RED SOX: You gotta believe, again!
LIFE'S A BASTARD WITH B NEGATIVE
by Phair
“One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi,” Ash murmured.
She was keeping a steady count of the number of seconds it took her gelatin dessert to stop shaking after she poked it with her plastic spork. So far, the best time was eight Mississippi and the longest was twelve Mississippi.
There was little else for her to do. Her mornings were jam packed with medications, bathroom breaks, synthetic breakfast with tepid coffee, getting dressed and then off to physical, occupational, and speech therapy. After those tortures were completed, lunch was served. Once the trays were given out, the hours hung heavy. Some light after lunch therapy, a pain med if she wanted it but she didn’t, and then the long wait for a friend to visit at dinner time. Her friends had stopped coming in the daytime to let her focus on rehabilitation but they didn’t know how much free time she actually had. Ash couldn’t tell them how lonely she was, not after all they were doing for her. She was certain she had to tough this out. All alone, like before.
“Just like I’ll have to tough out the next few months,” she thought with a tear in her eye.
The hospital would discharge her in three days. She was finished with all they were allowed to do. The next step was Acute Rehab but she had state sponsored insurance. The only hospital with an available bed, or so the others claimed, was fifty miles away. The state hospital in Springfield was willing to accept her. The former State Hospital for the Insane was now treating other types of medical problems. For most of the patients sent there, it was the hospital of last resort. Currently, it was Ash’s last hope to rehabilitate her broken and battered body.
“Can’t climb the garage stairs yet and that’s for sure,” Ash thought as she felt another jab of pain through her legs. “Okay, so it’ll be like that first night with DSS. All the older kids screaming what they wanted to do to me. Thank God, I didn’t understand then. Too bad I understand now. But, I’m taller now. Maybe I’m stronger than then too. I might be able to hold my own for a little longer while I heal.”
Ash closed her eyes and wished her body to get stronger. Her body flinched and protested with aches and pains. She knew she could ask no more of it. It was healing as fast as it could.
“Doomed, again,” she sighed and let a tear escape her closed lids.
The knock at the door startled her.
“Sorry to interrupt your lunch, Lindsey, but we were hoping to have a word with you,” Beth spoke from the doorway.
“Mrs. Pretty, come in. I finished with lunch already. Come on in,” Lindsey said with a bit of a giggle.
She was excited to have company. That is until she saw the man lurking behind Mrs. Pretty. It was Officer Pretty. Lindsey instinctively pulled her blankets several inches higher.
“Jesus! Get a look at him! Is he fucking pissed off’d or what? Why would she drag him here? There’s no reason for him to come visit. Obviously, he doesn’t want to see me,” Lindsey’s brain was buzzing with unanswered questions.
Beth sat in the chair next to the bed. She reached out and took Lindsey’s hand in her own. There was a gentle squeeze between the two.
“Lindsey, did you get enough to eat?” Beth questioned softly. “You still have a lot on your plate.”
Dylan cursed before the girl could answer, “For God’s sake Beth, let’s just get this fucking circus act on the train, shall we? Look kid, you need to read these papers.”
Dylan pulled folded white papers from his back pocket. He tossed them at Ash with a grunt. The big man folded his arms over his chest and waited while she read them.
Ash frowned as she read the documents. She scanned the papers a second time and frowned again. On her third review, she took her hand back from Mrs. Pretty and focused her attention on Officer Pretty.
“So, you’re my father,” Ash stated without emotion.
Officer Pretty stood red faced but stoic, “That’s what those there papers say.”
Ash paused only for a moment before answering, “Thanks for letting me know, I guess.”
The trio waited in silence. Each expected the worst of the other. With no accusations hurled all three were left alone in their private Hell to figure out an exit strategy.
“Fuck this shit! I’m out of here, if the LADY approves,” Officer Pretty hissed at his wife.
Beth nodded.
Officer Pretty stalked off to the door. He grunted in his effort to slam it behind him. Severally seconds later he abandoned the attempt with a curse. The door was on a delayed hinged that prohibited abrupt closings.
“I didn’t say it was okay for this kind of test.” Lindsey twisted the papers in her hand before asking, “He could get into trouble for having this, couldn’t he?”
“Yes,” Beth replied without looking up.
Lindsey took the pages in her grasp and tore them in half. She halved them again. And, halved them once more. Then she handed the bunched up tidbits to Beth.
“You should throw those pieces away at you house. You know, so the press doesn’t find out,” Lindsey found herself unable to look at Beth.
Beth took the pieces and placed them on Lindsey’s lunch tray. She then moved the tray away from Lindsey. She sat again and took Lindsey’s hand.
“Ms. Pesco told me you’re getting discharged in a couple of days. She said the only inpatient bed they could get you was in Springfield,” Beth could hear the quiver in her own voice. She was afraid she would cry.
“Ya, I need more therapy. Can’t do stairs yet,” Lindsey tried not to sound as sad as she felt.
“Other than stairs, you’re doing very well,” Beth made a point to look directly at Lindsey. “If you could find a place to stay without stairs then you could go there and get home therapy. That way you could be near your friends…and family.”
Lindsey was going to make a snide remark about the family comment but she could see the tears in Beth’s eye, “Mrs. Pretty, are you okay? You need a tissue or something?”
“Lindsey, I’d like to offer you my guest room for the rest of your recovery time,” Beth blurted out. “It’s on the first floor, next to the kitchen, it has its own bathroom…,”
“Whoa…, she’s definitely popped a vessel. She’s probably terrified I’m gonna call Springer or Maury or Oprah or TVLand,” Ash thought to herself. She cleared her throat and spoke quietly, “Mrs. Pretty, you don’t have to worry. I’m not gonna do nothin’ about it. I’m not gonna tell people about him. It doesn’t matter.”
Beth replied, “Lindsey, you can go on national TV and tell everybody Dylan Pretty is your father, if you want. My offer has nothing to do with your choice about going public.”
“No?” Ash was suspicious. “Then why be so generous?”
Beth hung her head as she spoke, “Lindsey, you’ve been wronged by so many people. Even though I didn’t know about you, I’m complicit in Dylan’s neglect of his obligations. I benefited from him being with me instead of caring for you. I’m as guilty as he is. Let me do this one thing to make up for some of what you suffered.”
“No. That’s bad logic, Mrs. Pretty.” Lindsey was clearly miffed at the notion of collective blame. “If we use your theory on my situation then I’m compli…ugh...” Lindsey struggled for the right words as she sat up, “…then I’m guilty too because I benefited from getting born.” Lindsey swung her legs over the side of the bed and went nose to nose with Beth, “I’m poor white trash and incorrigible and a whore’s bastard but I ain’t guilty of nothin’ and neither are you!” Lindsey was red faced and panting from her efforts but she managed to get her breath enough to beg, “Please Mrs. Pretty, say you believe me so I can believe me too.”
Beth was so stunned by Lindsey’s fierce defense all she could do was nod agreement.
“Good,” Lindsey slumped back into the bed, “that would be way too hard to repeat. And yes, I would like very much to accept your offer of a room on the first floor.”
Beth watched as Lindsey’s eyes blinked closed.
“Sorry, gotta rest. Big news day and all,” Lindsey chuckled as she started to drift off.
Beth pulled the jumbled covers straight and tucked them around the slumbering girl before she hushed, “Welcome to the beginning of innocence, Lindsey.”
