Big Hard Girls

by Nikki Crescent

  “Time will fly,” said a nurse with a cute smile.

  “Easy for you to say,” I said. And then she upped the dose of whatever was running through that tube, and I drifted off to sleep after apparently telling her that I wanted to lick her bellybutton and her armpits. I guess drugs make people say funny things.

  CHAPTER II

  I was awake early the next morning, staring at the blank curtain, wishing I had something to do. I was already feeling antsy. I just wanted to move. I wanted to stretch my legs and do a few jumping jacks, but I also didn’t want my spine to snap, so I remained still, trying my best not to squirm while my body healed very, very slowly.

  It was around 4:30 AM when I heard a cute little yawn coming from the other side of the curtain. Then a moment later, I heard her sighing. She was awake—I wasn’t the only one awake in that godforsaken place. “Hey,” I said quietly.

  It was a few seconds before I heard a girl’s voice. “Hello?” she said cautiously.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Taylor.”

  “Ed,” I said. “Nice to meet you. What are you in here for?”

  “Armed robbery,” she said.

  “You were shot during a robbery?”

  She laughed. “No, it was just a stupid joke.”

  “Oh—I get it. Sorry. My sense of humour is questionable on these drugs. Good drugs though. What are they giving you?”

  “All sorts of stuff. It seemed to change every day,” she said.

  I took a deep breath and felt a strange sense of relief. It was the closest thing to a real conversation that I’d had since being hit by a car—even though I couldn’t see her through that dangling curtain. “Hopefully you aren’t stuck here as long as me,” I said.

  “Hopefully you aren’t stuck here for as long as me,” she replied with a little laugh.

  “How long are they keeping you in this dump?”

  “As long as they can.”

  “Yeah, I hear that,” I said. “But hey—they keep telling me that I’m lucky to be alive. So I guess we’ve got that going for us.”

  And this time she didn’t reply, as if she didn’t hear me. The room was suddenly silent. A cold tingle crept down my cracked spine and then I couldn’t figure out what to say next. I had the strange feeling that I’d said something wrong—something very wrong. What if the girl next to me was dying? What if I just reminded her that her life was coming to an end? I bit down on my tongue and I tried to muster up an apology, but the air in the room was too awkward now, so I just remained silent. It was a few minutes later when the drugs finally carried me back off to sleep.

  I didn’t wake up until visiting hours came again. The light was bright that the hospital was suddenly loud with Sunday visitors. I got to listen to couples fighting in the hallway again—I’m pretty sure the couples were the same. And then I got to listen to mothers and fathers excited to see their injured children. I heard kissing and crying and lots of “I love you so much!” But my room remained empty, until a young woman came in. She looked around with a shy look on her face, and then she called out, “Taylor? Are you here?”

  “Over here,” Taylor said from the other side of the curtain. So the shy girl slipped into Taylor’s little curtain cubicle, and I got to listen to their very quiet conversation.

  “I talked to your brother,” the girl said. “Your parents aren’t coming. Your brother’s going to try to come tomorrow though.”

  “Thanks for trying,” Taylor said.

  “He said they need more time.”

  “Well they don’t have more time, but it’s fine. I probably don’t need that stress anyway.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve felt better,” said Taylor. “The food here sucks though—it’s not giving me much of a reason to hold on.” There was a silence, and then Taylor said, “It’s a joke. Apparently my jokes aren’t very funny.”

  “And what did the doctors say? Any updates?”

  “No updates. Still dying. They asked if I wanted to try this experimental drug that’s never been tried before. I would literally be the first one. They don’t even know what it might do to me. A single dose of it could kill me.”

  “Are you going to take it?”

  “Maybe. What else am I going to do?”

  The silence returned. Taylor really was dying. But she sounded so young. Assuming she was the same age as her friend, she couldn’t have been any older than twenty. My stupid car accident suddenly seemed so trivial. I had the urge to squirm but I fought I back for the sake of my own health.

  Taylor didn’t get any more visitors that day. Once her friend was gone, she returned to being bored and silent. And wouldn’t that be horrible? Spending the last portion of your life in a bland curtain cubicle with nothing but that looming dread churning in your stomach.

  “So what do you do like to do?” I asked.

  And she didn’t reply.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Are you talking to me?” she asked.

  “Yeah—I’m talking to you. What do you like to do? What are your hobbies?”

  “Well,” she said. “I like to draw. I mean, there were things I wanted to try but I never got around to trying them. So I guess the only thing that I know I like to do is draw.”

  “Can you show me one of your drawings?” I asked.

  “I don’t have any here,” she said.

  “Then can you draw me something to look at?”

  She laughed nervously. “With what?”

  “I think most people use paper. Some people like pens and some like pencils.”

  And she laughed again. “I don’t have any of that.”

  So I buzzed the nurse. She didn’t come right away so I kept buzzing her, over and over, as if it was an emergency. Finally, two nurses came running into the room. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

  “I need a pencil and a piece of paper, stat!” I said. And the nurses looked at me with white faces, as they were being forced to treat Satan himself. They didn’t exactly rush to get the paper and pencil, though they did bring it over thirty minutes later. “It’s for the girl next door,” I said, pointing over towards Taylor. So the nurse delivered the paper and pencil and then they left me alone. And after that, if I would have had a problem that required immediate attention, I’m sure they would have left me to die.

  “I don’t know what to draw,” Taylor said.

  “Anything. Just give me your best.”

  “I need some direction.”

  “Do you like dogs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Draw me a dog,” I said. I could hear the sound of the pencil scribbling around on the paper, slowly at first, but then she started to get into a rhythm. I heard her let a little giggle slip, and then she said, “I guess it’s done. It’s probably not my best work, but it’s the best I can do under the circumstances.”

  We had to wait for a nurse to come by, to deliver the drawing from her to me. And the dog was good—super cute and amazingly realistic. She gave it a big, long tongue and bright shining eyes. “It’s amazing,” I said.

  “Thanks,” she replied, and I could almost hear her blushing.

  “Now you’ll have to draw me a self-portrait, seeing as I can’t see you.”

  She spent the better part of the next hour drawing the self-portrait, sketching quickly at times, and drawing slowly and meticulously near the end. And then we waited again for a nurse to come by to deliver the drawing. “If this is really you, then you’re a babe,” I said. The girl in the picture was stunning, with long curly hair and big, bright eyes. Her cheekbones were perfect, and her eyelashes were to die for. She even looked a bit shy in the drawing—just like she sounded in real life.

  “Now we need to get a nurse to pull back this curtain, so I can see how accurate this is.”

  “I didn’t make my hair nearly as greasy as it is now. And I’m not wearing any makeup,” she said.

  “Nurse!” I call
ed out. I couldn’t wait an hour for one to come by. Amazingly, a nurse came quickly. “I need you to pull back this curtain, so I can judge this drawing.” I held the drawing up as the nurse pulled back the curtain. And then I found myself in a state of shocked amazement. She looked just like the picture, right down to the fine details in her hair. Taylor was looking at me with red cheeks, biting the corner of her bottom lip gently.

  “Well?” she said. “Was I close?”

  “Right on the money,” I said. I put the drawing down and stared at the artist. She was beautiful—so soft and youthful and precious. This girl was dying? When I heard that she was dying, I expected to see a bald girl with sunken eyes and translucent skin. I wasn’t expecting a vixen.

  I looked away quickly, suddenly worried that I would creep her out. If we were going to be stuck next to each other for a while, I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, especially seeing as these were the last days of her life. I awkwardly moved my tongue from one cheek to the other. “So were you in school for art?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Though I wasn’t learning much in school. The teachers were all just pushing politics on us, and there wasn’t really much ‘art’ at all. I actually dropped out before I found out that I was sick.”

  “Well judging by this picture, you didn’t need the school,” I said with a smile. And her cheeks turned red again.

  The nurse came by and asked if we wanted the curtain closed. “No, leave it open,” said Taylor, and then she looked at me with a smile that made my cheeks suddenly warm. And then we ended up talking all night. She told me all about her art school and her friends at art school, and then I told her about my pointless job and my family that still hadn’t even bothered to call, even though I was one wrong move away from being dead.

  And then the conversation started to become more esoteric. We talked about God and the meaning of life and then it was late and the nurses turned all of the lights out. The nurse didn’t even ask before closing the curtain, but we kept talking even though we couldn’t see each other. I still had that picture of her next to my bed—and I had a perfect mental image of her on my mind. And my God, she was beautiful. Her voice was so soothing. I kept asking vague questions, just so I could hear that voice go on and on.

  “So can I ask: what’s your biggest regret? If you could have just one more week out of this hospital to do anything, what would you do? And be honest,” I said.

  She was silent, as if I’d touched on a sore subject. And maybe bringing death back up wasn’t such a great idea. I was just about to apologize when she said, “I never had sex.” The answer took me by surprise. She really took my ‘be honest’ bit seriously. I felt my face turn dark red.

  I cleared my throat. “Did you say sex?” I asked quietly.

  She laughed. “It just never happened. I kept telling myself that I wanted to wait for the perfect guy and the perfect moment. I guess I waited too long.”

  I laughed awkwardly, because I wasn’t sure how else to respond. And then my lips let a series of words slip that I immediately wished I could take back. “Well, if you can make it over here, you’re welcome to hop on. I’m pretty sure I’m all functioning down there.”

  She was dead silent. Now I could feel the colour draining from face. I felt sick. Did I just ruin everything with a stupid joke? “I’m sorry—I was just kidding,” I said.

  She laughed. “It’s okay. I would take you up on the offer, but sadly I can’t really move with all of these tubes.”

  My heart stuttered. I was suddenly picturing her naked, and my cock was suddenly hard, proving that everything was indeed still in working order down there. We were silent for a while, and then Taylor finally said, “Well, I should get some sleep. Good night.”

  “Good night,” I managed to say, despite the thick lump in my throat. And I couldn’t fall right asleep, even with all of the drugs doing their best to take me down. I couldn’t stop thinking of her and her beautiful face and her delicate voice—and the fact she said she would have come over to fuck me if it wasn’t for a bunch of tubes. Damn those tubes. Damn them to hell.

  CHAPTER III

  It was early when she called out my name. “Are you awake?” she asked.

  “I am now,” I said.

  “I’m sorry—did I wake you up?” she asked.

  “I don’t mind. I have the next two months to sleep.”

  Then she was silent, as if she didn’t actually have anything to say, as if she was just curious to know if I was awake. “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m bored. Do you want me to draw you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “What should I draw?” she asked.

  “How’s about… a picture of a horse?”

  “Hm, no. I don’t like horses. I mean—I can draw that if that’s what you want. But is that really what you want?”

  “Not really—it was just the first thing that came to mind.”

  “So what do you really want me to draw?”

  “How’s about another picture of you?” I asked as my heart skipped a beat.

  “Another one? Do you not like the first one?”

  “I like the first one. You just asked me what I really wanted you to draw, and that’s all I can think of.”

  “Okay, fine,” she said with a little giggle. “What should I be doing?”

  I looked over at the clock, suddenly curious to know what time it was. It was only 3:30 AM. I laughed and shook my head. “What should you be doing? I don’t know. What do you want to be doing?”

  She was quiet. “Just pick something,” she said.

  “I don’t know. Posing. Give me your sexiest pose,” I said with a laugh. I made sure to put lots of emphasis on that laugh, so that she would know that I was kidding and that I wasn’t coming onto her—even though I kind of was.

  I was shocked when she nervously said, “Okay.” And then I heard her pencil scribbling on a fresh sheet of paper. She spent lots of time on this one. It was 4:30 AM when she said, “I’m almost done. Maybe it’s no good. Maybe I should restart. Give me something different to draw. Maybe I’ll draw that horse.”

  “No—I want to see the picture you spent the last hour working on.”

  “It’s embarrassing. I don’t know why I drew it. Oh God, you’re going to make so much fun of me. Why did I draw this?”

  “Let me see it.”

  She was silent. I could hear her squirming awkwardly. “It’s silly.”

  “I still want to see it. You woke me up at 3:30 AM—the least you could do is show me that picture.”

  “I have no way of getting it to you.”

  “I’ll call a nurse—they already hate me.”

  I was about to press the button when she said, “No—don’t do that. I don’t want the nurse to see the picture. I’ll crumple it into a ball and throw it over. And then when you’re done with it, crumple it into a ball and throw it in the garbage where it belongs. Oh God, why did I even draw this?” I could hear her crumpling the art into a ball of waste.

  It was a few seconds later when that paper ball came flying over the curtain. I reached out and grabbed it narrowly. A pain went shooting up my back and I gasped, worried I’d just killed myself so that I could see Taylor’s latest drawing. But the pain went away and I was still alive. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” I said as I started to open up the drawing. And that drawing made me speechless. She drew herself in a piece of tight lingerie. Her tits were perfectly round and supple, and her pussy was hardly being covered by a strip of thin fabric. If that’s how she looked in lingerie, then she should have been posing for magazine covers.

  “Please don’t laugh. I really don’t know why I drew it. I mean—you asked me to, but I should have drawn something else. Just throw it out. I know it’s crap,” she said.

  “You look stunning in this,” I said. “Please tell me you actually own that outfit in real life.” She was silent and I could almost he
ar her grinning. “Oh man—you really do! That’s amazing.”

  “Oh shut up. Make sure that picture ends up the trash. If anyone else sees it, I’ll kill you—and I mean it.”

  I slipped the picture underneath my pillow and then said, “Fine. It’s in the trash.”

  “Is it really?”

  “Yeah. And it’s out of my reach, so I hope you’re happy.” But there was no way I could throw that drawing out. It wasn’t just a beautiful drawing, it was a drawing of a beautiful woman, and it was made just for me, just for my eyes to see. I couldn’t think of anything that had ever been made just for me. I was flattered. And I was starting to think that I was falling in love.

  But I couldn’t fall in love with Taylor. She was dying. There was a possibility that she wouldn’t even be alive by the time I was able to stand up and walk over to her. It wasn’t fair to me and it wasn’t fair to her. So I convinced myself that it was just a crush and nothing else—just a silly little crush, something to pass the time.

  As soon as Taylor was asleep again, I slipped that drawing out from under my pillow and I found myself staring at it, wishing the circumstances were different. Why did she have to be dying, and why did we both have to be stuck in these damned beds? I closed my eyes and imagined a world where things were different. I imagined her in my bed back home, cuddled up against me. I imagined her soft skin against mine. And then I imagined myself fucking her and taking her precious virginity. Before drifting off back to sleep, I reminded myself that she was just a crush—just an unfortunate little crush.

  CHAPTER IV

  I woke up the next morning to the sound of the doctor’s voice. His voice was so clear that I thought he was talking to me, so I opened my eyes and cleared my throat, ready to reply. But there was no one in my curtain cubicle. The doctor was on the other side of the curtain, talking to Taylor. “So you understand the risks and you’d like to go ahead with the treatment anyway—is that correct? You’ll have to sign this form before I can give you the drug.”