“It works for me.”
I stood up to get started on breakfast, but my stomach lurched, reminding me of the events it had been through. It seemed to bring back my headache, making it pound even harder than before. I hadn’t eaten in a while, and what food I had gotten down hadn’t stayed there long. I knew if I could just get breakfast, both the headache and my nausea would pass, but managing to get to the kitchen would be a chore in itself. Sally could see my struggle and insisted I sit back down and let her get it. I didn’t want to fight her over it and sat back down, waiting for the throbbing in my temples to pass.
My throat was raw and burned from the acid that had made its way up the night before, and the instant oatmeal helped to soothe it. I skipped the orange juice, knowing it would have the opposite effect, opting instead for a hot cup of coffee. Within minutes, the pain had settled and I was able to go about my morning as usual. Sally had left a second bowl steaming on the counter for Job. She could have taken it to him at any time, but had left it up to me.
“Chase called me this morning. He told me what happened last night. I’m sorry I made you go out with Derrick. I had no idea he was behind everything.” Her apologetic eyes still had a fury in them over what she had heard.
As much as I knew in my heart that the answer would be no, I asked anyways. “Tell me he’s going to pay for this. He can’t get away with what he did.”
“Emily, as much as I would like to see that happen, we both know if we turn him in, we would be turning in Job, as well. Do you want that?”
“No,” I said, distraught that I would have to choose my battles. I couldn’t lose Job yet.
She could see that the choice we were making was eating at me, and finally changed the subject to take my mind off of what couldn’t be fixed.
“By the way, I went out and bought a comforter and sheet set, since I figured yours would be ruined. I have yours in the wash right now, and already put the new one on his bed downstairs.”
“But how did you get them on if he’s not able to get up?” The thought of how she had achieved such a feat was beyond me, but it helped me forget about the previous conversation.
“Nursing secret. I can change a bed without him getting up. I’ll have to show you how sometime. Since I’m not needed, I think I’ll go and let you two have some alone time.” She threw me a wink.
I couldn’t help but to roll my eyes at her. She was getting the wrong idea. I questioned whether she was telling me the truth when she said he didn’t say anything, or if she had noticed the extra space where I had curled up next to him. I told myself I had only spent part of the night with him out of concern and friendship. I wondered if either one of them was reading a bit more into this than was actually there, or if I was having doubts about my own feelings. It was something I would have to give a lot more thought to before it became an issue down the road.
After the door closed, I grabbed Job’s oatmeal, along with the orange juice that I hadn’t touched, and headed down to the dank basement that had become his home. The smell of must and age filled my nostrils. I half expected to see his smile when I arrived, but he didn’t look like he was in the mood for cheery welcomes.
He was fixated on his foot, concentrating with a pained expression on his face. His leg had been propped back up, and already the deep bruising had begun to fade and return to some semblance of normalcy. The splint was still gone, and I assumed that she didn’t want to risk this happening again. I could see him straining every muscle in his body, gripping the sheets, holding his breath – then stopping within seconds, panting and giving himself a break before attempting whatever he was doing again.
“What are you trying to do?” I was confused at the extraordinary effort he was putting into whatever he thought he could make his foot do.
“I can’t move it.”
He seemed frustrated and tried again, with the same effect. Each time exhausted him more as he pushed the threshold of pain he could endure.
“You’re not supposed to. Sally said you’re supposed to keep it still.”
“But I can’t move my toes. They won’t bend.” He tried again, this time nearly passing out.
“Please, just stop. If this is how you are going to spend your free time, then I’ll just leave. I’m not going to sit and watch you hurt yourself on purpose.”
He finally stopped, leaning his head back, catching his breath, winded from the exercise.
“It should be better. I don’t know why it’s not. I don’t understand. Everything else–”
“It’s called healing. I’m not sure what you did last night, but unless you can do it again, you’re going to have to wait like the rest of us.”
I assumed whatever act he had achieved before was a one night only performance. Even though he was finished, he still didn’t look pleased. He had crossed his arms and was staring at me with a scowl on his face. I didn’t know if it was for me or just from the frustration. I could already tell this day was not shaping up to be fun.
“Well, good morning to you, too.” I was smiling, giving him as much sarcasm as I could, hoping it would lighten the mood. He seemed to respond, cracking a smile but keeping his arms tightly crossed, letting me know he was still upset at something. I set the bowl down in his lap, hoping it would invite him to drop the attitude and open up to some real conversation. I sat down in my chair and waited for his response. It didn’t take long for him to take the spoon and shovel in bites of oatmeal, filling his cheeks like a chipmunk, till everything was gone. I half expected him to lick the bowl clean in the process. He hadn’t eaten in over a day, and his appetite had returned with a vengeance.
“Do you want me to get you some more?”
He shook his head no while he tried to swallow everything he had stuffed in. I handed him the orange juice still in my hand. He took it and gulped it down almost as fast as the food he had just inhaled. I had never seen anyone eat like he did, as if someone would steal his food at any moment. I could only assume it had to do with years of never having enough, or having to fight over it in camps. I wanted to tell him he would never have to worry about food again, but the habit had more than likely been ingrained into him.
“So other than the fact you’re an invalid for a while, what’s got you upset?”
Once again, he didn’t look pleased at the mention of his current condition and shot me an evil look.
“I’m tired of not knowing how to say things to you,” he said. “I understand what you tell me, but I get stuck and it’s…it’s…”
“Embarrassing?” I knew the word he was looking for, but finishing his sentence for him made him turn his head away from me, ashamed he couldn’t even tell me how he was feeling.
“I don’t care if you know the word. I can teach you – if you want?”
There was a brief hesitation as he thought about it. He finally looked up at me and quietly said, “Yes.”
I knew the other reason he was embarrassed, from last night’s events. He had been hiding the fact of his feelings for me since the day of his arrival, and his fear of expressing them, along with not knowing how to, had gotten in the way. I was already trying to think of ways to help him with everything he wanted to say. I wasn’t sure how he could learn more without him asking. He had already picked up so many of my habits, and I could see that I was rubbing off on him. He would now roll his eyes or give me sarcastic looks. As much as I enjoyed having a parrot, I wanted him to be himself, even if he didn’t know who that was yet.
“So. I know I call you Job, but what was your name before? Maybe I can call you that instead?”
“Job is fine. You wouldn’t be able to say it. You wouldn’t be able to…” He had gotten stuck yet again.
“Pronounce it?” I quickly filled in. “Just tell me and I can try?”
I had failed miserably in Spanish in high school and wasn’t sure if I would ever figure out a different language. Learning his name would at least be a nice gesture, and I was willing to give it a
try, so as not to have to call him by a name he was forced to take.
He opened his mouth, but no decipherable words came out. He emitted a loud cracking noise, similar to a television channel that had been changed to snow. It was quick, but he had been right. There would be no way I was going to say it.
“Ok. So Job it is.” I couldn’t help but laugh, and even he joined in, smiling wide. He always looked his best with a grin. Everything about him lit up, and it helped relax the mood around us. His jocular moods had been far and few, but I was sure there would be a lot more in the coming weeks.
“Do you know where the name came from? Has anyone told you?”
“I was told it came from the Bible, so I looked it up and read it. It doesn’t really fit me. It’s a story about a guy–”
“You can read?” I felt bad interrupting him as he was explaining the origins of his name, but knowing how to read was a huge milestone in his efforts to learn how to speak. The catalogue of books lying upstairs ran through my head, picking out ones that he might enjoy and others to avoid. I had been an avid reader since a child, so learning he could read as well was exciting news.
“Yeah, I can. Sort of. I haven’t read much. My old owner gave me books to read. She wanted me to know things and not just be the help.”
I could see in his eyes that he missed her. The way he talked so positively about her, it was clear that she had been so much better to him than Derrick ever was.
“I have a few upstairs I can lend to you, if you want. I can go get them after I change over the laundry?”
The thought of getting to read again made him smile even wider, displaying his radiant white teeth. Every time he smiled at me, everything about him would almost glow, filling the room with light, and I would forget whatever I had been saying or thinking. I couldn’t help but to stare at him, as he had done so many times to me. He appeared confused, as I absorbed every facet of his face in that single stare, unable to look away. I eventually broke eye contact, as I saw it was unnerving him, creating an awkward situation, and let my mind go back to my task.
I got up to get the laundry, letting him know I would return in just a few minutes. I crossed out of the room into the furthest reaches of the basement, pulling the cord on the light so I wouldn’t have to rely on the window as my only light source. The washer had stopped and I unloaded it, moving everything into the dryer and turning it on, listening to it roar to life. I turned around to shut off the light, when I saw a small television crammed into a corner, sitting near some boxes. It was covered in a film of dust and looked as though it hadn’t been used since the dawn of time. This TV had been in my room while I had lived at home before college. I wasn’t sure if it still worked, but thought it may be another way to help Job get over his insecurity.
Pulling it from its place, leaving behind an outline of grime, I maneuvered back to the room, twisting and turning as I went, trying not to knock down any of the boxes along the way. For its size, it was still heavy enough that I was winded by the time I set it down on the chair at the foot of the bed. I considered setting it on the chair closest to him, so he could flip though channels, but the cable cord would never have reached that far. I determined that having no remote was better than having no signal.
I stood looking for a towel or sheet that I could use to wipe it down so that the screen could be seen. Sally must have thrown everything that had been down here in the wash, giving me no choice but to use his new clean sheet as a rag.
“Do you mind?” I asked, lifting up the bottom corner. Job didn’t seem to hear me. He was too engrossed in staring at the strange black box sitting in front of him, craning his neck to get a better look. It was like a child questioning a new toy or gadget that had been brought home, curious as to what it could do. It occurred to me that he was oblivious to such technology, since most of his earth bound life was spent away from such things. I had lived with such luxuries, while he never had the chance. Looking at his reaction, I began to think about other things I could introduce him to.
After removing the majority of the caked-on filth, I plugged it in and turned it on, waiting for the picture tube to heat up enough to display anything. Eventually, the faded images became clearer and the sounds of conversation erupted loudly, causing Job to jump back, tugging at the broken bones in his leg, causing a hiss of pain to escape his lips. I turned the volume down as quickly as I could, before he tried to drag himself over the back of the sleeper and hide from the noise it was making. It wasn’t right to laugh at him, but seeing his reaction, I couldn’t help myself, as awful as that might be.
He wasn’t at all pleased and flashed me a look of disgust for laughing at his expense. It only caused the laughter to grow in me till I was almost busting at the seams trying to hold it back. He finally caught on that his reaction was over the top and smiled at me, still looking warily at the television in front of him.
“It’s not going to bite you,” I said, calming my fits of laughter. “It’s a television. You can watch shows on it and hopefully pick up some habits other than my own. I think I lost the remote, but I’ll get one when I go out Wednesday.”
I had forgotten that he didn’t even know what a remote was or how it functioned, but decided he could be shown soon enough. He seemed a little more relaxed, watching the pictures move along the screen. There was a baseball game playing. I had never followed the sport close enough to know the players. It looked like the Pirates, but I wasn’t sure who the team in red and white pinstripes was. It quickly changed to the news and a discussion about the game, which must have taken place earlier. I flipped the channel to something less drab and found a movie already underway.
“You can watch this while I’m gone so you don’t get so bored.”
He was already absorbed in the show, hanging on every word the characters were saying. I had a brief vision of him sitting in an easy chair – beer in one hand, remote in the other – glued to the TV, yelling to some unknown person, “Where’s my dinner?” I had to shake the thought, not wanting to believe that the television’s introduction could ever lead him to become that person.
He pulled himself away long enough to bring his focus back on me.
“Where are you going? I thought you would stay?”
I had forgotten to mention that I would have to leave the house during the week and that he would be alone each day.
“I have to work. I’ll only be gone for a small amount of time, and I promise I won’t go on any more dates without your approval from now on.”
Once again, he was not thrilled with the answer I had given. Even though I was joking, he knew that his reaction the night before was still something that had struck a nerve. He tried to pretend that I hadn’t said anything and went back to his show, studying each character and their mannerisms. I sat back down and watched with him, uninterested in the show but curious about the man he was going to become once he had the confidence to be himself. I kept looking back at him, watching him mouth the words as each actor said them, picking up as much as he could. Occasionally, I would turn back to the show, acting as though I was engaged in the movie. From the corner of my eye, I could see that he was doing the same thing.
13.
I returned home from my first day back at the inn, exhausted by a confrontation I had had with a guest who had apparently reserved her room under the impression she would have a private bathroom. After thoroughly explaining everything that was stated in the brochure and on the website, she seemed content, and returned to her room – only to call back down a dozen times to complain about every amenity we had to offer. During the last few calls from her – criticizing everything from the temperature of the water to the fluff of the pillows – I had offered her a full refund if she wanted to leave. I had positioned the offer in a manner that was more than appropriate, yet she rained down on me that I was attempting to throw her out merely because of her simple requests. I never saw the end of that argument, since Sally had taken over where I had left off, le
tting me escape before the woman could set me off.
I took my time getting downstairs for my visit, making the assumption that Job would be just as enwrapped in watching the television as he had been the previous night. Dinner had been planned out earlier, and the roast already thawed in the fridge would make an easy meal by adding potatoes, carrots and some onions. I got everything together and in the oven before taking a bottle of water and another bag of ice down to him. The roast would take an hour to cook, giving me plenty of time to find out what he had done with his day. I was anxious to see what he had learned.
The television had not been a well thought-out idea. I had banked on the plan that it would work as a great distraction for the times I would be away. It would keep him occupied, while at the same time giving him a chance to learn what I couldn’t teach him in such a short period, killing two birds with one stone…or so I thought. What I had neglected to remember was the fact that some of the shows that came on during the day may have been less than desirable to watch. Combining that with the lack of a remote to bypass these types of shows had some negative consequences.
There should have been voices coming from the television, but I could only hear the hiss of snow. I was curious if this was him talking or a loose cable. As I came closer, I could see the chair was out of place, but the TV remained pushed against the back of the chair, keeping it from falling on the floor. His pillows had been scattered once again, along with the comforter and any other inanimate object he could throw. The empty plate that had held his breakfast lay smashed on the ground, scattering shards of plate and bits of food around the room. The glass had been broken and strewn across the bed and the floor as well.
Even Job was lying catty-corner in bed, his good leg hanging off the edge, and he was still seething over whatever had driven him into a frenzy to destroy the room. His arm was across his face, covering his eyes; dried blood stained the creases of his hand, still closed tight around a piece of glass. He heard me coming, cracking porcelain under my shoes.
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