“Yeah,” said Augie. “When can I have more pain medication?”
Leah finished stuffing the pillow in a fresh case and plopped it on the bed in front of Augie. She looked at her watch and said, “Actually, you can have more now.”
“Oh thank God,” Augie said as she let out a deep breath.
“I’ll be right back then. Won’t be but a minute.” Leah surveyed the privacy curtain for a second and asked, “Should I pull this back again?”
“Yes, please,” Colleen replied for Augie.
Leah pulled at the curtain, but it wouldn’t move. “Okay, now who did this?” she asked. She tugged at the curtain again, unable to make it move.
“Oh she broke it?” asked Augie.
“Who?” asked Leah. “I’m so confused. Did I miss somethin’?” Leah reached as high as she could and gave the curtain a hard yank. The aluminum wheels made a dull clanking noise and wouldn’t budge.
“Oh you definitely missed something,” said Colleen.
Leah thought to herself for a moment, and decided against asking about what happened. “Colleen, you need anything?”
“Yeah,” said Colleen. “I need somethin’.”
Leah peered around the end of the curtain and looked at Colleen. “What is it, honey?”
“Send that bodybuilder nurse dude in here if you would,” Colleen said in a more relaxed tone. “I have something I want to show him.”
“Shee—it!” Augie added from her side of the curtain.
“Uhhh…” Leah began, but trailed off. “I’ll see if he’s busy if you really want me to send him in.”
“Nah…” said Colleen as she looked out the window. “He would probably have a heart attack if I… never mind.”
“Okay. Be right back,” replied Leah with a chuckle.
“If you what?” Augie asked. “Huh? If you what?”
“Nuthin’,” said Colleen. “I have cowboy on the brain.”
“No shit,” said Augie.
Leah headed down the hall toward the nurse’s station. She thought about the pillow on the floor and the broken curtain, but couldn’t put a scenario together in her head that made any sense. She figured that she would hear about it eventually and just left it at that. Augie’s rocking back and forth worried her. She knew that such movement was often indicative of a kind of coping mechanism for immense physical or psychological trauma. Leah figured Augie was coping with both.
Colleen fidgeted in an attempt to gain a comfortable position on the thin mattress. Her leg and shoulder throbbed from the large dose of adrenaline. She punched the button for more Morphine and settled back against her pillow. The pump ignored her request due to Colleen’s relentless assault on the button just a few minutes before.
Augie took a breath and tried to calm herself as she rocked back and forth, still cradling her abdomen. Her insides hurt worse than they had before she threw the pillow.
†
Joan stared blankly into space as Carlos finished his last sip of coffee and stood up. “Time to go back to work.”
“Already?” Joan asked as she suddenly perked up as though she had been goosed.
“Yes. Much to do.” Joan started to get up, but was interrupted by Carlos. “Stay, my friend,” he said assertively. “Finish your coffee.”
Joan settled back in her chair and took another sip of her coffee as if to prove to Carlos that she would do anything he demanded of her. “Are you coming back for dinner?” she asked with a pouty look and a twinkle in her eyes.
“Don’t know,” replied Carlos. “Don’t wait for Carlos,” he said, referring to himself in the third person. “Carlos has much to do.”
“So does Joan,” the half-drunk, lovesick woman replied, referring to herself in the third person as well.
“Buenos tardes,” Carlos said before turning and heading out of the kitchen without waiting for a reply.
Joan sat in silence for a few moments. She heard the screen door slam shut. “Buenos noches,” she said softly to herself.
†
Augie stopped rocking back and forth and closed her eyes. Thoughts of helplessness dominated every fiber of her being. She thought of what was to become of her once she was discharged. She thought about how her condition would prevent her from working for at least a week, and even after that, the manager at Hometown Buffet would never allow it because of her broken face.
Shivers worked their way up her spine. Visions of events from years ago suddenly rushed at her like a runaway freight train. She replayed images of a time when she was desperate for money and sold her body to survive. She was seventeen and hungry. Waves of nausea and disgust filled her. In her head, she watched her hand take the twenty dollar bill from the sweaty Cubano. He was twelve inches shorter and had oily hair that smelled of cheap brandy and cigarette smoke.
She swallowed hard. Tears gushed from her eyes and landed on the teal green blanket gathered loosely in her lap. She tried to block the images that always followed, but couldn’t. The Cubano’s chubby hands were dark and dirty, and his stubby, cigar-like fingers kneaded her breasts urgently like he was making loaves of bread. She tried to think of something else, but the Cubano wouldn’t let her. His putrid breath consumed her with fear as he removed his left hand from her breast and grabbed a handful of her hair and attempted to kiss her.
Her whole body trembled. She struggled to turn her head when suddenly the Cubano let go of her hair, took a step back and thrust his calloused fingers at her vagina.
“Hey!” Colleen’s voice thundered.
Augie bolted straight up from her hunched-over position and opened her eyes. She swallowed hard and tried to catch her breath, but could say nothing. Her stomach seized and tried to push the contents of her stomach from her body.
“HEY!” Colleen demanded. “You throwing up over there?”
Augie swallowed hard again and managed to take in a short, labored breath.
“I’m gonna get some help,” Colleen said with a stern, motherly tone.
“No!” Augie shouted with a throaty voice Colleen had never heard before. “I don’t want any help!”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” replied Augie. “Just gimme a minute to catch my breath.”
Colleen felt helpless. She wanted desperately to help Augie, but couldn’t. She thought about the last time she heard noises like the ones Augie was making. It was just before Chase died in her arms over a year before. He labored for air and kept heaving at the same time as if he were about to vomit. Colleen would never forget the darkness in his open eyes as he took his last breath.
“You’re scaring me, Augie,” Colleen said.
Augie grunted heavily and resumed rocking back and forth. “I’m…” she began, but had to take another short breath. “I’m okay.”
“You don’t sound okay,” said Colleen.
“Really… I’ll be fine,” Augie said and then grunted again. “I’m just dealing with some demons.”
Colleen paused for a minute and let Augie catch her breath. “Demons,” Colleen whispered under her breath. “I can’t even imagine.”
†
The Triple C was a tightly-run, friendly, well-manicured spread, and everyone in Ventura and Los Angeles County knew it. The two-year waiting list for permanent boarding was a testament to the knowledge and skills of its foreman. Boarders and clients knew Carlos to be hard-working, honest, and a man who rarely stopped working for any length of time, day or night. Carlos took great pride in his work, and his decisions about the day-to-day operations at the ranch were respected and treated as law.
There was very little that went on at the three-hundred acre spread that Carlos wasn’t aware of, despite its enormity. The surrounding land was owned by the Simi Valley Park District, but Carlos treated the thousands of acres as if they were his own.
He knew every trail, marked or unmarked, and every rock formation nestled among the seas of prickly pear. Most trails were wide enough for riding tandem, which Carlos used m
ainly for training inexperienced mounts. He knew that the best way to train horses that had a tendency for rearing or bolting was to expose them to the open trail. Ka, his trusty chestnut mare, was always steady as a rock and a perfect riding partner for any horse she was paired with.
Trail-riding sessions on Monday afternoons were generally reserved for a promising young gray Quarter Horse mare named Thunder. Ka was fond of Thunder, as was Carlos, even though the horse was a bit on the stubborn side and had a predilection for biting.
He was also fond of Thunder’s owner, a bright young lady from Beverly Hills named Victoria Cambridge. She was the spitting image of Colleen Caldwell in almost every way, and had a passion for horses rarely seen among girls about to graduate from high school. She spent more time at the Triple C than on Rodeo Drive, and Carlos liked her because she spoke Spanish at least as well as she spoke English, and didn’t use the word “like” twenty times in the same sentence.
Victoria was a quick learner and often asked questions about a wide variety of subjects, ranging from the optimum moisture content of sweet hay to show-jumping competition rules. She had plans to attend USC the following year but was undecided as to her major field of study. Carlos secretly hoped that she would eventually pursue a career in veterinary medicine.
Carlos and Victoria chuckled in unison as the dust cleared from the well-groomed trail below them. A few minutes before, Thunder decided that Ka needed a friendly nip, but Ka ignored it. If Thunder was anything, she was persistent, and Victoria knew that Ka wouldn’t put up with her crap for long. Thunder hit pay dirt with a bite to Ka’s neck, and Ka stopped in her tracks. Before Thunder had the chance to pass by, Ka lashed back with a bite of her own to Thunder’s rump.
Thunder bolted a few steps and spun around quickly, taking her young rider by surprise, but Victoria was experienced beyond her years. She gained immediate control of her mount with a tight rein and a firm grip with her ankles.
“Muy bueno!” said Carlos, applauding her for her quick action and control of her mount.
“Gracias, Señor Guzman,” replied Victoria.
Ka stood motionless as Carlos removed his hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. Thunder pawed at the fine trail dirt and snorted as Victoria held her rein.
“What’s that?” asked Victoria, who had spotted something out of place in the distance.
Carlos shifted his position in the saddle and looked in the same direction.
Even though Victoria occasionally spoke to Carlos in English, he always responded in Spanish, knowing full well that the youngster would understand him. “What’s what?” he asked in his native tongue.
“Over by that arroyo,” replied Victoria, this time in Spanish.
†
“Can we talk about something?” Augie asked.
“Sure,” replied Colleen. “What do you wanna talk about?”
Augie had to try and forget the demons that danced around in her head, ready to strike at any moment. She knew that their return was inevitable, but the hospital wasn’t the place where she felt equipped to confront them. What she wanted more than anything was something to help her escape reality. She longed for the ultimate escape. She wanted heroin.
“Anything,” Augie said before she went further down the road toward yet another demon she had conquered in her past.
“Well… like what?” asked Colleen.
“Chase,” said Augie. “Tell me the story about how you two met and fell in love, and all of that gooey shit.”
“Hey,” said Colleen with a playfully defensive tone. “I miss that… gooey shit, as you call it.”
“I never got a chance to experience any of that,” added Augie. “Instead, I… never mind. I don’t wanna talk about me.”
“Okay,” said Colleen, respecting Augie’s wishes. “It was a dark and stormy night…”
“Very funny,” said Augie. “Start with where you met.”
Colleen fidgeted again and tried to find a comfortable position. Chase was her favorite subject, and she figured Augie needed distraction more than anything. Just when Colleen began to speak, there was a knock at the door.
“Knock knocks,” said the unmistakable voice of Doctor Nguyen.
“Who’s there?” said both Colleen and Augie in unison.
“Doctor Nguyen,” said the short, fifty-something surgeon.
“Doctor Nguyen who?” both girls continued in stereo, going along with the joke.
Without skipping a beat, the doctor replied loudly, in his thick Vietnamese accent, “Doctor Nguyen hungry! Need food!”
Augie rolled her eyes and groaned. Colleen cackled loudly at the ridiculousness of Dr. Nguyen’s bad punch line.
†
“Was that there the last time?” Victoria asked Carlos in Spanish.
In the distance about a hundred yards away, the pointy top of a small, triangular-shaped structure stood a few feet behind a large clump of thick, dry brush. Carlos immediately thought it looked like the top of a makeshift tent.
“How long ago did we ride this trail?” Carlos asked.
Victoria leaned forward and stood tall in the stirrups as Thunder continued her relentless assault on the dusty trail below. Swirls of thick dust obstructed Victoria’s view of the arroyo.
“It’s been at least a month, I think,” she said as she loosened her grip on Thunder’s reins and patted her on the neck.
“You have sharp eyes, my young friend,” said Carlos.
“You wanna go take a look?”
“No,” said Carlos. “I will have a look later. Besides… too many snakes.”
“Snakes don’t bother me,” said Victoria without looking away from the arroyo.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” said Carlos with a smile. “It’s time to head back to the barn.”
“Awwww,’” Victoria said, disappointed that her riding lesson for the day was almost over. “I have to supplement tomorrow. Maybe we can come back and see what it is.”
“Perhaps,” said Carlos.
Without saying another word, Carlos moved his left foot backward about six inches toward Ka’s rump and exerted pressure with his ankle. His well-trained mount responded by executing a perfect pivot in the opposite direction.
Victoria settled back down in Thunder’s saddle but still held her stare on the dusty structure in the distance. Her mind raced with all kinds of ideas about what the out-of-place object could be.
Carlos cleared his throat and sat patiently in the saddle as Ka lazily shifted her weight from side to side. Victoria stood tall in the stirrups again, let go of Thunder’s rein and raised her right hand to shield the late afternoon sun. Suddenly she realized that Carlos was trying to get her attention. Her eyes struggled to keep their grip on the dusty object, but to no avail. She settled in her saddle again and glanced at Carlos and his trusty mount. She hadn’t noticed that they were faced the opposite direction and Carlos was looking at her over his left shoulder.
“Sorry,” said she as she grabbed at Thunder’s rein. “It’s like looking at a car wreck on the 101.”
“Tell me what you see,” said Carlos.
Victoria looked back at the arroyo, thought for a moment, and then turned her attention back to Carlos.
“I see…” she started and then paused. “Trouble.”
Carlos shifted in his saddle and looked squarely at Victoria. “Your eyes are rare indeed, my young friend,” he said. “You discover so much more because you see with your heart and not just your eyes. You trust what you feel instead of what you see.”
Victoria was flattered and at the same time taken aback by the wisdom of Carlos Guzman. Her blushing face glowed in the hot August sun as she looked down and found herself nervously picking at the leather horn of Thunder’s saddle. “Thank you,” she said meekly.
“You are welcome,” said Carlos. “Now… show me how to pivot your mount without giving ground.”
Victoria quickly looked up and said, “A pivot? Oh that’s easy!”
“That’s double easy!” exclaimed Victoria. “Count to three!”
“One more thing,” said Carlos. “You must do this with your eyes closed.”
The gray mare shifted her weight, snorted, and shook her head as if to respond to Carlos’s request. Victoria blinked exaggeratedly and processed her trainer’s instructions.
“I can do that,” she said confidently.
“I know you can,” Carlos assured. “Don’t count to three. Just take your time, close your eyes, and go when you are ready.”
Victoria took in a deep breath, and then another. She held Thunder’s reins squarely in both hands, closed her eyes, and began her pivot.
†
“You take bandage off,” announced Dr. Nguyen as he approached Augie’s bedside. “Who say it okay to do that?”
“Nobody,” said Augie. “I couldn’t see.”
Dr. Nguyen pulled a small, pen-like flashlight from his lab coat pocket. It was a little shorter than a Sharpie and not quite as thick. Augie watched the doctor test the flashlight, first on his hand, and then by shining it in his own face. Augie thought it might have been a bad attempt at some slapstick comedy where a person looks into the end of a garden hose or a gun before it goes off. She smiled at the thought as the doctor examined the flashlight closely with first one eye, and then the other.
“Okay,” said Doctor Nguyen. “It work now.”
Augie chuckled as he leaned closer, gently touched the back of her head with one hand and pointed the flashlight at her face.
“You see this?” he asked as he shined the light in her left eye and observed the reaction of her pupil.
“Yes,” replied Augie.
Doctor Nguyen moved the light to her right eye, which was nearly the color of beets from all of the broken blood vessels. “Good,” he said. “You see this?”
Remembering August (Triple C Ranch Saga) Page 27