I opened my tired eyes, noting the hospital hallway was only partially lit. Making my way over to the window, I saw only darkness looking back at me. One light below in the parking lot illuminated a single vehicle, that of a Chevy pickup. Heading for the nurses’ station, I could see upon my approach, an elderly black man sitting behind the counter absorbed in his newspaper.
“Sir?” I said, trying to gain his attention.
Lowering his paper, he folded it in half, and placed it on the counter. Standing, he came toward me. “You must be Simon,” he said, extending his gruff hand, one that was no stranger to hard work.
“Ah, yes sir,” I said, shaking his hand.
“I’m Leroy Washington; I’m the mental health tech on duty tonight. Actually, me and Ol’ James Butler are doin’ twelve hour shifts till the others arrive next week. He’s the day man, I do nights. Rest of the staff took off till then,” he said, as he motioned for me to come in and sit down.
“Jus’ call me Roy, everybody does.” Leroy was around six feet, probably one hundred seventy pounds I’d guess. Looked to be in his late fifties I guessed, or maybe his early sixties. Not much hair, but a neatly trimmed grayish goatee and mustache. Seemed to be in pretty good physical shape, for his advanced years. Kind of muscled, yet with a small pot belly. His shoulders were wide, and thick, with a thin face graced by a high forehead, and sympathetic brown eyes. Skin was the color of dark chocolate.
“You hungry?” he asked. His voice was strong, yet gentle, and complimented his well mannered and tolerant disposition.
“Ah, not really. What time is it?”
“Pert near two,” he said glancing at his watch.
“Two? In the morning?” I asked.
“Yes sir, you sleepin’ pretty good there. I checked you a couple times, fast asleep you was,” Leroy said.
We made small talk for a short time. He told me about the town of Hot Springs, and what it was like when he was a small boy. Seems Al Capone, the gangster, used to vacation here back in the 1920’s. Came here for the hot mineral baths.
The famous gangster was visiting one of the resorts, when another gangster fired a shotgun blast at him, but missed. Capone waited, and later got his revenge by killing the man who put the hit out on him. We talked for about an hour, and then I started yawning.
“The doc left an order for sleepin’ pills, but I don’t think you havin’ any trouble in that department,” Leroy commented.
“You’re right; I don’t need any pills to get me to sleep. I think I’ll head back to bed. Nice to meet you, Roy.”
“Tell me, son, do you remember seein’ me before?” he asked as he stood to walk me to the door.
“Sorry, I don’t remember you. Have we crossed paths before?” I was now a bit curious at his question.
“Maybe, maybe not. You go now, and get some rest. I’m sure they planned a big day for ya.” Picking up his newspaper, he sat back down as I headed for my room.
I liked Roy; he was the total opposite of James-the-jackass. He was everything James butler should have been. Within minutes of my head touching the pillow, I was sound asleep once more.
Mourning arrived way too early to suit me. I heard footsteps coming down the corridor. Opening the door, James strutted in. He came right up to my bed, and stared at me. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I tried to focus.
“Why are you still in your street clothes? Did you take a shower last night?” His voice stern as he waited for my reply.
“What?” I said, a little confused by his rapid talk.
“Did you take a shower before bed?”
“No sir, I was too tired, I just went straight to bed.” I mumbled.
“That’s what I thought, so I brought your razor, shaving cream, and a few towels. Take off those dirty clothes, and come into the bathroom.” He said turning on the water in the shower.
A horrible fear came over me; surely he wasn’t going to watch me bathe.
Popping his head through the bathroom doorway, “Did you hear me? Strip!” he shrieked.
Forcing myself to speak, “Please sir, my I have some privacy?”
“No, your mother called, and said you have a problem with daily hygiene. So I informed Father Andy, and he ordered supervised bathing be put on your chart. Once a day, every day. Now get undressed, or will it be necessary for me to use force?” James barked with an evil smile.
I’ll have to remember to thank Mom for her call, the fat bitch. Removing my shirt, socks, and pants, I entered the bathroom still wearing my shorts.
James started out the door into the hallway, and said as he left, “I’ll be back in a minute, and get those shorts off.”
Removing my shorts, I thought how humiliating it was to have someone watch you bathe yourself, yet it was worse to have James do it. Returning with a fold-out chair, he sat down facing the shower stall. “Here, take this, and get in,” he said handing me a bar of pink soap. I reached in to adjust the water temperature.
“Let’s go, I don’t have all day!” One could feel the agitation in his shrill voice.
The shower had no door or curtain for privacy. I had a momentary flashback of when I was in grade school, and two boys found me on the commode. I prayed I wouldn’t end up with a fear of shower stalls after this.
The stall was all lime-green tiles, with a three-inch step up to keep water from spilling out. After getting wet, I started to lather up the soap when James spoke, “Turn off the water, and use the soap on your oily hair first.”
“Is there any shampoo?” I asked, turning off the shower. My tone was almost pleading.
“No, use the soap like I said.”
I did as commanded, lathering up my dirty hair. Reaching to turn the water on to rinse the soap from my hair…
“Don’t waste the water, go ahead and soap up the rest of your filthy body. And make sure you use plenty on your armpits, crotch, and your nasty ass.” He grinned as if the experience gave him some inner pleasure in humiliating me.
I began with my face and neck, moving to my shoulders, chest, armpits, stomach, and what little I could reach of my back. Then I applied more soap to my legs and feet. Lastly working over my pubic hair, penis, and my balls, and lathered up my butt last. Finishing, James leaned forward in his chair.
“All right, raise your arms, and turn around so I can make sure you didn’t miss any areas.”
I turned beet red, but did as directed by the Nazi bastard. I was now aware of his acutely never ending gaze.
‘Okay, you can rinse now.”
The cold spray hit me first, as I frantically tried to adjust the temperature. Starting with my hair, I continued rinsing the soapy lather all the way down my naked, shivering torso until all was clean. Shutting off the water, I flushed red when I spied James staring at my genital area. I waited for his next command, not daring to move or cover myself.
After a long silence, shame overtook me, “Can I please have a towel?” I begged as I looked down at the floor in submission, like a whipped dog.
“There’s a towel on the sink next to your razor. Don’t forget to shave before you come to breakfast,” James said as he abruptly stood up, folded the chair, and left with it.
God, what an asshole, I thought as I dried off, and started to shave.
Later, after I finished up, I found the food already sitting on the table in the dinning area. Scrambled eggs, two strips of crisp bacon, white toast and a carton of chocolate two percent milk. There was also half a peach in heavy syrup, in a little plastic cup. It was delicious.
With a baleful look in his black eyes he watched me from the doorway. “Why haven’t you returned the razor to the nurses’ station as required?”
“I’m sorry; I’ll go get it right now, sir.” I jumped up, and ran to my room, grabbed it, and returned with it before the wrath of James befell me again.
James said, “Doctor Lerner is waiting for you.”
Off I went; she was in her usual spot, tape recorder ready to begin. “Hi Doctor Lerner, am I late?”
“Heavens no, Simon, not at all. Please have a seat, and we’ll get started,” she said turning on the recorder.
“Your mother has turned over your personal diary, and I want you to know I have read it. I feel I owe you an apology, but in my defense I was seeking more insight into who you truly are. It was my hope that your private thoughts would help me to help you,” she said, patting my leg.
“Don’t worry about it; I’m not mad, not at you anyway. Mom’s always snooping around in my room when I’m not home. She cares for me; she just doesn’t know how to help me,” I replied as I patted her hand.
Doctor Lerner smiled. “And what kind of help do you believe you require, Simon?”
“Not her kind, but maybe your kind, we’ll see.”
“Simon, I would like to discuss some of the information I noted in your diary at this time. If that’s okay?” she asked.
“Fine with me”