FORTY-THREE
Leaving the abandoned house behind, we walked toward the dirt path and then crossed over Fullerton.
“We going to the Tree?” I asked
“Nope,” Steve said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m dying for something to drink.”
Instead of cutting into the field, we walked along side of it, up Magnolia, the new construction site where Jason and I had collected bottles to our right. It was Sunday and the area was deserted and silent. A big hulk of a metal trailer sat at one end of the lot. I figured it must have been were Rod, the bearded giant, resided.
Just a bit uphill of the Magnolia Glen site, there stood a dozen or so small building, painted beige. Neat manicured lawns and well trimmed rose bushes surrounded them. This was the school for mentally challenged children.
Peppermint Ridge also housed some of the children with really severe handicaps. Children with autism and Down’s syndrome and other obstinate learning disabilities could live at the school and be looked after by caregivers if their parents had the money and lacked the patients to raise them at home.
Jamie Manning (the girl who had peed on the sidewalk by our hillside when Jason and I had been pulling weeds), went to school there. Sometimes, during the fall and spring months, while we walked to Stallings Elementary, we would see Jamie’s father George walking her to Peppermint Ridge. And although the Ridge was a private school and wasn’t part of the Corona-Norco Unified School District, George Manning did the grounds keeping there as well, free of charge, to get a break on tuition fees for his daughter.
Back on our side of Magnolia, Jason said, “So, where are we going? To the pharmacy for a soda? Cause Ricky and I don’t have any money on us.”
“That’s okay,” Steve said. “I didn’t bring any money either. But where we’re going we won’t need money.”
For a second no one spoke. We wondered where it was he could be leading us. Finally, Cory asked. “So where then?”
As we reached the drive entrance to Corona Community Hospital, Steve said, “To get some iced tea.”
We knew just what he meant. We hadn’t done it for quite some time, but the summer before we had all gone inside the hospital and to the cafeteria to get free iced tea. Though they charged their staff and visitors for food, iced tea was always free.
We were heading through the parking lot and toward the main entrance when Jason said, “Hey, what are we going to do about Frisbee? He can’t go inside with us.”
“You’re right,” Steve said. “I wish we had brought a rope or something to tie him up with.”
Frisbee kept pace with us like a champ, though he panted the whole way. The temperature had to be a hundred and three, easy. I thought about his paws and if they might be getting burned from the black-top as he strolled along the tacky surface, but he seemed to manage.
“He’ll be alright outside by himself,” Cory suggested.
It was probably true. The dog seemed to have taken quite a liking toward us. I sure didn’t think he would run away but Steve protested.
“No. I don’t want to leave him alone out here. What if someone were to find him and take him to the pound?”
Frisbee jerked his head sideways at the mention of the word pound as if he knew just what it meant.
“How about we play rock, paper, scissors to see who stays outside with him?” I suggested. I was a champ at the game, or so I thought, and wouldn’t be easily beaten. Steve seemed to mull over the idea but in the end he shook his head.
“No, I’ve got a better idea. Cory, you stay out here with him.”
At the mention of his name, Cory stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded. “Me? Why me? I’m just as thirsty as you guys are.”
“Because,” Steve said, “you broke the lantern back at that house. We could have kept it and used it sometime. So, for that, you get to stay out here, in the heat, while we go inside, where it’s cool.”
“Man, this is horse shit,” Cory spat and jogged to catch back up.
Steve put a hand on Cory’s neck and said, “You gonna whine about it or are you going to be good and stay with Frisbee?”
Looking as if he wanted to boil over, he finally said, “Fine. Just hurry up, okay.”
All of us smiled, knowing that sooner or later he’d learn not to be such a destructive jerk. We walked around the side of the building to where the Urgent Care patients were brought in. The entrance there was simple and plain unlike the main entrance that had a reception desk and a small gift shop. Steve, Jason and I headed inside and a cool rush of air hit us full force.
“Bring me back a tea,” Cory yelled to us, standing at the door with Frisbee. Steve waved over his shoulder as it automatically slid shut behind us.
Inside, to the right, was the waiting room for Urgent Care. There was enough space in there to comfortably seat fifty people waiting to see doctors but on that day there were only about ten sitting apart from each other. One man sat in a corner holding his wrist, his thumb bent at an awkward angle. With his face drained of blood he gave off a look that said he might be unconscious before someone could tend to him.
In the middle of the room a woman sat, holding a bloody handkerchief to her swollen nose. Her eyes where the color of old prunes as if she’d applied too much of the wrong color make-up. I couldn’t be quite sure but from where we were it seemed as though she were mouthing the same word over and over: Bastard.
At the far end, a shirtless man waited in a chair with a belt tightened around his right leg like a tourniquet. The shirt that should have been on his back was wadded up in his left hand, drenched in blood. He was using it to mop up a nasty looking gash on his foot.
A few more sat and stood here and there. A lady with a crying toddler in her arms walked back and forth to soothe the child, a man with a taped up knee rested his rear in one seat and his leg in another.
It was a little morbid staring at these wounded people but we were curious kids and we had to look. It’s only natural to look at others in agony. You may be a little saddened for them but in the end you get a rush from the experience. And it’s also nice when you get to thank God that it’s not you in that room.
After getting our sick thrill form Urgent Care we moved on down the hallway. The floor tiles were white vinyl squares with amber smudge patterns throughout that made me think of egg drop soup.
The walls were whiter than white and hurt your eyes if you looked at them for too long. The ceiling was acoustic squares with bright sodium tubes set every ten feet or so. The whole hospital smelled entirely too clean, if that were possible. It was supposed to, I guess. Like disinfectant, alcohol and ammonia, a little bleach.
There were doors spaced at varying intervals from each other. Some were right next to the other, while others had twenty feet of space between them. Bathrooms, janitorial supply closets and offices were common in the area we were in. There were other rooms, rooms with beds and monitors, at the south-east section of the building. We were on the opposite end next to the doctor’s offices.
We then came to an intersection of halls. A sign hanging from the ceiling informed staff and visitors that the nursery and radiology department could be found by taking a right, the gift shop and cafeteria by going left. We, of course, chose the latter.
“Alright you guys, let’s just be cool and not look out of place. We’re almost there,” Steve told us.
We followed his instructions as best we could. We didn’t want to bring any unwanted attention to ourselves. The last time we had come here a nurse had stopped and interrogated us, wanting to know what business we had being at the hospital. When we finally admitted to her that it was just to get something to drink she gave us the third degree about children being where they shouldn’t and about others who were sick and needed their rest. We didn’t want to have the same thing happen again so we kept our mouths shut and slunk down the hall.
Once we reached the cafeteria we felt a bit easier. The dining room was pretty big. At least
as large as the Urgent Care room and could probably seat just as many, though there were a few more people here than where back at the UC. Most of them were doctors and nurses and other staff members wearing white coats or light blue O.R. scrubs, the name badges on their breasts identified them for patients and visitors. Ten or fifteen people in street clothes sat around, enjoying the crappy food as well.
Only two people stood at the front of the food line paying for their meals and neither wore a white coat or blue scrubs and we took it as a good sign. The large metal cylinder full of tea stood on the counter halfway down the aisle. The trick was to get in, fill up and turn back around going out the way we’d come. The plan was simple; in and out in less than a minute.
We moved up the line past salads and wrapped sandwiches, past the fruits and gelatins, farther still past puddings and cookies until we came to the iced tea. Sweat ran down its cool silver surface. A blue sticker above the spout proclaimed that it was indeed the refreshment we had come for.
The Styrofoam cups sat stacked next to the container and Steve and I each grabbed one. Jason took two, thinking of Cory waiting outside in the heat. We filled them according to age and although I was last they stayed with me until I was done.
“Come on, Ricky. I think the guy at the end of the counter is getting suspicious,” Steve said without moving his lips.
“Okay, okay, I’m almost done,” I said. “There.”
We had four cups filled. All we needed now was to get back outside and we were golden. Turning back, we headed for the door and Steve nearly collided with two older ladies; one in a white coat and one in a blue smock. And as he jerked to a stop some of his tea slopped over the top of his cup and landed at their feet, just missing them.
“Hey,” white coat said. “Watch it!”
Steve looked at them for a moment and stammered. “Oh, uh, sorry.” We tried to squeeze past them but they closed ranks on us.
“You just hold it a minute, boys,” blue smock said. “What is it exactly that you’re doing in here?”
This was it. Same as had happened last time. Hell, it might have even been the same lady. At the very least we would get lectured by these two crones, or worse, they might call security on us.
I looked at Jason and he looked at Steve, shrugging his shoulders as if to say ‘Let’s see you get us out of this one, Hanel.’ Steve looked from Jason back to the ladies and said, “We…were…just…”
“Are you here visiting someone?” asked white coat, looking down her nose.
“Yes,” Steve said. “Well…what I mean is…” He was having trouble but kept trying. “We’re here with someone, but…”
“Are your parents here? Because children are not allowed on hospital property without proper adult supervision,” blue smock croaked. She then looked at white coat and asked, “What do you think, Gretta? Should we have these young men taken to security?”
White coat was just starting to nod her agreement when a voice boomed in from behind us. “They’re with me. It’s okay. They just got up to get us some more iced tea.”
We turned around to see who our savior was. Sitting in an orange chair a few feet away, an untouched hamburger in front of him was a giant of a man with a puffy, red beard.
Frisbee Page 51
