Nether Regions

by Nat Burns

  Sophie stood and patted Firis’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, little mama. All new moms go through it and come out okay. You will too. Your mama’s got my number and you call if you need anything.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Firis said, her voice muffled by her hands.

  “Thank you much for the refreshment, Mrs. Skope. I was right parched by the heat,” Righteous said as he stood and straightened his damp shorts over his thin legs.

  “Me too,” Delora added. “Thank you for your kindness.” She handed her empty glass to Shirley.

  “My pleasure, darlin’s. Come back again real soon.” She set a steaming cup of tea in front of her daughter and moved her bulk around the table. She reached into a worn satchel resting on the counter closest to the hallway door. “Miss Sophie, I’d like to give you a little something for comin’ out today.”

  “Lord, Shirley,” Sophie interrupted. “I just stopped in. Didn’t do much. There’s no need to worry on that account—you don’t owe me a thing. I was happy to sit a spell with you.”

  “Well, you’re sweet.” She persisted, however, opening her change purse. “You take this little bit of egg money. For the tea and all.” She pushed a creased ten-dollar bill toward Sophie and shook it imperiously.

  Sophie paused and shook her head. Sighing, she took the money. “I do thank you, Shirley. You’re too good to me.”

  Shirley’s satisfied smile beamed as she snapped her coin purse closed.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The noise level at the Thirsty Rogue had risen during the long evening. Thus Righteous didn’t hear the hushed voices that grew around him that moonless August night. In fact, he had no indication at all that he was about to be beaten almost to death. He didn’t realize the little blond chickie’s boyfriend was behind him until he saw the look of absolute horror spread across the relief bartender’s face.

  The pain began then, a pain that would follow him in one way or another for the remainder of his life. One minute he’d been happily cooing with the cute towhead preparatory to getting a little action in the back room before he went home. The next minute he was on the floor looking up at colored strobes, his head numb yet throbbing.

  A face appeared above him. The head was oddly square and surrounded by a blond bristling of hair. The face twisted in anger and something in the eyes disturbed Righteous. He was filled with a kind of paralyzing fear he’d never experienced before. For some insane reason he felt a sense of release. The jig was up. His life was about to change and change big.

  Righteous had fallen into a stereotypical situation; he’d messed with another man’s man and been caught. Dime novel stuff at its finest.

  He lifted his arms over his head and the beating began in earnest. He got in a few good licks, connecting with jarring satisfaction, but there was just no time to strike. He couldn’t draw back to hit because he had to protect himself against the waterfall of blows raining onto him. He didn’t stand much of a chance. The guy outweighed him twice over. His last mental image before blackness descended on his burning body was a single, clear picture of Stephen’s beautiful face.

  Some time later he woke in a new environment. The smell of plastic had replaced the beer and apricot smell of his bar. The lights were too bright and penetrated the skin of his eyelids.

  There was a sheet lying across his body, and he knew that if he moved at all, its restriction would make his pain even more unbearable. Still he felt compelled to see where he was, to orient himself. Distant beeping and the smell implied a hospital. Panic set in. He had no health insurance. Stephen had tried to get him on his plan at work, but the company only allowed marriage benefits.

  Righteous took a deep breath and felt a sob well in his chest. He was pretty well fucked and not in a nice way.

  He soon realized only one eye would open and that only halfway, the other one presumably swelled shut. Lifting his good eyelid made his arms and legs feel like they were going to crack right off his body and splinter on the floor. He let the good eye track along the tubing that led to the IV bag. He saw that he was in a small area surrounded by privacy curtains. Other sounds began to penetrate—telephones buzzing, the rustle of cloth as people passed.

  “Corrine said to call when you got settled,” a woman’s mellow voice said on his right.

  “What?” he tried to say, but the word was little more than a hoarse croak.

  “Mama said she’d be here right after work too,” she continued.

  Someone replied with a harsh grunt and a moan of pain.

  “I know, I told her you might not be up to it. I told her to come tomorrow to be here after the gallbladder’s out, but she wasn’t having none of it.”

  A new silence fell, and Righteous realized finally that he was listening to a conversation from the next cubicle.

  Trying to escape sudden claustrophobia, Righteous tried to piece together what had happened.

  He remembered examining the towhead’s pretty features, wondering what pleasures the night would bring. Had he been drinking Pink Ladies? Yes, the sloe gin had been having its customary subtle encroachment. He’d been feeling good.

  He should have realized the dalliance couldn’t go on forever and would end badly. He’d known at gut level that Chickie had a daddy somewhere. His clothing had been way too nice.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Sometime later—Righteous, dozing, wasn’t sure how much—the curtain swept aside and Stephen appeared. Tears filled Righteous’s eyes and fled away along his dark cheeks. A sorrowful sob caught in his throat. He choked and fresh blood welled in his mouth. He allowed it to leak from the corner of his mouth. He hated to be so gross but knew he’d choke if the blood remained there. He couldn’t open his mouth at all. He blinked his one good eye to try to clear his vision.

  Stephen didn’t say a word. He stood just inside the curtain-framed portal, his form still. The movement of the nurse’s station progressed with surrealistic ease behind him. Stephen looked bad, his hair mussed in back and his eyes puffy with sleep.

  “Stephen,” Righteous croaked. “Sorry, Stephen.”

  There was no sympathy in Stephen’s eyes. Righteous saw only pain and aloofness. If Stephen turned from him Righteous didn’t know what he would do.

  Stephen took a deep breath and moved closer to the bed. Veering abruptly, he walked to the end of the bed and picked up Righteous’s chart.

  “Looks like you’ve done it this time, buckaroo. Let’s see...broken jaw wired shut, broken collarbone, internal bruising and they’re going to keep you overnight for observation until you stop peeing red.”

  Righteous tried to lift his hand to brush the drying blood off his cheek, but the arm shrieked with pain and would not move. Fresh tears fell and he knew he was at a complete nadir. He couldn’t get much lower than this.

  Stephen was still regarding him with hard eyes. Where had the love gone? Righteous realized suddenly that he, and he alone, had killed Stephen’s love for him. The devil on his shoulder tried to interject a good dose of self-pity, but the angel on the other shoulder knew that this was the bed he’d made and, by golly, he was lying in that bed now. He had no one to blame but himself. Bottom line. The buck stopped with him.

  If only he could talk, could make new promises, there might be a chance. His infidelities were over. He’d had enough. Sowed all the wild oats he was going to sow. Stephen needed to know this.

  “Stephen,” he moaned, his voice a rasp of pain and mortification. “Doan’ leave ee.”

  Stephen watched him without touching him. “What?”

  Righteous panted and realized it was a futile exercise to try to talk. His jaw plain wouldn’t work and the swelling of his cheeks barely allowed his tongue the space to move properly.

  Some feeling stirred in Stephen for he moved closer and laid one hand atop Righteous’s hand. Righteous’s throat threatened to close from the emotion he was feeling.

  “Listen. You focus on getting well, okay. Everything else can wait until then.
”

  He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the small square of unbandaged skin on Righteous’s forehead. “Just get better.”

  As Stephen left the area, Righteous felt darkness descend and pain drift away. Escaping the misery of his life, Righteous eagerly sought that peace.

  Sophie grabbed Stephen’s arm as he passed through the waiting room and pulled him into her embrace. He broke down and sobbed in her arms. She crooned and rubbed the back of his neck like he was a baby, trying to soothe his pain.

  “How could this happen, Sophie? My life is over.”

  Sophie grabbed up a nearby box of tissues and used a handful to mop his face.

  “Stop it. What do you mean, over? He’ll get better. It takes time. Six weeks and he’ll be good as new. I already asked the doctor.”

  Stephen shook his head. “No, I’m not taking any more, Sophie. This is it for me. Life is too damned short. There’re other fish out there. Faithful fish. Safe fish.”

  Stephen regarded the amazed healer for a long moment, then walked away.

  “He’s all yours,” he called back as the automatic door closed behind him.

  “Stephen,” Sophie called after him but quickly realized it would be pointless to talk to him right now. Maybe time and some reflection would bring him back to Righteous.

  She fished her cell phone from her jeans pocket and dialed.

  “Hey,” she said a moment later. “It’s me. I think Stephen’s left Righteous.”

  Delora, on the other end, replied, “Oh no. Why?”

  “Righteous got himself beaten to a pulp last night, well, early this morning, at Thirsty’s. Stephen’s had enough, I guess.”

  “Is Righteous okay?”

  Delora and Righteous had hit it off right away, and she knew Delora’s concern was heartfelt.

  “He’s broken up pretty bad, but they say he’ll be okay. I’m more worried about Stephen’s mental health right now.”

  “He’s taking it hard, obviously.”

  “He said he’s had enough and he left.”

  “What does that mean? Is he really abandoning him now, of all times?”

  Sophie grunted hollowly. “I’m not real sure. I hope he’ll reconsider as time passes.”

  “Me too. Listen, I can leave. We’re slow as molasses here. How about if I come over there to be with you two? Are you going to be there a while?”

  “Sure. I’m still trying to find out if they’re keeping him more than one night. He may have some internal bleeding.”

  “I hope not. I’ll be right there. Give me half an hour or so.”

  “Okay, Delora. I’ll see you then.” Sophie’s voice had grown soft and her tone endearing.

  “Okay,” Delora said, her own voice going gentle and warm.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Delora’s first sight of Righteous would haunt her for some time. The bed barely held his long, narrow form, and his swollen and bandaged head was overlarge and stark white. Sophie’d told her his jaw was wired shut so he wouldn’t be able to talk to her. She hadn’t warned Delora that his eyes were swollen shut, his nose was sitting on his face like a fat plum and that several cuts where the skin had split had been stitched with a Frankenstein-ish flair.

  Marshaling her shock and emotion, Delora moved across the room to his bed. The other bed in his room was unoccupied, and Delora hoped he would continue to have some solitude during his time at the hospital.

  “Righteous?” She took his hand. “How are you feeling?”

  Righteous stirred and opened one bloodshot eye to regard her. She smiled at him and watched as tears filled the eye and escaped along his cheek.

  “Aw, honey, don’t do that. I know it hurts, but you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

  She grabbed a tissue from the box next to his bed and carefully wiped the bloody tears away. Something broke loose in her heart, and a fragile freedom filled her. Not sure what to do with these feelings, she started talking. She told Righteous about the maps on her bedroom walls and all the places she would like to go. Settling her small bottom next to him on the bed, she held his free hand in hers.

  “We’re survivors, you and me, Righteous. Let me tell you what happened to me a few years ago. I was in the hospital just like you are now, only I was there because I had third-degree burns.”

  She talked on, telling Righteous things she’d never shared before with anyone but Bucky. She found herself telling Righteous all of it. About how it felt when the fire penetrated the oily sheen of lighter fluid and bit into her skin.

  She told him about the feelings of betrayal—the understanding that Louie could and would do this to her. How the attempted murder almost became a suicide too when a part of the fire had followed the fluid across the bed to the open can of fluid Louie had left sitting next to it. How the explosion had wiped the satisfied smirk from Louie’s face. Clothing ablaze, he’d tried to run, leaving her there to burn. She’d found out later he’d broken an ankle in that mad dash.

  Paralyzed at first—from the pain and the previous night’s beer—Delora had managed to roll onto her stomach. She told him how the flame had seemed to be a living beast and was unwilling to die beneath her. The fire had leapt up, escaping on either side and finding new tender tissues to punish and the fresh pain had made her scream anew. By then the room had been on fire. Old farmhouses were tinderboxes and theirs had been no exception. Surrounded by fire and choking smoke, Delora had passed through walls of flame to run outside and into the smothering blanket held by a neighbor.

  Delora told Righteous about being in this same hospital and then, within a few days, at the burn unit in Mobile. She told him about meeting Bucky Clyde Thorpe and their present relationship. She explained how the days had turned into weeks and weeks into months and how painful the debriding of the dead, burned tissue had been, how the heavy pain medications had become addictive and how it had been a pure act of will to walk away from them.

  She told him about the stylized tattoo on her thigh, about the legend of the phoenix, the beautiful bird from ancient Greek mythology, the symbol of resurrection and life after burning. The phoenix’s flight from the ashes of his blazing death was said to represent the ability to leave the world and its problems behind, flying toward the sun and clear skies.

  She told him how she’d read once that the bird not only represented immortality but also an individual who stands apart from the rest. A creature re-created by fire. Repeatedly studying the phoenix tattoo had given her the power to leave the pain pills behind. It was a reminder that she was forever changed.

  She eventually told Righteous about how she felt less than whole. How she could no longer bear children or have sex. How sometimes she felt it had been a huge mistake to live through the fire.

  And finally, her voice was hoarse from exertion, she admitted that she still lived with Louie but that he was sleeping with Rosalie.

  Righteous drifted in and out of consciousness, but Delora didn’t care. She knew the words would comfort him and saying them certainly comforted her.

  Sophie, standing just outside the door, with her back to the cold tile wall and her head leaned back, allowed the tears to fall freely as silent sobs shook her. The silence emanating from the room warned her that Delora would soon emerge, and she really didn’t want her to see that she’d heard. She didn’t want to embarrass Delora or make her feel uncomfortable. As soon as she was able, she shifted forward and, wiping at her streaming eyes, moved toward the waiting area.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself,” Delora replied. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  “You didn’t call me last night and I got worried. What’s going on? Everything all right?”

  “Sure. All kinds of stuff going on, though. I met this guy, a friend of Sophie’s. His name is Righteous and he’s in a relationship with this guy named Stephen. It’s really weird. Besides being openly gay, Stephen’s white and Righteous is black so that’s pretty
different for Redstar.”

  Bucky made a chuckling noise. “I imagine so.”

  “Anyway, Righteous was beaten up where he works. He was cheating on Stephen and the other boy’s boyfriend beat Righteous almost to death.”

  “Oh no, will he be okay?”

  Delora sighed and twirled the broom handle between the five fingers of her right hand. Her left hand, minus the splint but with the pinkie and ring finger still securely taped to each other, held the phone. She’d been sweeping the porch when her cell phone rang. “Yeah, he’ll heal. He’s staying with Sophie for a while. I was there with them last night until pretty late. That’s why I didn’t call.”

  “You don’t have to feel beholden to call. I was just worried. Your situation there at Rosalie’s is pretty scary. So I worry and won’t apologize for it.”

  “It’s not beholden why I call.” She took a deep breath and haphazardly swiped at the porch floorboards with the broom. It was a hot night. “I’d go plumb crazy if I didn’t have you to talk to. I swear you keep me sane. You’re my best friend, Bucky.”

  “Hmm. Seems like that might be changing, Lora, and if it’s so, I can deal with it. I do hope you’ll keep calling me, though.”

  “Nothing will change that. What you and I have been through no one else could really understand.” She paused. “Yesterday I was trying to make Righteous feel better so I told him all about what happened and about you.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing. He was in and out of it, you know. Pain meds. I think me talking made him feel better.”

  “Did it make you feel better?”

  Delora smiled. Bucky, bless his heart. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “How’s Sophie? Do you love her? Does she love you?”

  Alone on the porch, Delora blushed. “Bucky!” She paused. “Yeah. We’ve got it awful. It’s all new for me, you know?”