The Panda's Ashes, Chapter 39 up 6/11

[WBDaddy]

Obviously, enough of you actually care that I'm going to go forward with reposting it here, since I've pulled it from ADISC (and won't be putting it back).

First things first, this prologue: I may yet dump it. I like the dovetail effect (the epilogue continues out the scene and gives context, as many of you remember)

Next: What you are about to read is a nearly complete departure from the original A Change For Naomi in the first half of the book. What inspired this? Well, there was talk of publishing the original in book form, but the "other half" (more like other 15%) of the writing team started to buck when I suggested an editor and some rewriting, and the only way I could have gone forward with it was if he signed off on rights, otherwise he could sue me if he didn't like the finished product (after I footed the bill for the editing and did all the heavy lifting of fixing what were predominantly his plot issues)...

Third: A quick primer on the common Japanese words that will pop up in here:

Okaasan: Mother (formal)
Sobo: Grandmother (affectionate)
Sofu: Grandfather (affectionate)
Touchan: Father (affectionate)

The other words that bounce out of Naomi's mouth are usually self-explanatory, or they are defined outright in the course of the conversation.

Finally, I have to give credit where credit is due. In August of last year, I divorced my wife at the time. This project was going nowhere prior to that - I'd only managed 10 chapters of the rewrite in 10 months. Then, I met, fell in love with, and subsequently married my current wife, babygirl, and AB. She has been instrumental in helping me get back on track with the story, as I've been able to tap into the experiences we've shared together to create a much more realistic path for Naomi and Elise than would have been possible prior to her coming into my life. Love my Munti, my Star, my Princess! :)

-------------------------------------------------------


Prologue

It was, by all possible standards, a beautiful northern California summer day as my “adoptive” mother led me out the front door and down the broad stairs. I scarcely was aware of the pleasant weather outside, however, as I was entirely too busy fighting back a storm of anxiety that threatened to freeze my white-and-pink Keds in place each time they landed on the concrete. My hair was in pigtails, which only accentuated the preschooler look of my pink OshKosh denim skirt and white, ruffled Hello Kitty t-shirt. As we made our way down the stone walk, through the blooming hydrangeas, my hand firmly clamped onto hers, I watched the silver minivan come to a stop a few yards down the driveway. My trepidation reached a new height as a tall, bleached blonde surfaced from the passenger door, grinning so wide the sun seemed to cast a glare off her perfectly white teeth as she turned to face us, gasping out an incredibly exaggerated, multiple octave “Hello!” My grip tightened even harder on Mama's hand, and I looked up at her desperately, seeking protection from this Malibu Barbie come to life as she approached us, arms spreading out and legs bending into a crouch, aimed straight toward me like a hawk preparing to snatch a helpless field mouse from the tall grass it foolishly believed a safe refuge.

I'd never been to preschool, though I certainly survived kindergarten the first time through. You'd think it'd be easier at twenty-two than it would have been at age four but, suffice to say, I wasn't on my way to a teaching gig...

[WBDaddy]

1

That particular summer was the shining pinnacle of the walking contradiction my life had become. It was late August in San Francisco, and though I was three months removed from the greatest accomplishment in my life, having graduated with honors from the Academy of Art University with a degree in graphic design, that victory seemed as distant as graduating kindergarten.

I had been through four jobs that summer, the latest working in a crappy coffee house, living in a crappy apartment at The Tenderloin, trying to just catch my breath a little before I took the plunge into the professional world. Of course, just surviving in this new adult world came with its own set of problems, tough enough for any twenty-two-year-old kid fresh out of college, but even worse for a girl of barely three feet, seven inches in height.

Yes, you heard that right. I was the shortest addition to a family of incredible shrinking women, my mother scarcely four feet tall, my grandmother a mere three inches taller than that. As if that weren't bad enough, my prayers to dodge whatever genes gave them both what could best be described as “barrel with head” figures were answered all the way in the wrong direction; I was like a two-by-four with legs.

Not surprisingly, this made middle and high school a living nightmare. I was bullied, ostracized, belittled, and for the few that didn't perceive me as the butt of a joke, pitied. The first three went away in college, thankfully, but the last part was far, far worse, and it never let up. Life is much easier when everyone just hates you and makes fun of you. You know where you stand. People feeling sorry for you because you look like you just graduated preschool instead of high school, that's what makes you want to scream at the whole world.

The worst part was when I finally hit legal drinking age. I had to carry my birth certificate, social security card, driver's license, college ID, everything I could scare up when the few people I hung out with went out to a bar, because no one believed I could possibly be twenty-one. I got turned away at the door at nightclubs. No matter what I showed them, it was always “Go home to your mommy, kid.” My B.A. was small consolation for the torment I experienced trying to prove to everyone I really had existed on this miserable hunk of rock for twenty-odd trips around its half-pint star.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, the coffee house, my latest summer job. Yeah, that interview was a real lark. I suspect Bill, the owner, threw me a bone half out of pity and half out of fear I'd be on the phone with the labor board if he didn't. I was offered and accepted a position as a busgirl, which I discovered was about the only thing I could do in that place without a very high risk of things getting broken. It wasn't a terrible job, except when I'd come through the dining room with my pushcart with the dish tub on top and someone would make a remark about child labor laws, or worse start giggling about how cute I was. You'd never know it to look at me now, but I had quite the temper back then, and it was a constant struggle not to blow up at some dizzy soccer mom who couldn't demonstrate enough self-control to not reach out and try to pinch my cheek as I walked by. On the plus side, the tips were pretty good, at least when same ogling customers realized I was actually there to do a job and decided to give me “a little something extra”. The waitstaff were decent enough to me as well, even if they treated me more like a mascot than a teammate.

This particular Thursday had been exceptionally miserable, with far too much cutesy crap from the customers without nearly enough extra tips to make it worthwhile. It was six thirty, the tail end of the dinner rush, and about an hour before I was scheduled to get off. I'd been there since seven that morning, having picked up an extra shift because I was short on the electric bill that month, and I was just about on my last fraying nerve when three of the football jocks from one of the local high schools piled in and sat down a few tables away from where I was working. They'd been in the cafe before, rowdy, causing trouble, and definitely not tipping. I did my best to ignore them as I cleared the table, but I wasn't so lucky as to have them ignore me...

“Check it out, it's mini-Minami!” the blonde laughed loudly, pointing in my direction. I said nothing and avoided any chance at eye contact as they laughed.

Laura, one of the waitresses, overheard him and quickly ran over to distract them. “Yeah, what can I get for you guys?” she snapped. Out of the corner of my eye I could see she had positioned herself directly in their line of sight to me, and I picked up my pace, trying to get the tables cleared and wiped down and get the hell into the kitchen before...

“Oh hell no, we want Shorty to wait on us.” the bigger brunette argued. “Come on over here and take my order, Shorty!” he shouted at me. I could feel other eyes start to lock in on me as well, and the blood ran to my face as I continued to work.

“She's not a waitress, I am, so if you want something, you'll have to get it from me.” Laura retorted.

“Oh fine, three coffees,” the blonde snapped.

“That it?” she sighed, clearly annoyed.

“Yeah, that's it.”

Laura walked toward the barista bar, shaking her head, and I started to push my cart toward another table, staring straight ahead and fuming. Unfortunately, my deliberate lack of attention toward that table was my undoing, as out of nowhere a huge jean-clad knee connected with the side of my cart and knocked it clean over, spilling my tub and an entire load of dishes, cups, flatware, and glasses all over the floor. I stood there in horror at the sight of so much broken glass and pottery, listening to the other two guffawing at their table, feeling my blood boil.

“Hey watch it, you little freak!” the kid boomed down at me. “You almost ran me over with that thing!”

I shook with rage as I squatted down and righted the cart, picking up what I could, biting my lip.

“I'm TALKING TO YOU, MIDGET!” he barked, stepping on one of the plates directly in front of me, crushing it under his Doc Marten.

I stood up and hissed, “You mind getting the hell out of my way so I can clean this up?” staring as well as I could up into his looming face, fists clenched.

His brows furrowed, but something seemed to momentarily distract him as he started to chuckle. He looked over at the table where the other two hyenas still watched intently and said, “Hey check this out! She's perfect height for...” as he put his huge paw on top of my head and started to laugh.

His laugh was cut short, as were the others. As soon as I felt that hand touch me, I launched an uppercut square into his crotch. A chorus of gasps rang out as he lost his wind and dropped to his knees. “Minami that, bitch!” I spat, inches from his bulging eyes, which were now level with mine, then stormed back toward the kitchen, past a sea of nervous whispers and gaping mouths. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bill, the owner, follow in behind me.

“My office, Naomi,” he sighed as a ruckus broke out in the dining room, the three boys screaming threats and obscenities and several employees barking back at them. I did as I was told, while Bill walked back through the door and boomed “You three got five seconds to hit the door before I call the cops! You assaulted one of my employees, and she defended herself, is what I saw! Anyone else see different?” I couldn't help but smile as I sat down in the tiny room across from his desk.

My smile didn't last long, unfortunately. Bill came back in, closed the door, and leaned up against the desk, arms folded, looking down at me with that “disappointed father” face he delivered so effectively when another boss might have started yelling. I would have preferred he do the latter, honestly. “Naomi, Naomi, Naomi...” he sighed. “I like you, really. You're a hard worker, even if you are a grouch most of the time. But that... I can help keep you out of legal trouble, hell I'll get statements from every customer out there, but...”

“Come on, Bill, you said it yourself!” I protested. “He put his hands on me, and I defended myself!”

“No, you started mouthing off to him, then all that stuff happened. I was on my way out there as soon as I heard the cart go over, but you took it out of my hands.” My head dropped. “You know I gotta let you go. I'm sorry, kiddo. I don't have a choice.”

My lip trembled as I continued to stare at his shoes. “It's not fucking fair, Bill,” I muttered.

“Look,” he said, reaching into his pocket and producing a wad of cash. “I know how tight you are, and how bad you needed the money.” He peeled off a couple of bills and stuffed them into my hand. “Call it your tip-out for tonight. I'll have your last check ready for you on Monday, okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks Bill.”

He squatted down and put a hand on my shoulder. “Do yourself a favor, kid. Go do something with that degree of yours, and quit foolin' around in places like this, huh?”

I nodded again as I stood up. He opened the door and followed me back through the kitchen. “I'll walk you to your car, just in case those pricks decided to hang around,” he said as we walked through the dining room.

True to his word, he escorted me the four blocks to the parking garage where my ratty old Crown Victoria sat, and wished me good luck as I got in. I managed to coax the old piece of junk to a start after several attempts, rolled it down to the gate, and paid my fee. Guess the party with the girls starts a little early, I thought to myself as I headed back toward my apartment to change out of the work uniform I'd no longer be needing.

[WBDaddy]

2

After a fight with late-evening downtown traffic and a trip around the block to find a place to park the rolling wreck, I'd clamored up to my apartment and dumped the ugly tan chinos and heavily stained white button-up shirt on the floor in my room and changed into a pair of jeans and a black spaghetti-strap top. A shower probably would have been nice, but at that point I was dialed in on getting drunk, and in the likely futile pursuit of going home with something handsome, so getting on with the show took precedence. I dashed into the bathroom to apply some makeup and put a brush through my barely shoulder-length hair, then stopped at the full-length mirror in the hallway to assess my appearance. Much to my perpetual disappointment, I still looked like a little kid trying to play dress-up. In spite of this revelation, I stopped back into my bedroom to dab a bit of the dwindling bottle of Poison Sobo bought for me last year for my birthday, and off I went.

Back into the old Ford, and back over to the campus of the Academy of Art to pick up Jessica, a fifth-year senior likely headed for six and probably seven years before she left school, and even then a degree was pretty remote. In short, she was an airhead, far too wrapped up in social life and clothes and partying to be bothered with the actual work involved in passing her classes. On her best days, I found her mildly annoying, and on her worst, I questioned why I continued to put up with her, beyond the idea of beggars being choosy and all that. I pulled up into the student parking lot and fired her a quick text: “I'm out front. You ready to go?”

Two, three, five minutes passed, no answer. “Hello?” I texted again. Another five minutes ground away, and finally a response: “Sorry I ttly 4got u were coming Im at a party w Veronica.”

If I could have reached through that handset and choked that dizzy bitch I would have. Veronica was one of those high-society bitches from Corona Heights, for whom college was a social fling instead of a developmental pursuit. Jessica was always trying to suck up to that snotty bitch, as though she were going to wave a wand and turn Jessica into a spoiled princess just like her. It never ceased to amaze me the lengths to which she'd go to try and impress that snob.

“Thanks for making me waste my gas, bitch!” I texted back furiously as I cranked the car back up. Another text came back from her, but I didn't bother to read it. “Find some other midget to play valet for you next time,” I grumbled to myself. She wasn't getting any of Veronica's money, but her attitude was certainly rubbing off.

All the way back across town I drove, to the townie bar where we had planned to meet. It was one of the few spots in town where the staff knew me well enough that they didn't give me static about my ID, even if it wasn't the liveliest after dark. As a matter of luck, I scored a parking space a few feet from the front door, a black Mercedes having just pulled out as I arrived. I walked in and discovered Amanda and Dez already sitting in a booth near the bar, and I made a beeline past the usual set of ogling eyes to pile in with them.

“Sorry I was late. Jessica blew us off,” I grumped as I sat down.

“I have no idea why you waste your time with that bitch,” Amanda groaned. “You know she only wants to hang out when she needs a ride.” Amanda, despite her excessive eye black and horror-film accessories, was the sensible one of the group, and she had an uncanny knack for reading people. Unfortunately, she also had an overly developed mothering instinct, particularly toward me, which could be downright obnoxious.

“She's fine when she's not following Veronica around like a puppy dog,” I grumbled.

“Puh-leeaze!” Dez piped up. “That bitch needs to spend a weekend across the bay without Daddy's credit cards, for real!” Dez's gay performance was about as cliché as his ghetto act, particularly when he shifted into bitch mode, with his bent wrist and neck shimmy and obviously forced near-lisp. He was nothing if not unintentionally entertaining. At this point Marcus, our waiter, came over, and I ordered my usual chili cheese fries and a Bacardi and Coke.

“Yeah, so I'm over talking about that scene, seriously,” I sighed. “Got fired today. That was fucking special.”

“Jesus, woman!” Amanda scolded. “What did you do this time?!”

I grinned evilly and said, “Punched one of those little punks from Stuart Hall right in the nuts. Dumb-ass knocked my cart over then had the nerve to put a hand on me and try to shove my face into his crotch!”

“Oh my god you did NOT!” Dez gasped. “And they fired you for it? Someone should've given you a medal, seriously! Every one of those little prep school boys need a good spanking on their tight little tushes!”

“Calm down there, horny toad,” I sighed. “But yeah, Bill was probably scared of getting sued. He gave me my tipout in the office before he walked me to my car...” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the wadded up bills I stuffed in there. “Oh shit... two hundred bucks!”

“Woooo baby, I guess we know who's pickin' up the tab tonight!” Dez squealed.

“What are you gonna do now, Naomi?!” Amanda prodded, spoiling the moment. “I mean, it's not like there are a ton of places that'll hire you as it is!”

I bristled at the admonishment. “I'll find another job, and I'll get my resume together and start getting out there. That's what I always do!”

“Yeah, except for the resume part,” she fired back. “You've been 'getting your resume together' for three months!”

“Hey now, are we here to rag on Naomi, or are we here to get warmed up before the show?” Dez cut in. “I don't know about you, but I got some drinkin' to do.” As if to reinforce the point, he drained his tequila sunrise and waved the glass around behind him until the bartender caught sight of it.

“Show? What show?!” I queried.

“Dez, you were supposed to call her!” Amanda chided, smacking him lightly on the arm. “Yeah, Obscura's playing at the DNA tonight!” she redirected. “It's gonna be a killer show!”

“The DNA?!” I groaned. “Come on, 'Manda! You KNOW I can't go there!”

“Oh shit, I forgot about the...” she trailed off.

“Girl, you got to do something about that temper.” Dez started in, obviously happy to have the heat off him for a moment. “We are so running out of places to hang out!”

“Hey, it's cool, we can catch them another time,” Amanda said, weakly hiding the disappointment in her voice.

“No, it's fine. Go have fun. I hate that goth shit anyway,” I fumed. “Bunch of pretentious fucks.”

“Excuse me?” Amanda shot back. “So now I'm a pretentious fuck?”

“No... I mean... goddammit!” I stuttered.

“You better dig that sneaker out your mouth and come up with somethin' better than that, girlfriend!” Dez added.

“What the fuck ever!” I snapped back. “Make plans to go to a club where I'm barred, spring it on me when I show up here, and now you're gonna try and talk some shit to me about foot-in-mouth? Really?”

Marcus, as if on cue, returned with my order and Dez's drink. Amanda turned around and said, “Yeah, I'll have a check please, with a side of guilt.” She turned back to me and hissed, “Fine. I'll go hang out with 'pretentious fucks' like me, and you can sit here and stew in your self-righteousness.”

I took a long pull off my drink, then slammed it down on the table. “Good. Take Fruit Loops with you. Maybe he can blow his way into getting you some backstage passes.”

Dez's brows furrowed deeply, but he said nothing. Amanda was building steam now, though. “Goddammit Naomi, you're so convinced the whole world hates you because you're short. Did it ever occur to you that people don't like bitches in any size?”

That stung, but I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of knowing it. “I'm pretty sure I don't have the market cornered on BITCH at this table.” I spat. “I'm sorry, weren't you two fucking leaving? I don't need to hear this shit!”

“I am leaving!” she barked. She stood up just as Marcus got back to the table, and she grabbed the black billfold out of his hand. She opened it, stuffed in a couple bills from her pocket, and handed it back to him. “Don't worry about hearing shit neither – and don't hold your breath waiting for me to call!”

Dez stood up, drained his drink, and offered a “MmmmmMMM!” in my direction, to which I rolled my eyes. “You need to remember who your friends are, is all I'm sayin'!” he announced as he walked out behind Amanda.

“I guess I know who they aren't!” I shouted behind them, trembling from the sudden adrenaline rush. “BITCHES!” I picked at my fries for a few minutes, flopping back and forth inside between rage and guilt. “Fuck them,” I finally announced to no one in particular. “Who needs that shit?!” I drained my glass and waved it in the air as Marcus walked by, and he nodded, with a knowing grin on his face.  

I worked my way through about half my plate and another rum and coke before I noticed a blonde woman sitting at the bar, seemingly staring at me with a concerned look on her face. I dismissed it and resumed my dinner, catching Marcus' attention once more, and he returned with a third round. “Better pace yourself, hotshot,” he said with a grin.

“Last I checked, I order the drinks, you bring the drinks, you get the tips. I already apparently have two mothers. I don't need a third,” I grumped. I looked up at the bar, and the blonde was still sitting there, and still pointed my direction with that same look on her face.

“Who's the creeper at the bar?” I asked.

Marcus laughed and said “Yeah, that would be Elise, one of the regulars.”

“Yeah? So what's her fascination with me?”

“Dunno. I bet she'd have a better answer for you than me, though,” he chuckled.

“Just get me another drink, will ya?” I groaned, taking another pull. I was just starting to feel a warm buzz at this point, which came as a welcome relief to my frayed nerves. Unfortunately, as the ball of rage in my gut began to dissipate with the aid of the alcohol, it was quickly replaced with regret as I reviewed the series of explosions that had punctuated the day. As much as I didn't want to hear it, Amanda was right. I was drifting, and I needed to get my shit together and quit procrastinating about getting my career started. Of course, blowing up at her didn't exactly help matters. It's not like I had a parade of friends I could use to avoid her while she cooled off. “Her fucking fault,” I huffed at the empty seat across from me. “If she wasn't so fucking condescending about it!” I finished off my drink just as Marcus arrived with the fresh one, struggling to maintain my composure as my head began to swim with booze and remorse.

“Sweetheart, you'd better slow down on that stuff,” he admonished. “They don't pay me enough to be carrying you out of here.”

“I'm fine,” I snapped. “Just keep em coming.” I took a swallow, then got up to hit the bathroom. I tried not to make eye contact as I brushed by Elise, who was still sitting at the bar, and still very much fixated on me. I could feel her eyes burn through the back of my head as I entered the ladies' room, and was grateful when the door broke the visual plane. The silence and sterility of the pristine stall amplified the emotional upheaval I was so desperately trying to quell, and I felt myself begin to tear up involuntarily as I sat there. Getting fired the day after my mother basically cut me off, then a fight with one of the only friends I had, right when I needed one the most, was all just too much.

“Get it together, you crybaby!” I finally snarled through my sniffling. I finished my business and went to the sink to wash my hands, feeling my gait starting to wobble as I went. I looked up in the mirror, and sure enough, the evidence of my emotional outburst was as plain as day in the swelling around my eyes and my mascara bleeding down my cheeks. I splashed water on my face and dried up with a handful of paper towels, grabbed my eye shadow out of my purse and did my best touch-up effort, then headed back out, head down, determined to keep the evidence of my increasing intoxication and fracturing emotional state as invisible as I could to the rest of the bar, focusing tightly on my feet and forcing myself to walk a straight path back to the booth.

Apparently, my efforts were a complete failure. No sooner had I sat down and took another swallow of my drink than I felt the presence standing next to me at the table and heard the soft voice. “You know that's not going to fix anything.”

Without looking up, I tried to blow her off. “Who said anything was broken?” I remarked, smacking my glass down on the table to accentuate the point.

Unfortunately, this seemed to have the opposite effect. She sat down across from me in the booth and leaned in, maintaining that soft voice. “All the bluster in the world won't hide those eyes, kiddo.”

I bristled at that last word. “I'm not your kiddo. I don't know you, you definitely don't know me, yet you're over here pretending you give a shit about me. I got no money, lady, and I don't know anyone worth knowing. What do you want with me?” I drained my drink and waved my glass to Marcus once more, and he waved his acknowledgment.

“I know who I am. I'm Elise Roberts, and I own the antique mall down the street. I also know who you are. You're Naomi, and you're here just about every week with your college friends that just ditched you, usually with another girl I assume is in college right now as well.”

Even through the thickening haze of the rum, the rage came through focused and clear as my voice grew louder. “Yeah, you don't know a damned thing. I graduated two months ago. And since I don't own nor am I looking to buy any old junk, I don't see why I should care who you are.”

Her tone remained unnervingly even. “You know, I came over to talk to you because you looked like you could use a friend. Funny thing is, every other time I've ever seen you in here, you looked the same, even when your table was full of people.” Marcus came back with another drink and looked at her quizzically.

“Well maybe that's because you read me wrong. I got plenty of friends.” I realized my words were starting to run together and cursed myself for it.

“Is that why they walked out in a huff and you're still here drinking yourself into a stupor?”

“Last I checked, it's a free country, and I can get bombed if I want. Still don't get why you care.” I was running out of defenses and wishing she'd just go away.

“It's easier this way, isn't it?” she pressed. “Much easier to be the porcupine than worry about getting the quills, right?”

That was a low blow by any standards, as far as I was concerned. I tilted the fresh glass back and took a long pull. By that point, I'd completely lost track of how much I had to drink, but I knew I was well beyond my limit as I smacked the glass back down on the table. “We're playing pop psychology now?” I slurred into a sloppy laugh. “What's next, I wanna kill my mother and fuck my father?” My eyes were starting to blur as I giggled, but I shook it off. “I got one for ya,” I chortled. “Lot easier to play doctor to an amputee than stitch up your own wounds, ain't it?” I reached up to grab the drink again and knocked it right off the table. As an added bonus, I smacked my forehead on the edge of the table when I tried to catch the tumbling glass. “Fuck!” I shouted, as it shattered against the floor, covering my face as I reflexively bounced my head backward, smacking it hard into the bare wood behind, and saw stars.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” Elise gasped.

The world began to spin harder, and I closed my eyes and said, “I'm fine... I just need to... pay my tab... and... get to my car...”

“The hell you do!” I heard her from a distance. “You're not driving anywhere tonight, kiddo!” The voice drew closer, and I felt her shove into my side of the booth and pry my hands away from my face a lot easier than I expected. I felt a sudden shock of cold on my forehead, and managed to open my other eye enough to see a dishrag up against my face, presumably filled with ice.

“Dammit, I said I'm...” I began, right before everything went black.

[WBDaddy]

3

I woke to a thundering pain in my skull, pulsing between the back of my head and what felt like an ostrich egg firmly attached to my forehead. I reluctantly opened my eyes to a squint, and was completely horrified at what I saw. I was lying in a very short single bed, covered with a white comforter with pale blue trim, emblazoned with cartoon butterflies and ladybugs. The walls were a soft pastel blue, with white trim on the door frames and the molding. “Where the fuck am I?!” I croaked, mouth dry as sand and throat so raw I wondered if I'd taken up smoking at some point the previous night.

I rolled over on my side, still struggling to focus, and was greeted by a rather creepy looking lamp, consisting of a cast depiction of Snow White surrounded by a menagerie of cartoon animals. Beside it sat a glass of water and two red pills, all sitting on a white nightstand accented with carvings of flowers and what I could only guess were trees of some sort. Just as I began a feeble attempt to sit up, two things happened in rapid succession. First, my bladder awakened with a vengeance, which sent enough of a panic signal to my still-foggy brain that there was no time at all to wait. Second, one of the doors opened and a head popped in, one I vaguely recognized, but couldn't place immediately. She started to speak, but I cut her off with a single word: “Bathroom!” Her eyes indicated she was too surprised to respond verbally, and she pointed at the other door vigorously, then withdrew.

After throwing off the comforter, I half ran, half staggered through the door she pointed out, smacking my shoulder on the way through, which nearly knocked me to the floor, and found myself in a huge bathroom with a massive garden tub and luxuriously appointed fixtures, of which only one was of my immediate concern. It was only when I finally reached the toilet that I realized I was not wearing anything that remotely resembled my clothing. I hiked up the frilly pink nightgown and reached for my panties, which weren't there. I plunked down clumsily, bewildered, and relieved myself, then sat in shock as I tried to piece together the events of the past however long it had been since Amanda and Desiree had walked out of the bar. Brief flashes returned to me, the woman at the bar... smacking my head on the table... being carried out the door... getting sick on the sidewalk... a sponge bath... the images were so vague, so distorted, nothing made sense. As confused and panicked about where I was and what I was wearing, in between the hammer strikes on my skull, I concluded I was only going to find out by interfacing with that crazy lady as calmly as I could, lest a worse fate than being the subject of a game of dress-up befall me.

After gingerly making my way back to the bedroom, with plenty of assistance from walls and door frames, I took a survey of the surroundings. This was every bit a room for a preschooler, and as girly as it could possibly get, short of neon pink walls. The furniture was all white, some sort of eggshell finish, no doubt for ease of cleanup, and appropriately sized for someone roughly my height. I vaguely recalled wisps of conversation with... Elise was her name?... something about how she had “seen” me many times before, which now seemed more like “stalked” as I considered the situation. My eyes scanned back over to the bed, and something peeking out from under the comforter caught my eye. I moved the blanket out of the way and was horrified to see what looked like a disposable pet training pad spread out exactly where I had slept.

“You okay in there?” the soft voice queried from behind me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin as I whipped around. “Hey, sorry, didn't mean to scare you.”

“Where the... what is this place?” I asked nervously.

She stepped into the room with a sympathetic smile on her face. “Sorry about the décor. It's the only spare room I had with a bed already made up.”

“So you, like, have a kid?”

“No,” she sighed deeply and looked down. “I was trying to adopt, but the little girl that was coming from Thailand died of some rare disease before the papers were all processed.”

I wasn't sure whether to feel guilty or even more suspicious. The point that she was trying to get an Asian kid was certainly not lost on me as I continued to struggle at processing the scene. I caught a bit of a head rush, and sat back down on the bed. “Hey, are you okay? I left some Tylenol on the bedstand for you, I figured you'd need it,” she said, coming closer.

Ah, the red pills... I thought to myself. See, you're just being paranoid... Then something else occurred to me. “Uh, what happened to my clothes?”

Elise sat on the floor next to the bed and chuckled again. “They're in the dryer, hon. I didn't think you'd be real happy waking up to the smell of your own sick. It took me twenty minutes with a bottle of leather conditioner to clean up my seats this morning.”

Okay, that's reasonable... “Sorry about that,” I said, staring at the carpet. “I can't say as I remember that happening.”

“I'm not surprised. I had to carry you out of there, and you lost it once on the sidewalk. I figured we were in the clear, until you started heaving again right as I pulled into the garage.”

“Did you... give me a bath?”

She sighed and looked down. “Yeah, I guess the mothering instinct took over once I realized you had wet yourself on top of everything else.”

Now it was my turn to be horrified. “I... I what?!” I stammered, my face flushing hot.

“Yeah, you were soaked. Do you have any idea how much you drank last night, you goof? I've seen full-grown men do worse with less.”

“Explains the puppy pad,” I muttered, completely humiliated.

“I happened to have a few of those from a pet-sitting adventure I had a few months back, and...” she trailed off, then visibly shifted gears. “Hey, why don't you get that Tylenol down you and maybe take a shower, wake yourself up a bit. There's hot coffee downstairs, and I'll make you some breakfast if you like...”

“Yeah... I'll probably pass on the food for now, but coffee sounds great.”

“Alright, then. I'll go check the dryer and leave you a cup on your... I mean... the dresser.” She took on a blush of her own after the obvious slip. “Good hot shower will cure what ails ya,” she announced with a smile as she stood back up. She started to head back out the door, then stopped and said, “Oh, how do you take it?”

“Little cream, lot of sugar.”

“Okay, see you in a bit.” She smiled as she closed the door behind her.

Well, she doesn't seem to want to kill me, I thought, but there's still something weird going on in that head...

[WBDaddy]

4

I went ahead and took the pills she left out for me, then took a long hot shower, which did a world of good for my hangover. When I got back into the bedroom, there was a steaming cup of coffee on a saucer sitting where the water glass had been. There was also a change of clothes laid out on the bed that were definitely not mine, and a note laid on top that read, Sorry, yours are still wet...

The top was every bit as girly as everything else in the room, lilac colored, high necked, with lace trim. The jeans, thankfully, were plain blue, and there were a pair of lace-trimmed ankle socks and a pair of pink cotton panties to complete the ensemble. Grumbling, I dressed, then stopped in front of the full-length mirror on the door. The disturbing part was, I didn't look at all out of place. Shaking my head, I walked back over to the bed, plunked down, and began to sip on the coffee, brooding over the image I had just witnessed.

A knock on the door came a few minutes later. “Hey, are you decent?”

Not that it matters, you've seen me naked... I thought grimly. “Yeah, I'm dressed,” I called back.

She came in, looked me up and down, and chuckled a bit. “Sorry about the outfit. I kinda...”

“Yeah, I know. This stuff was supposed to be for that kid you were adopting,” I said glumly.

“Well, I'm not the one who drank herself stupid last night,” she chided as she leaned back against the desk on the opposite side of the room.

“You're not the one who had the day from hell yesterday, either,” I shot back sarcastically.

“Sure,” she laughed. “And that fixed everything, didn't it, kiddo?”

The “kiddo” comment suddenly jolted out memories of the argument from the previous night, and I reacted without considering the potential consequences. “Okay, so where exactly the fuck am I?” I snapped, scowling.

“Woah there,” she said, stiffening a bit. “First of all, you're in my house, and that kind of language doesn't fly around here.”

“Well, if you were my size at my age, you wouldn't take too kindly to being called 'kiddo' all the time, either.”

“Okay, fair enough. We can call it even.”

The small talk had gotten old by that point. “Look, lady, I appreciate the hospitality and all, but if it's all the same to you I'd rather just get back to my car and go home.”

I couldn't quite read her reaction to this. Her brows furrowed, then she stood up and calmly stated, “That's fine. As soon as your clothes are dry, you can change and I'll take you back to the restaurant.” Without another word, she walked out briskly. I heard her footsteps down what sounded like a flight of stairs, and across a hard floor, leaving me alone with my thoughts. A vague feeling of guilt washed over me as I considered my circumstances. I was so worried about her being some sort of creep, I hadn't even given consideration to what she had done for me in the previous twelve hours. I finished the cup of coffee, then picked up the cup and saucer and cautiously walked out the door through which she had exited.

I found myself at an open railing, staring down into a huge foyer with wood floors. To one side, a wall picked up, and there were two more doors on the same side as the room I just left. To the other, a winding staircase led down into the foyer. I went ahead down the stairs gingerly, my bare feet padding softly on the carpeted steps. When I reached the bottom, I surveyed the scene briefly. Directly ahead of me was a doorway which led into a formal dining room, and a hallway led to my right. “Is that you, Naomi?” her voice called out from down the hall.

I followed the voice and found myself in a huge kitchen, Elise sitting at an island in the center on a bar stool, sipping coffee, dressed in a dark paisley button-down top, tied at the waist, and blue jeans. “Came down for another cup?” she asked, as though the previous altercation had never happened.

“Um... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude back there,” I stammered out sheepishly.

“Hey, I get it, you're in a strange house, dressed in strange clothes, with a person you only 'met' for about ten minutes before you knocked yourself out in a bar. I'd probably be a bit sketchy myself,” she chuckled. “I'm not sure if I'd have the gall to start mouthing off like you did, but I'd definitely be worried about motives.”

“Um, okay...” I ventured. “So... what were your motives?”

“Direct. I like that,” she laughed. “Truthfully? If you hadn't been nearly falling down drunk when I approached you, I would have taken your first couple of hints and left you there to do whatever you were going to do. But, then, that was pretty much the reason why I came over in the first place, because I could see you were in trouble and getting deeper.”

“But... why bother?” I still couldn't shake the idea she had other reasons for doing this.

I watched her smile fade a bit as she shifted positions to look straight at me. “I know you're not going to believe this, but I was taught from a very young age that you get exactly what you give in this world. I know if I were the one sitting in that booth, spiraling out of control like that, I'd want someone to step in before I did something I really regretted.”

I was dumbstruck. “I... don't know what to say...” I stammered, feeling even more ashamed that I had been so hostile to this person, when all she was trying to do was help.

“Don't worry about it. You want another cup of coffee before we head out?” her smile returned.

“No... I'm good,” I said quietly, putting my cup and saucer on the counter next to the sink.

“Alright, then let's get going,” she said, setting her cup down and slinging her purse across her shoulder. “Your purse is still in the car, and your shoes are next to the front door.” I followed behind her as she walked briskly down the hallway and back out into the foyer, then located my shoes and slipped them on. I started to open the front door, but she stopped me. “This way.” She pointed toward a single door off to the side. She walked over and opened it, stepping aside as I passed through into a huge four-bay garage, in which sat a couple of unique-looking old cars I didn't recognize and a pristine black Yukon hybrid. I giggled a bit at this last piece.

“What's so funny?” she asked as she produced a key fob and unlocked the doors on the Yukon.

“Sorry, it just seems like such a contradiction, a massive SUV that's also a hybrid.”

“Oh, I didn't buy it to be all green and earth-conscious,” she laughed. “I bought it because twenty-two miles per gallon is a lot better than fourteen when you're trekking around all over the countryside buying 'old junk', as you called it last night, and it's pretty tough to carry a six-foot-tall armoire in one of those little Prius numbers.”

I chuckled a bit as I climbed up into the passenger's side with some difficulty. The intense smell of upholstery cleaner met my nose immediately, and another memory surfaced from the previous night as I sat down, one of me bent over retching in this seat. I blushed and mumbled “Sorry about the...”

“Shush. Truck was overdue for a cleaning anyway,” she said as she buckled up and turned the ignition switch. She pulled her cellphone out and began tapping away, and the garage door opened behind us. She backed the truck out and into a turnaround in the driveway, then tapped a few more buttons, at which point the garage door closed and the gate at the bottom of the drive slid open. She put her phone back in her pocket and off we went.

As we started to roll down the street, however, I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. I kept silent, but as it intensified, Elise seemed to pick up on it. “Hey, are you okay over there? You're looking a little green around the gills.”

“I... I'm fine... just need some air...” I stammered, rolling the window down. The salt breeze initially felt good on my face as we neared the Golden Gate, but then the world started to spin all over again.

“Naomi, you don't look fine,” she argued. “Do you feel sick?”

“No... just dizzy,” I managed. “I'll be fine, though.”

I closed my eyes for what seemed like only a few seconds. “Hey, you awake over there?” The soft voice pulled me back into consciousness. The truck was parked in front of the bar, my head was splitting and spinning again, and Elise's hand was on my shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, I'm fine,” I mumbled, gathering my purse.

“Are you sure? I can probably get one of the guys to follow us to your place.” she persisted, a clearly concerned look on her face.

“Really, I'm okay.” Truthfully, I wasn't, but I'd had quite enough of the “kindness of strangers” for one twenty-four-hour period, and wanted nothing more than to just get back to my crummy apartment and try to figure out how I was going to come up with enough money to pay the rent another month. I quickly exited the truck and said, “Thanks for the ride,” closing the door before she had a chance to lodge any further protests.

I made my way, with some difficulty, up to my Crown Vic and climbed into the elevated driver's seat. Shaking my head in vain hopes to clear the buzzing noises, I fired up the tired old engine. I took a deep breath and threw it into drive, stopping to check traffic in my side view mirror before pulling out onto the street. After I made a couple of turns, I noticed Elise's truck still behind me, and I thought, What the hell? Now she's following me?

I had little time to consider this, as a powerful wave of nausea hit me, and I doubled over to the side and retched all over the center console. Before I could so much as right myself back into a sitting position, I heard horns blare and brakes screech, and then the lights went out.

[WBDaddy]

5

Time may as well have stopped, for as much as I was aware of it. I felt like I was chained to the bottom of a shallow pool of water. Voices came and went, but they were muffled and distant. There was the sensation of motion, but I could not move, or at least I couldn't tell if anything was moving, as my head was rigidly in place. I recall being asked my name a lot, and where I was, but when I tried to move my lips, there was no sound. Every time I tried to open my eyes, there was painfully intense light, and there were faces, but they were distorted and misshapen. Pain was a constant friend. My whole body ached, but my left side especially. From within the chaos, during moments of lucidity, I struggled vainly to piece together the images into some sense of what had transpired, only to lose touch as I sank back into the darkness, into fractured dreams of overdue bills and unfinished resumes and Bill and Amanda and Okaasan, seemingly everything in my life that had gone wrong or was going wrong all visited me in that same window of time until...

My eye was pried open, and a penlight shone into it. “Pupils are... Hey! Welcome back to the land of the living!” a man's voice chuckled. I tried to open my eyes on my own after he let loose, but the overhead light was blinding, and I squinted against its glare. “Hey, we can dim those for you a bit here,” he spoke again. “I'm Dr. Mattson. Can you tell me who you are?”

“Naomi...” I croaked, still disoriented. “Naomi Hashimura.”

“Good, good. Do you know where you are?”

“No... but I'm going to take a wild guess that this is a hospital. Any chance I could get a drink?”

“Sure, we can get that for you in just a minute. Yes, this is a hospital. Do you know why you're here?”

I tried again to piece the images together, but I still couldn't make any sense of them. “All I know is, some crazy person I met last night dropped me off where my car was, and now I'm here.”

“Well, you were in a pretty bad car accident in between those points,” he said, raising his eyebrow.

I looked down for the first time since I woke up. There was a huge blue wrapping covering most of my left leg, secured with velcro, with my bare knee poking out, and my left arm was in a sling. “What...” I started.

“Your left kneecap was dislocated completely. You're not going to be putting any weight on that leg for the next two or three weeks. Your shoulder is just bruised, and should be fine by the time you get out of here in a couple days. You also got yourself a nice concussion, and from what your friend told me, it was your second in 12 hours, which is probably why you were in and out for such a long time, in between being sedated.” he explained

“Wait... What do you mean, a long time...” I asked timidly, looking up at the clock on the wall, which read 7:30. “That's pm, right?”

“Yes, it's 7:30 pm Saturday evening,” he stated flatly.

“Shit!” I exclaimed. “My electric bill! They cut the power at my apartment! What the hell am I gonna do?!” I sat up, then quickly dropped back to the pillow as my left side protested the sudden movement. “Fuck!” I groaned.

“First of all, you need to calm down,” Dr. Mattson said sternly. “You're gonna be sore for a while, and sudden movements will make it worse. You've got a pain pump right there; you might want to get familiar with it.” He pointed to what looked like a game-show buzzer attached to a cord dangling on the side of the bed. I snatched the device and began to hammer away at the button as my knee screamed its dissatisfaction with my previous hasty movement.

“Second, that's only going to give you measured doses at specific intervals.” he laughed. “I doubt you'll be still awake by the time you're allowed another one, considering your size.”

Between the pain and the sudden shock of realizing the gap in time, I was hardly in the mood for humor. “Anything else I should be aware of?” I snapped.

“Well, your head CT was negative, which is a good thing.”

As he was talking, Elise came into the room. All at once, I flashed back to her truck in my rearview, and I bristled. “You!” I snapped. “What the hell were you doing following me around, you stalker?!”

Her face took on a look like I'd just shot her parents. “I... was trying to make sure you made it home alright... You didn't look very well when you got out of my truck. I didn't mean to...”

Dr. Mattson interrupted, “I wouldn't be so quick to pop off at someone who has been here nearly nonstop the last day and a half waiting for me to wake up. We should all have such devoted friends.”

“I...” I was stunned. “You barely know me. Why are you doing this?”

Elise sat down on the bed and took my hand. “What was I supposed to do, just let the ambulance cart you off and forget you ever existed? Hell, it's at least part my fault this happened, I should have been a lot more forceful with you when I realized you were half out of it in the truck. The least I could do was be here when you came to, so you weren't completely among strangers.”

That last word triggered a few more synapses in my brain. “What about Okaasan? Has anyone contacted her?”

“I took the liberty of pulling numbers from your phone and trying to get in touch with your family. Suffice it to say, that didn't go real well.” Elise sighed.

“What do you mean?” I asked suspiciously.

“Hey, listen, I gotta do the rest of my rounds. If you need anything, just hit the call button, okay?” Dr. Mattson said, smiling as he walked out of the room.

“Once I explained to her that you weren't in critical condition, your mother coldly thanked me for the information and hung up. I don't know what's going on between you two, but I've not seen anyone of any sort of Asian descent show up here looking for you. I also called a number you have for 'Sobo', but...”

The name stung me immediately. “Yeah, that's old. My grandmother lives with my mother now, ever since she had the stroke. My mother's been mad at me for a while now, because I haven't found a real job yet, and with her having to take care of Sobo, she's even more intolerant than usual. We had a bad argument over the phone a couple days ago, and she told me if I could only be bothered to call when I needed something, don't bother calling at all.” My head dropped, and I fiddled with my wristband as I talked.

“That's terrible!” she gasped. “How could someone be like that to their only child?”

“You don't understand. Okaasan's still stuck in the old ways, just as she was raised,” I said as a gentle buzz began to fill my head, and my skin tingled ever so slightly. “She didn't go to college, she got married to a Japanese man with a prestigious job, then had me, and her father was proud of her. After Touchan died, when I was very young, Okaasan was very angry. She always felt that she threw all her hopes and dreams away to be a good shufu and please her father, so she was determined that I would honor the family by being an illustrious and prestigious career woman instead of a baita, depending on a man for everything.” By the time I finished, my eyelids were getting very heavy.

“Sounds like your mother's a pretty bitter woman. I admit, my Japanese is pretty terrible, but does baita mean what I think it does?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, my head nodding involuntarily. “Prostitute.”

“That's what I thought.” I felt her hand brush the hair out of my eyes. “I see you found your morphine pump,” she chuckled as I continued to fade. “Why don't you lie back for a bit, and I'll see about getting some dinner in here for you?” Before I could muster a response, I felt her hand press my head back onto the mattress and hold steady on my forehead as a motor whirred and the bed began to recline, taking me with it. Her soft fingertips brushed my cheek, and I drifted off.

[WBDaddy]

6

“Naomi... Naomi...” the voice beckoned to me out of the foggy dreamscape. I felt a soft hand on mine, and the visions of kabuki robes and bamboo fans faded into the mist.

“Sobo?” I murmured as I began to open my eyes.

“Not quite,” Elise answered, chuckling. “Your dinner's getting cold, sweetie. I thought you might want to eat sometime before midnight.”

I reflexively stretched, then quickly stopped as my shoulder cried out its protest. “Ouch! What time is it?” I yelped, wincing.
“You okay?” Elise replied worriedly. “It's ten o'clock. We managed to get the kitchen to fix you a club with some fries before they closed. Think you might be up for it?”

The mere mention of food set off an intense growl in my stomach, a less-than-subtle reminder that I hadn't eaten anything in more than two days, which diverted my attention at least somewhat from my throbbing shoulder. “Wow. I haven't even thought about food, but now that you mention it...” I said, the desire for sustenance at that moment overriding the temptation to hit the morphine button again.

Elise took the bed remote and raised the head of my bed up, then walked around to the other side and rolled the tray over in front of me, removing the lid and revealing a two-tiered wheat bread sandwich with layers of sliced turkey and ham on the bottom and bacon, lettuce, tomato, and mayo on the top. A second plate held a pitiful-looking serving of crinkle-cut fries, which I ignored completely. I gingerly reached out, snagged a piece of the sandwich, and took a bite. I never imagined something like hospital food could taste so good, after a day and a half of dry mouth preceded only by two cups of coffee yesterday morning, and my pace quickened.

“Hey, slow down there, no one's going to steal it!” Elise laughed as she sat back down in her chair. “That's apple juice in the cup, by the way. I didn't know what your preference was, but they told me you couldn't have anything fizzy.”

“It's fine,” I said after finishing a mouthful. “Thank you for getting it for me.” I paused for a second and looked down. “And thanks for being here. I mean, I still barely know you, but you cared enough to look after me. You didn't have to...”

“Don't start feeling all guilty on my account,” Elise scolded gently. “I'm here because I want to be here, not because I thought I had to be here.”

“I guess I still don't really understand why,” I said softly, staring at the tray in front of me. “I mean... I don't know what I mean... I'm just...”

“Wondering why I would want to be a friend to you when it's obvious you could really use one?” she replied as she shifted her chair closer to the bed. “You worried I have some kind of creepy ulterior motives going on under the surface? Or maybe you think you don't deserve having friends that actually care?”

A previously buried memory fired into the back of my mind, and I grinned and said “Ah hell, there you go with the pop psychology again,” as I took another bite of my sandwich, chuckling.

Elise's jaw dropped in mock indignation as she slapped me gently on the arm. “Pop psychology?! I'll show you pop psychology!”

“Hey! Payfent abufe!” I yelled, laughing, mouth still full of cold cuts and bread, as a nurse appeared at the doorway.

“I see someone's finally awake.” she chuckled as she walked in. “Ready for your meds?”

“Would it make a difference if I said 'no'?” I snarked, sticking my tongue out defiantly, to which Elise laughed heartily.

“Well no, it probably wouldn't, because I'd just get a syringe and put them in your IV instead.” She laughed as she began making notes on her clipboard, reading values from a monitor next to my bed, then hitting a button which set off the blood pressure cuff on my right arm. I sat as still as I could in between chuckling back and forth at Elise, until the thing finally stopped squeezing.

“So, how's your pain level right now?” the nurse piped up as she handed me a tiny paper cup with three pills in it.

“Um... good as long as I don't move around,” I said, downing the pills and taking a swallow of the apple juice, which triggered another response, one I hadn't seen coming at all. I felt a sudden urge to pee, then realized I couldn't stop it. I looked down in horror, then up at the nurse, who smiled broadly.

“I see you've discovered your catheter,” she laughed.

I reached my hand under the blanket and felt the plastic tubing resting on my leg, which was quite warm to the touch. “I'm... peeing in a bag?” I stammered.

“Well, yeah, you've been out most of the last two days. Lot easier than trying to wake you up and take you to the bathroom, don't you think?”

I cringed. “So... how long does this stay in?”

“That hinges on how soon you're able to get up and walk to and from the bathroom on your own,” she replied. “I wouldn't worry about it tonight, though. Anything else I can do for you while I'm here?”

“Uh... tell me when they're gonna let me out of here?” I asked hopefully.

She flipped through a folder on the clipboard. “Doctor Mattson's notes say he wants to keep you here for observation until he's sure you're not having any after-effects from your head trauma. He'll be back in the morning, though, so you can probably talk to him then about what that means. I know in most head injury cases, the doctors like to see the patient up and around and not having vertigo or other balance problems, especially if they live alone. I'd say that's even more important in your case, being that your leg's gonna be splinted up for the next couple weeks, and you won't even be able to use a crutch for the next few days until the swelling goes down a bit on that shoulder, so you're pretty well immobile right now without help.”

“But... I can't stay here all week!” I protested.

“I didn't say that,” she said softly, but with a distinctive motherly tone, “I said Doctor Mattson will be here in the morning, and he'll be able to give you a clearer answer. So... do you need anything right now? Extra blanket or pillow? Something to read?”

“No, I'm fine,” I said glumly. As the nurse got up and left, my thoughts raced. How was I going to pay for this? How was I going to pay my rent in a few weeks, with no job and my leg in a splint? Hell, what about my car? I was sure it was totaled. It all crashed down on me like a truckload of gravel, each pebble a different problem, but all of them connected to the one thing I didn't have and had no way of getting – money.

“Hey,” Elise's voice cut through the chorus of worries, and I felt her hand on my forearm. “It won't do any good to brood over it now, you know. We'll figure it out tomorrow. Finish your dinner, you'll feel better.”

“I kinda lost my appetite,” I said, staring at the remaining quarter or so of the sandwich sitting on my plate.

“Oh come on.” she chided. “For all the poking about pop psychology, I finally give it to you on purpose and can't even get a laugh?”

Just then, the nurse poked her head back in. “Oh, one more thing. Family hours are over in forty minutes, but if you want to stay the night, just let someone at the front desk know, and we can get you a cot, okay?”

“Thanks,” Elise said, smiling. “I might stick around tonight, now that she's awake on her own.”

“That'll be fine, I'll have them bring one down,” the nurse chirped back, then disappeared again.

Overwhelmed as I was, somewhere in the back of my head a connection was made, and I looked at Elise suspiciously. “Family hours?” I asked, my eyebrow raised.

She snickered a bit, then whispered “I told them I was your aunt, and none of your other relatives lived close enough to visit. Otherwise, they would have kicked me out an hour and a half ago.”

“Aunt Elise, huh?” I chuckled.

“Has a ring to it, doesn't it?” she grinned.

A few minutes later, a tall, burly-looking guy came and set up a spartan-looking cot under the window, dropping the folded blanket and pillow on it nonchalantly, and leaving without a word.

“So, you done with that?” Elise nodded toward the tray as she stood.

I finished the cup of juice and set it back on the tray. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Good,” she replied, walking over and moving the tray table out of the way. “What say you find something incredibly boring on TV, maybe put us both to sleep?”

I located the TV remote on a tray to my right, shifting myself carefully to keep my sore shoulder still as I retrieved it, then turned the TV in the corner of the ceiling on, flipping through the channels for a bit, finally settling on an old Tom Hanks movie. Elise dimmed the lights in the room, then sat down and kicked up the footrest on the recliner, and we sat silently, her seemingly engrossed in the movie, and me brooding over the hopelessness of my situation.

Around one o'clock, a nurse poked her head in the door with a quick smile and a wave. I halfheartedly waved back with my good arm, then looked over at Elise, who was sound asleep in the chair. Figures, she's out and I'm wide awake, I thought to myself. I switched the TV off and reclined the head of my bed back, staring at the ceiling and struggling to put the worry out of my mind about all that had happened and what was to come of it. So much had gone wrong so fast, it had to be some other poor sucker's life, not mine, some character in a morbid slapstick comedy I watched late one night. Those couldn't be my memories, could they? I struggled to piece it all back together, try and sort out the fragments to match what I'd been told of what happened, but the strain became too much, and memory soon dissipated into dream.

[WBDaddy]

7

Morning came abruptly, as the sunrise illuminated my window. I looked at the wall clock: Six-fifteen. I couldn't recall ever voluntarily waking up this early, but considering how much I'd been unconscious the last two days, it wasn't really surprising. Elise had apparently moved over to the cot after I fell asleep, as evidenced by her form facing the wall, motionless save for her breathing. She was still such an enigma to me. What was motivating her to demonstrate this kind of dedication to what was essentially a complete stranger? Was she... a lesbian? Was this all an elaborate effort to be my girlfriend? I shuddered at the thought. I hadn't exactly had a prolific sex life prior to that point; in fact the only sexual relationship I ever had was with a guy who turned out to be a closet pedophile. Suffice to say I hadn't had the desire to date since.

That moment of recall did nothing to ease my anxiety about the motionless woman in the corner of my room, unfortunately, as I remembered where I had slept the night all this started, and the closet full of little girls' clothes. That couldn't be what she was about, could it? A lesbian and a pedo? No, that would be just too weird. Besides, if she was that kind of creeper, she could have easily taken advantage of me the first night. A lesbian pedo with a conscience? Or a sense of chivalry? Somehow I doubted it. So what the hell was her fascination? Why the sudden interest in me? The questions pounded away at me in the quiet of the dawn, as the absurdity of the whole situation came into razor focus.

“Oh hey, you're awake. Good morning!” the soft voice cut through my brooding. The morning nurse was at the door. I waved, then nodded towards Elise.

“Got it,” she whispered with a chuckle as she approached my bed. “I'm just here to check your vitals.”

I sat silently as her head darted back and forth between the monitor next to my bed and my chart, scribbling as she went. “Breakfast will be here in about half an hour,” she whispered. “You want to take your meds now or wait?”

“Let's get it over with,” I sighed. “What am I taking here, anyway?”

“Just pain medication.” she called back as she stepped out into the hall and returned with another condiment cup, similar to the one the nurse gave me last night. She continued, “Couple of ibuprofen and a Vicodin. The general idea is to get you to a point where you're okay just taking that stuff and not using the pump.” She gave me the pills and a small cup of water.

“Uh, yeah, I don't think I'll be doing much more with the nap machine,” I said flatly.

“Morphine made you too sleepy?” she laughed.

“Sleepy isn't the word for it; I was out for four hours!”

“Well, that'll get you closer to discharge, anyway,” she smiled.

I paused for a moment on this revelation. “Closer? What else do I have to do to get out of here?”

“Well, first off, the doc's gotta get your catheter out so you can go to the bathroom on your own. I'm sure he's going to want to do some additional neurological tests to make sure you're okay upstairs too, but he'll tell you more about that after breakfast, when he does his rounds. Speaking of rounds, I do need to get the rest of the patients taken care of here, so...”

“I'm good,” I acknowledged.

“Okay then. Enjoy your breakfast!”

As I watched her stride briskly out of the room, Elise rolled over into a stretch and look around sleepily.

“Morning,” I offered.

She let loose a huge yawn before responding. “Hey. Wow, what time is it? I barely remember getting out of the chair last night.”

“Almost seven.”

“Wow. How long you been awake?”

“Not long. Nurse just dropped off my pills, and the breakfast cart is on its way, according to her.”

“Oh good. Maybe I can scare up a cup of coffee,” she said, sitting up and running her fingers through her hair sandy-brown hair, staring at the ground in front of her.

“Are you a lesbian?” I suddenly blurted out. Oh shit! Did I just say that?!

“Huh?!” came the stunned response.

“Nothing. Sorry,” I backpedaled.

“Wait, you just asked if I was a lesbian?” she asked, offering me a befuddled glance.

“I... uh... yeah, I guess I did,” I said sheepishly. My turn to stare at the floor.

“And... where did this come from?”

“I... I don't know... I just... Forget I asked. It doesn't matter,” I stammered.

“Well obviously it does, so I'll go ahead and answer. No, I'm not a lesbian. I don't date much, but when I do, it's a guy, not a girl. Now you get to answer my question.”

At this point she was fully upright, eyes locked on me, but her face showed no aggression, no anger, not even annoyance. I couldn't read her at all, which didn't help my ability to formulate a thought. Finally, I took a deep breath.

“I was thinking this morning, about everything that's happened, and why you're here, and what you're doing, and I guess I still don't get why I'm such a big deal to you, and that was about the only explanation I could come up with,” I said meekly, still unable to look at her more than a second or two at a time.

“Okay, that makes a little more sense.” She paused for a moment, then began again. “Without going into a big song and dance, let's just say there was a moment in my life where, had it not been for a stranger who cared enough to help out, I wouldn't be sitting here right now. As cheesy as that sounds, it's the truth. I guess maybe that's why the whole 'get what you give' thing my Dad always harped on stuck with me. It doesn't ever quite feel real until you're on the receiving end, you know what I mean?”

Honestly, I had no idea what she meant, but I agreed anyway.

“So yeah, I mean, the fact is, the more involved I've gotten here, the more help you seem like you've needed. I mean, your own mother didn't even come down here to see you, she just took my word for it over the phone. And your friends that left you in the bar? Your phone has been sitting there the whole time, on silent, and I've checked it regularly. Not a single call. Trust me, hon, there's nothing worse than waking up in a hospital bed, having little to no idea how you got there, and not seeing at least some kind of familiar face. I couldn't stand the idea of putting you in that kind of spot, so I stuck around.”

Once again I was struck speechless, guilty at my cynical attitude. Elise apparently noticed the change in my demeanor.

“Do you want me to go?” she asked softly. “Is that it? Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” I quickly replied. The last thing I wanted was to be alone, even if my company was a real-life Good Samaritan, or at least whatever ulterior motives she had were hidden so well I couldn't figure them out. “It's... I mean... You had to know...”

Before she could answer, there was a knock at the door, and Dr. Mattson appeared. “Good morning ladies!” he announced with a smile. “Rumor has it someone's up and raring to get out of here.”

“Yeah, as much as I love the décor,” I shot back with a grin.

“I'm going to be straight with you,” he said, brows furrowing, as an orderly wheeled in what I presumed to be my breakfast. “You have several hurdles I'd like to see you clear before I feel good about discharging you. First and biggest one is, you need to be able to make it to and from the bathroom. Problem there is, your shoulder is still too bruised up to use a crutch on that side, and you're not going to be bending that knee for at least a couple of weeks. With that in mind, knowing what you've already told me about your living situation, we need to get that arm working so you can ambulate on your own, since you really don't have anyone to help you get around and get things done for yourself where you are now.”

“But... how long is that gonna take?” I was stunned.

“Well, best case probably two more days in the sling, until that bruise is healed up, then another day or so of physical therapy work to get it loosened back up enough for you to get around. Worst case, if you're a slow healer, it could be a week.”

“I... I can't stay here for a week!” Panic set in as the potential fallout from me being stuck here for all that extra time raced through my mind, not only the massive hospital bills, but all the bills coming due at home, the likelihood of losing my place.

“Look, Naomi, I can't very well stop you from leaving if you're determined to do so, but as your doctor, I'm telling you that it's a really, really bad idea for you to be by yourself until you're up, ambulating on your own, not having any post-concussive symptoms, and not needing pain medicine except maybe at night. You're at a very high risk right now to hurt yourself even worse if you try to be stubborn about this.”

Then the cold realization hit me. Even if I went home, what good would it do? Forget being hobbled for however long it took for my knee to heal, my car was totaled, I had no money other than whatever was in my purse, and I had no place to get help. I was screwed, and I knew it, and it was the most horrible feeling I'd ever experienced.

“Naomi?” Elise asked after a prodigious silence. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Hey Doc?”

“Yes, Naomi?”

“Can we at least do something about the peeing in the bag thing? Or do I have to wait for that too?”

He stifled a laugh. I couldn't really blame him, though I was hardly in a humorous mood. “Yes, we can definitely get that taken care of this morning. Why don't you go ahead and eat breakfast, and I'll get a nurse and come back after rounds to take care of that for you, okay?”
I wasn't hungry, but I agreed. If anything, I figured it might serve as something of a distraction from everything else swimming around in my head. Dr. Mattson took his leave and disappeared down the corridor. It was at that moment Elise took care of the distraction.

“You know... I wouldn't be opposed to having a roommate for a while...”

[WBDaddy]

8

It didn't really sink in immediately what Elise was proposing, as lost as I was in the forest of my own worry. Heck, I almost didn't hear her at all. It was only as I watched, gape-mouthed, while she rolled my breakfast tray over to my bed, that the connection finally happened. If I'd been in a chair, I certainly would have fallen out of it at that point.

“Huh?!” was the best I could manage. What else do you say to that, really?

“I said I wouldn't be opposed to a roommate,” she said, chuckling, as she removed the cover from my tray and wrinkled her nose at the contents. “I mean, if you wanted to... you know, get the doc to let you out of here, you could stay at my place for a while until you were back up on your feet.”

“But... I don't have a job... I can't pay you rent...”

“Did I say anything about wanting money?” she cut me off, still smiling.

“I... I mean, I don't even... I can't...” Compelling arguments failed to come, probably because every part of my brain was agreeing with her, but this couldn't be the right answer, could it?

“Look, you want to know what my ulterior motive is? Companionship. I don't have any close friends, just business associates. In the antiques business, no one is your friend, because either you're trying to beat them to the next big score or one of you is trying to convince the other that they need to pay the price you're asking for something you're also trying to convince them they need to have.” She leaned in a bit. “So yeah, this isn't strictly altruism on my part. You need someplace to stay, I've got a big empty house and no one in it but me. You need someone to help you out for a while, I'd like to have a friend to hang out with and keep me company, someone who isn't trying to get over on me or con me into something. Does that put you a little more at ease?”

“So...” I was dumbstruck. “I don't get it. You hang out at the bar all the time, don't you have friends there?”

She rolled her eyes. “I have bar buddies. That's a completely different animal. People you hang around with in a bar don't give a rat's ass about you or your life except when you're drinking with them. Once you leave the bar, you cease to exist.”

“Wow.” I thought about Desiree and Amanda. My bar buddies. I hadn't heard shit from them since they left the bar the other night, and here I'd been in the hospital for what was now three days. You need to remember who your friends are. Dez's words rang through my head. “I guess you have a point there.”

“Hey, I'll tell you one thing,” her mood shifted as she leaned back, smiling, “I guarantee the food's a hell of a lot better.”

I looked ruefully at the dry scrambled eggs and sad-looking half-cooked bacon on the plate in front of me. “Couldn't be worse, I suppose,” I chuckled.

“Is that a yes?” she asked, the slightest hint of excitement in her voice.

I grabbed a piece of the rubbery bacon and took a bite, well, more of a rip, then grimaced my displeasure. “Okay, you win. Maybe I can finally get focused on getting my resume out there and getting a real job.”

“Great. Let me go hunt down your doctor and let him know, so we can get him working on getting you out of here!” she said, bright-eyed and grinning, as she made for the door.

What did I just get myself into? I wondered, but soon found myself shouted down. Doesn't matter, you idiot. Playing house with her has to better than playing house over at Glade Memorial in a cardboard box...

Still, the comfort level I had achieved with her through this morning's conversation receded pretty quickly as her schoolgirl giddiness spilled over in that last moment. I did my best to push the trepidation to the back of my mind as I picked through the sad-looking breakfast plate, finally spreading some jam on the toasted cardboard and choking down bites between sips of the lukewarm brown-colored liquid masquerading as coffee, reassuring myself that this really was a good idea.

Fortunately, I didn't have long to stew over the matter, as Dr. Mattson reappeared, Elise and a nurse in tow, shortly after I had given up on breakfast.

“So your aunt tells me you've agreed to stay with her at least until we get your shoulder straightened out?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I replied flatly, which elicited an immediate reaction from Elise, confusion dampening her cheery demeanor.

“Well that was convincing,” she quipped.

Dr. Mattson laughed. “I think someone's a bit anxious about something she knows I need to do here in a minute, is all.”

My eyes widened a bit. I had all but forgotten about the plastic bag attached to my leg, once I got accustomed to the involuntary component of the process. I had no idea what I was about to experience, but my gut told me it wasn't going to be very fun. The nurse drew the privacy curtain around my bed, leaving Elise on the other side, looking concerned.

“Relax.” Dr. Mattson said softly, placing his hand on top of mine. “It'll be over before you realize it.”

Much to my surprise, it was. The doctor popped a syringe into the tube, let it fill up with water, slid the tube out gently, which felt really weird, but only mildly painful, cleaned the area with what looked like iodine, and it was done. It took him longer to explain some of the potential problems I might experience from the catheter being there as long as it had than it did to actually get it out of there, and the nurse pulling my IV out afterward was more painful.

“Now, the good news for you is, many people experience hesitancy for a few days after having a catheter, which means you'll have more time between having the urge to go and actually needing to,” he said, smiling. “With your shoulder problem keeping you off crutches and your splint keeping you off that leg, you'll be glad to have the extra time for someone to help get you there.”

I blushed at the thought of needing to ask Elise for “help” getting to the bathroom, but felt an even more intense embarrassment when I considered the problem of negotiating my clothes with one arm. If it weren't for the forewarning by the nurse last night about “another enema”, along with the idea of being poked and prodded in much less affectionate fashion by complete strangers and being billed vast sums of money for my trouble, I'd have been ready to ask the doc to put the tube back in. As it was, I merely resigned myself to the reality that I was all but helpless no matter which path I took. “So can I get dressed and get out of here now?” I piped up.

“First we need to make sure that your plumbing is working and whether or not you're going to get dizzy and lose your balance the first time you get up,” he chuckled.

“Which means...” I offered apprehensively.

“Which means you need to get up and go to the bathroom before we can discharge you.”

“That all?” I quipped. “You tell me this after you drain me out?” I let off an exasperated sigh to drive home the point.

“Come now, it's not as though I could have...”

“Hey, relax!” Elise cut in. “Unless you'd like to go home in that gown, I need to go pick up some clothes for you anyway!”

I grumbled my frustration, but I had to concede her yet another point. “Don't you ever get sick of being right all the time?” I snarked.

She gave me a look of feigned indignation, which elicited chuckles from the doctor and the nurse. “Alright then, just sit tight while I go fetch you a change. Hopefully between now and then you'll... well...”

“No need for gory details,” I grumped as I swilled what was left of my coffee cup, “just keep the coffee coming!” Elise laughed as she turned and left the room.

“Sorry, sweetie, but we don't keep coffee up here on the floor. I can get you some water or some ginger ale now that your catheter is out,” the nurse suggested as she rolled the privacy curtains back into the corner of the room.

“Soda. By the six pack if you must.”

“Be back in a minute.” she sang as she turned and left as well.

While the nurse was off fetching my drinks, Dr. Mattson gave me a complete lecture on taking care of my leg, including the rather uncomfortable requirement that someone assist me getting in and out of the bath in order to keep the leg straight in this singular moment when I was allowed to take the splint off. I reluctantly agreed to his terms, then spent the next hour and a half forcing ginger ale down as fast as my stomach would stand. By the time Elise returned with my clothes, I was bloated and burping constantly, but still waiting for cooperation from my bladder.

“So are we ready to get dressed and get out of here?” she chirped as she walked in.

“Still waiting,” I groaned. Were I in anything tighter than the hospital gown, the distention in my belly would be obvious.

She walked over to my tray table and began to fill my cup with more soda. “Here, why don't you have another...”

“Dear god, no!” I cut her off. “I'll explode!”

“Oh you poor thing!” she cooed. “How much did you drink?”

“Five cans of ginger ale and a bottle of water. I feel like I'm about to give birth to a CO2 canister.”

More pity, small talk, and other distractions ensued as I waited out the inevitable. Thirty minutes later, it finally happened.

“Get the nurse! I gotta pee!” I perked up. Elise dashed out into the hall and brought back one of the nurses.

“How do we do this?” Elise asked, an edge of panic in her voice. “What do I need to do here?”

The nurse chuckled. “Well, pick her up and carry her!”

Elise and I looked at each other with the same mortified stare. “Um... okay... uh... which side?” she stammered.

“Come on over here.” the nurse continued as she pulled the blanket away from my legs and guided Elise's arms, one behind my back and the other under my knees. “That's it, let the splint do the work for you there, and just...”

I was entirely too stunned to speak as I felt myself hoisted up and cradled like an infant in Elise's arms. Half of me was indignant over being treated like a child, the other half suddenly warming to a level of contact, timid and slightly clumsy though it may have been, that I hadn't experienced in innumerable years. Unfortunately, this sensation didn't last long, as I was somewhat clumsily deposited on the toilet, my left leg propped up on a stool, and both the nurse and Elise stood there expectantly.

“Um... a little privacy, maybe?” I ventured.

The two of them fumbled through apologies as the nurse closed the bathroom door and I was left to mull this newest wave of conflicting feelings rushing through my head while nature took its course beneath me. It stung like hell, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through. I finished my business, cleaned up, then called out weakly, “I'm done,” feeling much like a toddler just learning how to use the “potty” as the door flew open.

The nurse only managed to reinforce that feeling when she cooed, “All done? Cleaned up good too?”

I blushed bright, but before I had a chance to offer a witty retort, I was suddenly scooped back up into Elise's arms, then carried back over to the bed.

“Alright, are we all set then?” the nurse chirped.

“Hey, that was supposed to be my cue to get out of here!” I protested.

“Oh, right. I'm sorry. Go ahead and get dressed, then, and I'll go get your paperwork ready.” She grabbed my chart and scooted out the door.

Elise produced some still-folded clothes from a plastic shopping bag she had brought along. “I went ahead and picked some things out, hopefully they're not too, uh, childish. I figured you'd be more comfortable in a skirt than pants with that big awkward brace on your leg.”

I grimaced as I examined a mid-thigh denim skirt with pink and white floral piping up either side and in a wide swath across the top. Sure enough, she'd coordinated it with a simple pink tee with a pop-art daisy emblazoned on the front.

“So... picking up some clothes from my apartment was out of the question?” I asked gingerly.

“Oh my gosh, I didn't even think of that. Wow, that would have been a much shorter trip, too. I'm sorry,” she said, putting her arm around me. “Well let's get out of here first. If you don't mind waiting in the truck, I'll stop by your place and grab your clothes before we head back up to the house, okay?”

“It's no big deal,” I said, not really meaning it. “I mean, it's not like I'm going out clubbing or something.” In the back of my mind, the experience with the pedophile gnawed at me as I did my best to get dressed or, more accurately, try to “help” her dress me. Unfortunately, my poker face betrayed me once more.

“Hey, I said I was sorry about the clothes.” she piped up. My shoulder protested the movement as she guided my arm out of the gown, and I grimaced.

“It's not... they're fine... don't worry about it.” Dammit!

“So it's about needing all the extra help, huh?” she persisted. I winced again as she slipped my arm gingerly through the sleeve, then replaced the sling.

“No, it's not that either. Like I said, don't worry about it. I'll be fine as soon as we get the hell out of here.” I blushed even deeper as she helped me with the underpants and then the skirt. I snagged my phone out of the drawer, a welcome evidence of my status as an adult.

“Okay, then,” she grinned as she straightened up, “Let's get the hell out of here, then!”

[WBDaddy]

9

I'd love to say that the humiliation ended once the nurse got me into a wheelchair and navigating toward the exits, but it got worse. Every stranger in the hall looked at me with the most ridiculously exaggerated sympathetic faces and requisite cooing, and I wanted to vomit every time. I finally caught a look at myself in a mirror at the end of one hall, and I realized why; I looked exactly like a kindergartener, one who had likely fallen out of a tree she shouldn't have been climbing and busted herself up. All I needed was pigtails and a rag doll, and I'd fit perfectly onto the set of that goofy kid show with the purple dinosaur. I'd be the star, no doubt, and the show would be all about helping handicapped people, with a non-stop barrage of stupid songs about all the ways the kids could annoy me by trying to involve me in their stupid little activities while I was in a wheelchair.

I was jolted rather suddenly out of this train of thought with an “Uuuup we go!” from Elise as she hoisted me out of the chair and into the back of her Yukon, where she rested my leg up on the rear-facing seat in front of me, moved my seat up tight to it, and buckled me in.

I involuntarily let out a grunt at this last move, to which she asked, “Are you okay? I didn't bump anything, did I?”

“No, you're fine. Let's just get out of here before someone else gives me a big 'awwww' and tries to pinch my cheek.”

Her eyes lit up and she started to grin. “Don't even think it.” I growled. She laughed heartily as she closed the back door, then reappeared up front, still chuckling.

“Yeah, funny for you, you're not the one who looks like a cast member from Romper Room.” I grumped.

She giggled louder as she started the truck. “Come on now, for someone who was supposed to happy to be getting out of the hospital, you were practically pouting the whole way out. It was adorable!”

Adorable.... The word stung, and I bit my lip hard, trying to keep my cool. “Can we please not dwell on this?” I snapped.

“Oh, hey, I was just teasing. I'm sorry.” her voice softened, and she put the truck back into park and turned around. “I didn't think...”

“Just... let's just change the subject, okay?” I did my best to pretend I wasn't ready for a fight.

The truck was silent for a while, which gave me ample opportunity to cool off. Elise finally spoke as she pulled up in front of my apartment building. “You okay back there?”

“Yeah.” I still wasn't much in the mood for talking, though the fangs and claws had certainly retracted.

Unfortunately for me, Elise seemed to be. She deftly slid out of her seat and into the seat directly in front of me, leaning in toward me with a somber face. “Look, I get you're still a little raw about the whole kid thing, although I can't imagine how you've gotten this far along in your life and not built up some sort of tolerance to what has to be a pretty regular part of interacting with people you don't know.”

Her voice was so soft and even, her eyes so compassionate, the indignation inside me just dissolved, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable, which was not particularly comfortable for me at that moment. I fidgeted under her gaze as she continued.

“I'm pretty sure there's more to this than a lifetime of short jokes, but if you don't want to talk about it right now, that's okay too. We are still getting to know each other here, and, well, now I know you've got a sore spot I should try to avoid. It'd be nice to know if there are any other ones I should know about ahead of time, though.”

I shook my head quietly, staring at her hands in her lap. She let out a sigh, then brought herself to a crouch. “Okay, I'll be right back. If you've got a suitcase in there somewhere, I'll fill it, but otherwise it'll be mostly underwear and a couple of outfits. We can come back for the rest of the stuff later. I'm not real thrilled with leaving the truck out on the street in this area anyway, never mind with you in it and immobile the way you are. Anything else you need while I'm there?”

“If you could get my laptop from the end table in my bedroom, that'd be great.” I offered meekly. “...please?”

“Sure, sweetie.” she smiled and let herself out the back door.

A few seconds later, the auto-locks engaged, leaving me by myself once again to brood. What was it about this woman that made me buckle so easily? This was so far beyond just behaving because I need the help. It was like she had a remote kill switch on my temper; all she had to do was look at me that way and speak in that tone and I turned to jelly at her feet.

All of a sudden, another thought crossed my mind. She had already assured me she wasn't into women; but was I? Was this some kind of attraction thing? Yikes! I dismissed that immediately; what a horrible thought! But there had to be some kind of...

The click of a door latch and the distinct whine of hydraulics broke my concentration. “Miss me?” Elise called from behind me. I turned my head as best as possible and saw her tossing my wheeled tote into the back of the truck. “I managed to get it all in there,” she huffed, “or at least everything that wasn't falling apart! Good grief, woman, when was the last time you updated your wardrobe?”

“Hey, it's not like I'm made of money here!” I protested. “When you're budgeting your bills out of erratic tip money, there usually isn't much left for clothes, other than replacing work uniforms that get wrecked.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” she agreed with an unexpected grin. “Anyway, we've got a couple more stops to make before we head home.”

Indeed, the medical supply was the first of the two. As she got ready to pick me up, she asked “I know it's not much fun having to be carried around, but the least I can do is give you a choice; would you rather I cradle you two-handed like at the hospital, or put you up on my hip?”

“Well, if I had to pick, I'd take 'B' – at least I'll just feel childish instead of infantile.”

“This is one of the things we're here to take care of.” she reassured as she hoisted me out of the seat, her left arm neatly positioned across the backs of my thighs as she situated me straddling her left hip. “We comfy?” she grinned.

“Sure, let me just get my thumb in my mouth here and...” I sniped, rolling my eyes.

“Now that would be beyond cute.” she laughed, then quieted down a bit. “Hey, sorry...”

“No, that was my joke. Can't blame you for laughing.”

The place was pretty quiet, not surprising for mid-morning on a Sunday. A rather chubby young guy in a tragic ensemble of a denim shirt and navy blue dress tie fetched us a wheelchair, into which Elise settled me immediately, and he then proceed to guide us through the place unbidden, gathering up the supplies she requested (portable commode, cast cover) and making some embarrassing suggestions (protective underwear, bed rails) that she thankfully dismissed, though not before the requisite ribbing sent my direction. She paid at the register, and the fat guy helped load the back of the truck while Elise buckled me back in, folding the wheelchair up and loading it in between the seats. They exchanged pleasantries, and we were off.

“Okay, so tell me wherever we're going next isn't going to involve someone suggesting I need to wear pull-ups to bed.” I groaned.

“You know, the whole ordeal here would probably be a lot less stressful on you if you just accepted the fact that people who don't know you are assuming you're a lot younger than you are.”

“Just because I've accepted it, doesn't mean I have to like it.” Wow, is that really the best comeback I've got left? I shook my head in disbelief.

“Missing the point here.” she sang. “What's stopping you from enjoying it for what it is?”

“Enjoying it?! What the hell am I supposed to be enjoying about people cooing at me like a kindergartner?!”

“You can't tell me there isn't a part of you that loves the attention.” she said softly.

I bit my lip. I knew I was right on the edge of saying the wrong thing and really putting myself in a bucket of shit.

“And besides, if everyone assumes you're...”

“FUCKING STOP, PLEASE!” I cut her off. I was trembling, but inside I kept repeating, She doesn't know, she doesn't understand, she's not why you're mad... “I mean... I'm sorry, I just...”

Silence from the front. I tried to catch a look at her eyes in the rearview, to get some feeling for how she was reacting. No such luck. She quietly pulled the truck into the parking lot of a strip mall and guided it to a stop. She unbuckled her seatbelt as I watched nervously, then climbed back into the back to sit in front of me once again.

“Look, Naomi,” she said softly, putting a hand gently on my ankle, “I'm sorry for teasing you, though I wasn't kidding about needing to let it go. That said, there's obviously more bothering you than just being teased about your height, and I think we need to talk about it, because this probably won't be the last time we run into it in the next week or so.”

I stared at her hand, wrestling with words. “I don't want to talk about it.” was all I could manage.

“I know you don't, but you need to, not for me, for you.”

That was the last straw, and I snapped. “Don't fucking sit there and act like you have any fucking idea what I need. Spoiled little fucking rich girl running around playing super-hero like you're gonna save the whole world? Think I didn't notice you dolled up that bedroom for an Asian kid? I think you need to do something about your fucking Mommy complex before you start talking shit about what I fucking need!”

As soon as I said it, I could see I hit a nerve. Her face became an emotionless wall, and all at once she got back up into the crouch and moved silently back to the front seat. She grabbed her purse and calmly said “I'm going to go grab your prescriptions. I'll be back in a few minutes.” I could hear a subtle tremor in her voice, as though she were fighting back tears, and I immediately regretted my outburst.

I sat quietly, trying to figure what her next move would be. She obviously wasn't going to ditch me somewhere, else she wouldn't have bothered with the prescriptions. All sorts of scenarios ran through my head, along with exit strategies. My concentration was suddenly disrupted by the click of the auto-lock and her door opening.

Without a word she started the truck back up and pulled it back out onto the road. Once more I tried to get a look at her eyes through the rearview, but the glimpses I caught gave me nothing as I sat in that silence, save the faint road noises outside. As we drove on, and the foreboding wore on me, I silently wished she had just tossed me out of the truck in the parking lot rather than leave me dangling over this cliff, staring into the abyss of my own anxiety over what immediate future awaited me.

[WBDaddy]

10

She still hadn't spoken a word when the Yukon rolled quietly into the garage. By this point, I couldn't stand the silence anymore.

“So... what happens now?” I asked timidly.

She turned the ignition switch, released her seatbelt, and turned around. “Now I do what I promised you I'd do, which is take care of you as best as I can for however long you need me to. After that, well, that's up to you.”

With that, she wordlessly exited the truck, walked around to the passenger's side, opened the door, and negotiated the wheelchair out from between the seats, setting it up next to her on the concrete. “It's going to be tricky, at least for the next day or so, getting you in and out of the garage, but hopefully...”

“I'm sorry.” I blurted out.

She looked up at me for a moment, then continued “...hopefully my contractor will be able to get the ramp put in pretty quickly tomorrow so we'll...”

“I'm sorry, Elise. What I said was nasty, and I didn't mean it.”

She paused again and said, “Okay”, then climbed in and unbuckled my seatbelt. She picked me up gently and deposited me into the wheelchair, then closed the door.

“So hopefully I won't have to wrestle this step...” she grunted as she coaxed the chair up over the door jam and into the foyer, “...more than once or twice more for however long you're off your feet.”

My anxiety level was reaching a fever pitch as she seemingly ignored my apology. “Will you talk to me, please?” I begged.

She took her shoes off and set them next to the door, then turned back and looked at me. “I am talking to you,” she said flatly, “but I thought you made it pretty clear on the way home you didn't want to talk about anything sensitive, so I'm trying to respect that.”

Yeah, I deserve this, don't I? “That's... not really what I meant.”

“No?” she replied, obviously feigning surprise as she wheeled me through the hallway, past the kitchen and into a sun room off the back of the house. “Well, maybe we can talk about what you meant after I get your stuff unloaded from the truck and get you settled in down here.”

“Wait... I thought you only had...”

“This place has four bedrooms and two baths upstairs and one of each downstairs, though I use the bedroom down here as my office. You obviously weren't comfortable in the other bedroom last time you were here, so I figured I'd set you up in here to make it easier on everyone, since you're probably only staying here for a short time, okay?”

“Um... well... I guess...”

“Good. I'll be back in a minute then with your stuff, and then we'll get the convertible bed set up for you.” She nodded toward the loveseat in the corner of the room, presumably a fold-out couch. I thought it odd that someone with such demonstrated taste in furnishings would have something so quaintly tacky, but I dismissed it.

With that, she strode back down the hall, leaving me alone to my thoughts. As wound up as I was about what sort of punitive actions she intended to take for my outburst on the way back to her house, I never saw this coming. Worse, I never anticipated how much more this would hurt. I'd barely known her a few days, but when I felt her withdraw the affection I had found so intrusive prior to this point, it was as though the temperature in the room dropped thirty degrees.

I sat silently and watched her bring in the remaining supplies and the stuff she picked up from my apartment, struggling to maintain a calm face in spite of the emotional storm raging inside of me. When she finally sat down, I didn't hesitate.

“Look, it's not just the teasing and the bullying I endured in school. Yeah, that's a big part of it, but...” I stopped to gather myself, then continued.

“My second semester of college, I met this guy, Jason. He was 28; said he was a grad student, which seemed plausible. He was so sweet to me, which took me completely by surprise, since the few guys that willingly interacted with me treated me like a little sister, not the woman I was trying so desperately to be. He just showered me with attention and affection, and I got swept up in it. I fell for him, hard. Okaasan disapproved completely, of course, but I already told you how she felt about men, and I pretty much ignored everything she had to say about the matter.

“I remember he always referred to himself as 'Daddy' and me as 'his girl'. It was cute back then, and I never gave it much thought. We got hot and heavy pretty fast, too. He was my first, and it happened a lot sooner than I ever imagined it would. It wasn't long before I moved in with him, partly I think just to spite Okaasan, but mostly because I really believed I was in love.

“After I moved into his apartment, that's when he started to change, or maybe he just let his guard down, I'm not sure. He got more protective of me, always doting on me, wanting to be with me everywhere I went. The fact that he didn't act all jealous was disarming, really. I just wrote it off as him genuinely caring about me.

“Something else that was a bit strange early on was he was just so fascinated with young girls, toddlers, preschoolers, early school age. Everywhere we went, if a little girl was in the room, he'd make chit-chat with Mommy and pay special attention to the little one. I pretty much assumed he wanted to be a daddy too, and I imagined us having a little family with little girls of our own.

“It wasn't long, maybe a month or so after I moved in, that he started buying me weird clothes. At first it was just really girly stuff, frilly blouses in baby blues and pinks and yellows, stuff I'd never wear, but it still made me feel good when he'd come home with his little surprises. Inevitably, a fashion show would be followed by mad, passionate sex. He was a wild man in bed when I dressed up for him, not that he wasn't any good the rest of the time, but...”

Elise's brows furrowed ever so slightly as I continued. “It started getting weird when the clothes started getting more childish. He bought me little frilly nightgowns and drop-seat pajamas, and shortalls, god did he love shortalls. I kept rolling with it, because I still craved the attention. You can't imagine; it was like a giant hole in the center of me that I'd been carrying around for years, and this wonderful man fit perfectly into it, filling it up with this strange combination of lover and father. I was lost in it, to the point where I would have strutted around in a white robe and buns over my ears like Princess fucking Leia if I thought it'd make him happy, because he made me so happy. I mean, he was such a perfect gentleman, well, except when he was drinking, but I learned quick to stay out of his way then...

“He didn't stop in the bedroom, either; shortly after school let out, he took me to a street fair up in Haight. He begged me to wear this Shirley Temple dress he had bought me; told me how beautiful I looked in it and how much he loved seeing me in it and how no one would think anything of it at a place like that. I went along with it, nervously, but he was so extra-attentive and sweet that day, we had such a wonderful time, I never even thought about how childish or girly I looked, and definitely not when we got home. I could barely move enough to take it off afterward to struggle my way into one of the chiffon nighties in my growing collection.

“That's when the floodgates opened. Everywhere we went together, he insisted I dress up for him, always pleading with me about how happy it made him when I wore those clothes for him and how much he loved me. After a while, it got to a point where I was pretty much dressing like a toddler all the time, and the scariest part was it didn't even bother me anymore. It became part of the routine – instead of the jeans and spaghetti-strap tanks I used to wear, it was butterfly print dresses and leggings, or pink corduroy shortalls and matching high-neck tops. I had a closet full of the stuff, with shoes to match every outfit, and I felt like such a princess because 'daddy' cared enough to buy me pretty things all the time.”

“Oh god.” Elise said. “I see where this is going...”

“Yeah. It went exactly there. 'My girl' became 'my baby girl', and it made me positively giddy, though I had no idea why. He took more and more control over my life, and I willingly gave it to him. Friends faded. My phone stopped ringing, mostly because I stopped answering it when it did. I didn't care; I had my Prince Charming and my castle. I almost didn't sign up for classes that fall; I was so sure that this was my happily ever after.

“The weird part was, the more I let him treat me like a preschooler, the less interested he was in interacting with me as an adult. First he encouraged, then insisted I talk baby talk to him. He got to the point where he'd completely ignore me if I wasn't dressed in the kid clothes and speaking like a toddler, although he still expected the house clean and dinner on the table when he came home. He even started spanking me when I didn't do things exactly the way he expected them. I was so wrapped up in it, I figured it was my fault, that I just wasn't being a good enough baby for him. When we had sex, it was totally on his terms; I was never allowed to even ask, never mind come on to him. He used to lay me on the bed and make me stay in the exact position he placed my body, and I was to be silent other than whimpering 'Daddy' in that babyish voice.”

I could feel myself starting to choke up, but I took a breath and kept going. “The big wake-up call happened one day when he had to work late and I was just kicking around the house. He called that afternoon to tell me, and he was clearly pissed about it, so I went extra-girly for him to try and cheer him up when he got home, and working extra hard on my cleaning duties. I was wearing this white dress with huge red polka-dots on it, with ankle socks and red Mary Janes and my hair done up in pigtails. I was straightening up in our bedroom when I found a box in the closet. It was filled with... oh god, I'm trying not to throw up here... naked girls – like toddlers and shit. The one on top, I immediately recognized as... his favorite pose... sprawled out helplessly on the bed, terrified look on her face, and a huge dick in the foreground. There were hundreds upon hundreds of them, and even some videotapes with pictures of the same kind of shit on the front with fucked up tag lines like 'baby loves Daddy's swizzle stick' and shit, all neatly organized, like he'd been collecting them for years. All at once I looked up into the mirror on the closet door and saw what I'd become...”

The horror was clear on her face now; she was right in there reliving my nightmare with me. For my part, tears had begun trickling down my face, despite my best efforts to the contrary, but I was still keeping it together. “My first reaction was to curl up into a ball against the door frame and cry my fucking eyes out. It couldn't be. It was impossible. This was my knight in shining armor. There had to be some other explanation for what I had just seen. I was overreacting. It was my fault. It had to be my fault. I wasn't a good enough homemaker, or lover, or... baby...

“After I finally managed to pull myself together, I shoved everything back into the box and moved it back into the closet, trying to make it look like it hadn't been disturbed. Then I flew through the house like a madwoman, cleaning everything, tidying the place up like a maid on steroids, choking back the tears the whole time. I summoned all the meager cooking skills I had and prepared a feast for him, and I waited patiently for him to get home. And waited. And waited...

“By the time he finally showed up, at nearly midnight, I was a nervous wreck. I practically threw myself at him when he walked through the door, but he was drunk, and in the foulest mood I'd ever witnessed from him. He showed no interest in dinner, only the fact that there wasn't any more beer in the fridge, which he blamed on me. I was in tears as I protested that I wasn't even old enough to buy beer. He told me to quit crying or he'd give me something to cry about. I couldn't believe it. It was almost like he knew about the box... and then he did, as in my hysterics I begged his forgiveness.

“He completely flipped out. He screamed at me, told me I was a worthless little brat that didn't deserve a daddy like him. I cowered, blubbering on my knees, groveling in front of him that I'd be a good girl. He backhanded me so hard my head bounced off the coffee table, and I dropped to the ground. He grabbed me up by my hair and dragged me to the door muttering something about how I should go back to my Mommy, shoving me out into the hall and slamming the door on my face. I was a disaster, bawling like a three-year-old and dressing the part. The door opened and my purse flew out, catching me square in the face. I didn't so much as get it together as just plain dragged myself to my car.”

I stopped and tried to steady my now-trembling, balled-up fists. Elise was gape-mouthed, and I could tell she was trying to find something to say.

“The worst part was when I went back to Okaasan's house. I was still in tears when I arrived, eye blackened, lip cut, and instead of an embrace or even a kind word, she just said that she told me what was going to happen, and I was a fool for not listening. She also informed me about Sobo's stroke, and that she was getting out of the hospital and moving into my old room in less than a week, so I should find myself an apartment quickly. That's pretty much how I wound up living in that dump down in the Tenderloin – it was the only place I could find on the cheap and on short notice.”

“Jesus”, she said softly. “I can't imagine...”

“He called me constantly for weeks. One call would be all weepy, apologizing and begging me to come back, the next he'd be crazy, threatening to kill my family. After a while I stopped picking up the phone, but the messages he left were the same. I don't know how he found me, but he'd sit outside my apartment in his car, waiting for me to come out. The super, bless him, would walk me to my car if he was around. I finally had to get a restraining order against the bastard. Last I heard, he started trolling fetish sites and harassing the members, then got busted in some sort of internet kiddie porn sting. After all that, I swore I'd never let myself be that vulnerable again.”

I stopped for a moment, reflecting on that thought. “Yet here I am...” I said.

Silence...

“I've never told anyone about that pig.” I finally mustered. “I guess... thank you for listening.”

“That's... just horrifying, Naomi,” she said, “but at least... at least I understand why...”

“Yeah.” I looked up at her, trying my best to regain my composure. The look in her eyes was one of pure compassion, a far cry from the revulsion I expected to see, and fresh tears streamed down my face as I turned toward the huge bay windows.

All at once I felt her arms around me, and I gratefully accepted the embrace. “Talking about it doesn't make you vulnerable, you know.” she offered.

“No, all the rest of the stupid shit that happened did...”

“You've been carrying that around a long time. It's no surprise that 'stupid shit' followed you the whole way. Maybe now you can start letting it go?”

More silence.

“Elise?”

“Yes?”

“I... I don't mind staying in that other bedroom, I guess.”

“Are you sure?”

“Um... yeah... I... if something happened, I guess... it'd probably be easier if you were just a couple doors away, right?”

“Yes, it would.” she smiled. “Maybe we can do something about the decorating in there, once you're on your feet?”

“Yeah... that would be good.”

Silence. Except this time, there was warmth in it, a sense of connecting. Maybe you can trust this one, I thought to myself. Maybe you just found a real friend. We exchanged smiles, briefly, and she began carrying my things upstairs.

[WBDaddy]

11

After she had unpacked, Elise wheeled me into the kitchen and we chatted over a late lunch of what she referred to as “whatever salad” - a stunning plate consisting of random meats, cheeses, garden veggies, and some sort of vinaigrette concoction she whipped up over a bed of mixed greens. Admittedly, I was intimidated by it at first; I had never experienced much in the way of “upscale” cuisine, having grown up in a traditional Japanese household, then being entirely too broke in college to feed myself anything other than cheap junk. It was every bit as good as it looked, though, and I ate with gusto.

After the meal, the matter of logistics arose, as Elise began, “I'm going to need to go into the shop tomorrow. I already owe Karen an extra day off for covering yesterday.”

“Okay, and?” I said, not quite connecting with her point.

“Well I can't leave you here by yourself.”

“Sure you can. I'll be fine. I'll just...” I was met with the sudden reminder of exactly how helpless I really was. “Or maybe not.” I said, deflated.

“Well, I do have wi-fi up there, so you can maybe bring your laptop along to keep yourself occupied.” she offered.

Boredom was hardly on my radar at this point. “Is there an office or something where I can hang out?”

“No, unfortunately, you'll have to just relax behind the counter while I do my thing.”

“So... what if someone asks about me?” I ventured nervously.

“Good question. I suppose we can offer something that resembles the truth; you're a friend visiting from out of town, and you got dinged up in an accident. It's vague enough for people to fill in their own blanks.”

“Of course, there's going to be the constant barrage of age confusion.” I groaned.

“Well, there's that. I understand your trepidation about this, Naomi, but now's as good a time as any for you to start getting past those issues and start accepting it for what it is; that people are just being friendly, and they genuinely don't know or understand.”

“Yeah, I guess...” The idea was hardly thrilling, but I couldn't argue the point.

“By the way, I've met my share of dwarfs, but they all had the signature facial features of dwarfism that made it clear they weren't children. What makes you different?”

“It's called pseudoachondroplasia. It's sort of like dwarfism, only I don't get the misshapen head, just really short arms and legs.”

Elise looked on thoughtfully as I continued. “Somehow I managed to dodge the other signature features in women, like being fat and having scoliosis, though my legs are bowed just enough to look, well, like a kid instead of an adult dwarf. It's really weird, because Sobo and Okaasan got the really bad physical stuff like horrible arthritis and back problems, but they wound up being a lot taller than me. Sobo is four-foot-three and Okaasan is four feet. I don't know whether I'd trade looking like a kindergartener for all the issues they have, but sometimes I wonder...”

“You're young and healthy, Naomi.” she interrupted. “Trust me, my aunt had scoliosis, and she was in pain constantly. That's no way to live.”

“I know, I know, but you can't possibly imagine what it's like to never be taken seriously, to be doted on and cooed at like a toddler by every stranger that crosses your path. It's a nightmare!”

There was a pause, and I watched a smile creep across her face.

“What?” I asked suspiciously.

“Nothing.”

“No seriously, what?”

She chuckled. “Just a random thought. Nothing important.”

“Come on, now!” I huffed. “You can't just hold...” My protest was disrupted by a sudden and powerful urge to pee. “Oh shit! I gotta go!”

Elise sprung out of her chair and wheeled me to the bathroom. “You need to do something about that potty mouth!” she scolded as she hoisted me onto the seat.

“Fine, fine, just let me do my business!” I grumped. Needing help with basic functions like this was definitely not agreeing with me at all. I stewed as I sat there, waiting for nature to take its course, which took a heck of a lot longer than I expected considering how urgently the need was announced.

After I'd cleaned up and Elise carried me back to the chair and began wheeling me back down the hall, I started to get dizzy again. Thankfully, it was mild enough to where I wasn't feeling nauseous as well, but it didn't escape Elise's watchful eye.

“Hey, you okay down there?” she asked.

“I'm... fine. Just a little lightheaded, I think.” I fumbled.

“You're not sick to your stomach, are you?”

“No, no, just woozy. I think I just need to lie down for a bit.”

“Sure, we can do that.” Without hesitation, she took me to the base of the stairs and carried me delicately up to my bedroom. Those feelings came rushing back once again, the sense of affection and comfort, as my head lay on her shoulder, her free hand resting on my back. She pulled back the blanket and gently laid me on the bed.

“Covers?” she asked. I shook my head slowly.

“Alright then. Your chair is right here next to the bed if it's an emergency, but I'm going to leave the door open, so if you need anything, just yell, okay?” I nodded, and she gently stroked my cheek. “Hope you feel better, sweetie.”

I watched, eyes half-open, as she turned and left the room, and I listened to the rhythmic clicking of her heels on the hardwood as she walked back down the stairs. It was strange, the feeling of euphoria, even more so now, without my usual indignation over the childish treatment. I closed my eyes and began to drift on a serenity I hadn't felt in years.

[WBDaddy]

12

“Hey... Naomi... Dinner's almost ready... Wake up!”

“Huh?” My eyes flashed open, and Elise was leaned over me, hand on my shoulder.

“Good morning!” she chuckled.

“Wait... morning?!”

“No, no. It's five thirty. I wouldn't have let you sleep that long. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, though.”

I couldn't believe I'd slept for four solid hours. Then again, considering how fully disrupted my sleep schedule had become over the last couple days, maybe it wasn't such a stretch. Regardless, I sat up as best as I could, and Elise once more slid her arms across my back and under my knees and hoisted me up, renewing those strange feelings once more as she pulled me close to her and started toward the hallway. Almost reflexively, I nuzzled her chest for an instant. She was certainly as surprised as I was at this involuntary reaction; she paused and looked quizzically down at my now reddening face, which I quickly turned outward to avoid her eyes. I felt her shrug, then we continued down the stairs.

What the hell am I doing? I thought. What is happening to me? The intense smells emanating from the kitchen quickly brushed my confusion aside and awoke my appetite in one fell swoop. “What are we having?” I asked.

“Well, in about eight minutes, we'll be having spaghetti carbonara.” she replied authoritatively. “Need to use the 'facilities' before dinner?”

I nodded softly. I didn't have an urge, but I didn't want mayhem to ensue in the middle of dinner if I suddenly found one. We reached the bottom of the stairs, and after a several-minute concentration session, I managed to get some business done and get cleaned up. Elise retrieved me afterward and settled me into my wheelchair. Ugh. “My” wheelchair. I hated the idea that I was even viewing it as such. I dismissed the thought and asked, “Smells awesome. What is it?”

“Spaghetti with bacon, eggs, Parmesan, onions, garlic, parsley, and black pepper. It's a nice little dish to throw together on short notice.”

“Nice little dish” - That was an understatement. The woman was a certified foodie, and she had the cooking skills to execute. Dinner was outstanding, especially the wine she served with the meal, even as she admonished me to slow down on it.

“Seriously, I shouldn't even give you any,” she scolded, “fresh off a pair of concussions like that! Don't go getting drunk on me again!”

“I'll be fine, it's not like I'm pounding down liquor like I was at the bar.”

“No, you're not, and you won't be any time soon if I can help it!”

I bristled. “So you're like my mom now, is that it?”

Her tone never wavered. “No, I'm not at all like your mother. I promised to take care of you the best I can, which includes trying to keep you out of harm's way whenever possible. I'm not here to run your life, I'm here to help. That's nothing at all like your mother, from what you told me.”

That took the wind out of my sail quickly. “Sorry, that's not what I meant.”

“It's okay,” she replied softly, “like I said, I'm just trying to help. Now, being that showers are out of the question, would you like a bath this evening?”

I cringed at the thought of being bathed, though a tiny voice inside, deep down, was begging me to say yes. “Uh... no, I'm good, I think.”

“Okay, up for a movie, then?”

“Sure.” I was definitely game for a good distraction at that moment. Elise hoisted me up onto her hip and carried me into the great room. She settled me onto the couch, propping me up with pillows behind my back and under my good leg, then reached into a drawer and produced what looked like a miniature keyboard with a joystick attached, which she then used to open a panel on the wall, revealing a large flat-panel TV. She fiddled with the controls a bit and I watched, fascinated, as the screen showed a Windows desktop. A few keystrokes later and she was on the Netflix website and sifting through their catalog. We batted a few back and forth and finally settled on a Swedish film about a reporter and a teenage hacker with a bad attitude. It was racy, no doubt, but the effort of reading the subtitles coupled with the stress of the day made my eyes get heavy rather quickly.

At some point in the night I was aware of arms under my legs and back, and I was being carried up the stairs again. In my semi-awake state, those familiar feelings came roaring back with a new level of intensity. I became fixated on the warmth of Elise's arms, the softness of the cashmere sweater she wore, the faint scent of toothpaste on her breath, and the dominant thought in my mind was... don't let go... don't let go... all the way up the stairs. She reached my bedroom and flipped the light on with her elbow, and I hid my face in her chest. When she walked over to the bed and began to bend over, I wrapped my arms around her neck as tightly as I could, and the words came out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying, “Don't let go, please,” in a tiny voice that completely took me by surprise.

Apparently Elise was just as surprised. “What's wrong, sweetie?” she asked as she turned around and sat down on the bed, still cradling me.

The shock woke me completely up and out of whatever trance I was in. “I... I don't know?” I managed. “It was like... like someone else was in my head...”

She looked at me quizzically. “Are you okay now?”

“I'm fine... I was okay then too though. It was strange... but peaceful... like for a minute there was nothing else in the world but you and me, and all I cared about was...” I hesitated at the gravity of what I was saying.

“Was?”

“Was... being warm and safe and loved.”

She smiled broadly as she stood up, still cradling me, then began to position me into bed. “Sounds like an absolutely wonderful place to be. As uptight as you are most of the time, you'd probably do well to find that place more often.”

“I've had little bits of feelings like that at other times today when you were carrying me around, but nothing that intense. It's a little scary, actually.”

“I'm sure it would be, for someone who has a constant need to be in control. Anyway, I wouldn't recommend fixating on it, or you'll get no sleep tonight. Goodnight, Naomi.”
With that, she stood up and turned out the light, and I was left to the swirl of thoughts in the darkness.

[WBDaddy]

13

I had no idea what time it was when I drifted off finally, nor what time it was when I was shocked out of sleep by an urge. My first instinct was to call Elise for help, but then I spotted the chair next to my bed. You can do this. Let her sleep. I sat up and examined the situation. Another urge hit, stronger this time. Alright, enough thinking, let's do this. I started to pull myself to the edge of the bed with my one good arm, but every time I bent my knee to assist, I felt a spurt into my panties. Panicking, I grabbed hold of the chair and tried to shift my body. Just that quick, it all let go, and no amount of squeezing or straining could stop it. The warm puddle spread under my bottom, and a flood of absolute humiliation rushed through my brain.

I struggled to fight back tears as I sat there trying to figure out what to do. Wake Elise up? No, I can't do that! God, what is she going to think?! The puddle was on the edge of the bed; maybe I could just move away from it and go back to sleep? There was still the issue of wet panties, but...

Finally, in a fit of frustration, I shoved and grunted my way to the opposite side of the bed and collapsed. My panties and the back of my nightie were more than damp, but I was determined to soldier through this and at least let one person get some sleep. I lay there in the dark, eyes wide open, still in shock at what had just happened. I hadn't wet the bed since... Oh hell, four nights ago. Remember that, you drunken idiot? I shuddered, both at the thought and the increasingly uncomfortable clammy feeling underneath me.

Sleep did not return to me, but a short time later the sun broke outside my window, and I heard Elise's alarm clock go off. I was still damp, so it wasn't hard to figure out that the wet spot on my bed was still very present. The need to get out of the wet clothes overrode my humiliation, and as soon as I heard her door open, I called out to her, “Elise! I... need help!”

She rushed in with a look of concern on her face. “What's wrong, Noami?”

The heat rushed to my face as I struggled through the words, “I... wet... the bed...”

She rushed over and gently pulled the covers back. “Oh, sweetie, let's get you out of that wet stuff...” I watched her movements as she carefully removed my nightgown and carried me into the bathroom, but her voice dropped away behind a distant memory...

Tears filled my eyes as I realized what I'd done, and the panic welled inside me as her footsteps approached. The door opened, and her usual morning flat stare was almost immediately replaced by a scowl as she laid eyes on me. She walked quickly to my bedside and ripped the blankets away as I cowered, hugging my knees. Her eyes fixed on the wet patch on the bed, and she uttered a single word - “Buta!” - as she pointed toward the open doorway. I broke into an open sob as I stumbled into the hall and toward the bathroom...

“...me what went wrong?”

I snapped back into reality. Elise had repositioned me in the tub and was gently washing my legs with a washcloth. I could feel the tears streaking down my face as I looked up at her.

“Sweetie, I'm not upset, I just want to know what happened so we can figure out how to fix it.” Her voice was soft, comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold evening.

“I'm sorry, Elise! I tried to pull myself to the chair, but every time I moved, I started leaking, and then... then it all came out!” I sobbed. “I didn't want to wake you up, so I moved over to the other side of the bed and tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn't! It was...”

The stream of words was cut off by her embrace. “Naomi, it's alright, it was an accident! I'm not mad, sweetie! But I need you to call me if you need help; that's what I'm here for!”

She held my head to her chest for a few moments, and I began to feel that serenity again, filling up inside me. I felt my breath even out, and my sobs became sniffles as she gently stroked my hair. “Okay, would you like to finish cleaning yourself up?” she asked. I shook my head against her chest. “Then are you okay with me doing it?” I nodded softly.

She released her embrace, to which I whimpered, then picked the washcloth back up and gently cleaned my koya, to which I blushed fiercely. She hoisted me up across the back of my thighs and leaned me up against her as she washed my bottom thoroughly. As she wrapped a towel around me and carried me back to the bedroom, I caught a glimpse in the mirror on the way by, then I recalled that moment in the hospital when I saw myself in those clothes, and I felt even more infantile now than I did at that moment. This time, however, as much as I wanted to hate what I saw, to rage against it, the tenderness I felt from this woman who carried me ever so gently rushed in, and I was left overwhelmed by the ensuing conflict, unable to voice feelings I couldn't even understand.

Elise laid me out onto the bed and removed my leg splint. “Much easier to get your panties on without that thing. You should see the rips in the seams on that other pair,” she whispered. She hummed softly as she delicately slipped a pair of lavender panties up my legs, replaced the splint, then quietly and efficiently dressed me in a lavender tee shirt with a violet emblazoned on the front and a purple corduroy skirt.

That sore spot rose up inside of me finally, and I snapped, “Really? Toddler outfit anyone?! What's next, braided pigtails and Mary Janes?!”

Elise stopped in the middle of pulling a lacy ankle sock onto my foot. I could see a subtle look of hurt in her eyes as she responded, “Sweetie, I'm sorry, the stuff I was able to salvage from your apartment needed washing, and I haven't had a chance to do laundry yet.”

One more time the indignation wilted before her soft words. Ugh... why can't I stand up to that voice? I thought bitterly. Lacking conviction, I tried to offer a defense, “I just...” I trailed off. Don't want to look like a toddler?! Who am I kidding? My wardrobe looks like a little girl pretending to be grown up any fucking way! It's not like I'm fooling anyone... I stared down at the bedspread between my legs, resigned to this reality.

In an instant, her soothing arms wrapped around me once more, and my eyes reflexively shut tight as I fought back tears again. She was silent, save her breathing in my ear, for what seemed like hours. Finally she whispered, “Let's get some breakfast before we go, okay?”

I nodded, still unable to speak. An arm found its way under my knees, and I was again being cradled and carried down the stairs.

[WBDaddy]

14

Breakfast and the drive to the antique store were somewhat of a blur as I continued to wrestle with the array of emotions the last few hours had stirred up inside me all throughout the morning. Elise questioned my demeanor several times, but “I'm okay” seemed sufficient enough for her to not pursue the matter further. When she wheeled me into the shop, however, I was snapped completely out of my brooding as my eyes positively bulged at all the pottery, artwork, furniture, and other items that met my gaze. Everywhere I looked, there was something to which I'd never seen anything even remotely similar before. I gasped, apparently audibly enough for Elise to notice.

“Well this is my shop. See anything interesting?” she chuckled.

“Uh... wow?” was all I could manage.

“Well let me get everything set up here, then maybe we can take a closer look at whatever strikes your fancy, okay? Maybe some things we can use to redecorate your room?”

I was completely dumbstruck. “Uh yeah... that'd be... wow...”

She chuckled as she wheeled me behind the counter at the back of the store, pulling a tablet out of her purse and handing it to me. “Something to keep you from getting too bored today, anyway.”

Yeah, like that was going to happen. My eyes slowly worked their way around the room. Even at my constricted eye level, there were so many beautiful things to see; mostly chandeliers, various oil paintings, and other wall decorations, but each one had its own delicate intricacy that hinted at its time in another place, another era, another world. On the top shelf of a bookcase in one corner, I spotted a large vase with beautiful calligraphy on it. I squinted, trying to figure out all the different scenes it portrayed. All of a sudden, there were hands taking it down off the shelf and bringing it toward me.

“Closer look?” Elise offered as she placed it gently in my lap. The scene painted on the vase was that of pandas on a mountainside, playing in and among a bamboo forest. I had no idea what story the Kanji lettering told, but that scene struck a chord within me.

“It's... beautiful...” I gasped.

“Early 20th century Satsuma. Japanese hand-painted pottery. It's a bit of an enigma to me, what with the hostilities between Nippon and China back then, but it's really a gorgeous piece.”

“Yeah...” My eyes drifted down to the price tag dangling off the rim, and nearly bulged out of their sockets. “Holy shit!” I exclaimed, recoiling from it.

“What's wrong?” she asked, taking it from me.

“I... wow... didn't want to damage it or something. That's a lot of money!”

She set the vase down on the counter and chuckled. “Sweetie, what say you just look at stuff you like and don't worry about how much it costs, okay?”

“Hey, that's cool. I'd just feel safer looking at it from a few feet away, that's all.”

“Okay, we can quiet the paranoia bug for you,” she laughed. With that, we had a “tour” of the shop, stopping and looking at interesting tidbits here and there. I spotted a pale ivory tube with tiny metal attachments, intricately engraved Chinese lettering, and nearly cartoonish figures carved into it. Elise explained (to my shock) that it was an old opium pipe, probably brought over by a Chinese immigrant laborer during the late 1800's. We stopped at a stunning old music box, gilded all over with black and white lithographs adorning the inside. It used these tin plates that almost looked like mini CD's with little holes punched in them, and Elise showed me a little compartment in the bottom where a half dozen more of the plates were stored, each triggering the box to play a different song.

I was getting completely into the entire experience, so much so that by the time we got to a beautiful grandfather clock in one corner, I was stunned when it reported the time to be half past eleven. The trance was broken a few short minutes later, when the front door chime announced the entry of a visitor. Elise called out, “Good morning, Marianne! I'll be right with you!” as she wheeled me back behind the counter.

“Oh, take your time, darlin',” came a distinctively Deep South drawl in reply. Marianne was clearly fixated on a chest of drawers in the window.

Once she had me settled in, Elise walked purposefully over to where the thirty-something was standing. “Like it?” she asked. “It'll go beautifully with the four-poster bed you requested!”

Marianne turned with a gasp and a huge grin. “Oh my god, did you get it? Where is it? Don't hold out on me like that now!”

“Not here yet,” Elise responded, “but it will be here the beginning of next week! Came from an estate auction over in Lake Tahoe. Certified John Belter piece, finest piece of Rococo Revival furniture I've ever laid eyes on this side of the Atlantic.”

I thought the woman was going to faint. “Oh, Elise, you're like my fairy godmother, I swear! How much?”

“Thirty-four,” she said with a grin. “Stole it for you!”

Marianne erupted with a squeal, and the two continued their banter back and forth about the bed, several items in the shop that would enhance the planned bedroom remodeling, and other much less interesting chatter. It was at that moment that my focus shifted suddenly; I was having another urge. Oh god, not now! I thought morosely. I wanted to say something, but asking to go to the bathroom in front of this complete stranger was more humiliation than I was prepared to take. I shifted a little in my chair and fought it back. The chatter went on and on as Marianne wandered about pointing and Elise taking notes, and I battled through another urge, much stronger. Please, just pay for your shit and get out of here! I muttered softly under my breath.

One more time it hit me, and this time I knew I was losing the fight. “Elise!” I finally spoke up. The two women turned and faced me.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I have to...” Oh no... The battle was over. I felt the warm wetness saturate my panties. I looked down, horrified, as it kept coming, puddling ever so slightly in my chair. I heard a tell-tale drop hit the floor, the tiny splash ringing like thunder in my ears. My face got hot, and my eyes welled up.

“Oh, Naomi!”