by Frank Nunez
“Why do you care about what happens to me? You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You’re a good man Jake. Besides, you understand me. I enjoy talking with you. I don’t get the chance to talk with many people these days..”
She finished working on my face. “Jake?”
“Yes?”
“Can I see you tonight?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“I feel a little under the weather. Tell you the truth, I feel like a truck ran over me.”
“I understand if you don’t want to see me tonight after your ordeal. But I feel it’s been ages since I last saw you. I want to see you. Will you reconsider? I am a nurse, after all. I can nurse you back to health. Look at tonight as a checkup.”
“Is that doctor’s orders?”
Her smile was seductive and cunning. “Yes it is, Jake.” I left Hannah’s office, still feeling nauseous.
After pots and pans duty, I freshened up and went to meet Hannah. I wasn’t feeling nauseous anymore, but the left side of my face still hurt. I snuck past the guards again and made it to the nurse’s office.
The door was already open. I discreetly closed the door. The office was dark again. “Hannah?” I whispered.
No one answered. I turned on the office light, thinking I would find Hannah standing there. She wasn’t. I looked around for her, whispering her name. Nothing. I noticed the door that led to the attic was already open. “You must be upstairs,” I said to myself.
The wood steps beneath my feet creaked as I made my way upstairs. There was an ambient orange glow at the top of the stairs. When I reached the attic, Hannah was standing near the wooden table. The bottle of wine half finished, reflecting the wood of the table on its sides.
Her hair was wavy. I could smell her perfume from where I stood. She wore the same dress as before, but every time she wore it was like the first time. “Come here, Jake,” she said.
I walked to her, my heart beating relentlessly. We stared at each other. I held her close, my hands caressing her back. We kissed, slowly at first, then passionately and deep. I could taste her wet lips. She pressed herself against me. Her body was firm, I lusted for her more with every kiss.
I kissed her behind her neck, her breath intensified as I made my way down her exposed cleavage. I pressed her against me as firmly as I could. I kissed her breasts, her chest heaving with excitement. I kissed and caressed them. Her moaning aroused me, encouraging me for more. I unbuttoned her dress. I was having difficulty with each button, my fingers fumbled. I had no idea what I was doing.
She stepped back and took off her dress, sliding it right off to the floor. She was left only wearing blue panties and stockings. It was the first time I ever saw a naked woman before, unless nudie magazines counted.
I was overwrought by seeing her naked, her sexuality ignited my youth and vigor. “Take these off of me,” she asked.
I came to her. I slid her panties off. I took off my clothes. Both of us stood there naked. We began kissing again. I felt myself trembling a bit. I knew she felt it.
“What’s wrong?” Hannah asked.
“Nothing.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Well.”
“What is it? Tell me.”
“This is my first time.”
Hannah grinned, rubbing her hands on my chest. “I’m your first time?”
“Yes.”
“Are you nervous?”
“A little.” At that moment, I never felt so vulnerable in my entire life. I wasn’t holding anything back, but it felt right with Hannah. We held each other in our arms. We kissed again, as passionately as before. We made love that night, holding nothing back. For a moment, we left the troubles of Crowam behind us.
Chapter 18
It was nighttime, pitch black. It almost seemed like I was in outer space or some empty void that lead to nowhere. I felt dizzy, unsure of where I was even standing. I felt a strange sensation like I was falling into an abyss.
The falling sensation stopped. I stood on a flat surface. In the distance, I could hear chanting. The chants primitive and raw and mundane. I saw a light in the distance that grew larger, as if it was moving towards me. I could begin to make out the light. It was a fire. The wood sticks thick and coarse burned and encouraged the blaze. Dancing around the fire were these figures whose faces were blanketed by the shadows and peculiar aura of the surrounding space. It appeared to be a ceremony or celebration of sorts. What they were celebrating wasn’t decipherable from my vantage point.
Near the fire stood a figure taller than the rest. His face was horrid, his eyes dark, his face spelled inexplicable evil. He stood awkwardly, as if he was on stilts, conducting the ceremony and played host to the occasion. I got close enough to witness the full ceremony. I didn’t recognize the faces, but there were boys, dancing around the fire, chanting unspeakable things that felt demonic in nature. I felt terrified for my life. I wanted to leave but couldn’t.
The tall figure looked at me and smiled with blackened teeth. Its faced morphed into Mr. Hugo’s. From behind him, Hannah emerged naked. The chants grew louder. I suddenly found myself naked. Hannah and I kissed. Our bodies were pressed against one another. We kissed intensely, but it wasn’t the same kind of passion we felt in the attic of Crowam. This was something sinister and wrong.
In the middle of the fire, a figure was tied to a post. The smell of burning flesh stung my nostrils. I shoved Hannah, shocked by what I saw. I saw myself on that post, my face burned, my skin melting. The odor of burning flesh hurt my eyes.
The chants intensified. The boys surrounded me. I screamed as loud as I could, but it only delighted them further. Suddenly, a hand grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me out of the horrid scene.
“Jake!” the voice echoed. I opened my eyes to find Thomas hunched over me. “Jake, are you alright?”
I found myself in my bed and a pool of sweat. I breathed like I just ran a marathon. “Christ, it was a dream,” I said.
“That must have been quite the dream. Your scream woke me up.”
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
I sat trembling on the edge of the bed, still reeling from the dream.
“It’s alright now. It’s over,” Thomas said. His voice was soothing and reassuring.
“I never had a dream like that before.”
“What was the dream?”
“There was a fire with people dancing around it. I saw myself burning in the middle of the fire. I saw Mr. Hugo. He was some sort demon, Thomas. There was Hannah.”
“The nurse?”
“Yes. She was naked.”
“My. I never knew Dickens could bring about such a dream.”
“I don’t think Dickens could stir up such a dream.”
“You’ll be surprised at what your imagination can contrive.”
“What do you think the dream means?”
“It’s hard to say. Perhaps it’s a manifestation of your own fears. Fear of Mr. Hugo, of death, or perhaps of love itself.”
“Love of Hannah?”
“Perhaps. There could be a number of things you can interpret from the dream. But that’s neither here nor there. It’s best we tidy up the room. We have inspection in a few minutes.”
“Inspection?”
“Yes. I heard some of the guards across the hall while you were asleep. They examined Owen and Charles’s room first, so they were able to give me the heads-up.”
“Is this your first inspection?”
“It’ll be a first for both of us, I’m afraid.”
Thomas and I scrambled to clean the room as best we could. We made our beds and removed dirty clothes and other items from the floor. We even dusted the room so even the Queen would appreciate it. We heard a bang on the door.
“Open up. Inspection,” the voice yelled.
We opened the door. Two guards barged in, shoving Thomas aside.
One of the guards had a thick, curly mustache that twirled on the ends. “Alright, you bastards. I’m Captain Longwood. This is your routine room inspection. I expect this room to be spotless. Any sort of violation will count as a demerit. Three demerits and you’ll re-clean the entire room before another inspection. If you fail the second inspection, you will lose dormitory privileges until I feel you appreciate the value of a fine and clean dormitory. Is that understood?” Captain Longwood spoke with a fast and authoritative tone under a heavy British accent that almost sounded like Old English. Longwood was a drill instructor for the British army before he was discharged for insubordination. He had a habit of hitting subordinates for the most trivial of reasons, the most trivial when he nearly strangled an eighteen-year-old recruit to death for not cleaning his socks properly. He was a stickler for details, which would make these sorts of inspections all the more interesting.
Captain Longwood and the other guard meticulously inspected the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. “What’s this?” Longwood yelled, pointing at my bed.
“A bed, sir.” I said.
“Don’t you get smart with me you son of a bitch. What is this?” He grabbed a piece of lint, nearly sticking it in my nostril.
“Looks like lint, sir.”
“You’re absolutely right. This is lint, you filthy unappreciative bastard. Think it’s alright to leave the room like a pigsty, don’t you? Why, you’re just a regular little piggy leaving a mess in your bloody wake. Do you like to live in filth?”
“No sir.”
“No! Are you calling me a liar?”
“But sir?”
“But what? Are you objecting to my critique of your filthiness?”
“No, sir.”
“Oh, so I’m a liar now. You no good piece of excrement, I ought to put you in the hole till you lose your bloody mind. Demerit!”
The other guard handed me a pink slip. “Alright. Let us see what else we can find in this pigsty.”
Captain Longwood tore our room apart looking for so much as dust on a closet doorknob. I think we got seven demerits from dust alone. “What in bloody hell is this?” Captain Longwood picked up a copy of Hamlet from a stack of books underneath Thomas’s bed.
“It’s Hamlet, sir,” Thomas said.
“I can bloody well read, you no good piece of excrement. What are these books doing here?”
“Just for pleasure reading, sir.”
“Pleasure reading? Did you hear that, Boris? Pleasure reading. Why, we have ourselves an academic. I didn’t realize you were here to have any sort of pleasure.”
“Nobody said I couldn’t have them, sir,” Thomas said.
Captain Longwood raised his hand and slapped Thomas across the face. Thomas’s cheek turned red. The smack was loud and hard. “Don’t you talk back to me, you good for nothing piece of filth. I should rip you a new arsehole right here, right now. Then I’ll go ahead and burn these books of yours. Why I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Please sir. They’re all I have,” Thomas said.
“Why, they’re all you have?” Longwood pinched Thomas on his red cheek. “Isn’t that adorable. I bet you jackoff to these bloody books don’t you? You must get off on reading good old Hamlet. Shakespeare would be mighty proud.”
I could tell Thomas wanted to cry. He held it in all he could, but his tears started dripping down his cheeks.
“Why, you’re crying? You little girl, you’re crying!”
“Leave him alone will you? He hasn’t done anything.”
The man’s eyes grew red, resembling a gasket ready to explode. “Why you…”
“What’s the trouble here?” Mr. Hugo asked as he entered the room.
“Nothing, sir. Nothing we can’t handle,” Longwood said.
“I heard shouting. What is the trouble?”
“These two lads have seven demerits between them, sir. They’re being uncooperative, even threatening Boris and I for giving them demerits.”
“That’s a lie! We didn’t threaten anybody!” I yelled.
“Quiet!” Longwood yelled. Captain Longwood showed Mr. Hugo the copy of Hamlet. “They have books, sir!”
Mr. Hugo picked up the copy of Hamlet. “Are these yours?” Mr. Hugo asked Thomas.
“Yes they are.”
Mr. Hugo flipped through the book, stopping at a page. “‘Though this be madness, yet there is method in it,’” Mr. Hugo quoted and smiled. He shut the book and gave it to Thomas. “I see nothing wrong with educating oneself in the realm of great literature, Captain Longwood.”
“Yes, sir,” Longwood barked.
“Make sure they clean their room and let them be. Remember, they are our guests, let us treat them as such.”
“Yes, sir!” Captain Longwood barked again, like the good drill sergeant he was.
Captain Longwood kicked some of Thomas’s books back underneath his bed on his way out. Thomas picked up Hamlet again, holding the book against his chest.
“You alright?” I asked.
“I thought he was going to take them away from me.”
“What, your books?”
“Yes. I don’t know what I would have done without them.”
“Just don’t leave them hanging around. I hid Dickens in my shoebox.”
“Mr. Hugo seems not to mind my books,” Thomas said.
“I wouldn’t trust with what Mr. Hugo says.”
“Trust is a hard thing to come by these days.”
“You can trust me.”
“Yes, you are a good friend. A fine friend.”
Chapter 19
Hannah and I saw each other several times a week when I didn’t have to do pots and pans and Hannah was relieved of her nurse duties by early afternoon. Our meeting place was the attic, where we drank wine and made love on the solid attic floor. Hannah brought a blanket, but it still wasn’t enough to soften the hard floor. It was better than nothing, I suppose.
One night, Hannah brought me to a small balcony that overlooked the English countryside. The balcony was located in the northern part of Crowam, an unused section mainly reserved for storage. The balcony was small, but enough for both of us. The night was cool. The countryside remained barren due to the winter. It was cold. I held Hannah underneath our blanket. We admired the view from the balcony.
“This is nice isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Jake?”
“Yes?”
“What are you thinking about?”
I was caught off-guard by the question. The vagueness of it confounded me, yet reminded me how one can loose track of his own thoughts and how we don’t pay attention to the little details our minds gravitate to. I gave an honest answer. “I guess I’m thinking about what I am going to do when I leave this place.”
Hannah shoved me away and went to the corner of the balcony, leaning against the rail.
“What’s wrong?”
“I should have never asked you that.”
“What were you expecting me to say?”
“All you boys are the same.”
I went to Hannah and grabbed her hand. “Why don’t you come with me?”
“What?”
“When I leave, you can come with me. We can go back to America, to New York. I could show you a great time. Broadway shows, the Yankees, the food. Thomas said he would go. The three us. New York couldn’t handle us.”
Hannah appeared disturbed, offended by the suggestion. “Jake, I don’t think I would be able to go with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I have responsibilities here. I can’t just leave. This is my home.”
“Your home? Hannah, this isn’t a home. This is a prison, a prison for bastards.”
“Crowam may have its imperfections, but it does serve its purpose.”
“You’re full of it,” I said.
“I’m full of it? Look at you. Talking about going to America and living the so-called American dream. I�
��ve heard that song and dance before. It’s just for the movies.”
“Hannah, I want you to come with me.”
She stood alone at the edge of the balcony, gazing out into the night. “When my brother died, I left home because I couldn’t bare living there anymore. I was alone, frightened. But when Mr. Hugo found me, he took me in. Took care of me. Even paid for my education to become a nurse. He’s the closest thing I have to family. I wouldn’t feel right just leaving him. In a way, I owe him.”
“Hannah, you don’t owe him anything.”
“Perhaps, but I do believe in loyalty. If more people were loyal, you wouldn’t have so many boys without parents. Perhaps the war would have never happened if loyalty were more of a virtue. Maybe my parents would have actually given a damn about my brother and I.
“Hannah, come with me.”
She paused for a moment, looking out again into the wilderness. “Why don’t we just live in the present and forget about what may happen tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow will eventually come. You can’t ignore it.” I held her in my arms again as the night became colder.
Everybody has a routine. The routine at Crowam was getting old pretty fast. They woke us up, usually around 7:00am. We would have breakfast, exercise, attend classes, a break in the courtyard, dinner, house cleaning duties, then off to bed only to do the same thing the next day.
Crowam, well, was ordinary yet disturbing at the same time, like a creature you suspected was lurking in the shadows. Even if you’re unsure of its motives, you know it’s there. I grew tired of Crowam, of Mr. Hugo, the Bus Driver, and, at one point, the friends I made there. I would have given anything for some privacy, to be alone with my thoughts.
During one late afternoon, my desperation reached a new level. We went out for another run around the grounds of Crowam. I stayed behind the pack with Charles, Thomas, Owen, and Felix in front. I waited for an opportunity to make a break for it, to dash into the woods and escape this God forsaken place. I felt apprehensive, unsure of when to make the move. The guards were around us, moving around us to ensure we fall behind.
Ahead of us a boy named Danny Tomlin collapsed to the ground, falling to the floor like a stack of hay. I was surprised. He was in the best shape of all of us. The group gathered around him while the guards and the PE instructor aided the boy.