“But how did you make your way here?” I didn’t let up. It was a grave thing, him being in jail. I couldn’t begin to get my mind around it. “How’d you come to this place? And how did you land—” I pointed to the ceiling—“up there?”
He managed to smile. “You’re very tough, Cora. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a detective.”
I started to object, but he held his hand up. “No, no. I’m glad to have the opportunity to explain myself. I want to clear up any doubts in your mind. But I’m sure you realize it’s painful for me.”
“Yes, I can see that, and I feel bad for prying.” It was no time to be polite. He’d earned himself a good grilling.
He nodded. “Before long, she took off with everything. She stopped paying the tab for where I was living. I had nothing, nowhere to go. I had a friend here in San Diego, so I got on the bus and came out. Things didn’t work out as I planned, and I agreed to move in here. It’s only temporary, though. Until things get straightened out.”
I studied him. He looked right back at me. “Yeah, and how’s that supposed to happen?” I asked. “You said you had a fair amount of money. You let on that if you got out of here you’d have enough to operate on.”
“Ah, that’s the second part of the story,” he said, brightening up. “My sister passed on and my nephew Nick took the reins. He realizes that what his mother did was wrong. Unlike her, he has a conscience. Sure, he wants a share, but right now he’s cooperating with my lawyer to restore at least part of what I had. We’ve made a lot of progress. I’m getting very close to having my independence again.”
“You telling the truth?”
He smiled and raised his right hand, like a swearing-in.
“Funny, that’s a lot like what happened to me,” I said.
“That’s why my heart went out to you when you told me your story. I thought we were two of a kind.”
“But why didn’t you say anything? If you knew that we’d both gotten stabbed in the backs by our own families, why not tell me?”
“I’ve had a hard time trusting anyone since then. You never know what people are capable of.”
“Amen to that.” I paused. This was the hardest conversation the two of us had ever had. I felt warm and cold by turns. “Do you trust me?” I ventured.
His face opened up. He edged a little closer. “I’m starting to, Cora. I’m starting to. And you don’t know how wonderful it feels.” He gave me a sly look. “And how about you? Do you trust me?”
“Well, that’s a real good question, Vitus.” I thought a little bit. “It’s hard to know who to trust when those closest to you sold you down the river. Being in this place, too. Every time you turn around somebody steals you blind. But I don’t want to be like that, Vitus. I want to trust at least one person in this world.”
Vitus took my hand. A warm current flowed between us. We were both in the same boat. Our talk had brought us closer.
“Listen here, Vitus. I’m willing to take a chance on you. I own my house outright and I got money in the bank. About twenty thousand dollars last time I looked. If I can figure out a way out of this damn place, we can go live there. You and I could set up housekeeping and have the time of our lives.”
Was I really saying such a thing? I had to pinch myself. I felt like I was living in a fairy tale.
“Oh, no, Cora. I wouldn’t think of it.”
“Well, my God. Why the hell not?”
He pressed his lips together and shook his head. I pulled my hand away.
“Cora, that’s where you lived with your husband. You have so many memories there. I wouldn’t feel right moving in.”
“Vitus, that is my home and will always be my home. My home. It’s all I dream about. When I imagine getting out of this place, it’s always so I can be back there.”
“But Cora. We could get a new place. A place of our own, where we could start fresh. Soon as my money comes in, I can buy it. I can buy anything we want.” He winked and squeezed my knee. “Within reason, of course.”
“But why look for something else when I already got everything we need. Why spend the money? Why spend the time?”
Vitus stroked his chin. “You wouldn’t feel funny living with me in the same house where you lived with your husband?”
“We’ll clear everything out, repaint, get all new furniture and carpet—everything. It’ll be different. It won’t seem the same.”
Vitus nodded. You could tell he was thinking real hard. “Okay. I see you have a point. Well, let’s think about it. We’ll see what happens. Everything will turn out all right.”
“We can stay up late and watch TV,” I said. “On Sundays I’ll cook a big egg and bacon breakfast and we can read the paper. I want to get sheer drapes that go all the way to the floor and two new recliners. You can pick your own. And butter-colored walls in the living room. I’ve always wanted that.”
“I like to garden,” Vitus said. “Is there a place where I can work in the yard?”
“Is there ever! You can root around in the dirt to your heart’s content.”
I never felt so giddy in my life, even when I got married at seventeen years old. Especially when I got married.
“And I’ll cook for you, Cora. Not to brag, but I’m a gourmet.”
I wondered about getting married, but I didn’t bring it up. I used to have fits about my grandkids living together with this one and that one and never getting married, but it’s different for me. I’m old, and it’s not like I’ll be having more kids. Plus things are different nowadays. Everybody’s talking about men marrying men and women marrying women and before you know it, people will be able to marry a damn goat if they want to, or a fire hydrant. So maybe it don’t matter so much. After what I been through, it’s the least of my worries.
“Now we just have to hammer out the details,” Vitus said. “We need to figure out a way around your family so we can get you out of here.” He looked off into the distance. “There are so many places I want to take you, Woozy. So many things I want you to see.”
I was overcome, I don’t mind saying it. Life welled up inside me just as strong as when I was twenty years old. “I love you, Vitus,” I cried. “I love you like life itself.”
“I love you, too, my darling.” He raised my hand and kissed it. Not the back, but the palm. “We’ll take them all by surprise, before they have a chance to get in our way.” He moved closer and whispered in my ear. “It’s now or never, Woozy. There’s nothing to stop us.” He pressed my hand between the two of his. “I’ve been looking for you all my life. I have to grab you fast, before somebody else does.”
THE CULPRIT
I’m still trying to take in everything Vitus told me. Part of me thinks he got a bum rap and was swindled by his sister just the way I was swindled by my kids. The other part wonders if Glenda was right when she said there’s something amiss with him. One thing’s sure—I got feelings for that man, strong feelings. I’m in a real quandary. I didn’t tell nobody, and I don’t mean to. I’m inclined to feel that the past is the past. Everybody deserves a second chance.
But there’s more big news. Speaking of jail, there’s someone here who belongs there, certain as can be. Things are happening so fast, I feel like I’m in a speeded-up movie. I better get to telling before some new hell breaks loose.
Remember that crazy Mrs. Cipriano, who looks like a spider monkey? She weighs all of eighty pounds and has big bright eyes and bushy brown hair sprouting all the way around her mouth. She’s fit as a fiddle, always scurrying and hopping like a sprite. I don’t know if she dyes her hair, but it’s still black, which makes her sunk-in face all the scarier. The fingers on her tiny paws are quick and sharp, made for getting into trouble. I don’t know who buys her clothes, but she wears stretch pants about five sizes too big. They bag down around her knees like she just dumped a load in them.
The poor little coot
is completely off her rocker.
Well, she’s always been nosy about this book. If she ever sees me outside writing in it, she scampers over and watches with her glittery black eyes. She’s so fast and nervous, I’m afraid she’s going to reach out and snatch something, or jump on my shoulder like a squirrel. I always try to shoo her away, and like as not she’s gone as fast as she appeared.
This afternoon I lay down for my nap around 3:00 or 3:30, like I usually do. I drifted off no more than fifteen minutes when my eyes flew open and there, not two feet from my bed, was that little spider monkey. She scared the living tar out of me! My heart jumped out of my chest and my legs gave a kick. She stood there at the dresser with her thin little back to me, her scrawny shoulder blades holding her shirt out like wings. The crotch of those stretchy pants hung to her knees. She was busy with something, her arms moving, but I couldn’t see her hands or face.
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath ‘til I let out a big gasp. She whirled around, those huge crazy eyes of hers sparking fire. She clutched my fountain pen in one paw and the three quarters I’d left as bait in the other.
“Those are mine!” I yelled. “You put them right back!”
She’s teeny, but I’m scared of her the same way I’m scared of a mouse running up my leg. She looks like she might bite, or scratch out your eyes. The bottlebrush around her mouth twitched. “Disiss my pen,” she growled, holding it up in her paw. “You stold it.”
I scooted to the edge of the bed and put my feet on the floor. “That’s mine!” I hollered. “You are all mixed up! Put them back right now and get out of my room! You got no right to be in here in the first place!”
She cocked back her hand like she was going to stab me with the pen. The bristle around her mouth split open and showed her little pointed teeth. “Mine!” she hissed, so fierce that I drew back. She’d scare the piss out of anybody.
I glanced over at the sliding glass door and saw it was open about a hand’s width, enough to let that little weasel in. I must have forgotten to lock it before I laid down, and now I was in a fix. “This has gone far enough!” I screeched as I dragged myself to my feet. I stood up, and she changed her tune. Her nose came about to my belly button. The fire in her eyes turned to fear.
“Gimme that right now! Hand them over and get the hell out of here, or you’ll be sorry!”
I managed to grab the pen out of her hand, but that varmint ducked and dodged and before you could spit she’d shot across the room and shimmied out the door with the quarters. I stumbled after her, yelling for her to stop, but by the time I got to the door there wasn’t hide nor hair of her left.
“Help!” I yelled out into the courtyard. “I been robbed!”
I kept the racket up ‘til one of the nurses came down from the station. I stood right there and told her word for word just what happened.
WEIGHING IN
You seen those ads in the magazines? Before and after? They got some lard-ass whale standing there in shorts with her blubbery thighs rippling and her gut sticking out and tits flopping over her knees? Her hair looks like she’s been through a cyclone and she’s scowling like her cat just got ran over. Next to it is a picture of some little tiny thing in tight pants with a butt no bigger than a cupcake, boobs riding up under her chin, and stomach flat as a board. You couldn’t pinch an inch anywhere. Her hair and makeup’s all done up and she’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Who wouldn’t be, looking like that? You can’t believe those two pictures are the same person.
That’s me.
“Big day today,” Marcos said when he came in to take my vitals and give me my hookah. “It’s time for your six-month checkup.”
“Six months from what? I been in this crapshack nine months.”
“Six months from your last checkup, Coralita. You were so bad back then you probably don’t remember. Come on, you’ve got an appointment down the hall with Dr. Kildare.”
I didn’t want to go but Marcos insisted. It was his job to take me. “It’s nothing, señora. Five minutes. You know that doctor—the less he sees of you, the happier he is. Come on. I will be your escort.”
“You want to smoke first?” I asked.
He still had that hunted look, like something was bothering him. His hair was flat on one side, something he’d never have allowed before. He gave me the once-over. You could tell he wanted that cigarette. I was practically reaching for my pack when he sucked his teeth, then shook his head. “No. I can’t do it, Cora.”
“Well, why not?”
He put his hands on his hips. “Number one, it’s against the rules. Number two, I don’t have time.”
I clucked my tongue. “Never stopped you before.”
“Times have changed. Things are not as they used to be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
For a minute I thought he was going to spill the beans right there. I saw him think about it, and my tongue was already out, ready to lap it up. Just as quick, he changed his mind. “I’m in a hurry,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Usually, I’d walk, but since Marcos was in such a damn rush, I let him push me in the wheelchair.
“How’s your loverboy?” I said once we were rolling.
“He moved out.”
I turned around and looked up at him. From that angle, I saw right up his big nose holes, which opened and closed like fish gills from pushing me down the hall. The smell of his cologne rained down on me. He looked straight ahead, no expression on his face.
“How come?”
“Where are your manners, Cora?”
“I left them at home when they dragged me to this dungeon. Soon as I’m back there I’ll be nice as pie.”
He finally laughed. “Somehow I don’t think so.”
I laughed, too. “I just believe in speaking truth. So what happened? That boy doesn’t deserve you, pretty as he is.”
“Oh, Cora,” he sighed. “I gave him everything he wanted. All he had to do was ask. Paid for everything. Took care of him. Still, it wasn’t enough.”
“Why don’t you get you a nice girl? A real wife, not somebody who lives in France.”
He’d just started in scolding me when who should come down the hall but that crazy little spider monkey. She capered and hopped. You half expected her to scale the wall, or jump up and hang from the lights by her tail. Lo and behold, when she got even with us she screeched and darted toward me like she was going to scratch my eyes out with her tiny paws.
I yelped. Thank God Marcos was there. He grabbed her arm, spun her around, and led her off toward the nurses’ station. Damned if she didn’t crank her neck around and make a face at me from the end of the hall.
“Close call,” he said when he came back.
“She’s the one, Marcos! She’s the one that’s been stealing!”
The wheelchair stopped. Marcos came around to the front and bent down in my face. He’d gone pale. “What are you talking about, Cora? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I caught her red-handed! I’m saying she’s the one that took my quarters and my crystal and my twenties! I woke up from a nap and there she was not two feet away with her paws shit deep in my things! What are you staring at?”
“Are you sure, Cora? Did you really see her?”
“Of course I saw her! Do you think I’ve gone round the bend? What in the world are you asking me for? I told you exactly what happened.”
A few droolers parked in the hall to air out turned their heads and stared.
“What’s gotten into you?” I asked. “You looked like you seen a ghost.”
Marcos went around to the back and started pushing me way too fast.
“Slow the hell down,” I called back. “I’m getting whiplash.”
An old lady on a walker inched toward us. A glacier would have beat her down that hall.
“Why are you so surprised?�
� I asked to break the silence. “You act like you don’t believe me.”
“I’m glad you caught her in the act. What happened? What did you do?”
“I yelled enough to wake the dead, then I told the aide who came to see what happened. I expect they’ll follow up on it. Call the police or bring her in for questioning. Search her room, maybe. Get her to confess.”
Marcos sucked his teeth. I couldn’t for the life of me figure him out.
“Park here a minute,” I said when we came to the room where Ivy and those other old bags did their exercises. The door was open. “Let’s take in the sights.”
They were all standing on their tiptoes, reaching for the stars. So much sagging flesh and gnarled bones you never saw in all your born days.
“Looks like a rack of beef jerky hung out to dry,” I whispered to Marcos. He had to wheel me away quick to keep from attracting attention.
The doctor was waiting for us. He is one cold fish. Gray hair and skin to match, little wire-rim glasses. Sour. Not an ounce of flesh on his bones. He didn’t crack a smile when we came in. Without any warning, he reached out with those bony fingers and started probing in my neck. The stethoscope was toasty compared to his fingers.
Marcos stood in the corner like a schoolboy being punished. I never seen him so quiet or so still. I kept my eyes locked on his while the doctor did all the usual things—took my blood pressure and my temperature, looked in my ears and down my throat, thumped me on the back and made me cough a thousand times. I could have been a mattress the way he handled me. Finally, he closed the damn folder and motioned me over to the scale.
Marcos weighs me on one of those newfangled things where your exact weight shows up in numbers. But that doctor had the old-fashioned kind with weights you slide along the bars. I slipped off my shoes and made a face at Marcos like I tasted something nasty. The doctor started fiddling with the weights, bumping them past the little notches, fussing and adjusting until I was ready to jump out of my skin. I was ashamed to have that bone of a man see I weighed more than two of him.
Breaking Out of Bedlam Page 19