Storyville

by Caldon Mull

  “Oh, sorry.” Doctor Mason scooped it off with a fingernail. “I’m not going to tell you. It works like a charm though, even on humans.”

  “You’re putting vet stuff on me again?” I grumbled “Haven’t your supplies been replenished?”

  “Oh, yes they have.” I could heard some smugness in his voice “But I p-prefer using the right tool for the right job. This will heal more than it will hurt. It helps that you don’t have hoof- rot. I’ll give you three days applications of p-powder and p-poultice. I don’t expect to see you return for this wound again.”

  “You mean, like forever?” I grinned “Kill or cure, eh?”

  Doctor Mason snickered “You know what I mean, you big lunk.” He placed a gauze pad over the evil smelling concoction. “Hold this here, I’ll get a cap for you.” He crawled off the bed and rummaged in a cabinet, before standing in front of me. I bowed from my waist, holding the pad in place while he placed the bundle of cotton bandaged over my head and secured adhesive strips on my neck and forehead. “There. Don’t wash the cap. By tomorrow night you can just use an elastic bandage.”

  “Should I bring it back?” I sniffed “Perhaps you’d like to recycle it, with your vet medicines and your tents and field hospital mentality. I’m sure I saw you using a candy wrapper on an old lady’s scrape when you thought no-one was watching.” I teased “Walking around like a homeless person among the tents collecting litter...”

  “I failed the marines’ height requirement.” He said with a straight face. “You can go now, they’re queued up outside.”

  I walked into the deserted corridor and through the front doors. Michel’s pick-up stood in the empty car-park, most of it still covered in sticky mud. Clouds of midges celebrated above the drying muck, I swatted at the air before getting into the cab and driving back home, a patch of heat constant on the top of my head where the foul goo was eating away at whatever was rotten under it.

  “Back to work, soon enough.” I grumbled to myself.

  I noticed the Monitor on the front seat, clad in bubble-wrap. The new PC I had got for Doctor Mason had arrived by DHL while I was sitting at home fretting, waiting for the Town to dry up. His original one, naturally, had languished under thirty feet of water for over a week and was in no condition to ever be used again. Although... with enough time and enough patience, I was sure I could coax it back into life. As Bobby had reminded me, some things were not worth the time. It was easier just to replace the thing and fiddle with the drowned one in my own time, as time and inclination had allowed.

  “Oh” I muttered and trudged back in stages until it was placed on the receptionist’s desk, all bright and working. I had chosen one of the paper-white VGA monitors and Doctor Mason wandered over while the X Windows were opening. “Nice.” He muttered “Nurse Tilly will be the envy of the staff.”

  “Um... I’m sure. How good is she with the things?”

  “Better than most. Why you ask?”

  “I’ll make sure I have all the licenses for the software delivered to you. This is one of the latest Pentium Systems, and I’m not really sure you’ll get to use all this processing power just yet. Still, consider this my contribution towards getting the place back up and running.” I sighed, I was getting a headache. I sat down on a swivel chair that didn’t look quite so damp. The pain lessened, slightly.

  “Andy...” Doctor Mason put a hand on my shoulder while I kneaded my eyeballs with my thumbs “You shouldn’t p-push yourself. You’ve done more for this Town than anyone thought humanly p-possible and still, not more than a hand-full of p-people will go out of their way to say hello to you on the street.”

  “That’s not it.” I groaned, twisted my neck and heard the vertebrae go ‘click’ “I... I’ve been emotionally ...numb for so long, it’s taken a series of ...shocks to knock me back on track...” Doctor Mason stepped up and started kneading my neck muscles while I rambled on. While not having any real strength, he was really good at loosening some of the knots. “Hmmph... that hurts, don’t stop... See, I’ve been doing things out of honesty and loyalty and have been doin’ the right thing, but I haven’t really felt anything about what I’ve been doing until, well ...recently.” Michel, actually, then Kyle and then... best not tell him about the who and what, I decided quickly. “The thing is... oww, that’s good... that I don’t really want all the attention. I’ve been thrust into the limelight and I’m not sure I can handle it ...very well.”

  “Hmmm.” Doctor Mason sighed “Andy... I’ve not known you for terribly long, but what I’ve seen of you so far, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” His small hands pressed a neck vertebrae, a ‘pop’ and a series of small sparks flashed behind my eyes. “I’m not a shrink, but I think that whatever you’ve been through, whatever trauma you are suppressing... Don’t tense up, you’ll undo all I’ve done... what I’m trying to say is that you have a good support team up at the house, the men idolize you, in case you’ve not noticed... p-probably not, you’re quite thick sometimes... insular, p-protected. They’re your friends, Andronicus. Trust them with your feelings. Friendships have a way of growing by themselves, and into shapes you’ve p-probably not anticipated when you first start out.

  “What I’m trying to say is that disasters tend to p-pull p-people together. This would be a good time to p-pool your resources and get online with everyone you care about. If you have anything you need to share, share with them... but don’t leave it for too long. You, my friend, are a master of p-passive p-procrastination.”

  “Your stammer is getting worse.” I groaned and flexed a shoulder.

  “Because I am manipulating a large male’s flesh, well outside of a doctor-patient relationship. I am uncomfortable and more than a trifle anxious. That doesn’t mean that my advice is wrong, Andy. Can I p- proscribe you a sedative?”

  “No, no thanks.” I sighed, his massage had really worked some tension out, I felt a lot better.

  “You’re pretty good at that, are you sure you’re not a doctor?” He was obviously waiting for me to answer him. I sighed “I’ll increase my intake of herbal teas, probably Chamomile, and do some stretching. I’ll ask Bobby to rub me down every second day. He’s been the Football Teams’ first-aider for some years now, he’s got some practice. Good enough?”

  “Yes.” he grunted “For now. Any panic attacks, high anxiety?” Doctor Mason jabbed his thumbs under my left scapula. The top of my head felt like it exploded, black goo and brains should have smeared everywhere. When my eyes pointed in the same direction, I blinked the tears out of them. No mess everywhere, I guess my brains were still where they used to be. “What the fuck was that?”

  “A trigger p-point. If tension was steel, you’d be a robot. This is old, Andy. You’ve been pulling into yourself for, what? Ten, Fifteen Years?”

  I sighed. I wasn’t going to lie to him. “Yeah, about that.”

  “And the psychotic break you had when we had to sedate you to treat your scalp wound that night is related to this?” Doctor Mason jabbed under my right shoulder-blade with similar results.

  “Owww, crap! Uhhh yeah, doc. They’re related.”

  “and... the old scar-tissue I noticed when I... first examined your... you… has something to do with this?” Doctor Mason sighed and stopped his back-rub, satisfied he’d done as much as he could.

  “Ah... yep, same thing. All related.” I groaned. My guts felt like they were crawling with worms. I took a deep breath, calmed my breathing “I guess I haven’t come to terms with something for a long time, and it’s creeping up on me.”

  “You really need to deal with this sooner or later. No, knowing you... sooner rather than later. You are racking and stacking your emotional emergencies and putting them away. They are no less real and no less dangerous to your p-peace of mind, no matter how long ago they happened. If you don’t lance them immediately, they’ll creep up on you.”

  “Emotional trigger points. “ I groaned again and stood stretching.

  “Oh, yes.” Do
ctor Mason blinked as I towered over him, his chin level with my sternum. “P- p-p- precisely.”

  “Well, they have been. Everyone has noticed them, it seems... except me.” I stretched my shoulders. They seemed loose. There was a mobility in them I couldn’t remember last feeling. I grinned down at Doctor Mason and said in my worst southern accent “You know yer pretty smart-like fer a dwarf, doc.”

  “Midget.” He grinned back “Joking might be a good way to defend yourself from the truth, Andy.” his grin faded “But life can be cruel sometimes, and you need to face this on occasion. Build up some emotional scar-tissue, feel good things instead of bad things. Sometimes you need to feel good and bad things, just as long as you are used to feeling things... any things.”

  “Yeah.” I cleared my throat, embarrassed that he had seen so completely through me from the moment we had first met. “I’m gonna fuck off now, so you can get back to work.”

  “You do that.” He smiled and turned to the PC, dismissing me from his uncomfortable focus. “Bubble wrap!” he said more to himself than to anyone else, sounding obscenely pleased.

  I knew what came next and left to the popping of the tiny bubbles in his expert hands. I sighed as I opened the truck door. My Doctor, brilliant, observant and insightful... and a bubble-wrap freak. I had to grin. The motor roared into life and I idled down the main street. Michel’s’ parents bakery was preparing to open its doors. I saw one of his younger brothers who waved at the truck, flagging me down.

  I stopped and he jogged over. You could see they were brothers. They had the same raven, blue- black hair, clear grey eyes. Where Michel was square and blocky and what I considered classically man- beautiful, his brothers were more angular, lean. I racked my brain to remember their names. This would be the middle brother, the one named after his father; Carlos. He was two years younger than Michel, that would make him... twenty five? I had never said a word to him, why would he flag me? Oh, I thought, Michel’s’ truck. I was driving his wheels. He probably thinks I’m his brother.

  “Hey.” he jogged up, grinning.

  “Hi.” I found myself grinning back in spite of myself. He had the same easy-going almost continental openness Michel displayed all too often. “Sorry. I’m not him. Just using his truck.”

  “You’re lucky, he defends this baby with his life.” Carlos beamed at me. “‘Sides, I didn’t want to speak to him. I saw you with that bandage and thought I’d, well ummm... I don’t know what I thought.” his face creased in a quick frown “Not that I didn’t want to speak to Mano... I do, but it didn’t matter, because... well, I thought...” Carlos floundered quickly, panic washed over his face. I thought to rescue him a bit.

  “Hi, I’m Andy. Pleased to meet you.” I stuck my hand out of the window.

  “Oh, yeah, yeah!” He grinned again and pumped my hand “I’m Carlos, Mano’s... Michel’s brother. The middle one.” His hand was warm and dry, the skin smooth. Hard calluses rubbed my palm at the base of his fingers. “You the computer guy.”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” I stole my hand back reluctantly, trying not to give any offense, puzzled by his enthusiasm.

  “So, he’s staying up at your place.” Carlos grinned again, smoothing back the same flick of fringe that Michel often did. It was like watching an unfinished Michel. I was intrigued, yet fearful suddenly. I knew that I could very easily confuse the two if I wasn’t paying attention. The thought chilled me. I felt my face stiffen.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is... is he happy?” Carlos must have seen my withdrawal. He looked down at his feet, fussed with his broom.

  “Hard to tell.” I shrugged “I guess, maybe.”

  “When... when you did that poster, he used to sit up with me and talk ‘Andy this...’ and ‘Andy that...’ and we used to laugh because for awhile, Me and Georgie didn’t think you really existed.” Carlos swallowed suddenly “But, uhhh... not that you didn’t, but uhhh... it was kinda odd to think that Mano had somethin’ different going on that we didn’t know anything about, being a small Town and all, everyone’s business bein’...” Carlos blushed furiously “C’mon Ace, please help me out... how’s he doin’, really?”

  “He’s OK, kid. Really.” I pressed my thumb-nail into the dashboard foam, left a mark, watched it smooth back “He’s started correspondence to do Architecture at Washington U, an’ he’s really quite good at it. He passed most his first semester projects already. He’s not working with the mill being closed and all, but he’s got dollars to keep goin’ and he pays his way.”

  “I heard he was on the radio all the night through the Big Storm, runnin’ shepherd between Pops and Will Dekker, keepin’ the supplies going through to the Football Stadium and co- coordinating the whole local effort. Is that true?” Carlos’ eyes welled up suddenly, tears spilled onto his high cheekbones.

  “Yeah kid, he did all that. Didn’t sleep for 28 hours.” I grinned. “Too stubborn to quit, after I’d taken a knock.” I pointed to my bandage “He must’ve felt he had to work extra hard to keep things runnin’. Dean Barker picked up the slack when he crashed out. It was good team work, really.”

  “You saved Bobby Hoskins, totalled your car.” Carlos looked up, earnest. “Town says you gonna get a medal for that.”

  “Bobby’s my friend.” I grinned suddenly relaxing with him “Carlos, I’d do that for all my friends, if I could. Michel first.”

  “Yeah, Andy.” Carlos swallowed thickly “Mano said that about you, long ago.”

  “He’s a good man, and an even better friend.” I knuckled his jaw playfully. “You wanna stop by and see him?”

  “Yeah... No. Papa would crap himself.” Carlos sighed. “Even though he’s proud as punch ‘bout what Mano did, he’s made a decision an’ he’s gonna stick with it. Still... me n’ Georgie both over twenty-one and we get to go the Bar one night a week. Even if Mom knows, she’d never say nuthin’. Wednesday night’s quietest.”

  “So if we stop along say, between seven and nine we’d catch you there?” I grinned suddenly “An’ your Dad couldn’t say anything because you didn’t call him or arrange to meet with him... or anything.”

  “Yeah... that’s it.” Carlos grinned, squinting against the sun, glinting off the trucks roof. “Well, I ain’t gonna tell him... but I’ll bring him along anyway.” I chuckled softly “Clever, kid, clever... He does miss you guys, a lot.”

  “Deal.” Carlos smiled with relief, a beautiful smile. “I gotta go now.”

  “Yeah, I saw your mom peek through the window back then.” I shifted the truck into gear, he stood where he was, twisting the broom handle in his big hands. I sighed “Y’know Carlos, I gotta tell you sumthin’.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He looked up, his eyes troubled.

  “I come from a big city, where you don’t even know your neighbours after living next to them for twenty years. Here is different, though. I didn’t figure on it when I moved here.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” Carlos stared into my eyes, trying to read me.

  “See, small-town folk think to gossip about people they don’t know, even if there is nothing to gossip about. Now you know your brother better than almost anyone else, and I can only guess at what they saying, ‘cause no-one ever tells me to my face.” I took a deep breath. Carlos was still watching me, listening. “I don’t really give a fuck about all that, ‘cause my life is my business, an’ no-one else’s. I’ll tell you this, though... there ain’t nothing happening up at my place. Take my word for it, there ain’t no devil- worshiping cult, no hard drugs... nuthin’ like that.”

  “I never...” Carlos swallowed.

  “I’m sure just a part of you thought that.” I grinned to take the edge off my words “I don’t want you fussin’ with any of it. Got that?”

  “Yeah, I got it.” Carlos smiled slowly “Pops reckons you a spook, but Papa reckons you CIA.”

  “I can’t talk about it.” I grinned “You should take a page from my book.”

  “No mind contr
ol labs?... no animal cruelty...?” Carlos grinned hugely “No Democrat recruitment centre...?”

  “Cheeky little shit!” I revved the motor “I ain’t sayin’. See you Wednesday night, sport, your mom’s calling you.”

  I drove away, and in the mirror he finished sweeping the sidewalk, even as I turned the corner, I could see his grin.

  I pulled up in the drive. The Subaru stood where I had left it. I frowned at it, it was time to move it somewhere else. The inside of the windows were damp where the last few days dew had survived in the shade. Otherwise it was a fine, hot fall day, and the wreck was just... wrong... where it was. Also, it was early December, and the weather shouldn’t have been like this. Something else was ... wrong. I sighed.

  “Hey, Big Guy.” Bobby greeted from a seed bed in the shade. Bess was draped over his leg, dozing. His light tan shorts were stained with grass “Nice hat.” he grinned “How long you gonna wear that?”

  “Hey Cappy.” I sauntered over curled up on the grass next to him. “What’s going?”

  “Dean’s with his brother cleaning his place and Michel is doing a project in the garage.” He stretched and lay back, his bare chest damp with a fine sweat. “thought I’d run Bess around fer awhile. Tired now.”

  “I gotta keep this on for another day.” I shrugged “Doc smeared some hoof-rot crap on me to try and draw it out. Says I need to relax more, probably massage or somethin’.”

  “Tall order, around here.” Bobby’s smooth face was neutral, watching me. “He say why?”

  “Yeah. Too much bottlin’ in. Too many secrets...” I sighed deeply. Bess opened a sleepy eye, her tail thumbed feebly, three times and she dozed off again.

  “He reckons ya need the kinks smoothed out?” Bobby plucked a grass stalk, nibbled on the end of it between his even teeth.

  “Yeah, eat more, drink herbal tea.” I pivoted on my butt, stretched out my legs and lay my head on his gut. My left ear pressed against his rib. I could hear the slow beat of his pulse. I closed my eyes.