit on the chair, as my butt was starting to go numb. "Stella... you can talk now?"
She nodded again, really big. "Now." It sounded like a high pitched growl, but it was clear enough for me.
Right then, a heavy set woman wearing scrubs came waddling over to us. She looked at me and shook her head. "You look pretty banged up. What'd you have? A bar fight?"
"Nope," John said. "I popped him one by accident."
"By accident?" She shook head and said "Uh Uh Uh", which translates to the same thing as "Tch tch tch", I guess.
I don't know when the change between Tch Tch Tch and Uh Uh Uh happened, but I blame the Jeffersons. You know? TV show? "Movin on up... To the East Side?" Before your time, I guess. Anyway, she obviously didn't believe him, cuz she just took my hand and pulled me gently out of my seat. She couldn't have been more than 5 foot 3 or so, but her grip was not one I would want to meet arm wresting. Only thing I could think of was her weight gave her a gravity bonus.
"Come on, you." She led me through the emergency room door. "Let's see what we need to do." She stopped and turned around and said "No honey. You can't come with us." I turned and saw that Stella had followed us a ways. "Stay here with your daddy."
"I'm not her daddy," John said. He probably didn't mean it to sound as harsh as it came out, and immediately turned away, embarrassed.
The nurse just tossed him a mean look, gave Stella a soft look and gave another mean look to John. "Daddy, uncle, cousin... I don't care. You take care of her till we're back."
Now, I know she sounds like the salt of the earth and all, but up in B'ville, the only folks that show up at night are either drunk or have been shot or have been busted up in a car accident or a bar fight. And at 4 am, she was probably ready to get the heck off her shift and get on with her life, you know what I mean?
Stella just stood there, blinking her brown eyes, not sure of what to do.
"Go back to John, Stel," I said. "I won't be long."
"Maybe," Miss Bossynurse said.
"Maybe," I nodded. "Go on back, Stella. That's a good girl."
With a sad look in her eyes, she went back and sat next to John, watching me as I disappeared through the doors.
"That girl a special needs child?" The nurse asked me as she led me to a little room. Not really a room, exactly as a curtained off area. You know the type. They're in most waiting rooms.
"Yup," I told her. "Special needs is exactly what she is. And she's really not John's daughter. You might call her a half-daughter."
"Ah," she said nodding, while she took my blood pressure. "Some folks are sensitive to that aren't they? Half daughters, half brothers, half or whole... what does it matter, I ask you?" She pressed a little button and the cuff inflated.
Those things amaze me, they truly do. Those automated pressure cuffs. Technology. It's like the thermometer that they used to stick in your mouth and where ever else? Not no more! They have one they just run across your forehead. Incredible stuff.
"She just came to stay with him," I said to her, hoping that might explain a bit of John's reaction. "She showed up in the middle of the night, so he was pretty surprised. Don't take his reaction to heart, okay?"
"Well... since it's you asking... Okay." She got this weird little smile on her face.
Yeah, I know. She was acting really familiar with me. Had been since she came to the waiting room and fetched me.
"Say," I said, "Do we know each other? I don't mean to be dumb or anything, but I don't remember you." It's not the nicest question in the world to ask, cuz you never know how someone, especially a woman, will react to it. You don't want to hurt them by letting them know you don't remember them, you know? But then again, how do you ask it? Only way I know is straight out.
"Nope," she said as she wrote down my readings. "Never met you before in my life, but who knows? I get off work in about an hour and a half... maybe we could get some coffee?"
Tiny alarm bells started ringing in my head. Not big ones telling me that aliens are attacking or anything like that, but just little ones. Now, granted, she was attractive enough for being a big ol' country gal, but I was married at the time, dammit. Had the ring and everything to prove it. and back then, there were two types of women. Those who were my wife, which would be my wife, period, and those who weren't, which was everyone else.
She must have seen the shock on my face, because she just busted out laughing and patted my shoulder. "No, sugar, I wasn't hitting on you!", she said between guffaws. "You should see your face!"
Once she calmed down a bit, she finished taking my vitals and disappeared, only to poke her head back in the room just long enough to say, with just the hint of a grin, "I was just kidding. Maybe."
I sat on the cold vinyl of the emergency room bed, or whatever it's supposed to be. You know... those flat things that aren't quite a bed, certainly not a sofa, and have the potential to have stirrups put on them. And you know, that never fails to freak me out a bit, cuz I wonder if it would actually be comfortable to just sorta put my feet in the stirrups and lay back and go to sleep. I bet I could do that. My wife tells me she hates me because I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, and it's true. What? Oh. It just kinda freaks me out because of where my brain goes at those times, looking at the stirrups.
Anyway, the doc came in, chatted me up a bit, felt along my jaw and sent me home. He wasn't very personable, which I would expect for an Emergency room doc. Didn't ask me how I got in that situation or anything. He just felt along my jaw for a bit, pushed it this way and a bit of that and said, "You don't have much of anything. A bit of a nasty bump is all. Go home, take a couple or six Ibuprofen and check with your doctor in the morning."
And that, my friend, is why I really don't like doctors at all, even a little bit. What do you think he would have said if my jaw had really been busted? Probably the very same thing. What? He was a young guy, you're right. Maybe that was his problem. Give me an older saw bones any day, someone that's been around the block a few hundred times. Didn't even give me his name, the stupid little turd. Not that I'd ever call him.
Anyway, they got tired of me sitting there, and I got tired of sitting there, so I left. I don't think they even noticed. Well, maybe that one nurse might have, but that would have been about it. She's probably still wondering if I'll come see her at coffee someday. Heck, I don't know. She might be dead. Maybe I'll drop by the ER some morning and see what's shaking. It's only been 7 years, give or take.
Here's the kicker to that story, okay? I stopped by the waiting room to get John and Stella, because I figured they were sitting there waiting on me, right? Well, they weren't. They were somewhere else. I wandered around for a bit, checking out the little cafeteria and seeing if the gift shop was open, and they weren't anywhere to be found. I ran outside and checked for John's truck, and it was gone too. They had just up and dumped me.
I was pretty darned pissed, let me tell you. I was so pissed off, that I just walked home, since I lived about a mile from the hospital, woke up my wife and had her drive me to John's house. Why? Well there were two reasons. One, I was gonna have it out with him. He had slugged me in the jaw and then left me in the hospital. I was gonna make him pay for it, too, but the bastard skipped out on me. And two, that's where I left my truck.
So John had 2 folks ticked off as hell at him. There was me, and there was my wife, who was also ticked off at me for waking her up 2 hours before she had to go to work. Needless to say, I had a lot of questions to ask John, and I no longer considered him my friend.
I did find out what happened. Took me nearly a year to get there, though. That's when Stella showed up at my door step. Course... I didn't recognize her at first. For her, nearly 7 years had passed.
Whoops! Nature calls. Don't go away... I'll be back. Maybe I'll get a bit of coffee this time. Beer goes right through me.
