Crowam 281

by Frank Nunez

  I felt awful after our last meeting. I wasn’t sure if she would want to talk to me again after my defeated attempt at asking her out. Hannah seemed preoccupied, one who took her job very seriously, and didn’t have time to fraternize with disenfranchised boys, especially those who haven’t seen the female anatomy in the flesh. Hannah seemed like that type of girl I could fall in love with. Again, I felt like a hypocrite. But I suppose we are all hypocrites. Hannah presented unique qualities that could be summed up in one word: maturity. A concept I hadn’t grasped at the time. I decided after breakfast I would sneak in and see her again. At the very least, I wanted to apologize for how rude I was with her last time. I was looking forward to talking to her, even she if berated me again, I would have appreciated it because I was actually important enough for her to berate in the first place.

  As I walked towards the nurse’s office, I heard a commotion coming from the office. The office door was closed which was odd, since it’s usually open during day hours. I heard a muffled drone from inside. I opened the door. A guard was behind Hannah, touching her backside while attempting to unbutton her blouse. She shoved him back with authority as she continued to organize her medicine cabinet. “Come on now, don’t be angry,” the guard said.

  “Stop it,” Hannah said.

  “You see, I don’t think you want me to stop.”

  “Yes I do. Don’t you see that I’m working.”

  “There’s plenty of time for work.”

  “I’m not going to ask you again.”

  The guard grabbed her forcefully by the shoulders. “Is that a threat.” I closed the door behind me. The thud of the door closing alerted both of them to my presence. I looked at the guard with what I thought was a menacing scowl, but the guard either scoffed it off or didn’t bother to notice. “What do you want? Get out of here, if you’re sick she’ll be available later.

  “Let her go.” I said.

  The guard did let her go. This time his attention entirely focused on me. The guard was an average build with a five o’clock shadow and hairy forearms. Intimidating looking and breathed savagery. He had several scars; perhaps from women he was having his way. “What did you say?”

  About a minute into our lovely conversation, I wondered how my arm was going to be broken. Was it going to snap instantly like a twig, or were the tendons in my arms going rip one by one until the bone would just give out. The guard had firm grip on me. The pain in my right arm intensified as he continued to apply pressure with the use of his hairy forearms. I thought to myself, “at least I have another excuse to see Hannah. I felt the bone about to go before he loosened his grip. I wasn’t sure why until I noticed the scalpel pressed firmly against the guard’s throat. I never realized how pretty Hannah’s hands were. They looked delicate, the skin supple and smooth, her fingers thin but held the scalpel with ease and precision.

  “Let him go,” Hannah said.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he said.

  Hannah pressed the scalpel deeper into his neck.

  “I forgot to mention, I am very skilled with a scalpel. With just a little more pressure your artery will burst, and you’ll be squirming in the floor like a pig until you bleed to death or you drown in your own blood, whichever comes first. Now, be a good little boy and let him go.”

  The guard released his grip. I thought my arm was going to fall off. The pain was excruciating. I wasn’t sure if he might’ve have actually broken my arm. I was able to move it, so it seemed that wasn’t the case.

  “Alright, I let him go, “the guard said.

  Hannah didn’t flinch, with the scalpel still pressed firmly against the guard’s neck. It seemed for a moment she actually enjoyed holding that scalpel against his adams apple. Finally, she let him go. The guard rubbed his neck. “You little whore. I’m going to report you to Mr. Hugo.”

  “Really, and tell him what?” The guard said nothing.

  “Perhaps I can go tell Mr.Hugo about your feeble attempt at molesting me. I’m sure that will go over real well considering my position here.”

  “He won’t believe you,” the guard said.

  “Really? Who do you think he’s going to believe. A nurse, or some lummox of a guard with an IQ of eighty. I did read your report.”

  “You could have killed me!”

  “I think this going back and forth is getting rather old. Goodbye.”

  The guard looked around the room in confusion. He left the office without bothering to close the door. Hannah locked the door behind him.

  “Are you alright?” She asked.

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I said.

  Hannah took my arm and examined the bruise.

  “Look what the brute did to you.”

  “Hurts like hell.”

  “Have a seat. Let me take a look at it.”

  I sat on the examining table. Her gentle hands, the ones that held the scalpel, massaged the tendons on my arm. The pain subsided with every touch.

  “ It doesn’t appear to be broken. Once again, Mr. Hudson, I think you will live to see another day. You must have nine lives.”

  “Sure. Are you ok?”

  Hannah leaned against the cabinet behind her. “I suppose a thank you is in order.”

  “I could say the same thing.”

  “Thank you,” Hannah said.

  “No need thanking me. Besides, you didn’t need my help. From what I saw, you seem to know how to handle yourself.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why did you come back here?”

  “To be honest, I came to apologize for how forward I was with you the other day.”

  “Perhaps I should be apologizing. I wasn’t very nice to you. You were just being sweet. And if I may be honest with you, that was first time anybody has ever done anything like that for me before.”

  “What, ask you out.”

  “No silly. How you handled yourself with the guard.”

  “I didn’t handle myself at all. You did all the handling.”

  “It was the thought Jake.”

  “Well, don’t mention it.”

  I hopped off the examining table. My arm felt better. Still a little sore, but I would survive.

  “What’s going to happen now?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. Mr. Hugo doesn’t think very highly of the guards, especially that one. He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

  “Mr. Hugo doesn’t think to highly of anybody,” I said to myself. But I was going to take Hannah’s word for it. I approached the door, using good arm turn the doorknob.

  “Jake.”

  “Yes?”

  “What are your plans for the evening?”

  I thought that was a strange question. It’s not like I was going to a fest on Lamb in one of London’s downtown eatery’s that were good at having customers spend an exorbitant amount of dollars. I believe it was Wednesday, which I meant I had a date with Thomas in the kitchen scrubbing foul smelling brown stuff off the pots and pans.

  “Pots and pans,” I said.

  “Oh,” Hannah said disappointed.

  “How about you?” I asked.

  “Just catch up on some paperwork. That’s all.”

  “Right.”

  There was awkward silence. I found it interesting how silence between two people could be awkward. The necessity to say something just for the sake of it seemed to make the eloquence of conversation much more generic. I took it as two people who were discovering each other’s nuances.

  “Would you like to meet with me tonight?” Hannah asked.

  “I thought you don’t fraternize with your patients.”

  “It’s a follow up appointment. I want to see if your wounds have healed.”

  “Since we last met, my ego was bruised. But I think it’s coming along nicely now.”

  Her smile was just as attractive as her eyes. She appreciated the joke as if she never heard a joke before.

  “What time
will you be done with pots and pans?”

  “Nine I think.”

  “Ok. Meet me here at nine thirty.”

  “I will.”

  “Try not to get into anymore trouble.” She said, as I was about to leave.

  “Well, that just wouldn’t be any fun now would it.”

  I gave a sly wink and left.

  Chapter 16

  We finished pots and pans early. Thomas was asleep. The hallway was desolate, eerie, too quiet for comfort. The guard in the hallway was fast asleep again. The damn fool! The silence in the hallway broke, startling me out of my damn socks. "What are you doing?" Charles asked.

  "Would you lower your voice?" I said.

  "Sorry," Charles whispered. "Where are you going? Nobody is meeting downstairs tonight."

  "I have a date."

  "A date?" Charles was puzzled. "With who?" He asked.

  "Winston Churchill. Go back to sleep will you."

  "Not until you tell me who you're going on a date with."

  "A princess, Charley. A damn princess."

  "How are her bosoms?"

  "Go to sleep."

  Charlie was starting to get on my nerves. I left him and snuck past the sleeping guard. A bit of droll dribbled down his chin. I felt the urge to kick the stool he was sleeping on. I could have gotten away with it too. It was so dark, I could have hidden in the corner or ran back to my room and he would have never noticed.

  After sneaking past the guard, I went down another corridor, quietly moving my way back to the nurse’s office where Hannah told me to meet her. I looked down another hallway to make sure the coast was clear. As I entered the hallway, a guard emerged from the darkness. A dim light from the ceiling exposed the guard, who was too curious for comfort. I snuck behind the corner, hoping he wouldn't see me. I couldn’t determine if he suspected my presence. I heard his footsteps methodically making his way toward my corner. I stood frozen in my little hiding in the shadows.

  His footsteps became louder. The clanging of his keys chimed like a chorus. Suddenly, the footsteps and the clanging stopped. His breathing was all I could hear. I wondered if he could hear mine. I heard the footsteps and the clanging again. They became distant, fading away this time until they were no longer audible.

  I checked the corridor only to see the back of the guard as he disappeared into the inner workings of Crowam. I darted as quickly as I could down the corridor, again checking for any guards.

  I found the nurse’s office. I twisted the doorknob. It creaked loud enough to wake the dead. I quickly went inside the office and shut the door, hoping a guard didn't hear the door shut. The office was dark, making it hard to see. I couldn't find the light switch. "Hannah?" I whispered. "Where are you?"

  "Over here," she whispered.

  The darkness began to irritate me. "I still can't see you." I found the examination room. A ghostly figure stood in front of the examination table. It frightened me at first. "Hannah, is that you?"

  "Of course, it's me."

  I found a night lamp on a table next to the doorway. I flipped the switch. The light from the lamp complementing her smirk and blue eyes. "Why did you have all the lights off?"

  "I'm sorry. I like the dark. Did I scare you?"

  "Of course not."

  "Good. You seem like a brave boy."

  "Boy?”

  " I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you. It was just a figure of speech.”

  "That's ok. I know all about ‘figure of speech.”

  "How do you like my dress?" She did a quick twirl, showing off her dress.

  "You look amazing in it," I said.

  "Thank you. I knew you would love it. I wore it just for you."

  "You picked a fine dress."

  "You're so sweet. And I must say you look splendid yourself."

  "Thank you.'

  "Wonderful. We both look fine then."

  "So, what now?"

  "Ah, yes. I want to show you something."

  "What do you want to show me?"

  "You'll see." Hannah smiled.

  There was a back door in the nurse's office. The door led to a small passageway that lead up to a large attic. The stairway was old and rickety, with cobwebs cascading throughout the space of the stairway. We made it to the attic.

  It was musty and old. The wood flooring was frail. It felt as though you were going to fall through it. "An attic?" I asked.

  "I discovered it a year ago. It's mostly used for storage. I come here whenever I want some privacy. It’s so peaceful here at night."

  Old desks, chairs, and chalkboards were scattered throughout the attic along with their own cobwebs. At the end of the attic was a window overlooking the meadow outside, cast aglow by the moon. A little table was set up beside the window. A bottle of wine with two glasses were set on the table.

  "What's this?" I asked.

  "Isn't it lovely? I thought you would like it."

  We both sat down. I admired the view outside. She lit a candle, casting an amber glow around us. "I hope you like wine," she asked.

  "Sure I do." Although honestly, I’d never had the stuff. I felt bad lying to her. I tried being all "cultured and sophisticated." I picked up the bottle. The label had nearly worn off. The date was all that was legible. "1940, eh?"

  "I found it in the basement of my childhood home in London. I knew it was special when I first laid eyes on it. I wanted to drink it, but it's not very ladylike to drink a bottle of wine by yourself. So I decided I would save it for a special occasion."

  "I'm flattered our first date is such an occasion," I said.

  "It's our first date, isn't it? I hope you don't find this strange, but it seems as though I have always known you."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. It's as though we knew each in another life. Oh, look at me, talking such foolish nonsense."

  "I don't think it's nonsense."

  "It’s amazing how two people can meet in, well, in such odd circumstances."

  "Yes, it seems every time we meet I’m on the verge of death." I joked.

  Hannah turned serious for a moment. She didn’t find my remark amusing.

  "That’s not funny Jake.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s a joke.”

  “Death isn’t something to joke around about Jake.”

  “Sorry. Death isn’t exactly a good ice breaker I must confess.”

  Her smile returned, but for some reason she didn’t want to leave the subject of death, justifying her previous demeanor.

  “My little brother died of tuberculosis when he was very young. He would have been twelve by now. My parents always thought he was going to be a gymnast. At a year old he would climb out of his crib with such ease. When he was older I would take him to the park. He loved climbing on monkey bars and doing flips. He was also smart, very smart.

  “How old was he when he died?”

  “Seven.”

  “What was his name?” I asked.

  “Rupert.”

  “He must have been a really good kid.”

  “Yes, yes he was.”

  “And what about your parents?”

  “I left after Rupert died. My parents, they were indifferent about my brother and I as if we were some sort of bother. My father was a lawyer; he wasn’t home very often. He took his work very seriously, but somehow he had time for a mistress. My mother always suspicions until he eventually told her. She became an alcoholic. I don’t seem them very much anymore.”

  I could tell Hannah didn’t have very many people to talk to. She had these pent emotions and no one to confess them to. The mood was somber, but her smile changed the mood quickly, as she laughed at her self on the account of her confession.

  "Look at me again babbling on like I’m some sort of bleeding heart. I must be driving you mad."

  “Not at all. I like talking to you.”

  "Oh stop. Well, enough with the nonsense. Let us drink this lovely wine."

  I popped the cork. I poured the red win
e in both of our glasses. I went to take a swig. "What are you doing?" Hannah asked.

  "Am I doing something wrong?"

  "You're supposed to let the wine breath. Let it sit in your glass for a bit."

  "Why?"

  "It helps you appreciate the flavor of the wine."

  "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't spoil the mood."

  "Not at all. You're good company. The mood couldn't be any more perfect." After a few minutes Hannah picked up the glass and swirled the wine. It swished back and forth like a microcosm of a violent ocean storm. She took a deep breath to take in the aroma and took a sip. She grinned with delight. "Umm, it's wonderful. You try."

  I picked up the glass and swirled the red wine. Some of it spilled out of the glass and splashed on the table. I was embarrassed. I was thinking that I was really making a fool of myself. I swirled it a bit more, this time not spilling any of the contents. I took a sniff and drank some of the wine, and it was good. Very good, in fact. It wasn’t as bitter as I thought it would be. It was fruity and sweet with the alcohol gentle and not overly intoxicating.

  "You like it, don't you?" Hannah asked.

  "I do actually,” I replied.

  "Oh I'm so glad. What wonderful wine."

  "This could very well be the finest wine in all of Europe," I said.

  "To the finest wine in Europe." We raised our glasses for a toast. Our glasses chimed with the slight touch. We finished our wine, savoring each sip. Her lips were red from the wine. They were plump and delightful, moistened. She puckered her lip after her last sip in a sensual sort of way.

  "You know still haven’t told me?"

  "About what?" she asked.

  "What a girl like you is doing in a place like this."

  "Does it matter?"

  "You have me curious."

  "Curiosity kills the cat.”

  "I’m being serious. I would just like to know that’s all."

  "Oh, Jake. We are having such a wonderful evening. Let us not spoil it with such trivial matters. Tell me, do you like to dance?"