by Tom Schreck
Speaking of characters, it headed toward seven o'clock and time to give Karl a ride. I swung by the hospital and wound the El Dorado through the serpentine path to the parking garage. Parking garages weren't made for Cadillacs built in the middle of the seventies, so negotiating some of the turns wasn't much of a party. I got the $6.00 ticket for the privilege of picking up my friend recovering from an assault, and felt like another assault had just taken place, though this one was to my bank account. Inside the medical center I followed the arrows around to the area known as 'discharges.' In the room were about twenty people, most in wheel chairs, and most with one or two family members. Most of the non-patients had kind of a relieved look on their face as their loved one was deemed well enough to go home. Karl got wheeled into a corner by himself. He didn't look relieved at all. He nervously twitched and looked around like something bad was about to happen.
"Hey, Karl, how are you? Must be good to be going home."
"Duffy, what are you doing here?" He looked up at me.
"I came to give you a lift."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I heard you were being discharged and I figured you could use a ride."
"They just called the Mission."
"Huh? The Mission? I thought you had your own place?"
"Nope."
"But I had an address for you in the Westview Apartments."
"That was a lie."
"You didn't want to admit to being in the mission?"
"Yeah, but not because I was embarrassed like you think. I'm too vulnerable in there."
"The Mission can be a bit of nightmare but you got benefits. Why not let DSS get you an apartment?"
"Sure, get me on another government tracking system. That's just what they'd want."
"So are you going to the Mission?"
"To get out of here and then I'll go out for a walk and split."
"And wind up in the park and get your ass kicked again?"
"It's not the park that's getting my ass kicked. It's what I know." He looked out the window and then around the room.
"Shit, they could be right here. I'm such a fool!" Karl dropped his head into his hands and started crying. He cried so hard he shook. It was pathetic.
"You want to stay with me and Al?" I heard come out of my mouth.
Karl sniffled away some tears and looked up at me with a squint.
"What?"
"Stay at my place. It's not the Trump tower, it's a trailer, but if you can stand basset hound flatulence, it ain't half bad." Karl looked down, back up at me, and then down again.
"Why do you want me at your place?" He said it without the paranoid tone. It was more of a tone of disbelief.
"I don't know. You wanna come or not?" He snickered and smiled on one side of his face. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
"The dog lives right inside with you?"
"Yeah."
"I'm in," Karl said.
I had no idea what had gotten in to me.
Karl signed a bunch of papers and I signed some more. I'm sure I had just released me and my heirs from every possible right under the sun and agreed to reimburse everyone in North America for all their expenses for the next fifty years. I had gotten over worrying about such things.
I wheeled Karl out to the curb and told him I'd pull the car around for him. He didn't object, mentioned something about still being a little weak in the legs. The problem was working my way around the labyrinth of a parking lot and finding where I had been. I walked up to the second level and couldn't find the El Dorado. Although I swore I'd parked it on the second level, the place was confusing enough that I thought I just might've been on the third level.
I headed to the stairwell and saw a soda machine. I went to get a diet Pepsi, but there was some sort of Army guy standing in front of the thing, apparently unable to decide between a Pepsi and a Mountain Dew. I guess after a few years of leaving the thinking up to someone else that sort of thing can happen.
I got to the third level of the garage. It didn't look familiar at all though that didn't really surprise me much, because I didn't pay attention to anything when I parked except for what level I was on. Two more guys in Army get-ups passed me. I figured somebody in the reserves must've got hurt doing weekend maneuvers or whatever it is they do.
I walked around level three for a few minutes and decided that wasn't right. So I headed back down the stairs. The three Army guys gathered around the soda machine talking, but they got quiet when I came down the stairs. Now all three of them stared at the soda machine, which seemed a bit odd.
"Hey fellas, there's no chance you guys saw an old orange El Dorado on any of these levels?" One of the guys grunted and none of them looked at me. I stood there kind of waiting for an answer. Finally, I just turned and went through the doorway to the second level.
As I stepped out of the door's threshold, a car came screaming around the tight turn of the garage, coming so close to me I had to jump back. As I jumped back I felt a sharp whack to the back of my head, like I banged my head against something. Everything went a little wobbly and when I turned, things were a bit murky. The pain was sharp and a weird wobbly feeling came over me. I looked up the three guys in fatigues stood in front of me. The one in the middle, the biggest guy of the three, threw a punch right square into the side of my head.
I went down and everything went black.
18
"I think he's coming around," the soupy voice said.
"Duffy-Duffy. He's blinking like he hears me," I recognized Trina's voice.
"Easy, kid, easy." That was Rudy.
I wasn't in a ring. I was in a hospital bed and my head really fuckin' hurt. I had one of those rubber ID bracelets on that said
'D. Dombrowski', with a long number next to it. There was tape on the back of my head and I wore one of those silly dresses they give you when you're in the hospital. I had taken a shot to the head, but the last I remember, I was working with Tayshaun and he wasn't in any kind of shape.
"Phew…kid you had us scared," Rudy said. I looked at him and thought about speaking, but I still felt detached.
"Don't worry kid, they got you on some shit to make you comfortable. It's why you feel weird," Rudy said. Trina was crying. She still looked good, but she was crying.
"It's all my fault for getting him involved." A voice came from somewhere behind Rudy, but lower. Rudy half turned around. There was Karl in his Redskin's helmet still sitting in a wheel chair.
"Did they get you?" came out of my mouth. It came out slushy.
"Not this time, my friend. They got you instead. From the way it looks, I don't think they counted on you waking up at all."
"That's enough, Karl," Rudy said.
A male nurse, or at least an official looking male who wasn't a doctor, came in and asked everyone to leave except Rudy. Trina kissed me, sniffled, and scurried away.
"I ain't got nowhere to go. I'm staying," Karl said.
"Is he family?" The male nurse guy said. I looked quickly at Karl, who had a panicked expression on his face.
"Yeah, he can stay," I said.
I heard someone else crying, and looked toward the doorway to my room. It was Rene.
"I'm okay. I'm okay…take it easy," I said and smiled. My head really, really hurt.
She just stared at me and got really pale. The room got uncomfortably quiet.
Rene looked me up and down and then looked at Rudy and Karl.
"Can I be alone with Duffy for a minute?" She said without expression. Rudy nodded and he and Karl walked out.
"I'm okay, I'm okay. It's not-"
"Duff, the timing of this sucks but I have to tell you something. I can't live like this. I won't." She sniffled. I just looked at her.
"I'm moving on. I can't marry you. I just can't." I went to say something, but nothing came out.
"I'm sorry I had to say it to you like this, but I'm moving. I have to go in the morning. I'm sorry." She stopped crying. She wasn't
looking at me, but she wasn't crying either.
"Good bye, Duff," She said and left. Just like that. Rudy came back into the room.
"What was that all about?"
I just shook my head. I was having problems thinking. Things didn't quite feel real.
"Look, Kid, I have to talk to you a bit," Rudy said. He touched my arm and my focus sort of returned.
"Yeah, go ahead."
"You got a concussion and it's nothing to fool around with this time."
"Yeah, yeah…"
Rudy looked down for a full a few seconds.
"That's not all Duff, they found damage."
"What do you mean 'damage?'"
"There were at least two other recent traumas to the head. There's a chance you might be in some trouble. Head injuries are nothing to mess with."
"Trouble?"
"In addition to headaches you might have problems with memory, short term and long term. There could be depression, post traumatic stress, your behavior could become unpredictable…but now as I think of it, I'm not sure how that would be any different than it usually is."
"Those are all 'coulds'".
"They're likely," Rudy said. He was sweating.
"For how long?" I said.
Rudy didn't say anything.
"C'mon, Rudy-how long?"
"It might not even happen…"
"Or…"
"It might be chronic…"
"Chronic-plain language, Rudy!"
"You might be fucked up forever," Rudy said.
19
They let me out of the hospital the next morning with a pretty good headache and even better broken heart. The other thing that ached pretty good was the fact I got whacked over the head by a couple of G.I. Joe types and I had no idea why. I started to give Rudy's scary message about being forever fucked up some credence because I started to think everything had to do with Karl, just like he said it did. That, in itself, scared me. I began to fear I wasn't too far away from getting my own Redskins helmet. Of course, if I was as screwy as Karl, I would've been wearing one and when the guys whacked me on the head it wouldn't have harmed me. Karl was crazy, but just because you're paranoid doesn't mean people aren't out to get you.
My new roommate, Karl, and I got to the Moody Blue. He got to see first hand what it's like getting assaulted by an 85 pound basset hound. When we opened the door Al, went double nuts at the prospect of his company increasing by 100 %. He jumped at me and pushed me back and then went after Karl.
Karl dove on the floor on his back and lay perfectly still. Al went over and began to sniff Karl's crotch and ass. Karl just stared at the ceiling.
"Karl, buddy, what the hell are you doing?" Al's nose did double duty over my new roommate's privates.
"Two things, Duff." Karl kept his eyes focused straight up at the ceiling while he spoke. "First I got into a submissive position to let him know I wasn't threatening his territory and I just wanted to offer my genitals so he could get to know me."
"Excuse me?" Before I could get an explanation Karl was up on all fours sticking his nose dangerously close to Al's ass.
"Now, he's returning the favor and offering me his scent."
"Trust me, he's very generous with his scent." Karl made exaggerated sniffing sounds around Al's business end. Al maintained a very concentrated and stoic look. Then, he turned and rolled over on his back. Karl sniffed him from head to toe.
This had become an olfactory runaway train and nothing I could do to stop it.
"This is his way of saying we can be friends," Karl said.
"I guess I'm more of a 'Hey, go fetch my slippers' kind of guy."
"Typical species-centric attitude. Like all creatures are here to serve humans."
"Don't worry about Al's servitude. He's never gotten my slippers once, mostly because I don't own slippers. Trust me on this one-Al hasn't embraced the whole master-servant deal."
"You go brother-sticking it to the man!" Karl said. In my home for ten minutes, and already trying to lead an uprising. I got a beer, cracked it open, and it dawned on me I was drinking a beer in front of one of my addicted clients. I thought about it some more and figured he was living in my house-it was up to him to live by rules. I could get fired for him living here, so drinking a beer in front of him wouldn't really add anything of consequence.
"Karl, this whole 'sticking it to the man' thing…do you ever let up on it? I mean is everything a matter of the world out to get you?" I sipped the Schlitz.
"Look man, I appreciate you hooking me up in your crib, but it doesn't necessarily mean I'm opening up everything in my life to you. Suffice to say, I've got enough evidence of the man fuckin' with me and everyone else."
"But what about all this prediction stuff. I mean you say these general things and then shit happens. You got information t no one else has?"
"Maybe I do and maybe I don't. When you've been through what I've been through, more of it becomes transparent. Then, you can't help but see it."
"Someday can you maybe fill me in?"
"I don't know, Duff." Karl turned away and stared at the wall. Al slurped the whole left side of his face. Karl focused his attention on Al and away from his history with the man.
"Hey Karl, these guys who jacked me in the back of the head-that has something to do with all this right?"
"Did they take any money from you? Do you owe some service men money? Did you screw some Army guy's wife?"
"No."
"Then what do you think it was all about?"
"…and you're not going to tell me the details…"
"If I did it wouldn't make us any safer." Then, things got a little odd.
First my vision blurred a little like I wasn't there, but there at the same time. I got a clammy cold feeling and felt a little sick to my stomach. At the same time my heart started to race and it became hard to breathe. My field of vision locked on Karl playing with Al, but something came over me. I felt like something awful could happen, but I had no idea what. It felt real, but I knew it wasn't. My body overrode any logic and it knew something bad was going to happen. My chest hurt and I couldn't catch up with my breathing. I felt cold, but I felt sweat on my forehead and running down my face. I could taste something bad at the back of my throat.
"Duffy!" I felt a hand on my forehead. "Stop. It's me. Karl. You're all right. It's just a flashback." I felt something help me sit down on the couch and I felt my breathing rev up again.
"Duffy, focus in on your breathing and nothing else. Don't fight the thoughts or the emotions, let them do their thing. Just breathe."
"What the fuck is happening?"
"Don't fight it. It's a flashback."
"What the fuck?"
"Breathe it out."
I listened to Karl. With nothing better to do, I breathed. The feeling of out-of-controlness got a little better. I stopped hyperventilating and my vision began to clear. Karl sat next to me, holding my hand, and Al was staring at me.
"Welcome back."
"What was that?"
"That's one of the hallmarks of PTSD. You just had a flashback. It's kind of a waking nightmare. Have you been getting nightmares?"
"On and off."
"Yeah, I thought so. These things really suck."
"I'll say."
20
It's weird, but after a few nightmares and now these fucking awake things, I didn't trust sleep. I felt dead tired and I hurt, but I didn't want to close my eyes and let the demons mess with me. Lack of sleep wasn't going to help my stress management, but I didn't know what else to do. Except drink more. I told my clients drinking didn't help, that it actually added more stress to the body, so when the effects faded off you got left with a body and a mind in worse shape than when it started. I still drank despite that knowledge. I got a good idea why the alcoholics I've been counseling for years ignored a lot of what I had to say. Ironically, all the times I've gone out on bogus disability leave had come back to haunt me. The fact is, I couldn't aff
ord to take any sick time off. There was some quirk in the disability law that allowed employers to fire employees if they've reached a certain amount of days away from the job for whatever reason. Over the years I've cooked up fake diagnoses, so I could train or spar. Fibromyalgia, irritable bowel syndrome, post traumatic stress and some others all did the trick. The key was to get a doc to write you a condition really hard to prove with objective symptoms. I knew it was bullshit, and I'm sure Claudia knew it was bullshit, but there was really nothing she could do. Now, I could use some genuine disability time and I didn't have any, so I had to show up at the clinic. Disability law was something I didn't quite understand. I knew Claudia did so I knew I had to get to work.
"Duffy, what the hell are you doing here? You should be home and in bed," Trina said when I walked through the door.
"Good morning to you too."
"I'm serious. You're in no condition to be here."
"I got to, other wise the Michelin woman will have cause."
"No way."
"Yeah, she's let me know I've run out of disabilities."
"Oh my God. Be careful."
"Yeah."
She looked at me in that way that told me she was assessing me. She also had a way of looking at me that set off a little bit of a spark. I headed toward the cubicle when she called for me.
"Duff, I heard about Rene." She bit her lip and scrunched her forehead. "I don't know what to say except that I'm sorry."
"I'm not sure what to say either." I felt my chest tighten a, and just wanted to get to my desk. "Thanks though, Trina." She stood and looking at me while I walked away. On my desk sat a package from the Veteran's Administration. There was also a note from Claudia to come see her as soon as I got in. I'm sure she just wanted to give me a hug and express her concern for my well being. Whatever it was, it was going to have to wait because I was dying to read about my buddy Karl and his military experience.
