“G-46.”
Ah, I have that one, so I mark it. “What, Joe?”
“What? What was I saying?”
“Something about the last job you did or something.”
“Oh, I don’t remember. Anyway, probably the job I liked best was delivering pizzas. I was younger, but it was fun. I’d be driving around all night, cranking up the tunes in my car, running all over town. I got tips, but they also paid me minimum and some for gas. It was a pretty sweet deal.”
“G-46.”
“Sounds like it.”
“But I did all kinds of stuff—construction, driving, general labor, cable installation. I kept trying to find something I liked doing, you know? You spend most of your day working, you want it to be something you don’t hate.”
I nod, even though I can’t quite imagine it. What did I do before I came here? This place isn’t horrible, but I know there has to be so much more out in the world. I would love to try anything and everything—but I don’t want to negate Joe’s feelings, so I don’t say a word.
“O-68.”
“Bingo! Bingo, bingo, bingo,” says a woman behind me, practically singing with joy. A tech heads her way to validate her card.
“I think you’re right,” I say to him. “I can’t wait to figure out what I like.”
“I’d love to know that, too.”
“Honey, you’re missing one,” I hear the tech say behind me to the woman who thought she won. “But you forgot to mark off the free space, so let’s do that.”
The tech seems nice enough—much better than Red or that Bruce guy—but she’s super condescending. That gal doesn’t seem to mind, but the more awake I become, the less I like the way they all treat us here.
Joe is right.
“Okay, guys. False alarm,” says the aide, giggling. “Let’s see what our next number is.” After a second, she says, “B-10.”
This time, a man with a monotonous voice calls bingo clear over on the other side of the room. After the tech heads over there, she says, “Okay, you have B-10.” Raising her voice, she calls to the aide, “I-17?”
“I-17.”
The woman behind me who erroneously called bingo a couple of minutes ago starts screaming and yelling, and the two other techs standing around move over, because the woman is getting ready to seriously freak out.
As half of them continue confirming the rest of the man’s numbers and the other half try calming down the upset woman, Joe says, “Whatcha say we blow this popsicle stand?”
I don’t quite get what that expression means, but I understand the gist. After I nod, we quickly make our way out the rec room door, through the living room, and down the hall, no one the wiser.
When we get to my room, I start heading over to my bed, because it’s always been like a sofa while he’s here—but, instead, he’s along the inside wall, near the corner away from the door. If someone were to walk past, they might not see him, especially if he pressed his back against the wall. I wonder what he’s doing when he says, “Come here.”
I’m grinning now, walking around the bed toward him. “What?”
“This,” he whispers, taking my face into his hands and kissing me passionately. This one I can feel all the way to my toes. As I touch his chest, even through his t-shirt I can feel the hard musculature under my fingertips. My mind begins circling, stirring up glimpses of old memories, and for that alone, I never want him to stop. I hadn’t known till now that I have definitely had sex before. My nether regions begin to hum with delight and anticipation, and I find that weird, because all I want to do right now is kiss. Even though I’m sure I’ve had sex (and it’s not some weird fantasy or anything), I don’t know if I enjoyed it.
This I’m enjoying.
A flash of a memory appears in my brain of being in a room similar to this—but I’m younger.
“College,” I mutter against Joe’s tongue.
“What?”
“I went to college.”
He starts laughing. “Does that mean I’m not allowed to kiss you anymore?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “No. I just…it came to me while you were. It reminded me of, um, a dorm room?” A boyfriend. A boyfriend making me feel really good. Maybe I was a virgin then? “Kiss me again.” I want more—not just the lovely sensations, but I’m beginning to wonder if heightened emotions are the key to unlocking what my brain is holding so hard onto.
I love the way he tastes as his tongue explores my mouth, and his hands tickle the skin at the small of my back just underneath my t-shirt. All sorts of sensations are making their way through my body, through my veins, making my nerves tingle.
Then I hear what sounds like several pairs of bare feet slapping down the hallway, along with a couple of giggles—but, like Joe, I’m ignoring them. I could so easily get lost in his arms while the rest of the world just passes by like it is right now. And I feel so lucky that he seems to feel the same way.
The giggling is much louder, and then I realize it’s in my room. I break away from Joe and we see that it’s Cleo. “Fuck her,” she says, giggling. “Fuck her. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”
“Cleo, where are you?” Seconds later, Harley is also in my room. I’m still in Joe’s arms, and Cleo continues blurting out the F word as if it’s the only thing she knows how to say. Harley touches her arm and she continues spurting out fucks in a staccato fashion, like she’s imitating a machine gun. “Come on,” Harley says, pulling her with him.
I get the feeling maybe Harley likes Cleo the same way I like Joe.
Once they’re out of my room, Joe says, “Where were we?”
But, just as his lips touch mine again, I hear, “Get to your room, Dublin.”
Ah…so is that his last name? I think maybe I’ve heard it before.
Closing his eyes, he sighs. Then he says, “See you in the morning.”
I smile, suddenly feeling shy. “I can’t wait.”
And that is the God’s honest truth.
As usual, when they give me my meds, I tuck them against my cheek and as soon as the lights are off, I take them out. It’s so strange how I taste a slightly bitter flavor from one of them, and I wonder why the staff here doesn’t pass out water with them. How did I get them down before without gagging?
I’m sitting up in bed with my back resting against the wall so someone walking past won’t be able to tell, but I need to stay awake. Once I’m sure all the bedtime preparation activity has settled down, I get down on the floor and place the pills there. First, I take the smallest tablet and begin pushing on it with my thumb. After several seconds, I realize it’s not budging. In fact, I’m afraid of possibly losing it if it slips out from under my thumb. For just a moment, I consider lifting the bed and bringing one of its legs down on the pill, but there are too many variables that could go wrong. What if I can’t crush it into a fine powder? What if, instead, it slides somewhere across the room and I can’t find it in the dark? If someone finds it later, I’ll have to start proving I’m swallowing the pills, and then my journey to literally rediscover myself will end before it even got started.