Dog Days

by Emery C. Walters

  I missed the Bugs Bunny reference in my curiosity to see what Sol had in his quirky, strange little mind now. I watched him set the paper down, and then he led me toward the hallway door.

  I had missed half my childhood by not having a sibling or keeping the same friends, since we had moved so much. I could get into this pretend-brother thing real quick. I looked at it as playing spy. Sol put his finger to his lips and poked his head out between the carts half full of trays. They stunk like spices and eggs and cheap coffee. “The coast is clear,” Sol whispered, took my hand, and led me across the hall to another door. The sign on it said, “Keep out, Staff Kitchen.” Sol slid the door open and we slipped inside. Wisely, he locked it behind us.

  I looked around like a five year old on his first day of kindergarten. Over there was a soda machine; behind me when I turned was an ice machine and a glass-topped cooler full of ice cream. I smelled cinnamon and to my left I saw there were several huge boxes of doughnuts and pastries.

  “What are you waiting for?” Sol asked. “Fill your pockets—oh, well—grab what you want and let’s get out of here!”

  I hesitated.

  Sol didn’t stop taking things to wait for me. He said something I’ve never forgotten. “Gurl, in this life you gotta know what you want and just take it. And if you don’t know what you want, take something anyhow and later on you can figure out if it was the wrong thing or the right thing.” He shoved a doughnut in his mouth, stuffed three ice creams into his left hand, and reached for the door. I wasted no time filling my hands and mouth in a similar fashion.

  I could barely make out what he was saying around the doughnut, but I think it was this; “If we get busted, this was all your idea!”

  Safely back in the room, Sol went to his bed with the entertainment section of the paper, and I curled up in mine with the front page and my loot. It felt like Christmas and Halloween at the same time. Next time, I thought, we should take the vomit trays so we could carry more stuff.

  As I read about myself in the paper, I felt two things; warm gratitude for Lefty for making me sound so great, and a terrible need to know if the kids were okay. Then I turned the page and there was a big picture of the kids, all three standing together pointing at the tree I’d put them into. Tears flooded my eyes when I saw how small they seemed. I could feel that first little girl in my arms, her almost frantic scrambling as if she’d climb up my body if she had to, and then the weight of her bare foot in my hand as her slipper fell to the ground. The other girl’s hands on my arms as she realized what I was doing, and I could feel again her desperation at wanting to be next, urging me to hurry. And of course, all the fear and pain as the dog clamped onto my leg…I didn’t realize I was crying or making any sound at all until Sol was sitting beside me holding me and telling me where I was, rubbing my back, and sounding almost as terrified as I felt. What calmed me the most was the feeling of his heart beating against mine, with only the two thin gowns between us. There was nothing sexual about this comfort at all.

  I was fine again by lunch and when the women brought in the trays, Sol and I looked at each other and nodded. I held up my puke tray and he caught on right away. This time we almost got caught, well, actually we did get caught, but it was just a tech, and he winked at us and turned away. Although when he came in shortly after we had returned to our room, he snapped his fingers, and when I guiltily held out my container of goodies, he helped himself to a Danish and winked. Then he drew my blood. Fair’s fair, I guess.

  Then we got descended upon and all our bandages changed. I almost laughed when Sol complained about them yanking hair off his butt when they took the bandage off him. As soon as they left, the two midget Filipinos came in and asked me if I’d made and gone shi-shi. Sol laughed out loud. Then they asked him the same thing. Then they insisted that I wok now with them. One grabbed the back of my gown, and the other grabbed my arm. I’d seen people being walked and pushing an I.V. stand with them, but at least I didn’t have to do that—or a catheter, but still. All kinds of visitors were coming and going and various nurses I’d never seen, and there I was trying to hobble along like I’d not already been across the hall several times on my own. And I still had chocolate on my face, I found out later.

  They returned me to my room, and as soon as they left, someone came in and washed my feet, gave me a bed bath, and combed my hair. I didn’t really shave yet so that wasn’t a problem. Having someone wash your feet is like a benediction; it was amazing, and she was so nice about it. It was like having an angel touch you.

  This was like Grand Central Station. She had barely finished and left when I heard noises in the hall (more than usual, I mean) and the sound of a voice orating, that was the only word for it. “God is coming,” Sol said. “God comes for you!”

  The voices came closer, like a flock of angry geese you’ve been holding out on. Our doctor appeared in the doorway, magnificent. He only needed a cloak. He was followed in by a flock of lesser beings all quacking or bleating like sheep. He snapped rubber gloves onto his hands and I had an image of a cartoon I’d seen where the next place he put them would be rather painful to the recipient. However, he looked at Sol’s ass and took off the bandage, snarled something and had it replaced by a nurse. All I could see was that Sol was on his stomach and keeping his mouth shut like a good little patient. Probably he was afraid of those gloved hands (or maybe not, ha ha, I told myself gleefully.) But wasn’t that the third time today he’d had that changed? Shouldn’t have any hair left around it at all by then.

  Then it was my turn. My wounds had been cleaned and redressed several times by now but off all the bandages came again. I wanted to cry with all the hair being pulled out as the tape was whipped off. I saw one of the interns wince. I still had plenty left on my legs and forearms…

  I had been hoping for a nap by then, being full of sugary treats and all warm and fuzzy from having my feet washed, but nope. The troops all surrounded my bed and the doctor snapped on clean gloves. I thought I felt my butt cheeks clench in fear. I made it through the bandages being taken off my legs (again) without any reaction other than biting my lip till it bled. The doctor poked and pulled and pointed out interesting landscape features like where the longest fangs of the dogs had gone in and how many layers of skin were ripped off…and then he went to take the one off my forearm. That hurt! I made a sound like a puppy being eaten by a crocodile when he took—no, ripped—that one off.

  I guess the doctor thought I was trying to be funny because he laughed. Someone took a picture of me at that moment. Later, Sol, who had turned so he could watch all this, said to me, “I thought that was your ‘O’ face,” but I had no idea at the time what he meant. So I had no idea why he started chuckling so bad that one of the interns sat him up (ow) and got him some water. He sat there trying not to choke or be heard, but the giggles kept coming, and I hated him. I was blushing.

  Then the doctor noticed the bald patch by my dick. “What’s this from?” he asked, poking me. Someone snickered and this time it wasn’t Sol. I saw Sol though, and he was pretending to pull hair out from between his teeth.

  Finally they all trooped out of our room. I just had time to inhale a deep breath when I heard more noise in the hall, this time loud voices, both male and female, guests and staff. They were headed our way. Sol preened, but I wanted to hide. Then I heard children and my heart started to pound. And yes, bursting in the door was the little boy and one of the girls, and behind them came the littlest one, with a band aid on her knee where she’d scraped it in the tree. My arms opened, and she climbed up into them, holding onto me as if I were her tree. There were cameras and media people and questions and flowers and over them all, from Sol’s side of the room, came the screaming bitchiness of him and his ex-boyfriend, with Sol ripping the bandage off his ass again to show the other ‘asshole’ the damage he had done. All noise around me ceased, and all heads turned their way. The shameless hussy Sol was standing on his bed almost naked, throwing things at th
e other man—vomit pan, water glass, doughnuts—you name it, and the other man ripped off a shoe—a woman’s high heeled one no less—and threw it at Sol. Then he angrily tried to stomp off with the other shoe still on, couldn’t do it, took that one off, got ready to throw it but was blocked by a large woman who was with my group, the auntie of my littlest guest, I think. So the ex just handed her the shoe, grunted, and left. Sol yelled after him, “Fuck you, Ross Jesus!”, and one of my guests turned white.

  Sol lay down, well satisfied, muttering self-righteously, and turned his back to us—his naked back with his bitten ass hanging out in the breeze. The little boy I’d saved giggled, pointed, and said, “Him bit by boyfriend, ha-ha!” And yes, there was a perfect impression of human teeth on his butt.

  Things quieted down, and my three kids all gave me gifts they had made for me and thank you cards they had bought or made. I was moved to tears. I have no idea if I answered the media’s questions or not; I got overwhelmed so quickly, and the families seemed to understand that, saying their goodbyes and repeating their thank yous after only a short time, and one by one exiting the room. The last person was the littlest girl’s brother, a big hulking local who looked like he’d rather beat up Haoles than thank them, and he tried to speak, couldn’t, but finally said, “If you need anything, man, I consider you my brother now, you let me know. Here, we got you this,”—and he handed me a brand new cell phone, adding, “My number’s in there. Th—thank you. I love my baby sister. Family is everything here. She’s everything to me.” And he fled before the tears could fall from his eyes.

  As if he’d been waiting down the hall, Lefty came in quietly after they had all gone. Sol was asleep and looked like he’d been crying. I was ready to, both from good emotions, sensory overload, loneliness, and pain. The kids and their families—I had needed to know those kids were okay and they were, thank God, but their families—it was like being rich—and I had nobody at all. Lefty sat beside me, patted my shoulder and handed me food. Pizza, oh my God it was so good. And root beer.

  “Now,” he said after we’d been munching for a while, “When the rest of your story hits the news tomorrow, we’re going to have to get you a bloody bodyguard for you to get any peace and quiet. They are almost ready to let you go ‘home’ from here, but you need a home to go to. Since they think you’re eighteen, you don’t have to worry about them trying to find your parents or putting you in the system and into foster care, which you can be grateful as hell for. Most of our foster families here are locals and although they mean well, they all seem to have multiple kids already as well as multiple dogs.”

  He moved a bit, and he was so close I leaned up against him, and he put his arm around me. I didn’t care if he got rich and famous exposing everything about me to the press. He brought me more than just food every time he came. I didn’t love him or anything like that. I didn’t even know if he was gay or whatever, and I think he was totally fine with that. After all, he wasn’t stupid, and he knew he was old enough to be, well, an uncle or maybe even a grandfather to me, but I didn’t have any idea about what that age group might be like. He just made me feel safe and like I could actually ‘do this’, whatever ‘this’ might be.

  “First,” he went on, “You want to think about what you want, where you want to be, if you are headed to college and want to finish high school or get a G.E.D. or what. Do you want to go back to the mainland?”

  I shook my head no. There was nothing for me there.

  “You don’t even have to tell me or anyone, unless of course, you need to do so in order to make it happen. But it would be good if you know what you want.”

  I remembered what Sol had said and nodded.

  “What are your priorities? Need-wise, I’d say it’s a place to live and some income. And after the paper hits tomorrow and they do their broadcasts on TV and all, well, we’ll see what happens. People are more than willing to help others, once they know it’s needed—and wanted. What it is, is good to know, too!” He chuckled at himself as if he’d just figured that out, but I thought he’d probably known this stuff all his life. “One thing that has been done already is that there’s a bank account started in your name that will take donations for any expenses you might have, like uncovered medical bills, housing, etc.”

  “I want to stay here,” I blurted. What I meant was I wanted was to stay with him, for that safety and comfort thing. I wanted to curl up in a ball on his couch or something like that and have him continue to bring me food. I knew that was just a dream though, because like I said, he also made me feel like I could do whatever I had to do—or wanted to do.

  He handed me another piece of pizza. I was happy to take it and grunted something along the lines of either ‘thank you’ or ‘oink’, I’m not sure which. He gave my side a squeeze. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” he said thoughtfully. “About why people have to really get hit hard before they get helped. I don’t know the answers, other than what I just said about—well, it has to be brought to people’s attention that there is a need to begin with, and what that need is. Exactly how they can help. So we’ll see what tomorrow brings before we make any decisions.” He laughed. “I’m sorry, listen to me. ‘We.’ I mean ‘you’, of course.”

  The look I gave him at the moment, however, said he was wrong; it was indeed, ‘we’. Confident or not, I was nowhere near ready to go it on my own, and I knew that. He held me, and I finished the pizza, burped a couple of times, and fell asleep.

  In my dream I was looking for my third grade classroom, I was late and had no pants on. When I found it and went in, Mrs. White was standing at the blackboard with a pointer, making the class read what she had put up there. “Dogs are man’s best friend, even though they know we’re made of meat.”

  Beneath that was another line: “I looked up my family tree and found two dogs using it.” Then I was flying somewhere, probably looking for my pants.

  Monday

  Bright and early, way too early, Sol woke me again with his annoying ‘Wakey, wakey!’ thing, and then, when I didn’t respond, miracle of miracles, he gave up, and curled up next to me and went back to sleep. I was barely aware of this myself. Half asleep, somewhat disoriented, I went back into my dreams and slept with my brother. Slept. As in sound asleep. A brother I’d never had, but had always wanted. Once again, there was nothing sexual at all about it; eww, my brother? And in his sleep, Sol too was as innocent as the child he really was—mentally, anyway.

  An hour later that sexy night nurse came in and there were Sol and I sound asleep, all tangled up together in my bed, our ass bandages hanging half off and Sol snoring away like the happy bitch he is. The nurse came up beside us, and my eyes opened and looked up at him, sleepy and innocent. “I…” he started out, his face gradually turning red. “I—see—you’re feeling better,” and he burst out laughing. I didn’t know what he meant, until—oh. Yeah, well, um, it’s not what you think. And then Sol farted. (That’s quite enough of the brother thing, that’s going too far, I thought nastily.)

  The nurse left, barely making it out into the hall, he was bent over so far trying to hold his stomach and silence his mirth, not that he had a chance.

  I didn’t know what to think; so I thought I’d shove Sol a good one and get him the hell away from me, which I did, and all he did was kiss my nose and crawl back to his own bed, sighing in loud and semi-faked ecstasy. I wanted to kill him. And the nurse. And then maybe myself, later. Why do these things always happen to me? Oh yeah, people here think I’m a mature adult, don’t they. Now I was going to have to hold my stomach to keep from laughing out loud. Silent giggles can be terribly painful.

  When the nurse came back in, he told me his name was Todd and that he’d be our nurse for the day and he was glad to see…he couldn’t finish. “I have to change your bandages. The doctor will be in later and just rip them off again, but oh well. He’s the boss, right?” Apparently I wasn’t going to be killed or thrown in jail or have this non-incident put
in the newspaper.

  “Nothing happened,” I muttered stonily.

  Todd was really surprised. “Why not?” he asked, losing all sense of professionalism.

  “I’m seventeen, not eighteen,” I whispered.

  Talk about not a mature adult: Todd smiled and said, “I’ll never tell.” I don’t think he believed me, but more likely it was just the Maui live and let live attitude that I’d been coming to understand.

  “You’re in the paper again I see,” he said, getting to work on me. “Good on you! You are a real hero, you know. Now turn over, hero, so I can look at—your—ooh very nice.” (Was he supposed to pat my ass that way while ripping off the—what the—holy cow! Ow! Had I grown hair on my butt?) “Sorry,” he said, not sounding it. I reached back and pulled the pillow over my head. I tried to fart but couldn’t. Damn him.

  He didn’t move for a minute and I got scared. “What?” I finally asked, my voice so muffled I had to take the pillow off and try to roll over and sit up, which didn’t work.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that this bite looks bad. I don’t think you’ll be going home today. Or anywhere. Maybe across the hall though, if you promise to not take all the cheese Danish. I love those.”

  Oh shit.

  “I saw your boyfriend in the parking lot.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend! God!”

  “Tell him that. He’s loaded down with food for you and probably enough for Solomon too. I think he’s cute. Maybe he has a Daddy complex.”

  He was rubbing ointment or something onto my bite. It felt good and awful at the same time. And I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Roll over and sit up—gently.”

  Believe me I was gentle.

  Todd stood up, turning to Lefty who had just come in, saying, “I don’t think you’ll be taking him home with you today. Let me show you the bite that might be infected, here on his…” Turning from Lefty to me, he said, “Roll over again, sweetheart,” and he winked at me in such a way that Lefty could see him, and then ran his tongue over his lips. I swear to God that bastard was smirking at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sol sitting up gingerly, watching. Todd put the bags of food on the table and came over. As Todd lifted my gown Sol craned his evil head.