The hallway ended in a large, circular area from which four more hallways emerged. One led to the dining room, recreation room, beauty parlor and barbershop. The others led to additional patient rooms. In the center of the open area was the nurses’ station. Lining the walls of this hub of activity were patients—some sitting in chairs, some in wheelchairs and some propped on walkers. Some patients were chatting with others, a few were staring vacantly into space, several were napping and three were talking to unseen friends, long deceased.
Jo took Randy's arm and whispered, “The place stinks of urine and disinfectant."
A white-haired, nearly bald old lady clutched at Jo's arm. “Thelma Lou,” she cried out in anguish. “Thelma Lou, is that you, honey? I've been waiting all day for you Thelma Lou. Where have you been?"
Quickly the old lady was wrapped in the black arms of a female attendant who lovingly said, “Martha, this is not Thelma Lou. Thelma Lou comes on Fridays. Today is Wednesday."
“I want Thelma Lou,” the elderly woman pleaded.
“I know you do, Martha, and she will be here Friday. I was just going out for a breath of fresh air,” said the attendant whose compassion no amount of money could buy. “Would you like to go with me?"
“That would be nice,” Martha responded with a big smile on her face.
While they waited for the nurse on duty to look up from her paperwork, Jo watched with admiration as the attendant wrapped the elderly lady in a warm coat, pulled on a colorful stocking cap and pushed Martha's wheelchair down the long hall towards the exit door.
“My name is Randy Nickels,” Randy said when the nurse finally lifted her eyes and smiled at him. “I understand my mother has been moved to this unit."
“Yes,” the nurse replied without needing to refer to a ledger. “She's in C42. Go down C hall,” she said, pointing out the direction with her hand. “It's the last room on the right. Your mother refuses to join the other patients here or in the recreation room. She says she doesn't belong here with these old people,” the nurse concluded with a chuckle.
Jo clung to Randy's arm as they walked down C hall. “I'm so nervous I may pee in my pants,” she said.
Mrs. Nickels was sitting at her desk; her back turned to the open door. “Surprise,” Randy called out as he approached, hugged and kissed her on the cheek.
She turned the swivel chair to face him. “Somehow I thought you might come today. Have a seat. Have a seat."
“Mom, I want you to meet my friend, Jo Birdwell. Jo and I are business associates in Dot. We're setting up a new book publishing house."
“That's nice,” she replied, dismissing Jo with a single glance.
Randy waved Jo to the only other chair in the room and sat on the hospital style bed. “Now, mom, tell me what's going on with you?"
“What's to tell? I'm an old lady. I have aches and pains. There's nothing new."
“There must be some reason they moved you into this unit."
“Oh, there's a reason all right. This outfit is money crazy. Somebody died, resulting in this empty room. They had a waiting list of people who wanted to rent my apartment, so they pretended that I need constant attention, moved me in here where they can charge me more and rented my apartment to someone else."
“Mom, there must be more to it than that."
“My own flesh and blood doesn't believe me,” she said. She swiveled around to her desk, took a cigarette from the pack and lit it. She swiveled back to face her company and, looking at Jo said, “He doesn't approve of me smoking. He thinks it is going to kill me someday."
Jo laughed and was relieved to see the sparkle in Mrs. Nickel's eyes.
“Do you remember Joe Allen Peterson?” Mrs. Nickels asked Randy.
“Sure,” Randy answered.
“Well, he's dead—and just a year or two older than you. He suffered a heart attack and dropped dead, just like that."
Jo shifted in her seat and tried to look interested as the personal reminiscences passed between mother and son. For thirty minutes she wore a pasted smile on her face. Not once was she included in the conversation.
“Randy, I have some errands for you to run,” Mrs. Nickels said as she turned back to the desk, opened the bottom drawer and pulled out five bankbooks secured with a thick rubber band. “I want you to go to my banks and get the interest posted to my pass books, and I want you to check on my furniture in storage."
“Mom,” Randy protested. “The banks send you monthly statements of interest earned, and your furniture is just fine."
“I don't know that my furniture is just fine and you don't either. I want you to check on it. Yes, the banks send me statements, but I don't trust them until I see the interest posted on my pass books."
Randy sighed. “It's about lunch time. While you are eating, Jo and I will go get ourselves a bite and do these errands for you if it will make you happy."
“Jo will have lunch here with me as my guest. I want some time alone with her."
“Mom,” Randy said as he stood up, “go easy on Jo. She's a friend and doing me a favor by keeping me company on this trip."
“I may be sixty-eight, but I'm still young enough to turn you over my knee and give you a good spanking. And that's exactly what I'll do if you don't mind me and get your tail out of here."
Jo laughed, but Mrs. Nickels shot her a stony glance and said, “I wasn't joking."
Randy kissed his mother on the cheek and looked at Jo. “What do you think of all this? It'll take me about two hours to run these errands. Do you think you can stand the old girl that long without me here to protect you?"
“You run along, Randy Baby,” she replied while glaring at Mrs. Nickels. “I have never run away from a fight in my life."
As soon as Randy was out of the room Mrs. Nickels instructed Jo to pull her chair closer. “My, you are a sexy thing,” the elder lady observed. “You're a whore my son picked up somewhere in North Carolina, aren't you?"
Without hesitation Jo spat out, “Yes."
“Is he any good in bed?"
“I don't know."
“What the hell do you mean, you don't know?"
“I mean I don't know. Randy won't sleep with me. In fact, he told me he is still a virgin. I think it has something to do with him being left at the altar."
“Damn,” the elderly woman said. “I thought you said you were a hooker."
“Randy befriended me on New Year's Eve. We were on the brink of a major winter storm. He took me in, bought me some decent clothes and fed me. We sort of accidentally stumbled into this publishing house thing."
“He was telling the truth about that? I figured he was selling drugs or something."
“He was telling the truth. He has been writing pornographic novels to make a living until now. He didn't want you to know."
“Are his books any good?"
“I've read two of what he calls his good stuff—literary fiction he calls them. I think they are great, but he can't find a publisher. That's why he moved to Dot. He heard that a rich dude down there was in the process of starting a new publishing house and he thought that maybe they would print his good stuff. As it turned out, he and I are going to be the ones who actually get the business cranked up."
“I want to know if his dirty books are any good."
“He has let me read only one."
“Did it soak your panties?” Randy's mom asked.
Jo laughed. “Thoroughly,” she responded.
“How the hell can he write about something he's never experienced?"
“He has a vivid imagination."
“That he does,” Mrs. Nickels agreed. “When he was just a little fellow he had two imaginary playmates—Gigi and Noyanee. How he came up with those names I'll never know, but he played with them for years as if they were real people."
Mrs. Nickels reached for another cigarette. “You shouldn't smoke, you know,” Jo said.
“I've got to die of something,” Mrs. Nickels replied, exhaling a c
loud of gray fumes. “It may as well be something I enjoy. Nobody ever dies of old age anymore."
Jo laughed. “I hadn't thought about it, but I guess you're right."
“You like my boy?"
“Yes, I do."
“Do you love him?"
“I don't know."
“Does he like you?"
“I think he does, but again, I'm not sure."
“You live with him?"
“Yes."
“But you don't fuck him?"
Jo laughed at the unexpected word from the dignified elderly lady. “Believe me, I've tried everything I can think of."
“You need to wear see-through blouses and those pants the youngsters wear these days that show off a woman's private parts."
“I do,” Jo laughed. “We went out yesterday and bought me something presentable to wear for this visit with you."
“Then there's just one thing left."
“And that is?"
“You are just going to have to rape him."
“Come on now. How can a woman rape a man?"
“Some prostitute you are,” Mrs. Nickels joked. “Every man has an erection early in the morning just before he wakes up. You be there and jump on it—literally. Surprise him in the shower and fondle his balls. Pull off your shirt, rip away the newspaper he is reading and force a nipple in his mouth. Use your imagination, honey. Unless I miss my guess, if you screw him real good one time he'll be your slave forever."
“You're quite an old bird,” Jo said.
“And you're the dumbest whore I ever met,” the old lady laughed. “Seriously, Randy needs a strong woman in his life. I'm no longer available. Go for it."
“If you're talking marriage, I'm not the woman you would want for a daughter-in-law."
“Why not? You're forceful, determined, plainspoken, obviously educated to some extent and very beautiful. Just because you were a streetwalker doesn't disqualify you as a desirable wife for my son. Please notice I used the past tense."
“Randy says you badly want grandchildren. I've had my tubes tied."
“I understand that procedure can be reversed, and there's always the option of adopting. Besides, I'm not going to live long enough to enjoy grandchildren anyway."
Mrs. Nickels reached for another cigarette. Jo went to the desk, picked up the lighter and held the flame to the cigarette dangling from the elderly woman's lips. Suddenly the wrinkled hands clasped and squeezed Jo's breasts. “Damn,” said Mrs. Nickels. “These things are real. That poor boy of mine doesn't realize what he is missing."
Jo stepped back. “Do you want me to take off my clothes so you examine me like one does a horse before buying it?"
Mrs. Nickels laughed. “Honey, I've already checked out your teeth. For the first time since they dumped me in this joint I have a raging appetite. Let's go get some lunch."
Jo glanced around the room. “Do you have a wheelchair or something?"
Mrs. Nickels placed her hands on the arms of the chair and pushed herself erect. She took Jo by the arm and ushered her into the hallway. “As I told you, Jo, there's nothing wrong with me. Pick up the pace a little, honey. I'm hungry."
* * * *
Lucky greeted Randy and Jo with a barking mouth and wagging tail. “Did you miss us guy?” Randy asked as he picked up the dog and rubbed his back.
“Before you build a fire or anything else,” Jo said as she closed the door behind them, “I have something to tell you before I lose my nerve."
Randy saw the look on Jo's face. “Yes ma'am, Mama Jo” he said, sitting on the sofa and snuggling Lucky's cheek next to his own.
“I did some serious thinking on the flight home while you were napping,” Jo said. “I like your mother. I like her a lot. She wants me to rape you."
“She what?” Randy gasped, dumping Lucky to the floor.
“She even told me how to do it, and I'm sure her plan would work, but I respect you too much to do that."
“I don't for one minute believe..."
“Hush! This is what we are going to do. We are going to get married in the next few days. A Justice of Peace or that preacher here in Dot that you told me about will do. Nothing fancy. You and I will have our studies upstairs, we will use the master bedroom and your mother will occupy the guest bedroom."
“Now wait a minute,” he said, standing up.
“You wait a minute. You said yourself she's running out of money."
“Who's going to look after her?"
“She doesn't need a lot of professional care. She can still pretty much look after herself. You told me there is a good clinic and doctor here in Dot. What care she needs, other than medical, I'll give her. And together the two of us will look after you. We're going to make a successful man out of you yet."
“Does mother know about this?"
“In a way it was her idea—all but the part of her moving in with us."
“I don't want her finding out about the pornography."
“She already knows."
“You told her?"
“She wants to read your dirty books. She wants to know how the hell you can write about something you've never experienced."
He stooped and began to shovel ashes out of the fireplace. “Don't I get a say in any of this?"
“No,” she replied. “And you may as well accept the fact that on our wedding night two Nickels are going to be rubbing together all night long. I have to go pee."
As she hurried from the room, Jo did not see the big smile on Randy's face.
Chapter Seven
“Good to see you again,” Mack said as he grasped Randy's outstretched hand. “And this lovely lady would be JoAnn Birdwell."
Jo smiled politely as she also shook the preacher's hand. She thought he held her hand too tightly and too long. She pulled away from him and stepped back.
“Come in and pull up a chair,” Mack said in further welcome to his study. As the couple sat down on the sofa, Mack leaned against his desk, towering above them. “So you want to get married, do you?"
Randy and Jo both nodded with uncomfortable grins on their faces.
“You probably have come to the right place, but I don't want to become a ‘marrying Sam,’ performing ceremonies right and left. I always require at least one counseling session and that is why we are here today."
Randy shifted nervously and cleared his throat.
“Randy, I have seen you in church nearly every Sunday for the past few months, but Jo, this is the first time I have met you. How long have you two known each other?"
He seemed to be undressing her with his eyes. “Just a little over two weeks, actually,” Jo answered. “We met on New Year's Eve in Charlotte. I..."
“We seemed to click instantly,” Randy interrupted.
“I see,” Mack said, moving to an overstuffed chair. “Jo, I believe you have something you want to add."
She laughed. “I'm more outspoken than Randy. He's a truthful cuss, but doesn't believe in telling everything he knows."
“Everything discussed today is strictly confidential, of course,” Mack assured them. “I think, Randy, this is the time when it is very important to let it all hang out. Jo, please go on with what you were saying."
“Well, as I said, we met on New Year's Eve in Charlotte. I was living at a mission at the time. I was cold and hungry. If you remember, there was a major winter storm that night."
“I well remember. My wife and I went to a New Year's Eve party at the Dollars’ home that night. Driving was treacherous. In fact, the Dollars were late getting to their own bash due to an accident caused by the icy roads."
“We know. Randy and I were in the other car involved in that accident."
“I didn't realize that,” Mack said. “Excuse me, Jo. I interrupted you."
“I accosted Randy on the sidewalk and offered him a bargain price for a good time. He refused, even after I brought the price down to rock bottom."
“You were a ‘lady of the evening’ at
the time?"
The expression on his face was one of lust, not shock. She was certain of it. “No, I was a common prostitute. It's a long story. Although Randy would not avail himself of my services, he felt sorry for me. He took me in, bought me some clothes, fed me, and gave me a place to sleep until the weather lifted. It was during this time that we ‘hit it off’ as he puts it, but he won't have sex with me unless we're married, so here we are."
Mack laughed and said, “I hope there's a little more to it than that."
“Not much more,” Randy said with a chuckle. “My mother is in a nursing home in Maryland. We visited her on Wednesday. Mother sent me on some errands and while I was gone, she and Jo decided on the marriage. Even if they let me vote, the result would have been at least two to one in favor of marriage."
“I take it, Randy, that you are not entirely sold on this arrangement,” Mack said.
“Of course he is,” Jo joked. “He just doesn't know it yet."
“I think we'd better let Randy speak for himself,” Mack said seriously.
Jo bent forward to adjust her shoe. She felt the preacher's eyes on her low cut blouse.
Randy cleared his throat, stood and walked to the study window. For a few seconds he watched two teenagers playing basketball in the parking lot below—a boy wearing baggy jeans and a girl with the biggest breasts he'd ever seen. He turned and said, “You're not going to like what I have to say, but here goes.” He cleared his throat again. “I'm not a mama's boy, but I do respect my mother's opinion. I ignored her advice concerning a romantic relationship once before and suffered greatly for it. I like Jo. I like her a lot. I'm willing to give it a try."
“I see,” Mack said. “I think I should warn you at this point that it is much easier to get married than to obtain a divorce. Preachers come much cheaper than divorce attorneys do. Let me ask the two of you this. Do you love each other?"
Randy and Jo exchanged glances. “I don't think either of us knows what love is,” Jo replied as she intentionally parted her knees. “We like each other a lot. We may love each other. The answer to your question is neither yes nor no."
“Jo,” Mack said, his eyes riveted on her white panties, “I may be getting a little off the subject, but in the few minutes we have talked I could not help but notice your use of the good old English language. My guess is you have a good education, which one would not expect from a person of your, uh, vocation."
Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors Page 57
