Mother Puncher

by Gina Ranalli

  It was at the cafeteria counter while he was waiting his turn that it came to him. “Laurel and Hardy,” he blurted, causing everyone to turn and give him curious stares. “Sorry,” he muttered, but inside he was smiling, proud of himself for remembering something that had happened so long before his time. He wondered which was the fat one? Hardy, he thought, though he had no idea if he was right or not.

  He returned to the nurse’s station and, when he didn’t immediately see Sandy, set the bagel on the counter. She was probably in with the patient, measuring centimeters or some such nonsense.

  Eyeing the fat guy again, he decided to go over and strike up a conversation with him. Maybe find out just who the hell he was. But as Ed started walking towards the stranger, the guy saw him coming, turned and began waddling away like a duck.

  Ed’s eyes narrowed and he increased his pace. He knew that walk. God knew he’d seen it enough times.

  “Hey, hold up,” he called, knowing perfectly well that the stranger wouldn’t obey. He wasn’t particularly worried though. He knew from experience that pregnant women can’t run worth a damn and it was only a matter of seconds before he was grabbing her by the shoulder and spinning her around to face him.

  “Nice mustache you have there, sir,” he said. “Mind if I ask where you get it trimmed?”

  Large, frightened eyes blinked at him, blue as a summer sky.

  “Maybe you trim it yourself?” Ed volunteered.

  When it became apparent that no answer would be forth coming, Ed reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding a cup of coffee and ripped the fake mustache from the woman’s face.

  “OW!” she cried, reaching to feel her upper lip.

  He regarded her with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Nothing!” she snapped. “What business is it of yours?”

  “Well, for starters, I work here.”

  “I know who you are,” she said coldly.

  After an unconcerned sip of coffee, he said, “I guess that makes you one up on me. I take it you’re not a fan from my fighting days?”

  “Take it any way you want to.”

  “Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing here? Are you in labor?”

  She pursed her lips and looked away. “No. Not yet.”

  “Do you know anyone staying in the hospital? Anyone who works here? Come on—what’s the story?”

  “Funny you should phrase it that way,” she said, looking directly into his eyes again.

  “What way? What are you talking about?”

  Reaching into a back pocket, she pulled out a man’s wallet and removed a card from it. Wordlessly, she handed the card to Ed, who accepted it, glanced down and then back up again. “What the fuck is this?”

  “Are you an idiot?” she asked snidely. “It’s a card.”

  “I can see it’s a card. What’s it for?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have known Mother Punchers are illiterate as well as inhumane.”

  “It says ‘Tea Leaves.’ What the fuck is that? A tea house or something? Because if you haven’t noticed, I’m a coffee man.”

  “It’s me. And it’s Tee-Uh. Not tea.”

  “Your name is Tea Leaves?”

  “TEE UH!” she barked.

  “Oh, sorry. Your name is TEE-UH Leaves?” He burst out laughing and she snatched the card back.

  “You’re a real asshole, you know that?” Tea asked.

  Still laughing, he said, “So I’ve been told.”

  She stood there impatiently, waiting for his amusement to subside. When it became apparent that it wasn’t going to, she said, “I’m here to do an expose.”

  Immediately, he stopped laughing. “What?”

  “You heard me. Or are you deaf as well as dumb?”

  “The PC term is mute.”

  “Whatever. I came here undercover, to see what I could find out about the cruel and unusual practices of this hospital.”

  Ed made a face at her. “What the hell are you talking about? Everything we do here is by the book. Maybe you’re thinking of some other hospital.”

  “I guess maybe I should rephrase then. The cruel and unusual practices of the United States Government.”

  “Oh,” he said, understanding clearing his face. “You’re one of those.”

  Tea rolled her pretty blue eyes at him. “I don’t know what one of those is in your book but considering the source, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he drank more coffee.

  “Why don’t you let me interview you?” she suggested, her tone suddenly friendly.

  Ed was so surprised, he almost spit coffee in her face. Choking, he said, “No way. Uh-uh. Absolutely not.”

  “Why not? What do you have to hide?”

  “Nothing! Listen, I think you’d better leave now, Miss Leaves.” The reality of what he’d said got him cracking up again.

  “You’re very immature,” she told him. “How old are you anyway?”

  “Old enough to be your daddy, I’m betting. And thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “There’s no way you’re old enough to be my father.”

  “No? How old are you?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “Forty,” he said straight-faced.

  “Well, maybe you are old enough, but barely. I’m twenty-two.”

  “And dressed like a fucking clown. A guy clown. What’s up with that?”

  “I’ll answer all your questions if you answer mine.”

  He considered it for a moment before coming to his senses. “Ok, that’s it. Like I said, it’s time for you to…uh…vacate the premises. Let’s go.” Ed took her by the arm and began to gently lead her towards the elevator.

  “Are you aware that there is a riot going on outside?” she asked.

  “So?”

  “So…it’s dangerous out there. Do you want me to be burned at the stake or what? Would that satisfy your blood lust?”

  “My blood lu—? Hey! Now you’re just being insulting.”

  “Ya think?” She yanked her arm out of his grasp. “I am not going out there with those rabid animals foaming at the mouth for a taste of pregnant meat.”

  Ed rubbed his temple. Another one of his famous headaches was knocking at the door of his skull. “Are you even really pregnant?”

  There was a long moment when he didn’t think she was going to reply at all, but then she said, “One answer for one answer.”

  “No! I told you, I’m not playing that game. No interviews!”

  “Why not? If you’re so innocent in what you do here, then why not take this chance to tell the world?”

  “The world? Just who is that you work for?”

  She hesitated then blurted, “Ok. The people who attend Orwell University.”

  “Ah. You’re a student.”

  “I’m also a human rights activist and a militant feminist.”

  “You don’t say?” His voice was utterly bland.

  “I do. What can you proudly proclaim yourself to be?”

  Still rubbing his temple, he said, “Patience. It’s a virtue, you know.”

  This time it was he who had stumped her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and refused to meet his gaze.

  “Ok, listen,” he said. “I don’t give a shit if you’re pregnant or not. You can stay in the waiting room or the cafeteria until that crap going on outside blows over. It shouldn’t be too long; the cops are already here. But…I don’t want you bothering anyone. No questions for your little school newspaper. Deal?”

  “Freedom of Speech. First amendment rights. The American Constitution. Any of these things ringing any bells for you?”

  Ed killed his coffee and crumpled the cup in his fist. “I need more coffee. Walk with me to the cafeteria?”

  “Isn’t that downstairs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How do I know
you’re not going to rape and kill me the second you get me alone on the elevator or in the stairwell? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  Eyebrows raised, he said, “Well, I didn’t think you were an idiot until just now.”

  “Ha ha. You’re very witty for a woman beater.”

  He bristled. He hated when people called him that, though he supposed the reason for his hating it might be that it was a little too close to the truth for comfort. “Fine,” he said. “Do whatever the fuck you want. Talk to anyone you want. It’s not my business. I’m not security. Just stay the hell away from me.”

  Continuing on to the elevator, he was aware that she was now following him. He punched the “down” button and said, “Go away.”

  “What are you hiding?” she asked.

  “A fucking uzi. Now get lost.”

  “Wow. That’s quite an attitude you’re copping there. Did I hit a nerve?”

  “You know that patience I was just bragging about? Well, I’m about to lose it, so take a fucking hike.”

  The elevator door slide open and he stepped inside. To his dismay, so did she. “Motherfucker,” he muttered as the door slid closed again.

  “Seriously,” she said. “I want to know why you’re so sensitive about your job.”

  “I’m not sensitive about my job. I just don’t appreciate being called names. Do you?”

  Looking up at the glowing numbers, she said, “I guess not. But I don’t punch women for a living either.”

  “I don’t punch just women. I punch men too!”

  “Oh, so that makes it all right?” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “On average, how many women do you punch in a year or even a day, as opposed to how many men?”

  Ed’s face was beginning to burn and he realized how tightly his jaw was clenched. He tried to relax it, knowing that the habit contributed to his headaches.

  As if he’d answered her, Tea asked, “And what do you suppose the reason for those numbers is?”

  “Because most men are cowards,” he said tightly.

  The elevator opened and they both stepped out. From here it was just a short walk to the cafeteria.

  “Thanks for not raping me,” Tea said, trying to match his long stride.

  He stopped abruptly and faced her. “Are you trying to get punched? Because, you know, I do some moonlighting on the side.”

  “So, you’ll hit anyone who pays you in addition to those who run in terror from you?”

  He raised a finger to her face, ready to shout at her. But he thought better of it, dropped the finger and said, “I’m really tired of this conversation. Please go away.”

  “No,” she said defiantly.

  Ed couldn’t believe it. Who the fuck was this chick and why was she harassing him so much? Flustered, he began walking towards the caf again, and again Tea remained on his heels.

  “So, men are cowards, huh? Tell me a little bit about that.”

  “Are you a shrink or something?”

  “Not till graduation. Come on—spill it. I promise I won’t declare you a traitor to your gender.”

  “Thanks for that,” he said sarcastically.

  At the caf counter, one of the staff asked Ed if the gentleman was with him. In unison, Ed said “No,” while Tea said, “Yes.”

  The cafeteria worker gave them both a strange look and Ed finally said, “I mean, yeah…he’s…with me.”

  When they both had coffee from a fresh pot, they carried their cups to the only vacant table in the middle of the room and sat down across from each other.

  Ed sipped his coffee and said, “You look ridiculous.”

  “Fooled you, didn’t I?”

  “For about two seconds.”

  Something smashed against the outside of the nearest window, causing everyone to jump and a few people to scream. Startled, Ed splashed hot coffee into his lap and began cursing a blue streak.

  “What was that?” someone yelled. “Was it a bullet?”

  Pandemonium broke out, people scattering and running for the exit.

  A brave soul went to the window and cautiously peered out. “It’s okay,” he said. “It was just an egg.”

  But Ed and Tea were the only ones who heard him since neither of them had moved. They sat still, watching the chaos around them, Ed occasionally dabbing at his damp crotch with a paper napkin. “Damn protesters,” he said.

  “The natives are getting restless,” Tea agreed, though she didn’t seem worried in the slightest.

  Ed had to hand it to her. She was definitely a little spitfire. Even if she was dressed like a fool.

  The guy who had looked out the window glanced nervously over his shoulder at them and announced, “Here come a few more eggs.”

  As if on cue, small grenades of yellow gore exploded against the thick glass and dribbled down like snot mixed with cartilage.

  Recognizing the guy as one of the orderlies, Ed asked, “How many of them are out there?”

  The orderly shrugged. “Too many to count. I think I’d better go call my wife. I have a feeling we might not be going anywhere tonight.” With that, he left the cafeteria, patting himself down, perhaps searching for his cell phone.

  “Well, that’s reassuring,” Tea said and sipped her coffee. “Guess you might be stuck with me.”

  Stifling a groan, Ed drank in moody silence.

  “This happens a lot, huh?” she asked.

  “Now and then. It usually blows over pretty quick. Their bark is worse than their bite.”

  “I’ve watched this kind of thing on the news before. Never actually participated in a riot though.”

  “Yeah, well…” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence, so he shut up.

  A few people started drifting back into the cafeteria, either people who realized they’d over-reacted or people who weren’t there during the initial bombing.

  Ed nodded to them in greeting and jerked his thumb towards the windows. “Egging the windows again,” he said.

  His phone rang, startling him once more. He spilled more coffee, swore again, then answered, already knowing it was Sandy. “Hey, Sandy. What’s up?”

  “She’s getting close,” the nurse told him. “Where are you?”

  “Needed coffee.”

  “Oh. Well, you’d better get back up here, just it case the damn thing falls out. Turns out this woman is on her fifth kid.”

  “Okie dokie. On the way.” He pushed the END button and stood up. “Duty calls,” he told Tea and walked away.

  He was unsurprised when she followed him. He was beginning to feel like a rambunctious little shit of a puppy had claimed him as her person.

  “Baby on the way?” she asked.

  “What else?”

  “How should I know? Maybe a sick kid got out of line and they’re calling you to come beat him up.”

  Ed let the comment slide. He was quickly learning to ignore this wise-ass.

  “You’re kind of a dick, you know,” she said. “It’s no wonder they hired you as a Mother Puncher.”

  “Yeah. No wonder.”

  She trailed him into the elevator, her too-big shoes clopping noisily. He wondered what she looked like under that ridiculous Hardy suit, if she had a good body…if she was pregnant. Then he gave himself a mental punch in the head for even wondering about her figure. What was wrong with him? She was half his age.

  Sandy was waiting for him outside the birthing room. She gave Tea a double-take, then returned her attention to Ed. “Might have been a false alarm. Her contractions have apparently stopped.”

  Ed nodded, sipped his coffee and hoped Sandy didn’t notice the stain at his crotch, but of course, she probably did. Unlike Tea, Ed assumed she was too polite to mention it.

  “I’ll be in the waiting area,” he told Sandy and started off with the new puppy at his side.

  He’d barely gone ten steps when the woman in the birthing room screamed. Ed spun on his heels but Sandy was already inside, working whatever magic she worked wi
th these women.

  “Guess maybe I’ll wait here instead,” he said, more to himself than to Tea.

  There was a loud thud and another scream. Sandy’s scream.

  Ed never even knew he’d dropped his coffee. He ran to the room, shoved open the door, saw Sandy on the floor and started to rush towards her. Before he could even fully register what was happening, his head and his feet switched positions and then he was on his back, staring at the ceiling, a large knot already forming on the back of his skull.

  “What the…Sandy!” He struggled to sit up, slipped back to the floor again. The intense pain in his head made him nauseous and his confusion grew, his heart leaping in his ribcage.

  Instead of sitting up, he decided just to turn his head and see what he could see. But his hair felt weird and he had a momentary instant of panic, thinking he’d cracked his head open and was oozing brains all over the linoleum. But then he realized his hands felt gooey too.

  The first thing that came into his head was eggs. Someone had dropped an egg on the floor. He held his hand up in front of his face and saw that it was covered in a thick blue slime. Frowning, he sniffed it.

  It smelled like dish soap.

  To his left, Sandy groaned, sitting up slowly, staring down at the blue goo all over her peach-colored scrubs.

  Up in the bed, the pregnant woman began to laugh.

  16

  Tea made her way gingerly into the room and knelt down beside him. “You okay, Ed?” She had to ask the question rather loudly to be heard over the maniacal laughter of the patient.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Sick to my stomach though.”

  “I’m not surprised. I heard your head hit the floor. It sounded gross. I guess you might have a concussion or something. Good thing you work in a hospital, huh?”

  “Yeah, good thing.” He managed to get himself into a sitting position and looked over at Sandy who was grabbing the side of the bed and trying to stand. Her feet kept sliding out from under her and back to the floor she went, landing on her ass.