by Pepper Pace
Lucas lifted the lid on the toilet and quickly peed. It hurt when the urine moved from his bladder and down his urethra leaving a dull ache in his back. One of the guys had given him a good kidney shot. He closed his eyes. He tried not to think of that. But he could smell himself when he opened his jeans and it made him nauseous again. After he had emptied his bladder, Lucas flushed and reached to turn on the water so that he could wash his hands.
He hesitated when his dirty fingers touched the pristine white ceramic. He pumped the soft soap dispenser and began to scrub his dirty hands under the hot water stream. The basin began to fill with blackened water. He repeated the process before his pale digits looked familiar to him. Then Lucas took a deep breath and looked up into the mirror.
His lip twitched and then the pain flared to life, which often happened to him when he caught sight of his injuries. Sometimes it was better not to even look. His lip was split and a dried crust of blood rested on his chin. His eye was really bad, the worst shiner he’d ever had. He couldn’t even see out of it, there was a filmy haze that he hoped wouldn’t result in the loss of sight. His face was swollen like a chipmunk. Lucas looked down at the water and he splashed his face. Using more soft soap, he gently washed his face and neck. He was appalled that the sink was now smeared with black dirt! He reached for one of the wash cloths from the small pantry behind the door and quickly dried his face, neck and hands. The once clean wash cloth was soiled. He looked at it in shame and then quickly wiped the sink clean with it. Then he used the soft soap to scrub the washcloth as clean as he could.
He wished he could hide it, he was so embarrassed. Instead, he spread it out to dry on the tub and picked up his bottled water, leaving the bathroom. He could smell food as soon at the door opened and his stomach began to ache with hunger. He had money for food but he never ate his fill. There was always tomorrow to think about. Lucas swept his damp hair to the side where it had gotten wet from his face washing. It concealed his shiner; at least he hoped it did.
He stunk, he was all beat up, and he was ashamed. He walked into the dining room where the lady; Sophie had placed a plate piled high with food on the table alongside a tall glass of iced tea.
Sophie saw the hesitancy on the boy’s hungry face. “Come on, sit down. Eat up.”
She watched him pull out the wooden dining room chair and look at it warily. Then he sat down very carefully and looked at her in gratitude. His expression nearly broke her heart. Why did people hurt kids?
“Thank you.” His voice was much deeper than she would have expected. It rumbled from his thin body sounding like it had risen from the soul of an old man.
“It’s just leftovers.” Sophie liked food, just because she lived alone didn’t mean that she couldn’t enjoy a pot roast or a nice meatloaf. And she made a pot of greens every few weeks and generally froze the leftovers. Lucas’ plate contained some of the greens that she had thawed earlier that day, cornbread also thawed, meatloaf that she had prepared hours earlier, and the last of the mashed potatoes that she had planned to have as leftovers later today. Yeah, it was no longer last night, it was officially today.
Lucas might have been shy but he wasn’t too shy to eat under Sophie’s scrutiny. While he quickly shoveled food into his mouth she watched him curiously.
“What’s your name?”
She saw a blush creep up along his pale skin. He was much whiter now that he had evidently washed his face.
“I’m sorry, Ma’ame. My name is Lucas. Lucas Reider.”
“I’m not Ma’ame, just Sophie. Sophie Baxter.”
“Nice to meet you. Thank you for…everything.”
Sophie gestured for him to continue eating. “Not a problem Lucas.” He tightened his grip on his fork and continued eating enthusiastically.
“Did you get beat up tonight?”
Sophie saw Lucas’ eyes become guarded. He didn’t answer but he did nod.
“Your eye looks really bad. I think you should see a doctor.” She knew that there were free hospitals and clinics.
Lucas swallowed a mouthful of food. “I don’t have my identification.” Even at the free clinic you needed identification. “They stole my wallet.”
“Did they take all of your money?”
He shook his head slowly. “I still have some.”
Some. His food soon disappeared and his plate was scraped clean of every remnant of the meal. Sophie wished that she could offer him seconds but there wasn’t any more. She did go into the kitchen and return with two plates each containing a slice of caramel cake that she had bought from the super market. She didn’t dare bake an entire cake for herself, but her local grocers sold cake by the slice.
Lucas’ eyes widened as she slid the plate in front of him. This time he ate slower.
“Thank you, Ma’ame-I mean, Sophie!”
Lucas finished his cake, his iced tea and his bottled water and Sophie thought that if she put the kitchen sink in front of him he’d devour that too. Where was that food going in that little teeny body of his? She stood up and Lucas came to his feet quickly. Sophie reached for his plate and paused. She almost dropped the plate when she looked back at him.
“Lucas…”
He didn’t understand why she had such a look on her face. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong. He looked towards the kitchen where he’d left his duffel bag. He needed to get his things and go and thank her again-
“Lucas…were you raped?”
His head began to spin. “What…?”
She glanced at the chair that he had risen from and there was a slight smear of blood.
“Oh, god. Miss Sophie, I’ll clean that-!”
She placed her hands on either of his shoulders and held him gently in place. “Don’t worry about that, it’s just an old wooden chair.” Her voice was soft and gentle but her eyes were squinted. Lucas felt embarrassed heat creeping up his body and he knew that his face flamed.
“I’m going to take you to the hospital, Lucas-”
“I’m okay-” he glanced at the chair and at the smear of fresh blood, he felt dizzy again.
He saw her move past him swiftly. She grabbed her purse and keys.
“Miss—Sophie, you don’t have to-” She held out her hand to him and waited. He took a tentative step toward her waiting hand and though he didn’t take it, he allowed himself to be led out the front door.
Chapter 2
When someone is rushed to the hospital, things move in a different time. The clock tends to stop and the hospital becomes its own universe. It doesn’t matter if you told your boss that you’d be in later, or if you have to go home to feed the dogs, or even if you’ve been lying in a narrow triage bed for three consecutive hours; hospital time moves at its own pace despite your protests.
Sophie was sitting in the plastic chair next to Lucas’ bed. They were in the same examination room that they’d been in three hours ago. They were informed that X-rays were needed, but no one had come to take them to where it needed to be done! Lucas was in a hospital gown and covered with a blanket. His arm was tossed over his face and had been that way for a long time. He hadn’t spoken to her.
They’d at least looked at his eye and given him drops to soothe the abrasion. It would be okay. They’d also given him morphine and Demerol for his other pain and he had dozed off and on. Each time he awakened, he’d jump and hold up his hand as if to fight someone off. Sophie worried that he was having nightmares about his attack. She whispered in his ear, once he was sleeping quietly again, that she was there and everything was okay now. Maybe it was stupid but she figured she could try giving him some type of mental suggestion to ease his distress.
She’d been the one to talk to the emergency room receptionist when they’d first arrived. She’d explained that he’d been beaten and sexually assaulted earlier and that he’d been robbed of his wallet.
“How old is he?” The receptionist had asked while looking at where he was standing, leaning against the far wall of the wa
iting area.
“Fifteen or sixteen. I don’t know.” Sophie had said.
“Damn.” The receptionist had responded.
“I know.”
“Is he a runaway?”
“I think he is. He’s obviously homeless.”
“We can get social services to get him into emergency placement.” Sophie nodded. “You think he’ll talk to the cops? Kids like him rarely do.”
Sophie had looked back at him and he met her eyes nervously. “I don’t know. I’ll try to get him to.”
“Okay. We’ll call you back as quickly as possible. Do you think you can stay with him? He seems skittish.”
“Of course,” Sophie had responded.
It had been uncomfortable back in triage when there was nothing to do but wait for someone to examine him. Neither of them knew what to expect and Sophie didn’t feel like making small talk--about as much as Lucas probably wouldn’t want to engage in it. But then a nurse had come in along with a police officer and they had asked Sophie to leave the room. When she was allowed to return, Lucas had already been given an examination and samples had been taken for the police. She had not been upset about leaving the room. She didn’t need details.
But when she had returned, Lucas was red and most of his face was concealed by his arm. And he’d been that way since. Finally when Sophie herself was dozing, they came to wheel him to radiology. Lucas’ eyes jolted open and he looked around. One of the technicians explained in fast but gentle words that he was going up for an X-ray. Lucas searched for Sophie and when he saw her, his hand flopped to the raised railing and he opened it slightly, maybe even unconsciously.
Sophie reached out and gripped it firmly. “Do you want me to go with you?”
He nodded silently and closed his eyes again. They didn’t move him to a wheelchair, due to his injuries, but allowed him to stay in the bed while they transported him to radiology. Sophie continued to hold his hand even though he was dozing again. They wouldn’t let her into the X-ray room, so while they did what they needed to, she hurried down to the gift shop and bought him a pair of sweats. He would not be able to wear the other clothing when social services came to pick him up, and she didn’t want him to be further embarrassed by the soiled articles. It was difficult enough that he had been sexually assaulted, but being a male must be a further stigma that would make it that much harder for the shy boy. Her heart went out to him.
When she returned to radiology she was informed that he had already been returned to triage. He was sitting propped up in bed and staring blankly at the curtain when she entered. His eyes moved to hers before quickly flitting away.
“Thank you for staying,” he murmured. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t mind.” She stepped forward and handed him the folded navy blue sweats. “Here is something clean for you to wear.” He gave her a surprised look. “Your duffel bag is still at my house.” He nodded.
The quiet made her uncomfortable now that he was awake. She gestured to the outer area. “I can go get your prescriptions-”
“No! I don’t want you to have to pay for anything,” he said in that deep voice that was so surprising from his young face.
“It’s free.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He said.
“I’ll be right back.”
It took longer than she had anticipated and when she returned with the little white bag containing antibiotic cream, eye drops, muscle relaxers and pain killers, Lucas was already up and dressed and speaking to the doctor that had treated him.
“You can come back for the results of the blood test in three days, okay?”
Lucas nodded. “Okay.”
Sophie opened the curtain and stepped in. The doctor gave her a nod. “I was just telling Mr. Reider that his ribs aren’t broken and that the contusion will heal and for him not to do any heavy lifting for…one week.” He referred to his clipboard. “And I think that’s all.” He gave them a brief smile. “You’re free to leave now.”
Sophie squinted. “Wait, Social services is supposed to come pick him up.” She looked back and forth from the doctor’s confused face to the Lucas’.
“Well they only do that for minors.” The doctor left, looking at her as if she was mentally retarded.
“Sophie…” Lucas began, his brow gathered. “How old do you think I am?”
“Sixteen…maybe seventeen?”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“What…? You…don’t look it.” She was stunned. Seventeen had been a stretch. Despite his height, he looked like he could have still been in elementary school!
He just nodded. “I look young for my age, but…my face is swollen and I guess I look even younger. I’m sorry,” he apologized for some unfathomable reason.
Sophie studied him. He was lanky in the sweats and his long black hair swept his collar which also aided in the illusion of youth. His posture indicated how uncomfortable her scrutiny made him.
“We should go.” He nodded and followed, leaving her in charge. In the car he moved the soiled newspaper that she had placed on the seat to keep it clean. He threw it into the trash bin distastefully and sat down carefully.
“Are you okay?” She asked when he was settled. He nodded while buckling himself in. “Let’s get some lunch. I don’t know about you but I’m starving.” He nodded once.
Sophie drove to a nearby sandwich shop that served double deckers and breakfast all day. It was a hole in the wall, but sometimes holes served the best food.
They grabbed a booth. Sophie thought it would be easier for him to sit since it was cushioned. They quietly looked at the menu. “Lucas?”
He looked at her.
“You live on the streets?”
“Sometimes I stay at a pay per night motel, but I’m homeless right now.” Being homeless without his id would be hard. It would make everything so much harder, from getting a room to getting things from the free store. Sophie was talking again and he focused on what she was saying.
“How…long?”
“About a year.”
She watched him. “What happened?” A waitress came by and took their drink order. Sophie asked for iced tea, Lucas just wanted water.
He cleared his throat. “It’s…kind of a long story.”
“Do you got anyplace to be?”
He shook his head. “No, Sophie.”
“Me, either.”
He gave her a curious look. “Your boss won’t wonder why you’re not at work?”
“I’m a writer. I’m my own boss.”
“Wow, a writer? You have books published and everything?” His voice seemed more lively than she’d heard it thus far.
“Four, actually.”
“What do you write?” He asked, enthusiastically.
“Romances; in the interracial genre.”
“I’d like to read your books.” He was an avid reader. There hadn’t been much else to do in his free time when he’d been back home, and he had developed a love for the written word. Pawpaw and Granny never had cable or internet so he was a frequent visitor to his local library. He never read much romance, other than the classics. But he loved Stephen King, Dean Koontz and John Grisham. He never got into the fantasy tales of vampires and werewolves but had read several books in that genre that he liked. He didn’t think he’d ever read a book about being in an interracial relationship, though. But he had read books written by black authors such as James Baldwin and Alice Walker.