I stepped outside the hospital. And like twice before there was Fonda. Though today he looks even stronger and taller. Maybe I just needed him to be taller and stronger today. This day where I almost killed one of my own patients. I walked toward him slowly. I wanted him to come to me this time. I wanted to know that he could intuit my need. I wanted to nursed to be looked after to be protected and his walking toward me would somehow prove something to me. Something unspoken that he could see inside me and know where I needed the most, know what I needed. We had savored and driven each other how about now though? How about the quiet time? The moments divorces from our libidos. Were just each others fuck buddies or could we be linked in some more important way. Especially given the subtext of my argument with the judge, I wanted this. And I wanted it here in front of the hospital where those spying eyes could see. I wanted every mouse in that decaying old building to witness that I was right, that what we had, me and fonda was pure special and stronger and essential.
We stood there looking at each other. For longer that normal, no moment just our eyes locked. It was almost like a gun fight from a leone film. I used my periphiy vision to see it his hands moved up slightly, not for a firearm but instead for my arms, I hoped for that forward motion of his hips coming closer, propelling him to me. After the wind stopped blowing, I grew frightened again. If he didn’t claim me. If he didnt take me away and make me an honest woman, could those olders somehow reclaim me as theirs, could they shoot out a harpoon pierce my side and drag my roaring flesh back inside the hospital to never again leave? Could they make me their servent for eternity, some sort of potential concubine for their misplaced lust and yearning for conquest. Could they make a whore out of me. Would the judges fingers be just the first of many arthiritc digits to venture where I’d rather they didn’t? Fonda don’t you see? Like the sperm to the egg you must come to me.
The tension rose and then it waned and no moment. I could hear the timepiece the music the tinkle like in a few dollars more was winding down, would I die it we ran out of music?
My eyes fell. I looked at my feet my torso, my wounds? Was I suddenly not worthy of his affection? Could he see what had happened. Now that the old mouse’s figers had beaten a path into my vagina was fonda suddenly thinking I was unclean? Was he questioning my willingness? Maybe he thought I asked for it, or I liked it. Maybe it was just a matter of time before one of those old sons of bitches trying to rape me. Mother always though it was apossiblity and that it would hurt me, not just the skin and tissue and the organs, but something that white blood cells and blood clots cant cure something spiritual and irrepreable and even though the walking corpse didn’t get it all inside, did he get enough. Enough that fonda knew enough that I was like the spoiled piece of grapefruit to him now? Why else would he who so loved me not move toward me.
I loathed myself. I touched my mouth and found mud, a mix of desert sand and saliva. I am hideous. I am worse than a witch. I hated. Full to brim and my anger was turning into tears. No. No like this in front of the olders. Please fonda. Please and before I knew what happened I slowly lifted my hand and fingers plead toward fonda.
Finally he moved toward me. Slowly and sort of sideways but after he had made just a step and covered a single yard, I was on top of him desperate to be held. Was this just a contest of wills to see which of us more power over the other? He held me tightly and whispered in my ear
Your tears are precious to me.
From behind I heard a chours of cat calls and moaning, slowly we were being showered with empty cans and bottles, fountains of urine were stretch and straining to reach us but over ripend prostates frustrated those vultures, and then I hear a voice from above. I always thought of hell as down below until I heard that garbled hateful curse from the fifth story window frame. It was the judge, his bone exposed maybe ven his brain if I looked long and hard enough through that hole in his face that I started and he finished.
He was holding a series of syginges in his left hand like a vaudevillian knife thrower. Above his head was one with the needle aimed straight down like a scarifical blade. He bellowed.
Wait! Wait! You have no yet taken back what you said. You have still to admit to the superiority of experience that we your elders have. They have no word for freedom and you are no excused from your duty till you admit that to me. Admit that to us! That is the price you must pay if you want to continue to enjoy the hard won freedom that I and all these men fought, bled, and will die for. You must concede that the life you have is more glorious, more free that anything else that those sand dancers can provide because they don’t even understand the concept of freedom.
More howling from the inmates. A colostomy bag bursts just out of reach
I whisper I fonda’s ear
Let us go. Now. Let us go forever. I don’t want to return
As you wish
He turned and ushered me like a parent might. The bellowing beforwas nothing to the monkey howls were heard now. Still as loud as the olders got I could still hear high above them all that voice straight from hell, that curse that echoed from the mouth of the judge.