The Free (P.S.)

by Willy Vlautin

  “Well, Freddie, thanks for not calling an ambulance. Our insurance doesn’t cover ambulance rides. It would have cost us a fortune and we just don’t have that kind of money. Okay, Hal,” she said to her son. “You just stay here and I’ll be right back with a travel bag.” She kissed him again and then walked down the hall and came back carrying a small suitcase.

  “I’m sorry about the window,” she said.

  “It’s okay,” Freddie said. “I can replace it.”

  “Just send us the bill,” she said.

  “It won’t be that much. I can do it myself,” Freddie said.

  She thanked him and put Hal’s shoes on, draped a coat over his shoulders, and they left. Freddie went to the garage and found a piece of cardboard and cut it to size and taped it over the broken window. He picked up the glass he could find, vacuumed the carpet, and locked Hal’s door. He checked on Rolly and Donald, who were both asleep, and then he went back to the couch and watched TV. Dale was twenty minutes late but it was Sunday, his day off from Logan’s Paint.

  He ate breakfast at a diner on the way home as he always did on Sundays, and it was just past dawn when he entered his freezing house. He left his jacket on and started a fire and sat on the couch and watched TV until he fell asleep. When he woke next it was dusk and the fire had died. He got up and relit it and then took a piece of paper from his wallet. A long list of questions was written out, and he looked at them and called his kids and spoke to each of them. When he hung up, he tried to sleep some more. But as he watched the flames he thought of his mother sitting next to the fire, warming herself. His father had always gotten off work earlier than she did, and in the winter he’d start a fire so when she came home she could sit near it and drink tea. She drank a mug of tea and ate four Oreos every day after she worked as a present to herself.

  As he lay there, he thought of them and of all the times they had stood by the mantel. His parents and grandparents, his children. They all had framed pictures sitting on it. He tried to sleep but he couldn’t. He was breaking the law, and he’d never really broken the law, not like he was now. He hoped his parents and grandparents, wherever they were, weren’t watching him.

  15

  Pauline came from the hospital cafeteria. She was trying to hold a cup of coffee and eat a piece of chocolate cake and walk at the same time. She came to the stairwell entrance, put the plate of cake on top of the cup of coffee, opened the door, disappeared into the stairwell, and walked up the six floors.

  In room 8 slept a middle-aged woman with complications from esophageal surgery for chronic acid reflux. She had developed severe back pain and her heart rate had steadily increased while her blood pressure had dropped. She was scheduled for a CT scan to see if there were any leaks that the X-rays couldn’t find. Her husband and three teenage daughters nervously paced around the room. Pauline checked the woman’s vital signs and talked with the family and charted.

  In room 5 Mr. Delgado was watching TV and eating french fries his wife had brought in. She sat next to him drinking a McDonald’s milkshake and eating a Big Mac. Both of them said nothing as the nurse worked, and although it was against hospital policy to bring outside food to a patient, she ignored it and left the room.

  In room 3 was Mrs. Dawson, a woman recovering from bowel resection surgery, and in 4 she saw Jo, who was back from surgery. The girl smiled when she saw Pauline come in.

  “You’re awake and you’re back on my floor. All good news for me. How are you feeling, Jo?”

  “Alright, I guess.”

  “On a scale of one to ten how would you rate your pain?”

  “Four,” Jo said.

  Pauline looked at her watch. “I have a couple minutes and my feet hurt. Do you mind if I sit?”

  Jo shook her head.

  Pauline sat in the bedside chair. “How was surgery?”

  “It wasn’t that bad ’cause they put me to sleep.”

  “I told you it would be alright.”

  “I’m glad you came and got me.”

  “Me too.” Pauline took off her shoes, stretched her feet, and then put them back on. “Have you been eating?”

  “Not really,” the girl said.

  “Hospital food isn’t as bad as people say.”

  “I know.”

  “Can I tell you something? For as rough as you’ve had it, you have great skin. All the nurses talk about it.”

  Jo tried to smile but her face was sunken with worry.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Pauline said.

  “But what am I going to do now?”

  “Get better,” Pauline said.

  “Where am I gonna go after that?”

  “You can worry about that when you get a little stronger.”

  “But they’re going to leave without me.”

  Pauline looked out into the hall, saw it empty, and then turned to the girl and whispered, “They were gonna let you get sicker until you died or lost your leg. You have to think about that, because it’s true. As much as it hurts to hear, they don’t care about you, Jo. They just don’t . . . Look, I know you’re alone but you have to learn how to be alright alone. If you don’t, you’ll end up in situations like you’re in, and you don’t deserve that.”

  “But maybe I do deserve it,” she said.

  “You really think so?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What have you done to deserve living in a freezing house with no water, with three junkie boys who use you, who’d rather get a blow job than help you get better?”

  “I’ve been pregnant,” Jo said quietly and covered her face with her hands.

  “You have?”

  She nodded.

  “What happened?”

  “I had an abortion,” she whispered, in tears.

  “Oh, hon,” Pauline said and set her hand on the girl’s arm.

  Jo closed her eyes and turned her head away.

  “What about your family?”

  “I won’t go back there.”

  “You don’t have an aunt or an uncle or cousin you could stay with?”

  The girl shook her head.

  “Those boys aren’t going to end up anywhere good. Believe me. I know. I’ve seen it. I see it here all the time . . . If you have to follow a man around, there’s a lot better ones to try.”

  The girl wiped her eyes and turned back to the nurse. “Do you have a husband?”

  “Me?” Pauline said and smiled. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want one. How about you? Do you want a husband?”

  “Me? Why would you ask me?”

  “We’re having a conversation. If we’re going to be friends, you ask me a question and I answer it and then I ask you one and you answer it. That’s how it works.”

  “No one would want me ’cause I’m a freak.”

  “You’re not a freak.”

  “I am.”

  “I’ve seen a lot of freaks and you’re not one.”

  “But I am,” she said.

  “You’re not. I win. End of discussion.”

  Jo paused then cleared her throat and wiped her eyes again. “Why aren’t you married?”

  “Why are you worried about me being married?”

  “I’m not worried about it. I’m just asking.”

  “I wanted to be once,” Pauline said and got back up. “Alright, let’s take a look at those packings. I got to get back to work.”

  “Who did you want to marry?”

  Pauline pulled the curtain around the bed and took back the blanket and sheet. “I lived with a guy when I got out of nursing school. I wanted to marry him.”

  “What was he like?”

  “He was alright at first,” she said.

  “What happened?”

  “Well . . . he was always telling me what to do. That’s one thing against him. I’d work all day then go to my dad’s house and make sure he was okay and he’d tell me what to do. Then I’d go home and take care of my boyfriend an
d he’d tell me what to do. And the only things my boyfriend liked were sports, hunting, and drinking beer. He couldn’t boil water; he could barely hold a job. But I loved him. I was crazy about him.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I kept asking him to marry me.”

  “And he didn’t want to marry you?”

  “No.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He moved back to Spokane. He’s been married and divorced twice and has kids from both women. He went bald and got fat and is always out of work. The last I heard he was living with his brother.” Pauline pulled back the bandages and looked at the packings. “Hey, they look good. They did good work on you. I bet you’ll be okay in no time if you start eating.”

  “Why did you want to marry him in the first place?”

  She pulled Jo’s gown back down and covered her again with the sheet and blanket. “Back then I wanted to be normal. That was my big dream. Some of the friends I made in nursing school were getting married and having kids. I wanted to be like them . . . And I wanted him to admit that he needed me, that he couldn’t live without me. I was young. Anyway, I did everything for him. I did his laundry, cooked, made sure he got up in the morning. Made his lunch when he worked. I watched football with him and went to car and sports shows with him. And then I would spend days freaking out.” She put her hand on Jo’s arm and gently shook it. “ ‘Do you need me? Do you need me? Do you want me forever?’ ‘Do you want me for all time?’ I’d say the stupidest things. I was a mess and I put a lot of pressure on him. It drove him crazy. It would drive anybody crazy. So in the end he left me.”

  “He really left you?”

  Pauline nodded and pushed the curtain back and out of the way.

  “Was it awful when he left?”

  “For a while I was so heartbroken I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to die. But after a while it was okay.” Pauline washed her hands. “In the end I was lucky to get out. He wasn’t much of a man. I was just so scared of being alone and unloved that I would have married a tire if it had asked me. Anyway, Jo, you don’t have to do anything right now. Your only job is to start taking care of yourself, alright?”

  “I wish I was like you,” the girl said.

  Pauline went to the computer and began entering notes. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you.” She looked at the girl and smiled. “Okay, I have to get back to my other patients. I can’t sit around all night having a good time. They fire nurses for that. And if you really want to be like me, eat. That’s something I’m good at. Even if they give you some sort of casserole, alright?”

  “Alright,” Jo said.

  When her shift ended, Pauline went to the hospital cafeteria and bought a banana and a piece of carrot cake. She took it back to the sixth floor where she found Jo alone in her room watching TV.

  “I’m off work now and not your nurse anymore tonight. So don’t worry about me ordering you around and torturing your leg.” Pauline sat down in the chair next to the girl. “I brought you a present. If you eat the banana, I’ll give you the cake. The guy in the cafeteria makes pretty good cake. I had a piece earlier.”

  “Alright,” said Jo. Pauline set the banana and the cake on the bedside tray. The girl peeled the banana and began to eat it. “Is it hard to become a nurse?”

  “It can be. You have to go to college and then nursing school.”

  “How long does it take?”

  “I was in school six years plus a couple summer schools.”

  “Do you have to be good at math?”

  “It makes it easier. But I’ve always liked math and science. That part wasn’t hard. The school part was pretty fun.”

  “I’ve never been good at math.”

  “Sometimes all it takes is a good teacher or two.”

  “Why did you become a nurse?”

  “A lot of reasons.”

  “Like what?”

  “Remember Cheryl?”

  “She’s the woman who was with you when you got me.”

  Pauline nodded. “Her father was a dentist and her mother was a nurse. Her mother was really nice to me. I wanted to be like her. You should have seen her. She was beautiful and she’d come home in her nurse’s uniform and swear like a sailor. She was really funny and surly, but also very kind. She worked at this exact same hospital. She was the nicest person I met when I was a kid and the most fun to be around. I wanted to be like her.”

  Jo slowly took pieces of the banana and ate them. “What do you do on your days off?”

  “Not a lot.”

  “Do you go on dates?”

  “Dates?”

  “Do you?”

  “Not lately.”

  “Maybe you should meet a doctor.”

  “Does he have to be a doctor?”

  “Everybody likes doctors,” the girl said and finished the banana. “They’re smart and nice and rich.”

  “I don’t want to ruin it for you, but I haven’t met a doctor that has all three of those yet.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “Most doctors have big egos, they don’t know half as much as they think they do, and the ones with any kind of personality are usually married or are having an affair with a woman much better looking than me.”

  “I think you’re pretty.”

  “Ha, but you’re not a doctor, are you?”

  “Doctors aren’t like that, are they?”

  “Some are.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m sure there’s a few good ones out there, too.”

  “I bet you’ll find one,” Jo said.

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I know you will.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jo lay back and closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked back at Pauline. “Do you live in a house?”

  “I live in an apartment,” Pauline said.

  “Does it have a pool?”

  “No. I’m not a pool complex sort of girl.”

  “Why?”

  “I hate wearing bathing suits.”

  “I just go in shorts and a T-shirt.”

  “That’s what I do, too,” said Pauline. She bent over and took off her shoes. She set her feet on top of them and leaned back in the chair. “I have to let my dogs out. They’re tired.”

  “Why don’t you have a house?”

  “I don’t have the money.”

  Jo took the tube of lip balm from the bedside table and put it on her lips. “Don’t nurses make a lot of money?”

  “Not a lot, but some. Anyway, I have bills. I still have student loans, and I take care of my dad.”

  “Is he sick?”

  She sat up and leaned over. “He’s crazy,” she whispered. “He walked off his job nine years ago, and he won’t get another one. So I pay his bills.”

  “He’s really crazy?”

  “Crazy enough.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” Pauline said.

  “You know, if you married a doctor you could have a big house that has a guest room and your dad could live there and your husband could fix your dad.”

  “I like this story.”

  “And you’d have a pool.”

  “I don’t need a pool.”

  “But you should have one anyway,” Jo said and scratched the hand the IV needle went into.

  “Is the needle bothering you?”

  “No, it just itches sometimes.”

  “How about the cake? Are you going to try it?”

  “Oh, I forgot,” Jo said. She picked up the fork and took a bite of it and then another bite.

  “What about you?” Pauline asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you want a house?”

  “Maybe, but one out in the desert.”

  “And I bet you’d marry a doctor,” Pauline joked.

  “No,” and for the first time that night Jo smiled. Her face lit up and her teeth showed. They wer
e straight and white, like she’d worn braces. She took care of her teeth. That was a good sign, Pauline thought. “I’d marry an inventor and he’d work in a big yellow barn and make amazing inventions. Everyone would think he was a failure but he wouldn’t be.”

  “Who knew that you were so nice to talk to.”

  The girl again grinned.

  “Do you like the cake?”

  Jo nodded. “My mom makes good cake, too.”

  “Really?”

  “She worked in a bakery for a while.”

  “What luck, having a baker for a mom,” said Pauline and leaned over and put her shoes back on her feet.

  “She’s not a baker anymore. She was only a baker when I was really little.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “She hates me,” Jo said.

  “That can’t be true.”

  “It is,” she declared.

  “Why would she hate you?”

  “I told you one reason already. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about her.”

  “Alright,” Pauline said. “Fair enough.”

  Jo finished the cake and lay back in her bed. Her face became serious and sullen. “Why are you really here?”

  “ ’Cause I like you. That’s why I’m here.”

  “If you really knew me you wouldn’t like me.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  “I don’t think so. Anyway, let’s just relax for a second. We were having a good time.”

  “But you don’t understand anything,” Jo said, trying not to cry.

  “I understand some things,” Pauline said. “You’re not as bad as you think you are. I know that. I know you’re probably just used to beating yourself up, and you’ve backed yourself into a corner. But I’ll help you out. I really will.”

  Jo turned her head away and closed her eyes. “You probably just want to have sex with me,” she said barely. “That’s what everyone wants anyway.”

  “Don’t say that,” Pauline said gently and stood up. “You know that’s not true. You’re a good kid. No matter what happens to you, that’s what I think. Anyway, we had a nice conversation tonight and you ate. You can cry as much as you need to, and hate me as much as you want, but sorry to say I’ll still like you tomorrow.”

  16