CHAPTER 9
Sheila began telling Colleen about what happened at Malibu Day Spa. Following every part of the story, Colleen added a “No shit!” or a “For real?” as a response. She found herself sitting straight up in bed with her mouth open in shock. She nervously clicked the pain button like a ballpoint pen, over and over, as Sheila continued.
“Are you gonna keep doing that?” Augie interrupted.
Colleen glanced in Augie’s direction, but didn’t make eye contact. She was riveted by Sheila’s story and only increased her assault on the pain button.
“Hey!” Augie yelled.
“What?” Colleen yelled and looked squarely at Augie. “Can’t you see I am on the damn phone?”
“Stop that!” Augie scolded as she pointed at the pain button in Colleen’s hand.
Colleen looked down. She suddenly realized that she was gripping the pain button so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. She loosened her grip, let go of the pain button and shook her hand in the air as if it had fallen asleep. She looked back at Augie. “Oh shit!” she said apologetically. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” Augie said half-heartedly. “You know that thing locks you out for like ten minutes.”
She looked down at the pain button again. “I know,” she said. “That’s a good thing.”
“You bet your ass it’s a good thing, or you’d be about dead by now,” replied Augie.
“Who are you talking to?” asked Sheila.
Colleen felt like she was being pulled in ten different directions at once. She saw Augie lean back against her pillow and decided to do the same. “Oh. I was talking to my roommate,” she said.
“Roommate?” Sheila mirrored.
“Yeah. She’s a pain in the ass.”
Augie pulled her covers over her head, gave Colleen the finger, and then folded her arms over her bulging chest.
“Knock knock,” a low-pitched female voice suddenly called from the doorway.
“Oh fuck me,” Augie muttered under her breath.
“Sheila, hold on a sec,” Colleen said as she dropped the phone to her lap and looked toward the door, which was cracked open barely an inch. “Who is it?”
“It’s Nancy Fredricks to see August Riley,” the female’s voice replied. “Is she available?
Colleen looked at Augie, who had the covers pulled over her head and her arms folded over the covers. “Augie,” she whispered. “Who’s that?”
Augie uncrossed her arms and brought her hands to her neck as if she were going to strangle herself. She looked like a low-budget Halloween ghost costume without the eyes cut out.
“Oh, shit! Is that the social worker?”
Augie lowered her hands from her throat and made a “jerking off” motion in the air.
“She’s sleeping right now,” Colleen yelled with a raised voice. “Can you come back tomorrow?”
“She doesn’t look like she’s asleep,” said the morbidly obese woman. She had quietly stepped into the room without being noticed.
“I’m awake now,” Augie said through the covers with a big sigh.
Colleen surveyed the woman from top to bottom. Her plump face was splotchy with makeup that had been wiped off in places, and her cheeks were pitted from acne scars left over from her youth. Her stringy, overworked hair was about shoulder length and colored way too dark for someone whose age Colleen guessed was around fifty-five.
The woman’s scrub top was dingy and had cartoon characters from Spongebob Squarepants arranged erratically on a faded blue ocean background. A fresh, chocolate-colored stain about the size of a silver dollar was positioned perfectly between sagging breasts and looked like a big, brown areola with a missing nipple.
“Let me guess,” said Augie loudly from behind the covers, “Spongebob. Am I right?”
Colleen gasped at Augie’s tone. The social worker said nothing and took a few steps toward the end of Augie’s bed. Colleen caught herself staring. The woman more resembled Patrick Starfish than she did Spongebob. Colleen hated her with a passion, and knew that Augie hated her even more. Her instinctual, almost involuntary hot temper began to reach a boiling point. Her heart raced in anticipation of what Augie would say next.
“I’ll just pull this curtain shut so we can have some privacy,” said Fredricks without looking in Colleen’s direction.
The sweaty social worker seemed to gain some kind of enjoyment from the screeching metal rollers as she pulled them around Augie’s bed. Colleen’s jaws clamped together tightly and the muscles on the sides of her face flexed rhythmically in disgust. Suddenly she remembered that Sheila was still waiting for her on the other end of the cell phone in her lap.
“Damn it!” Colleen whispered. “Hello? Hello?”
“I’m here,” replied Sheila. “Did something happen? What’s wrong?”
“Say, can I call you back in a little while?” said Colleen.
“Oh… no problem,” Sheila said. “I was pretty much done telling you about—”
“Sorry,” interrupted Colleen. “I’m a little distracted, and I was gonna ask about everything like what happens next and all of that.”
“It’s okay,” Sheila said in a very understanding tone. “You’ve got your hands full, too.”
“Don’t I know it,” Colleen said rhetorically. “So can I call you in bit once things settle down?”
“Absolutely,” said Sheila. “I have to make a bunch more calls and I’ve rambled on enough anyway.”
“I was also gonna ask when you can go back to the spa… any idea about that?”
“Not a clue,” replied Sheila. “When I asked Ripley about it, she said they have to finish investigating and dig through everything. Could be a few days or a couple of weeks.”
“That sucks,” said Colleen matter-of-factly.
“That goes beyond sucking,” Sheila chimed in. “But… what can I do, right?”
“I hear ya,” agreed Colleen. “So I’ll text you when the coast is clear and you’ll let me know if you’re free to talk then.”
“Will do,” replied Sheila. “How you feeling, anyway?”
“Meh,” replied Colleen half-heartedly. “I’ll live.”
“Never had any doubt,” said Sheila. “Talk to you in a bit.”
“Oh—kay,” Colleen droned.
Both women said “bye” at the same time, just as they had done a thousand times over the years. Colleen flipped her phone shut, leaned forward and turned her head so she could listen to the conversation on the other side of the curtain.
“So…” Fredricks began in a tone that Colleen labeled as condescending. “How are we feeling today?”
Augie pulled the covers off of her head and revealed her battered face, which took Fredricks by surprise. “How the fuck do you think we are feeling today?” Augie spat with a bitterness that Colleen had never heard before. “You can see, can’t you?”
“I see you took your bandage off by yourself. Were you supposed to do that?”
“I do what I want, when I want, smartass.” Augie quipped.
“Now August…” Nancy began in a disgusted tone. “There’s no need for foul language… young lady.”
“Then why don’t you get off your huge ass and leave the same way you came in if you don’t want to hear it?” Augie screamed back at her and then added, “Old... fat lady.”
Colleen’s jaw dropped nearly to her lap and she bolted straight up in her bed. The condescension and dissent taking place on the other side of the curtain took her completely by surprise.
“We’re done here,” said Fredricks in a defeated, almost teary tone.
“We were done before way before you barged in here, you bitch!” screamed Augie. “Don’t you ever… come back here… ever!”
After a slight pause, Fredricks said meekly, “This will all go in my report, August,”
“Good!” Augie continued her screaming. “Once the report is done, feel free to shove it up your ass!”
“Well! I ne
ver!”
“Well!” mocked Augie. “You have now! Now go! Before I get out of this bed and do something I’m gonna regret.”
“Are you threatening me, August?
Colleen couldn’t take it anymore. Her blood was boiling and adrenaline pulsed through her veins faster than the Morphine. “Lady, you don’t know what it means to be threatened!” she shouted in Augie’s defense. “If you don’t get the hell out of this room, I’ll find a way to throw you out, you dumpy-assed toad!”
Suddenly the curtain suddenly shot open. Fredricks peered around the edge of the curtain. Her face was red and splotchy and she was breathing heavily. She took labored, choppy breaths and looked like she was about to cry. “Wh—who are y—you again? D—do I know you?” the fat woman stuttered.
“C—C—Colleen C—C—Caldwell! Who in the hell are you?”
Fredricks stood for a few moments, blinking exaggeratedly. She sniffled and wiped snot on the back of her arm.
Colleen glared at her. “Well?” she taunted.
No response, other than choppy breathing.
“That’s it,” said Colleen. “Just stand there while I get security so they can throw your ass out of here.”
Without saying another word, Fredricks looked at the privacy curtain and ignored Colleen. She turned on her heels and walked toward the door, slowly dragging the curtain behind her.
“Leave that open!” Augie yelled.
Fredricks ignored her. She walked toward the door until the curtain met with resistance at the end of its tracks. She then stopped, let go of the curtain and whispered, “Open it yourself.”
“You bitch!” Augie yelled, and then grabbed a pillow and whipped it at her, narrowly missing the fat woman’s head. Augie let out a painful squall and then cradled her abdomen.
Colleen sat in silence, breathing heavily and clinching her fists. Her lips began to form words, but she couldn’t make a sound.
“Did that hurt?” Fredricks asked softly in a demonic tone.
Augie moaned and rocked herself back and forth in pain, unable to speak.
“Let the punishment fit the crime,” Fredricks said as she glared through squinted eyes. “Next time… I doubt you will survive your sins, and I won’t have you to deal with anymore.”
“Fuck you!” Colleen screamed.
“Have a nice day!” Fredricks mocked as she turned and bolted out the door.
“G—G—G’bye, fat lady!” Colleen blurted and defiantly plopped back against her pillow. “Ugh! Where the hell is the call button thing?”
Colleen fumbled about the bedrail, which had a remote control unit with a long white wire attached to it. She punched every button she could find. A small television on the wall came on. Judge Judy yelled “You’re a moron!” from a tiny speaker on the side of the TV attached to a long adjustable arm. Colleen frowned at the remote and mashed more buttons until the television powered off.
“Forget it,” said Augie. “She’s gone.”
“No, I’m not gonna forget it!” Colleen blurted sternly. “She fucked with the wrong cowgirl!”
Augie said nothing more. She just continued rocking and cradling her abdomen.
†
Carlos sauntered up the white concrete sidewalk that stood in bright contrast against the deep green, well-manicured lawn in front of the Triple C main house. He stamped his feet loudly, not only to clean his boots, but to announce his arrival at the front door. This had been his ritual of sorts for many years at the Double C north of San Diego, and now the Triple C in Simi Valley.
He removed his hat, wiped his boots on the thick welcome mat, and then knocked twice on the screen door before entering, as was also his ritual. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark sitting room as he stepped inside and felt a soothing rush of cool, cinnamon-spiced air. “Hello?” he called as he turned and closed the heavy door behind him. Suddenly he felt a pair of arms grasp his waist. “Jesus? Is that you?”
“Carlos!” Joan sputtered playfully from behind him. “You know it’s not Hay-seuss,” she said and tightened her grip to a full-on hug from behind.
“You are strong like Jesus,” said Carlos.
Joan removed her right arm and slapped Carlos on the back. He turned toward her, hung his hat on the umbrella rack, and embraced her.
“Mmmm,” said Joan as if she were eating something yummy. “I needed that.”
“I think you did,” said Carlos playfully but cautiously. “I think you had too much to drink today.”
“Oh bullshit,” said Joan. “I never drink too much.” She turned and rested her cheek against his chest and caressed his back. She began to lose herself in his arms.
Carlos gently grasped Joan’s shoulders and pulled her away, but met with some resistance as Joan tightened her grip around his waist.
“Okay,” said Carlos. He leaned back and looked down at her. “What is the matter?”
“Nothing is the matter… now,” said Joan. She looked up at the handsome ranch foreman dreamily. “Not a single thing.”
“Bullshit,” said Carlos. “I know you too well, my friend. Something is very much the matter.”
“Damn you, Carlos,” said Joan playfully. “I can’t hide anything from you.”
“This is true,” replied Carlos.
Joan let her arms drop to her side and stood up straight. “You want a beer?” she asked.
“Enough cerveza,” said Carlos. “Caffe, por favor.”
“Oh,” Joan said, disappointed. “I need to make some.”
“Por favor,” Carlos repeated.
Joan turned and headed for the kitchen with Carlos close behind. She lazily dragged her feet in disappointment and thought about what she really wanted from Carlos. She involuntarily touched her hair as her desires peered at her from deep inside her subconscious world.
“Caffe,” Joan repeated.
“Si,” said Carlos. He stopped at the small round table in the kitchen, pulled up a chair, and sat down.
Joan wasn’t aware that she had repeated herself out loud. She tried to concentrate while she made coffee, but her desire for Carlos fought her at every turn. She envisioned herself being carried to the bedroom in Carlos’s strong arms. Her heart ached as she stared blankly out the window. The coffeepot overflowed with water for nearly thirty seconds before she caught herself. “Caffe,” she repeated aloud again, then shut off the water and continued making coffee.
“Si,” repeated Carlos yet again.
“He’s still got some run left in ’im,” said Joan as she flipped the power switch of the coffeemaker.
“Pardon?” said Carlos, confused.
“Condor,” said Joan. “He’s still got some run left in ’im.”
“Oh,” replied Carlos. “Plenty indeed.”
Joan nervously wiped her hands with a dish towel and searched her pockets as if she had lost something. Carlos stood up and motioned to the chair opposite his.
“Oh… thank you, Carlos,” Joan said and began to pull at the back of the chair. “Do you think old man Anderson will ever want him back in Texas?”
“I don’t think so,” said Carlos.
Joan sat down and Carlos followed suit. Joan loved the fact that Carlos stood up whenever a woman approached the table. She thought about how the men that customarily stood when she approached them thirty years ago no longer practiced such chivalrous manners. She thought to herself what a damn shame that was. “He’s only what? Fifteen? Sixteen?” she asked as she tried to keep from drifting again.
“Mister Anderson must be seventy-five by now,” replied Carlos playfully.
“I mean Condor, smarty pants,” said Joan.
“Ah,” Carlos continued. “Condor’s almost twenty.”
Joan tilted her head and looked perplexed. “Twenty? Really?”
“Yes,” said Carlos.
“He doesn’t look it one bit,” added Joan.
Carlos folded his hands, leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. Joan took in a quick brea
th of surprise at the look on his face. The coffeemaker belched as the steamy hot water dropped onto the fresh coffee grounds.
“You don’t want to talk about Condor,” Carlos said intently. “What is in your mind?”
Joan thought for a second about what was in her mind. She knew that Carlos wanted to know what was on her mind, and that he didn’t want to know exactly what was in her thoughts at the moment. She leaned forward, folded her hands, and placed her elbows on the table, mirroring Carlos. “Yes, you do know me too well.”
“You are thinking about Colleen, no?”
“Yes,” said Joan. “And so many other things.”
“Tell it to me,” said Carlos. “Don’t keep this thing inside you or it will get much worse.”
“I know,” said Joan. “It’s just that we… had a… fight, or an argument, or I don’t even know what to call it.”
“Go slow,” said Carlos. “Breathe first. Then tell it all to me. You will feel better.”
Joan started telling Carlos about what had happened in Colleen’s hospital room earlier. She started slowly at first, and then began pouring out her very soul to the ranch foreman. Just as she had done a thousand times before, she confided in Carlos in a way that is usually reserved for a therapist or a best friend. Joan considered him both.
†
“The nerve of that bitch!” Colleen sputtered through gnashed teeth. “Where does she get off?”
Augie continued her rocking back and forth. “Who the hell knows?” she said with a grunt.
“Are you in pain or something?” Colleen asked, remembering Augie’s shriek before.
“I think I pulled something.”
Colleen sat up a little and asked, “You want me to call Leah?”
“Did I hear my name again?” Leah’s called from the doorway.
“Jesus, you are psychic!” said Colleen.
“I don’t know about that,” she said as she stepped into the room and saw a pillow on the floor. “Who did this?” she asked playfully.
“I did,” said Augie triumphantly. “And now I’m paying for it.”
Leah approached Augie and removed the pillow from its case. She dropped the pillowcase in the soiled linens basket, opened the cupboard below the sink, and found a fresh one. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Remembering August (Triple C Ranch Saga) Page 26
