Happy Hour
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
  Fight

Behind the nurses’ counter, Bigfoot hoisted her huge backpack onto one thick shoulder. It was the end of her shift. A new night nurse showed up at 8, while visitors were chatting with patients out in the eating area. Well, he wasn’t a new nurse as in it was his first day, but new as in I’d never seen him before.

“Slick Andre!” all the patients without visitors called when he strut into the dayroom.

“Why is he “Slick” Andre?” I asked Alicia, since she’d been here before. I stroked the fuzzy stubble on her thigh while Bigfoot’s blonde balloon of a head was turned.

“Just look at him. He slick!” Alicia pointed to the night nurse. Tinted glasses with thick, tortoise shell rims, a black derby hat. Freshly pressed, but not too fancy black suit. Shiny shoes. A cane that I suspect was just for fashion, since he seemed to walk just fine.

Alicia went on, “Slick Andre, he the pimp. He always wearin’ them antique suits. He lets us stay up late and gives us extra snack. He give you extra meds, if you ask.”

“Let’s ask for some Xanax and we’ll have a really fun night.” I snickered. Alicia grinned back at me, a firefly spark in her colorless right eye.

Slick Andre was talking to Bigfoot. Bigfoot gestured toward me and Alicia. “Those are the new girls. Both have sexual issues. Keep them out of the guys’ bedrooms.” I heard her saying in my mind. Ha ha! If only she knew!

Andre waved and nodded. I waved back.

Getting a sip of water was my alibi to snoop. I always liked peeking at everybody’s visitors. I never see Spiderman out of his room, except for if I’m up at 3am. He’ll be out in the dayroom, trying to climb the walls, ignoring Bandana’s screams. Now he’s talking softly, in short Spanish sentences with 2 weeping women, one older, probably his mother and one younger. A sister? A girlfriend?

Queen Elena’s husband had to be the biggest surprise.

“Hey, Hela. Come over here and meet Steve.” she called to me while I sipped from the fountain. Elena’s thin tan arm was linked around the flannel arm of a barrel-chested man in a trucker’s hat. I walked over.

“This is my husband, Steve. Well, we’re not really married, but close enough!” Elena beamed. Steve thrust his long forehead at me in a silent greeting.

“Steve brought us all these good movies.” VHS tapes were stacked on the table before her. “And we can even watch them tonight since Andre is here. Most nurses only let us watch G movies. I wonder why.”

* * *

After the visitors left, it was snack time. Crackers and peanut butter from a tube with apples, this night. Like every night. But since Andre was on duty, there was popcorn, too. The buttery starch aroma perfumed the dayroom, drowning out the med-farts and cherry reek of spilt Valporic Acid syrup. A line of gown-clad patients with watering mouths had formed. Hela was first, then Fergus.

“So what did you think of group today?” Fergus asked Hela, with his face extra pale and pupils dilated.

“I dunno…staring at a box of tea? That’s supposed to be meditation? It just made me think of how badly I’d like a cup of tea.” Hela sucked her tongue and looked up, trying to recall the taste of honey and lemon.

“I thought it was rather helpful.”

“You would.”

“Ever since I found the Lord at County, I find Him everywhere. Even in a box of tea.” Fergus stuck out his bottom lip righteously.

Hela rose then dropped her arms. “See, that’s what I was getting at when we talked before. If there’s a God, it’s more like a spirit of life that’s in everything. That’s what I meant. You see what I mean?”

“I don’t know, Hela. I guess we agree. I think a pig just flew by.”

Their laughter was covered by the snap of a wheelchair footrest hitting a human leg. Did Milton loose it? It’s always the quiet ones… No, it’s Smit.

“Don’t you cut me in line.” Rosa clamped one hand on her hip and swung her foot like an ax to kick Smit on his hurt leg. Smit, with the fluid lunge of an asp from a tree, bounced out of his chair, landing on his good leg and slapped Rosa’s cheek. Elena, standing behind them, coughed out giggles under her hand. Mona, behind Elena, shook her head slowly, gray hair brushing her shoulders.

Slick Andre sauntered between Smit and Rosa. Thrust one palm full of silver rings in either of their faces. “Now, now folks. There’s popcorn for us all.” he cooed.

“But he cut in front of me!” the wrinkles between Rosa’s eyes were taut and deep.

“I got your momma hangin’!” Smit raised a fist.

“Shut up, white boy!”

“I got your momma hangin’!”

“Shut up, white boy!”

Slick Andre rolled his eyes beneath his tinted glasses and rolled Smit’s wheelchair into his bedroom.

“Rosa. Are you okay?” Elena placed a hand on Rosa’s shoulder.

“I got your momma hangin’!” Smit called out from his bedroom.

“I’ll be fine. That fucker is dead. When I tell the doctor what he did.”
* * *

8/2

Snack Time

Today Smit and Rosa got in a fight. I guiltily admit it amused me, from a circus audience standpoint.

Slick Andre made us popcorn for movie time. It smelled so good, even the zombies stood in line for snack. I was waiting with Fergus, having an interesting talk about God when Smit cut in front of Rosa. I didn’t see, but I heard his wheelchair hit her leg. She told him not to cut in line and then kicked his hurt leg. He’d said to me that he fractured it in a car accident. Yeah right. We all know you jumped off a bridge, stupid.

Pardon me. I’m still sort of bitter from when Smit asked to see my tits.

Anyway, after Rosa kicked Smit in the bad leg, he jumped up out of his wheelchair, like fucking Lazarus or something and slapped Rosa right on the cheek. That ass! Andre stepped between them and broke it up. He’s making Smit stay in his room all night and miss both the popcorn and movie.

Elena and Mona are sitting across from me, reenacting the fight.

“I got your momma hangin’!” Elena is chanting and waving her fist at Mona, who replies, “Shut up, white boy.” in her flattest robotic voice, which makes it even funnier.

“Hey, both of you. Shut up!” Rosa just yelled from the other side of the snack room, where she is sulking and squeezing a tube of peanut butter on her crackers.

Elena and Mona both said sorry. They’re friends with Rosa. Rosa’s a nice lady, usually. Not very crazy at all, just lonely and depressed. Her family has died off, she doesn’t have many friends. No husband or kids. She’s here because she took a bunch of sleeping pills when her boyfriend dumped her. Over the counter shit, so she didn’t die, just slept for a week. Her landlady found her. It all sounds so teenage.

Still, what kind of redneck cretin slaps an old lady? I hope they transfer Smit to a home for the criminally insane.

Mmm, gotta go. My popcorn is calling, “Eat us, eat us, we are delicious golden cornels of yumminess!” 
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