1

    “You bitch!” Colleen Caldwell said loudly into the mouthpiece of the tan princess phone.  “You ate at the feed trough last night, didn’t you?”

    “Yeah,” said the voice of Sheila Jones from the earpiece.

    “I thought we agreed that none of us would go there unless we were all together,” said Colleen.

    “Well, with the circumstances and all…,” said Sheila, who didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence.

    “You owe me one gumball machine!” Colleen said sternly.

    Sheila was glad to hear Colleen’s “gumball machine” line.  To her, it meant that Colleen was feeling better, and that she was unhappy about their going to the restaurant, but all was forgiven.

    Colleen said the classic movie quote often.  She said it whenever situations arose that were uncomfortable, yet needed resolution.  Colleen thought of it as a coping tool, where she would take a forgiving stance before anyone else to avoid a long, begrudging battle.  The line translated into “I’m not happy with it, but let’s move on.”

    Colleen was five years old when she first heard Brian Doyle-Murray say it in the movie Caddyshack in 1980. She repeated it over and over again, and her mother and father thought it was just the cutest thing ever.  As with most things, her parents eventually felt that the quote lost its luster with time.

    The other Musketeers had heard it thousands of times.  Over the course of their more than twenty years together, the quote had come to mean so many different things.  It was hard to explain to anyone else exactly what it meant.  They accepted it for what it was, just as they accepted each other for who they were.

    “What did Jezebel eat?” asked Colleen.

    “What do you think she ate?” Sheila questioned back.

    “And you had the chicken,” said Colleen.

    “What else?” Sheila asked rhetorically.

    “And K.P. ate nothing as usual,” Colleen said.

    “Have you ever seen her eat?” Sheila asked in the same rhetorical tone.

    “Pfft!” Colleen sputtered into the mouthpiece.

    “You get anything to eat after I left yesterday?” Sheila asked.

    “No…  My ass was kicked.  I wasn’t hungry last night, but I am now,” Colleen said.  “You know I don’t even remember you bein’ here yesterday?”

    “Shit,” Sheila said.  “I’m surprised you remember anything from yesterday.”

    “I remember Jezebel pole dancin’ the night before, but that’s about it,” said Colleen.

    “I must’ve thrown up when I got home,” said Sheila.  “Joe said that I owe him for cleaning the toilet.”

    “Maybe you shit all over like you did at prom,” Colleen said.

    “Not a chance.  Besides, Joe never woulda cleaned up somethin’ like that.  He woulda just left it.  I’m never gonna live that down, am I?” asked Sheila.

    “What are friends for?” asked Colleen.

    “When do they serve breakfast there?” Sheila asked, changing the subject away from the prom incident.

    “I dunno.  I’m not hungry for breakfast anyway,” Colleen said.  “Why don’t you bring me a vegetable hamburger deluxe with onion rings, and a large chocolate shake from the Drive-In?”

    “I wish,” Sheila said.  “Don’t remind me.”

    “I hope Amy’s my nurse again today.  The one I had last night sucked,” Colleen said.

    “Why?  What did she do?” asked Sheila.

    “Shee-it,” Colleen said.  “I only saw him once, and that’s when I hit the call button because I had to pee at about three o’clock this morning.”

    “That sucks,” said Sheila.

    “And he was a real dumbass,” Colleen said.  “There… you hear that?”

    “Yeah, what was it?” Sheila asked.

    “The morphine pump thing.  It beeped all fuckin’ night, and even when the dumbass did come in here, he didn’t fix it,” Colleen continued her tirade.  “I swear, I think he wanted to watch me pee in the bedpan… fuckin’ pervert.”

    “Nice,” replied Sheila.

    “Come bust my ass outa here,” said Colleen.

    “I would if I could,” Sheila said.

    “You comin’ up here after work?” Colleen asked.

    “Yeah.  I’m pickin’ up Jezebel on the way and K.P. is supposed to meet us there at about six,” replied Sheila.

    “That’s cool,” said Colleen.

    “Speakin’ of work…” Sheila started.

    “Yeah you better get goin’,” Colleen finished her sentence.

    “I’d rather come up there and hang with you today,” said Sheila.

    “That’s alright,” said Colleen.  “I talked to Ma already this morning, and she’s comin’ up about noon for a couple of hours.  You know her…  She’ll just hover over me all day.”

    “I know,” Sheila said.  “She’s a worrier… and besides… it could be worse.  You could be there all alone with no family to speak of.”

    “Yeah… that would suck,” Colleen said.

    “Well… I’m gonna hit the shower and head off to work,” said Sheila.

    “Okay, Sheila Jones,” said Colleen.  “See you around six.”

    “Alright.  Get some rest,” Sheila said.

    “I will,” replied Colleen.  “Have fun at work.”

    “I will,” Sheila replied.

    “Bye,” Colleen said and then hung up the phone.

    “I want a vegetable hamburger deluxe too,” August Riley said in a groggy voice from the other side of the plaid curtain, which startled Colleen.

    “Oh, you’re up?” Colleen asked loudly

    “I am now,” said Augie.

    “I’m sorry,” offered Colleen.

    “That’s okay,” said Augie.  “I’m done sleepin’ for a while.”

    The morphine pump on the I.V. pole beeped again.  Colleen let out a loud sigh in disgust.  She pressed the pain button with her left thumb, but she knew the pump wasn’t dispensing morphine anymore.

    “Little fucker,” Colleen said aloud.

    “Who?” Augie said.

    “The dumbass night nurse dude,” Colleen replied.

    “You mean Robin?” informed Augie.

    “His name… is Robin?” Colleen asked mockingly.

    “Yes.  He’s a lame ass.”

    “You’re tellin’ me,” said Colleen with a yawn.  “My leg hurts like hell, and I just know this thing is out of morphine.”

    “That’s why it keeps beepin’,” Augie said.

    “So you have morphine and I don’t,” Colleen said, disgusted.

    “They took mine away last night,” said Augie.  “They think I’m whatcha call a drug seeker.”

    “No shit,” Colleen said.  “So what are you supposed to do if you’re in pain?”

    “I get Tylenol or Ibuprofen,” said Augie.  “They won’t give me Vicodin anymore.”

    “That sucks ass,” said Colleen.

    “I just deal with it,” Augie added.

    “So where is this Robin at?” asked Colleen.

    “Probably headed home,” replied Augie.  “The night     nurses leave around seven.”

    “It’s seven fifteen now,” informed Colleen.

    “If Amy is workin’ today, she’ll be in any time now,” said Augie.  “She usually works like three days in a row, but I don’t know if she already worked a couple ‘o days or what.”

    “How do you know that?” asked Colleen.

    “I come here a lot,” said Augie.

    “Why is that?” asked Colleen.  “You have cancer or somethin’?”

    “No,” replied Augie.  “I run into doors a lot.

    “Oh,” Colleen said.

    Colleen wondered what Augie meant when she said she runs into doors a lot.  She decided not to pry just yet.  She could hear Augie grunt in pain as she got out of her hospital bed and went into the bathroom.  She could hear Augie shuffle her bare feet slowly against the tile floor of Room 258.

    Bolts of pain shot through Colleen’s left leg and shoulder, causing her to wince.  She pushed the pain button again, but didn’t hear the familiar beep of the morphine pump after she did so.

    The reverberated sound of the flushing toilet made Colleen envious that Augie could get up and go anytime she wanted.  The door opened, but Colleen couldn’t hear Augie get into her bed.

    “Do you mind if I pull back the curtains?” Augie asked loudly.

    “You talkin’ to me?” Colleen asked.

    “Of course!” Augie replied.

    “Sure.  Go ahead,” Colleen replied.  “I just figured that you didn’t want me to know what you look like.”

    “I’m nuthin’ to scream at,” Augie said.

    Colleen heard the tinny noise of the metal rollers as Augie slid the curtain around the foot of the other hospital bed.

    “Ugh…” Augie grunted.

    “You alright?” asked Colleen.

    “Yeah… just gimme a minute,” replied Augie.

    “Want me to call the nurse?” Colleen offered.

    “I’m already here,” the familiar voice of Nurse Amy called through the doorway.

    “Thank God,” Colleen said, relieved.

    “What are you doing out of bed, young lady?” Amy said in a half-scolding tone of voice.

    “Ugh…,” Augie grunted again.

    Amy rushed over to the foot of Augie’s bed, where the twenty-five-year-old blonde was leaning with one hand against the table.  Her feet were spread wide apart, and she was holding her ribs with the other hand.  Her teal, diamond-patterned hospital gown hung straight down from her shoulders, and was untied in the back, exposing her buttocks and back.

    Amy was careful to avoid the large dark bruises on Augie’s back as she put her right arm around Augie’s waist and her left arm across Augie’s chest.

    “Here we go,” said Amy.  “Let’s get you back to the edge of the bed.”

    “Okay,” Augie said with a grunt.

    “Take it slow,” Amy said.

2

    Carlos Guzman was up and out of the bunkhouse earlier than most mornings, taking inventory of feed for the family stock and the paying boarders.  Camorrista’s stall was eerily quiet for seven o’clock in the morning, and Carlos figured she was tired and sore from the day before.  She stood quietly in her stall, blinking sleepily with her weight distributed evenly on only three of her hooves.  When she was brought home from the sale and settled in for the first time, Jesus speculated that she was a touch lame in her left rear leg.

    Closer inspection at the time revealed a condition known as “high heels” and a split hoof wall that was healing improperly due to rocks between the parts of the hooves called “frogs and bars.”  Carlos knew it would take time to correct the problem, and had dealt with similar situations in his vast experience.  Colleen was confident that Carlos could restore the horse to complete soundness, which was essential if she hoped to train her for acceptable performance, even at the lowest levels of competition.

    When Colleen raised her paddle to bid on the filly at the River Bend Annual Equine Auction and Sale, Carlos was taken by surprise.  The fact that Colleen considered buying Camorrista excited Carlos since she passed on so many other well-mannered “culls” over the last year.

    He figured that Colleen liked this filly because she could see pain in her eyes.  He could tell that Colleen wanted a horse that she could readily identify with, and pain had been a close friend of hers over the previous year.  It had been nearly two years since she bought the last cull, which was Chase’s horse Cochise.  When she began bidding for Cochise at the same River Bend Sale two years ago, she knew when she saw him that he was a diamond in the rough.

    The thin, scrappy animal stood just under seventeen hands high and isolated himself from the rest of the group, a sign of a mental or temperament disorder of some kind.  Colleen liked him because he was a bay gelding reminiscent of For The Moment, one of the greatest show jumpers of all time.

    Carlos sat on the edge of his seat while bidding went back and forth between Colleen and an unknown gentleman from Oregon.  Dick Long pointed his gavel back and forth quickly as the bid was increased by a hundred dollars at a time.  The other bidder held his paddle in the air the whole time and never lowered it, which annoyed her to no end.  He was wearing a brown derby, which looked like the kind of hat a man wears when he wants to pick a fight with someone.  After she was outbid for the fifth time by the same gentleman, Colleen suddenly did something that surprised everyone. 

    When she bid against the gentleman for the sixth time, she stood up, turned toward the bidder, gripped the paddle between her teeth and then placed her hands on her hips.  The other ranchers chuckled as Dick Long paused and stopped his auctioneering.

    The other bidder was looking at the sale catalog in his lap, and didn’t notice Colleen standing at first, but looked up when the barn became suddenly quiet.  He looked at Dick Long, who had removed his hat and was scratching his head and looking straight at him from his position behind the podium.  The bidder’s face turned red as he looked around the room in confusion and realized he was still holding his paddle in the air.

    He spied Colleen at the opposite end of the room, standing defiantly in a way that made her look ten feet tall.  As he made eye contact with the gorgeous blonde in jeans and a red flannel, he lowered his paddle to his lap and turned in his seat.

    Colleen then grabbed her bidding paddle from her teeth and yelled, “That’s my horse!”

    The entire barn, including Dick Long, erupted in laughter.  Colleen was a woman who was accustomed to getting what she wanted, especially when it came to horses.  After a few seconds, the laughter that filled the barn subsided to a dull murmur and all eyes were on the derby-clad bidder from Oregon.  In a gesture of respect, the gentleman bidder rose from his seat, faced Colleen and removed his hat.

    “I yield to the fair lady in red,” the gentleman said as he bowed.

    “Damn right you do!” Colleen shouted back.

    The room erupted in laughter again.  Dick Long replaced his hat atop his head and called for any other bidders on the bay gelding, but there were none.

    Carlos let out a loud “Yee-ha!” and waved his straw hat in the air as applause filled the room and Colleen took her seat.

    “Congratulations, Colleen,” Dick Long said over the loudspeaker.  “Your father would be proud of you.”

    At the time, Chase put his complete faith in Colleen’s ability to produce winning jumpers, and went along with the purchase of Cochise without a word.

    Carlos stood and looked at the sleepy Camorrista as thin rays of sunshine beamed through the roof vents onto the fresh golden straw floor of her stall.  He knew he had his work cut out for him if Camorrista was ever going to reach the level of competition that Cochise did before Chase’s accident.

    A shiver made its way down his spine as Carlos thought about Cochise standing on three legs in the same stall at the Inaugural Triple C ‘Jump for Charity’ Exhibition almost a year before.  He stood helplessly next to the bay gelding in the stall and looked into his eyes, which were glassy and full of sorrow.  His right front leg dangled limply below the right knee, and the black hoof polish that Carlos applied thirty minutes before was rubbed off of the front of his hoof nail.

    Cochise whinnied softly in pain and Carlos wept as he hugged the gelding’s dirty neck.  His experience taught him that Cochise’s leg would never support his own weight again, much less the weight of a rider.  The beautiful animal’s shallow breathing told Carlos that his intense suffering was getting the best of him. 

    The Jump for Charity attending veterinarian dreaded the job ahead of her.  In her seven years in the position at United States Equestrian Federation events, never once had she euthanized an animal during competition.  The fact that the California Coastal Horse Rescue was the benefactor of the charity tournament made her decision even more difficult.  She never advised a trainer or owner about euthanasia, but historically carried out the procedure in private practice once the decision was made.

    She was very well familiar with the reputation of the Triple C Ranch foreman, and yielded to his vast experience when he requested to do the euthanization personally.  The amount of damage to the animal’s leg supported her determination of “loss of use,” which aided Carlos in his decision to do the procedure himself.

    While Colleen and Joan were on their way to the hospital with Chase, Carlos injected the potent barbiturate into Cochise.  The drug worked quickly, ending the animal’s dreadful suffering once and for all.  He couldn’t help thinking that Chase didn’t suffer as Cochise did when they both hit the ground.  He thought of Chase as the son he never had, and in the wink of an eye he was gone forever.

Camorrista shifted her weight and pawed at the straw bedding weakly with her hoof, bringing Carlos back to the present with a shiver.  Fine wisps of dust stirred through the sun’s rays and looked like gold smoke against the tired filly’s shiny black mane. 

3

    Joan Caldwell sat in her dusty brown leather chair and stared at the mound of paperwork on her desk.  The catalogs, invoices, and numerous Post-It notes fluttered against the steady flow of the air conditioning vent above her. 

    Joan’s trusty companion and office mate yawned and stretched in the morning sun that illuminated his doggie bed.  “Merlin” was an eight-year-old Chinese Pug that snorted and “oinked” regularly as most Pugs do.  He circled quietly as he pawed at the heavy horse blanket that filled his nest.

    Merlin’s thrashing about reminded Joan of Colleen’s restlessness in the hospital bed the evening before.  She thought about how uncomfortable Colleen seemed without the use of her left arm and leg.  She found herself wondering if Colleen would need her help going to the bathroom once she was released from Los Robles.

    At least Colleen would be coming home at some point, she thought to herself.  Joan stared blankly at the fluttering Post-It notes as she thought about what Colleen said the evening before.

    “Because he loves you,” Joan repeated aloud.

    Merlin oinked and lifted his head from the blanket as if Joan were addressing him.  After a few seconds, he oinked again and snorted a deep sigh as his misty brown froglike eyes blinked in the sun.

    “Because… he loves you,” Joan whispered.  “Hmm.”

4

    Nurse Amy helped August Riley move back to the edge of bed at her temporary residence in Room 258.  The young blonde grunted with each step as she dragged her feet loudly across the tile floor.

    “Nice and easy,” Amy said.  “Let’s fix your gown before you get under the covers.”

    “Can we just leave it open?” Augie asked in a strained voice.

    “Sure, but you have to tell me when you need to go to the bathroom,” Amy said.  “I’m sure you know how to use the call bell by now,” she said with a playful scold.

    “O… kay,” Augie said with a grunt as she sat on the edge of the bed.

    “Did you want the curtain pulled back?” Amy asked.

    “Yes, please,” Colleen replied loudly from the other bed.

    Amy held Augie’s elbow as she lowered herself to the edge of the thin mattress.  The gown gathered at Augie’s midsection as she slid her feet under the covers and searched for the button that controlled the bed’s position.  Her overfilled breasts stood defiantly against the sturdy material and ignored gravity as the gown slid above her knees.  Bruises that looked like dark islands adorned Augie’s thighs.  Some had yellowish edges that looked like beaches against a tan seascape, but most were new and uncharted.

    Augie pulled the covers to her waist and looked up at Amy as if she were a little girl caught trying to hide something from her mother.  Amy tilted her head and looked empathetically at Augie as the head of the bed moved slowly upward with a dull hum.

    “I’m sorry, honey,” Amy said apologetically with a tear in her eye.

    “It’s my fault,” said Augie.

    “You can’t let yourself believe that, even for one second,” Amy replied.

    “I know,” Augie said in a guilty tone.

    Amy refrained from saying anything more about the bruises.  She knew that if she pressured Augie, she would just change the subject and distance herself from the only caregiver on the second floor that truly cared about her condition.  Amy felt that the Social Worker had a long road ahead of her.

    “Amy?” Colleen called from the other side of the curtain.

    “Yes?” Amy called back.

    “I have to pee,” Colleen said softly.

    “Okay.  I’ll be right there,” Amy replied.

    The electric hum of the hospital bed slowed to a deep moan as the head of the bed reached its maximum height.  Amy carefully slid her arm behind Augie’s shoulder and helped her lay against the mattress.  Augie cradled her ribs and winced in pain as she came to rest against the thin pillow.

    “There you go.  Comfy?” Amy asked.

    “Yeah,” Augie replied with a shallow grunt.

    “Now just stay in bed and call me if you need anything,” Amy playfully scolded.  “I can always get the bedside commode so you don’t have to walk to the bathroom.”

    “I hate that damn thing,” Augie said.  “Makes me feel like I’m peein’ in public.”

    “How do you think I feel?” asked Colleen from the other side of the curtain.

    “Ha,” said Augie weakly.

    Amy adjusted Augie’s pillow and pulled the covers up to her chest.  Augie tried to take in a deep breath, but stopped short because of the pain.

    “You think they’ll let me have somethin’ else for the pain today?” Augie asked.  “The morphine just ain’t doin’ it for me.”

    “I’ll check and come back,” said Amy as she went to the sink.

    “They can’t say that I’m not in pain this time,” said Augie.  “The setting on the morphine pump thing is so low that I might as well not have any.”

    “I know, sweetheart,” Amy said as she washed her hands.  “I’ll check with the doctor and let you know as soon as I can.”

    Amy dried her hands and slid between the two curtains that were still draped around Colleen’s bed.

    “Your PCA pump is empty, isn’t it?” Amy asked Colleen rhetorically.

    “That fucker’s been beepin’ all night,” Colleen said, disgusted.  “Sorry… pardon my French.”

    “That’s okay, honey,” Amy said.  “You wanna use the bedpan again, or do you want to try to use the bedside commode?”

    “Bedpan is fine,” Colleen replied.  “I’m not up to gettin’ up outa bed just yet.  My leg and my shoulder are screamin’.”

    “I’ll fix that just as soon as we get you on the bedpan,” said Amy.

    “Okay,” said Colleen with a grunt of her own.

    Amy put on a fresh pair of gloves and grabbed the pink plastic bedpan from the low shelf.  Colleen leaned to one side as Amy placed the bedpan under her bottom.

    “That sucker’s cold this mornin’,” said Colleen.

    “Good thing they stopped using the old metal ones,” Amy replied.

    “You got that shit right,” said Colleen as she shifted her position over the bedpan.

    “Here you go,” said Amy as she handed Colleen a large wad of toilet tissue.

    Colleen relieved herself as Amy checked the morphine PCA pump on the I.V. pole and punched a few buttons.  The box emitted a long, single beep as Amy reset the alarm that nearly brought Colleen to her wit’s end.

    “Will that thing shut up now?” Colleen asked.

    “It will only beep when it dispenses medication after I refill it,” replied Amy.  “And when you push the button.”

    “Thank God!” Colleen said with a sigh.

    “Don’t bitch,” Augie said loudly.  “At least you get some when you want it.”

    “I’m finished here,” Colleen said to Amy.

    “Okay,” said Amy.  “Be right back.”

    Amy removed Colleen’s bedpan and disappeared between the curtains at the foot of Colleen’s bed.

    “Maybe Amy can get you some Ibuprofen,” said Colleen loudly to Augie.

    “Shit…,” Augie said.  “I’ll be lucky if I can get a Flintstones chewable vitamin in this place.  How’d you get so lucky?”

    “Well… I’m not a drug seeker like you are,” Colleen replied playfully.

    “Kiss my ass!” Augie said loudly and then grunted again.

    The flush of the toilet echoed loudly as Amy took care of Colleen’s bedpan.  Amy emerged from the bathroom, removed her gloves and washed her hands again.

    “Do you want me to pull back the curtains now?” Amy asked both tenants of Room 258.

    “Please,” Augie replied.  “Let’s see what my smartass roommate looks like.”

    “I ain’t nothin’ to look at,” said Colleen modestly.

    “Well I am!” quipped Augie.  “I’m a bee-yootiful princess!”

    Amy went to the foot of Colleen’s bed and pulled the heavy privacy drape to the wall.

    “And now, let’s see what’s behind curtain number one,” Amy said, imitating a game show host.

    Amy intentionally pulled the curtain slowly as the metal rollers slid against the rails with a tinny “shhh” sound.  When the curtain reached the foot of both beds, Amy stopped and peered from behind it at Augie.

    “What is this, Deal or No Deal?” Augie blurted.  “Just open the damn case!”

    “Nurse Amy…,” the thirty-nine-year-old travel nurse said, imitating Howie Mandel.  “Open the case!”

    Amy whipped the curtain toward the wall, and the two tenants of Room 258 got their first look at each other.

    “You bitch!” Augie shouted.

    “Wow,” said Colleen in a surprised, but softer tone.

5

    Jim sat on the edge of the bed in the small, musty room of the Las Gaviotas Motel near the Ronald Reagan Freeway.  The gauze bandage that was wrapped around his left hand was stained a dirty yellowish-brown from the oozing shreds of skin that clung to his palm.  Jim puffed on a cigarette as the small window air conditioner drummed noisily against the steady sound of the passing freeway traffic.

    The gray smoke from Jim’s cigarette stood in light contrast to the sticky wooden paneling that reeked from decades of tar and nicotine.  Thin, unpadded maroon carpet covered the floor and was dotted with stains from various untold liquids and cigarette burns.

    Jim stared blankly at the small television and ashes from his cigarette dropped silently to the floor as the blonde female weathercaster spelled out the forecast and continually mispronounced the word “temperature.”

    “Jesus Christ!” Jim shouted.  “It’s tem-purr-uh-choor, not tem-puh-chur, you stupid bitch!”

    The perky blonde continued her mispronunciation, which angered Jim even further.  He grabbed the glass, tar-encrusted ashtray that teetered precariously on the edge of the bed and hurled it at the old television.  Ashes floated in the air and cigarette butts dropped to the floor as the ashtray missed its mark.  The round, wayward missile hit the paneling with a hollow thud about a foot above its intended target.  The dull metal frame that held a picture of seagulls tapped loudly against the dark paneling, and then fell behind the wooden television stand with a crash.

    “Fuck it,” Jim said in a suddenly calm voice.

    The occupants in the next room pounded on the wall and yelled something that Jim couldn’t hear.  Jim suddenly stood up and adrenaline shot into his veins.  He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and he could feel his left hand throb intensely with every heartbeat.  Jim’s chest and back muscles rippled as Jim held his breath and neared an uncontrollable, rage-like state.

    “Low profile,” a voice in Jim’s head reminded.  “Keep a low profile.”

    Jim’s chest fell as he let out his breath.  He repeated his brother’s advice over and over in his head.  He unclenched his fists and looked down at his left hand, which stung as if a hive of angry hornets had attacked his palm.  Fresh blood oozed through the edges of the filthy gauze bandage, and Jim felt a sudden wave of nausea.

6

    Colleen Caldwell and Augie Riley surveyed each other’s injuries from their respective beds in Room 258 at Los Robles Hospital.  Augie slowly leaned forward and turned her head in Colleen’s direction.

    “You said you were nothing to look at!” blurted the twenty-five-year-old Augie.  “You’re beautiful!”

    “Is that a line?” Colleen asked in a serious tone as she adjusted the head of her bead to an upright position.

    “What do you mean?” asked Augie.

    “I mean I don’t think I can accept a proposal this early in the season,” Colleen said smartly.

    “Shit… how old are you again?” Augie asked jealously.

    “Thirty-two,” Colleen replied.  I feel like we’ve had this conversation already.”

    “We did yesterday,” Augie replied.  “You don’t look thirty-two.”

    Colleen shifted her position so she could get a good look at Augie.  Her mouth opened in surprise as she got a good look at the bandage that covered Augie’s left eye and about half of her head.

    “And you look like you feel,” said Colleen.

    “I look like I feel?” asked Augie, confused.

    “Didn’t you say you were twenty-five going on fifty?” Colleen recalled.

    “You have a good memory on morphine,” said Augie.  “Do I look fifty to you?”

    “I can’t see half of your face,” Colleen replied.  “You could be John Merrick for all I know,” Colleen said.

    “Who’s John Merrick?” Augie asked.

    “You know… John Merrick?  Never mind… way before your time,” Colleen said.  “He had this burlap sack that they put over his head so people wouldn’t see his deformed skull.  John Hurt played him in the movie… early eighties, I think.”

    “Thanks a lot!” Augie said.  “What was the title of the movie?”

    “You don’t wanna know,” Colleen replied.  “That’s some bandage.”

    “Speaking of movies, The Terminator called…,” Augie said.  “He wants his leg back.”

    Colleen let out a sudden belly laugh, followed by Augie, who was cradling her ribs with both arms.

    “Don’t make me laugh!” Colleen said with a painful chuckle.

    “You started it!” Augie quipped.  “Owwww!”

    Augie groaned as she struggled to control her raspy giggling.  Colleen swallowed hard and tried to catch her breath as she crowed loudly from Augie’s comment.

    “You know… what the title… of the movie was?” Colleen asked in a broken sentence between belly laughs.

    “No… owww!  What was it?” Augie groaned as she tried to hold her breath.

    “The Elephant Man!” Colleen said in a short breath and then returned to sustained deep belly laughter.

    “I give!” cackled Augie.  “Owwwie!  Stop!  Ohhh that hurts!”

    “Okay… okay…,” Colleen said as her laughter slowed to guffaws.  “Olly Olly oxen fr-” she started, and then swallowed hard again.

    “I haven’t heard that in years,” Augie said as her breathing returned to normal.

    “Am I interrupting your game of Kick the Can?” a man’s voice called from the open doorway.

    Colleen giggled and Augie’s smile suddenly disappeared as they both pulled their bed covers to their chin.  Father Francis Jones stood in the doorway of Room 258 and knocked lightly on the heavy wooden door.

    “No, Sir,” said Augie blankly.

    “Good morning, Father,” Amy called from the hallway behind the priest.

    “Oh, good morning, Amy!” Father Jones turned and replied.  “I was just paying a visit to the young ladies real quick before breakfast,” said the priest.  “Sounds like they’re having quite a time in here.”

    “We may have to separate these two,” Amy said in a happy tone as she slid through the doorway past the seventy-one-year-old Man of the Cloth.

    “Amy, can you pull the curtain, please?” Augie asked in a sullen voice.

    “Sure can, sweetheart,” Amy replied.

    Father Jones stood awkwardly in the doorway as Amy pulled the curtain between the two tenants and around the foot of Augie’s bed.  Amy held a small tray in her left hand that contained a square plastic bag of morphine and a similar bag of I.V. antibiotics with white labels.  Colleen’s view of the priest was obstructed by the curtain at the foot of Augie’s bed.

    “Can I come in, Miss Caldwell?” asked Father Jones.

    Colleen closed her eyes and shook her head at the thought of being called Miss Caldwell.

    “Sure, but only for a second,” Colleen called from behind the curtain.

    “You’ll be sorry,” Augie whispered to Colleen through the thick curtain.

    “What?” Colleen whispered back, and then turned her head as Father Jones appeared at the foot of her bed.  “What can I do for you, Father?”

    “Well, I was going to ask you the same question,” replied the man in black.  “I had the nicest visit with Joan yesterday, and I thought I would stop by and say hello.”

    “Oh I see,” said Colleen, who couldn’t think of anything else to say.

    “We chatted for a while and she said that you had an unfortunate accident,” said the priest as he moved around the bed to Colleen’s right.

    Colleen pulled at the covers and shifted her position away from the approaching priest.  Father Jones stopped in his tracks, sensing tenseness from the beautiful young daughter-in-law of Joan Caldwell.

    “I’m sorry, Father… I’m not Catholic,” said Colleen coldly.

    “That’s okay.  I get it all the time,” replied Father Jones.  “Do you want me to come back some other time?”

    “That’s okay,” Colleen said.  “You don’t need to check on me.”

    “Fair enough,” said Father Jones.

    “My mother will be here about one o’clock this afternoon if you want to see her,” Colleen said, almost in a dismissing tone.

    “Sounds good.  I’ll drop by then if that’s okay,” said Father Jones.

    “That’ll be fine,” said Colleen.

    “Get better soon, my child,” said Father Jones as he turned and headed for the door.

    “I will.  Thank you, Father,” said Colleen.

    Amy stood beside the sink and recorded some numbers on a notepad while she waited for Father Francis Jones to leave the room.  Augie sniffled and Colleen sighed heavily as Amy clicked her pen and put it in her pocket.  Augie’s PCA pump suddenly beeped the same tone as Colleen’s did when it ran out of morphine.

    “I’ll get that in a couple of minutes, Augie,” Amy said loudly.  There was no reply.

    Amy stepped quietly around the curtain to Colleen’s side of the room.  The medication tray was in her left hand, and a fresh pair of gloves was in her right.  Colleen adjusted the head of her bed to a slightly flatter position.  Amy could hear the hum of Augie’s bed as she adjusted hers as well.

    “Time for more of the good stuff,” Amy said as she opened the PCA pump and inserted the morphine.

    “Excellent,” Colleen said with her eyes still closed.

    Amy said nothing as she worked the plastic bag of morphine into position and closed the pump, which made a series of beeps while she punched a few buttons.  An uncomfortable silence filled Room 258.

    “There you go,” Amy said.  “You can push the button when you want more medication.”

    “Thank you,” said Colleen.  “What’s the other bag for?”

    “I.V. antibiotic,” answered Amy as she hung the square plastic bag.  “I’ll be back in a little while to replace the other one.”

    “Okay,” said Colleen as she punched the pain button.

    Amy gathered the empty vial and placed it in her medication tray.  She checked the I.V. tubing one last time before disappearing around the corner of the heavy curtain.  Colleen heard Amy remove her gloves with a familiar snapping sound, and the plastic liner rustled with a thud as she dropped them in the trash bin.

    Amy washed her hands, gathered her things again, and quietly left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.  Colleen heard the door latch with a heavy click, and the light that came from the hallway disappeared.

    “Augie?” Colleen asked in a calm, quiet tone.

    “Yeah?” Augie replied after a few seconds of silence.

    “What’s wrong?” Colleen asked.

    No response.

7

    Carlos Guzman stood in the middle of the tack room with his notepad in hand and a pencil behind his ear.  Several notebook entries were double-underlined; especially the ones that Colleen usually took care of personally, but Carlos felt up to the challenge of the increased workload.

    As he paged through the notebook, he drew lines through tasks that were already completed, and jotted down new ones for Jesus, the Assistant Ranch Foreman.  The Triple C Ranch was a smooth-running operation before Colleen’s disaster, and Carlos was determined to keep it that way.  Carlos knew he could delegate most of his own tasks to Jesus, but he liked the feeling of importance from running the operation rather than contributing to it.

    Colleen never made him feel less than important to the operation in the past, even though Carlos thought of himself as underutilized at times.  Colleen preferred sharing responsibilities that traditionally rested with a Ranch Foreman as opposed to letting Carlos do all of the work.

    The first time Carlos saw Colleen shoveling piles of manure was about a week after he moved to the ranch.  When the California Wildfires destroyed the Double C in October of 2003, Colleen’s father invited Chase to run the day-to-day operations of the Wilson Family Ranch.  Joan was invited as Bookkeeper and Carlos was hired on as Ranch Foreman.

    Harris Wilson was a thin, wheelchair-bound man in his early seventies who suffered horribly from Parkinson’s disease.  He worried constantly about his beautiful daughter Colleen, who worked too hard and had very little personal life.  He worried that ranch work would age her prematurely and take away her essence of womanhood, which is something Harris saw in the horse business far too often.

    Carlos, Joan, and Chase were just what Harris needed to save his gorgeous daughter from becoming just another “horse girl” that looked as if she had been “rode hard and put up wet” as the saying goes.

    For the first time since the green filly trampled Colleen the morning before, Carlos Guzman felt worthy of the tasks before him.  He stood in the middle of the tack room and read the first double-underlined entry in his notebook over and over.

    Do or do not.  Es no try.

8

    Nurse Amy opened the heavy wooden door of Room 258 and re-entered with a fresh bag of morphine for the ailing August Riley.  The room was quiet, with the exception of bells that were attached to the lanyard that held the morphine pump key.  They were about twice the size of Hershey’s Kisses, and three of them were attached to the long strap, which was a deep burgundy color.  Amy found the bells annoying and assumed that her patients felt the same way.

    Amy approached the I.V. pole at the head of Augie’s bed and opened the gray pump that held the empty bag.  Augie was laying in the fetal position on her right side with her eyes open.  Tears fell to her pillow as she sniffled quietly with the covers pulled over her left shoulder.

    “We’ll have you fixed up in no time,” Amy said to August as she worked.  “I talked to the doctor, and he said you can have Tylenol and Ativan every six hours.”

    “Ativan makes me groggy, but I’ll take it,” Augie said quietly without moving.

    “Do you want the Tylenol?” Amy asked.

    “Okay,” Augie replied and sniffed again.

    Amy continued her work on the morphine pump and thought about Augie’s sudden change of mood when Father Jones showed up for a visit.  She wondered about Augie’s past, but never brought it up with her.  While Amy felt empathetic about situations such as these, she rarely crossed professional lines by getting involved, even though there were times that she really wanted to.

    Most of Amy’s patients felt a certain level of comfort with her, and some even volunteered information about their afflictions and personal lives.  Amy felt that the mark of a good nurse is one who knows when it’s appropriate to open their heart to a patient while providing the best medical care possible.

    “I’ll be right back with the Tylenol and Ativan,” said Amy as she finished her work on the morphine pump.

    Augie said nothing as the bells attached to the lanyard tinkled loudly in the quiet room.  Amy heard Augie sniffle again as she headed for the doorway.  She hoped that having Colleen as a roommate would help Augie emerge from her state of funk once again.

    “Sounds like a bunch of Salvation Army people around here,” Colleen said softly.

    Augie grunted and shifted her position under the covers.  She searched for her pain button as the ringing of the bells that were attached to the morphine key lanyard grew louder, and then suddenly stopped.

    “Sounds more like Santa Claus to me,” Augie said in a dull monotone.

    “I wonder why they did that,” Colleen said a little louder.

    “So nobody runs off with the key,” Augie said in the same monotone.

    “What’s so special about that key?” asked Colleen.

    “The same key opens all of the PCA pumps,” Augie replied with a little more emphasis.

    “You mean for the whole hospital?” Colleen asked.

    “I think so,” said Augie.

    Colleen paused for a few seconds and thought carefully about what to say next.

    “I smell bacon,” said Colleen.

    “Yeah, if you wanna call it that,” Augie replied flatly.

    Suddenly the bells from the PCA key lanyard crashed against the floor in the hallway, which startled both occupants of Room 258.

    “I think Santa fell down,” said Colleen playfully.

    “No shit,” said Augie.

    “They should make the priest carry that thing so we know when he’s coming,” chuckled Colleen.

    “You got that shit right,” Augie said as she shifted her position under the covers again.

    “They scare me,” said Colleen.

    “Bells scare you?” chided Augie.

    “No… priests,” Colleen replied.  “Priests scare me.”

    “Why?  Were you molested by one too?” asked Augie in a scathing tone.

    Colleen paused for a second and thought about Augie’s shocking question.

    “No,” Colleen said.  “I’m just… uncomfortable around ‘em, I guess.”

    “Aren’t you even gonna ask about what I just said?” Augie asked.

    “No…,” Colleen replied.  “I figure if you wanna talk about it, you will.  It’s none of my damn business.”

    “I wish the Social Worker felt that way,” said Augie, relaxing a little.

    “Social Worker?” Colleen asked.

    “Yeah, they got this lady that comes around.  She asks a shit load of questions when you have injuries like I got.  I just lie to her ‘til she goes away,” said Augie.

    “Shit,” Colleen said sympathetically.  “What kind of questions?” she asked.

    Before Augie could answer, Amy appeared at her bedside with a tray of breakfast food and a plastic cup with the Ativan and Tylenol.

    “I’ll tell you in a minute,” replied Augie.

    “I’m sorry,” Amy offered.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” she said as she set the tray and plastic cup on Augie’s bedside table.

    “That’s okay,” said Augie.  “I was just badmouthing the Social Worker.  You haven’t seen her yet, have you?”

    “Not yet,” said Amy.  “I think she has meetings in the mornings, and then she makes her rounds in the afternoons.”

    “Do you like her?” Augie asked.

    “Well…,” Amy started, and then was interrupted.

    “You hate her, don’t you?” Augie chided.  “Come on, you can tell me.”

    “No… it’s not like that,” Amy said.  “I don’t know her that well, but she seems nice.”

    “Yeah… well… so did Jeffrey Dahmer,” said Augie.

    Amy chuckled uncomfortably as she pretended to arrange the tray of food on Augie’s table.  Colleen sat silently in the bed and listened in on Augie and Amy’s conversation.

    “I’m sorry, honey,” Amy said.  “She’s just tryin’ to do her job, just like me.”

    “She’s nuthin’ like you,” Augie replied.  “She just plops her ass on the chair and starts in with the questions.”

    “I know she’s not your favorite person,” Amy said.

    “I fuckin’ hate her,” said Augie.  “She doesn’t seem to give a shit about how I feel or anything.  Besides, you’re my favorite person here,” Augie suddenly said playfully.

    “Awww… you’re so sweet, Augie,” Amy said as she tilted her head to one side.  “Now take your pills.”

    “I smell bacon,” Colleen said again.

    “Somebody’s hungry,” said Augie as she downed her pills without taking a drink of anything to wash them down.

    “Oh… did I say that out loud?” Colleen asked.

    “Did I say that out loud?” repeated Augie, mocking Colleen.  “Better take The Terminator her breakfast before she runs for Governor.”

    “Ha!” Colleen shouted, imitating Augie’s outbursts from the night before.

    Augie handed Amy the empty plastic cup that held the Tylenol and Ativan a few seconds before.  She opened her mouth and lifted her tongue to prove to Amy that she swallowed the pills.

    “Good,” whispered Amy.  “One breakfast comin’ right up!” Amy called to Colleen as she threw away the cup and stepped toward the doorway.

    “The food’s not too bad if you order the right thing,” said Augie, seemingly recovered from her funk.

    “You get to order what you want?” Colleen asked.

    “Yeah, but you have to order it the night before,” Augie replied as she shifted her position under the covers again.

    Amy returned with a second breakfast tray and headed for Colleen’s bed.  Augie adjusted her bed to the upright-most position and reached for the bedside table.

    “Uhh…,” Augie grunted.

    “Are you okay, Augie?” Amy said as she stopped at the foot of Colleen’s bed.

    Augie could see Amy’s feet and ankles under the bottom of the privacy curtain.

    “Yeah,” Augie said.  “I’m just sore as hell.”

    “Okay,” said Amy as she started walking again.

    Augie leaned back against the head of her bed.  Amy set the resin breakfast tray on Colleen’s bedside table and positioned it in front of her.  Colleen shifted her position slightly and moved the table closer with her right hand.

    “Is it high enough?” Amy asked Colleen.

    “Yeah, it’s fine,” replied Colleen.  “I’m starvin’.”

    “I’m starvin’,” Augie mocked from the other side of the curtain.

    “I’ve heard about enough outa you,” Colleen said.

    Amy slid the tray a few inches on the table so it was directly in front of Colleen.  Colleen reached for the tray with her right hand, poked her finger in the hole of the plate cover that matched the tray and set it down on the table.

    “Mmmm,” said Colleen as she looked at the food.

    Steam billowed from the scrambled eggs, home fried potatoes and two strips of bacon arranged neatly on the white ceramic plate.  A blueberry muffin and a banana were on the tray next to the plate, and a small carton of orange juice completed the meal.

    “Smells good, huh?” asked Amy.

    “I’m so hungry, I could eat the ass out of a skunk,” Colleen informed.

    Amy smiled and tried not to laugh.

    “I’m not repeating that one,” said Augie.

    “I’ll bring you the menu for lunch a little later,” said Amy as she thought about Colleen’s hunger decree.

    Amy was surprised by the gorgeous blonde’s appetite.  Colleen grabbed a piece of bacon and shoved the whole thing in her mouth.  Colleen closed her eyes, leaned her head back and chewed slowly a few times.  Amy thought it looked like Colleen was eating a golf ball because of the bulge in her left cheek.

    “Amy?” Augie called quietly from her bed.

“Yes, Augie?” Amy replied.

    “What-cha DO-in’?” Augie asked slowly.

    Amy’s face turned pink.  She closed her eyes and     tried to keep from laughing.  Colleen opened her eyes, turned her head and looked at Amy’s face, which turned a darker red.

    “Wuf uh ma’er wif you?” Colleen asked with her mouth full.

    “She’s about to laugh,” Augie said.  “Watch… just wait a second.  She won’t be able to hold it in much longer.”

    Amy raised her left arm and put her face in the crook of her elbow.  Her shoulders bounced up and down as she tried to keep from laughing.  Suddenly she couldn’t hold her breath any longer and let out a high-pitched wheeze of a laugh.

    “There it is,” said Augie.

    “Ho ee shit!” Colleen said through the mouthful of smoky bacon.

    Amy’s face returned to normal as she continued her wheezy guffaws.  Colleen looked at Amy and chewed her bacon into smaller bits.  Augie chuckled from her side of the curtain because she saw what Amy looked like when she laughed before.

    “Told ya,” Augie said.

    “Uhhh…,” Amy said after taking in a deep breath.  “You kill me!”

    “What’s so funny about that?” Colleen asked with a mouth still half full.

    “My boyfriend asks me that constantly!” said Amy.  “Augie imitates him to a tee, and the two of them have never met.  You kinda have to be there.”

    “I’ll bet,” Colleen replied.  “That’s some laugh you got there.”

    Amy chuckled between breaths as she opened Colleen’s orange juice and inserted a straw.

    “Isn’t that some shit?” Augie asked.  “Funniest thing I’ve seen in years.”

    “My boyfriend gives me crap about that, too,” said Amy.  “How ya doin’ over there, Augie?”

    “I can’t get to my food because I can’t move the thingy,” Augie replied in a girly voice.

    “I’ll be right there,” chuckled Amy.  “Can I get you anything else, Colleen?” Amy asked.

    “Nah… I’m good,” Colleen replied.  “Can’t you tell?  I’m eatin’ like this is my last meal.”

    “Appetite is a good thing,” said Amy.  “I’ll check on you in a little bit.

    Amy left Colleen and walked around the foot of Augie’s bed, which was still completely shrouded by the heavy curtain.

    “You can pull the curtain back again if you close the door,” Augie said.  “Colleen, do you have any visitors coming this morning?”

    “Not that I know of,” Colleen replied.  “I wasn’t expecting the priest to begin with.  My mother’s coming after noon, and then probably a friend or two later.”

    “Okay,” replied Augie.

    Amy pulled the curtain around the foot of the bed and up toward the wall where it was before.  Colleen took a sip of her orange juice and coughed, which immediately caught Amy’s attention.

    “You okay?” asked Amy.

    “Yeah,” Colleen said with a swallow, and then cleared her throat.  “Went down the wrong pipe.”

    “You’re supposed to breathe after you swallow,” Augie said as Amy moved the table closer to Augie.

    “Aren’t you supposed to do that on your knees?” Colleen asked smartly.

    “Ha ha ha… very funny,” Augie said as she struggled to sit up straight.

    “Want me to put your pillow behind your back?” Amy asked.

    “That would be good,” Augie replied.

    Amy put her arm around Augie’s neck and helped her lean forward.  She then switched hands and supported Augie as she positioned the pillow behind her back.

    “How’s that?” Amy asked.

    “Good,” Augie said.  “I’m hungry, but I’m not eatin’ the ass outa no skunk.”

    “Do you need me to help you with a few bites?” Amy asked.

    “No, Mother,” Augie said.  “I do it… I big girl.”

    Amy chuckled again.  Colleen shoveled scrambled eggs into her mouth and cleared her throat once more.

    “Ello again,” Colleen said with her mouth full of eggs.

    “Uh… hello,” Augie replied as she removed the cover from her plate.  “Want my bacon?” she asked.

    Amy slid Augie’s tray closer to her chest, opened the carton of orange juice and inserted the straw.  Augie set the plate cover on the table next to the tray.

    “Okay,” replied Colleen as a few bits of scrambled eggs escaped her mouth.

“Come and get it,” Augie said.

    “Very funny,” Colleen said as tiny yellow egg meteors rained sporadically back to her tray.

    “You’re not supposed to talk with your mouth full,” said Augie.

    “I big girl, too!” Colleen replied, continuing the meteor shower.

    “The eggs go in your mouth, not back on your plate,” Augie said as she continued to poke fun at Colleen.

    “Morphine make Colleen seepy,” Colleen slurred.

    Amy washed her hands as the two women continued their banter.  Augie surveyed the food on her plate, and suddenly felt nauseous.

    “I ain’t eatin’ any of this,” Augie said, leaning back against the pillow.  “Well, except maybe the blueberry muffin.”

    “There’s a shock,” Amy chimed in.

    “Want my muffin?” Colleen asked.  “I hate blueberries.”

    “Like you said before, I don’t think I can accept a proposal this early in the season,” Augie replied with heavy innuendo.  “And I’m ignoring you, Amy.”

    “Ha ha ha…,” Colleen said, mocking Augie’s earlier words.

    “Another shock,” Amy said.  “Want me to move your tray and help you lay back?” Amy asked Augie.

    “Okay.  Ugh…,” Augie replied and swallowed hard.

    Amy slid the tray out of the way and supported Augie’s back while she moved the pillow further toward the head of the bed.  Augie slowly leaned back and shifted her weight to a more comfortable position.  Colleen set her fork down on her tray and leaned back as well, which caught Amy’s attention.

    “There you go,” Amy said.

    “Thank you,” said Augie.

    “You’re welcome,” Amy replied.  “Do you need anything else?”

    “Just the button thing,” Augie said.  “I’m gonna take a little nap.”

    Amy grabbed Augie’s cigar-shaped pain button and placed it in her left hand.  Augie pushed the button and the PCA pump beeped as an extra dose of morphine headed for Augie’s veins.  Amy pulled the covers up to Augie’s chest and then stood up.  Colleen swallowed her bite of food and turned her head toward Amy.

    “I’m so sleepy,” Colleen said with a heavy slur.

“I'll move your tray for you,” said Amy as she left Augie’s bedside and stepped over to the thirty-two-year-old Colleen Caldwell.

    “Yes, please,” Colleen said.  “Can you do me a huge favor?”

    “Sure, sweetheart.  What can I do for you?” Amy asked as she slid the long, thin table out of Colleen’s way.

    “Can you call my mother when you get a chance… and tell her to make sure she doesn’t forget my iPod and my cell phone?” Colleen asked.

    “I could call her from here if you like,” Amy said.

    “No… just whenever you get the chance,” Colleen replied.

    “Not a problem,” Amy replied.  “Do you want the door closed?”

“Please,” Augie answered for Colleen.

    “Okay, ladies,” Amy said.  “I’ll be back in a little bit and pick up your trays.”

    “You can leave the bacon,” Colleen said with a sleepy tone.

    “And the muffins,” Augie chimed in.

    “Sure,” said Amy.

    Colleen’s PCA pump beeped on its own, which reminded her that she could press the button for more.  She drifted off to sleep before her left thumb received the message that her brain sent to it.  Both occupants of Room 258 breathed heavily as Amy quietly left the room and pulled the door shut behind her.

9

    The loud ring of the princess phone startled Joan Caldwell and her napping sidekick, Merlin.  Joan fumbled the receiver to the floor, which made Merlin stand up in his doggie bed.

    “Triple C, how can I help you?” the sixty-one-year-old Joan Caldwell said in her best professional manner as she recovered the heavy receiver.

    “Hello, this is Amy at Los Robles, is this Mrs. Caldwell?”  Amy asked politely.

    “Oh my God!  What’s wrong?  What happened?” Joan shouted into the mouthpiece, instantly mortified.

    Merlin started barking, and Joan couldn’t hear half of what Amy was saying.

    “Colleen… ask… phone…, ”

    “Merlin!  Shut up!” Joan shouted.  “Go outside!  Git!”

    Joan held the receiver to her ear as Merlin let out a small “moof” for a bark, and then sauntered slowly over to the doggie door.

    “I’m sorry, Amy.  Can you repeat what you said?  My dog was barking,” Joan said in a half-frantic tone.

    “That’s okay, Mrs. Caldwell,” Amy said.  “Colleen wanted me to give you a call and ask if you could bring her cell phone when you bring her iPod.”

    “Oh thank God!” Joan said and then took a deep breath.  “I thought something was wrong!”

    “Not at all, Mrs. Caldwell,” Amy said.  “Colleen had some breakfast about an hour ago, and she’s takin’ a little nap at the moment.”

    “Shit… I almost had a heart attack!” Joan said, still breathing fast.

    “I’m sorry, Mrs. Caldwell.  I didn’t mean to scare you,” Amy said.

    “It’s not your fault,” Joan said, calming down a little.  “And please call me Joan.”

    “Okay, Joan,” Amy replied.

    “Do I need to bring anything else?” Joan asked.

    “I don’t think so,” said Amy.  “If she has a particular deodorant or toothpaste that she prefers to use, you might want to bring them.”

    “Okay,” said Joan.  “I’ll throw some things in a bag for her.  Should I bring her some undergarments?”

    “Ummm probably not,” Amy said.  “With the pins in her leg and the sling on her arm, she would probably be more comfortable without them.”

    “Good point,” Joan said.  “Dumb question, huh?”

    “No, you’d be surprised at the kind of stuff people bring to the hospital, even if they’re just here overnight,” Amy said with a chuckle.

    “I’ll bet,” Joan said.  “Did she ask for anything else?”

    “Nope.  Just her iPod and cell phone,” Amy said.

    Merlin suddenly poked his head through the doggie door and oinked loudly.

    “Sounds good.  I’ll be there about one o’clock,” said Joan.

    “See you then,” Amy said.

    “Okay.  Bye,” Joan said.

    “Bye,” Amy replied and then hung up the phone.

    “Merlin!” Joan shouted again.  “Out!”

    Merlin oinked and pulled his head out of the doggie door.  Joan could hear him oink as he stood and waited on the concrete step outside the office door.

    “Go on!” Joan shouted.

    As Joan sat back in her chair, Merlin’s oinking grew faint as he searched for a different place to continue his nap.

10

    Millie’s was a busy place for a Monday morning.  Usually by nine o’clock the breakfast crowd was gone and the waitresses were already setting up for lunch.  Jim sat in the booth closest to the cashier desk and counted what was left of the money his brother gave him the day before; eighty-nine dollars and sixteen cents.  He thought about how he needed to stretch his cash for another day or two since he couldn’t go back to the place he referred to as the shit hole just yet.

    Jim thought of Las Gaviotas Motel as a shit hole, but it was better than sleeping on the ground and eating hot dogs on a stick that were cooked with a butane torch.  The makeshift tent and old horse blanket were barely enough to keep him from freezing to death during the cold Southern California nights, but at least the coyotes knew enough to leave him alone.

    Snakes were another story, though.  A few face-to-face meetings with large rattlesnakes made Jim change his sleeping habits a bit.  Jim kept the Bowie knife accessible at all times while he slept, and with a lightning-fast flick of the wrist, breakfast was served.  Jim loved the taste of butane-torched rattlesnake meat on a stick, especially on an empty stomach.

    Rattlesnake wasn’t on the breakfast menu at Millie’s, so Jim settled on the Cinnamon Roll Combo, which included a jumbo cinnamon roll, two eggs any style and bacon or sausage.

    “Would you like some more coffee?” the chubby Hispanic waitress in her late twenties asked Jim.

    “Please,” Jim replied.  “Is there an LA Times around here somewhere?” he asked the waitress with a wink.

    “I’ll bring you one,” the waitress replied as she poured more coffee.

    “What’s your name again?” Jim asked and winked a second time.

    “Carmen,” the waitress replied, blushing.

    “Carmen,” Jim repeated.  “That’s a beautiful name.”

    “Thank you, Sir,” said Carmen.

    “Please… Call me Jim,” said Jim as he stuck out his hand to greet Carmen.

    Carmen turned a deeper shade of red as she switched the coffeepot to her left hand and daintily shook Jim’s hand. 

    “Nice to meet you, Jeem,” said Carmen with a hint of Hispanic accent.  “Can I get you anything else?”

    “Just your phone number,” Jim replied, still holding Carmen’s hand.

    Carmen looked away from Jim and let go of his hand, embarrassed and flattered at the same time.  She scanned the room to see if any of the other waitresses saw her shaking Jim’s hand, but they were all busy with customers.

    “I’ll see if I can find you a newspaper,” Carmen said and walked back to the waitress station near the pickup window without looking back at Jim.

    Jim took a sip of his coffee, set the cup down and picked up his fork.  The pristine yolks of the sunny-side-up eggs in front of him showed perfect reflections of the fluorescent lights from the ceiling above.  Jim twirled the fork between his fingers and then stabbed at the reflections with short, swift motions.  Thick yellow goo flowed slowly from the center of both eggs as Jim licked the end of his fork.

    “Take that, you fuckers,” Jim whispered at the suffering eggs.

    “Here’s your newspaper, Sir,” said Carmen as she approached Jim’s booth.  Jim set down his fork and took the newspaper from Carmen.

    “Thank you, Gorgeous,” Jim said and winked at Carmen a third time.

    “You’re welcome,” Carmen replied.  “You should read the Sports Page,” Carmen said with a wink of her own.

    “I will,” said Jim.  “Thanks again.”

    “Anytime, Sir,” said Carmen.  “Did you want anything else?”

    “I would love some toast, Carmen,” Jim said.

    “White or wheat?” Carmen asked as she pulled her Guest Check pad from her apron pocket.

    “Oh… let’s make it wheat,” replied Jim.

    “Coming right up,” Carmen said as she wrote down Jim’s order and then headed back to the waitress station.

    Jim held the bulky LA Times with his left hand and paged through the sections until he found the sports section.  In the top margin near the corner was a hand-written note from Carmen.

    Carmen Gutierrez

    805-555-3825

    Off tomorrow.

    I am married.

    The “i” in Gutierrez was dotted with a heart and a smiley face.  Jim looked up from the sports page and saw that Carmen was looking back at him from the waitress station as she waited for the wheat toast.  Jim smiled at Carmen, who blushed again and then turned her attention back to the toaster.

11

    Nurse Amy slowly opened the heavy wooden door of Room 258, entered and then held the door latch so the metal click wouldn’t wake her sleeping patients.  As she tiptoed toward Colleen’s bed, she glanced back at Augie, who had her eyes open.

    “We’re awake,” said Colleen, startling Amy.

    “Were you playing let’s see who can be the quietest?” Amy asked in a girly voice.

    “Nah,” Colleen replied.  “I was just laying here tryin’ to think about something other than the pain in my leg and my shoulder.”

    “And I was just laying here thinking about eatin’ one of these blueberry muffins,” Augie chimed in.

    “Is that my bacon on the table?” Colleen asked.

    “It sure is,” Amy replied.

    “I didn’t even hear you come in and get the trays,” Augie said.

    “Well, I can be quiet when I want to,” Amy replied.

    “Can you teach the other nurses how to do that?” Augie asked.

    “Well, out of all of us, I think Robin is the quietest,” Amy said sarcastically as she looked at Colleen’s I.V. setup.

    “Pfft!” Colleen sputtered.  “Of course he’s the quiet one!  I only saw the little fucker once!”

    “You leave Robin alone!” Augie interrupted.  “I love him!”

    “Shit…,” Colleen said.  “He’s as gay as the day is long.”

    “Ya think?” Augie quipped.

    Amy chuckled as she went to Augie’s bedside and checked the PCA Pump.  She was surprised to see that the amount of morphine dispensed wasn’t much more than the amount the pump dispensed on its own, which meant that Augie hadn’t pushed the button much for extra doses.

    “Oh, Shit!” Augie said suddenly.

    “What’s wrong?” Amy asked.

    “I’m getting cramps,” Augie said as she held her tummy.  “I think I’m gonna get my period today… dammit!”

    “Well, at least you’re not pregnant!” Colleen said.

    “You got that shit right,” Augie replied.  “My husband would just love that.”

    “Oh, you’re married?” Colleen asked.  “I never thought to ask.”

    “Yeah,” Augie said with a sad look on her face.  “He’s overseas.  Comin’ up on a year now.”

    “He’s in the Military?” Colleen asked.

    “Yeah… Navy,” replied Augie.  “We haven’t talked for a few weeks.”

    “Shit,” Colleen said sympathetically.  “Is he a Navy Seal or somethin’?”

    “Nah… Signalman,” Augie replied.  “He’s been in for eight years.  Career man.”

    Amy finished looking at Augie’s pump and recorded some numbers on her notepad.

    “Anybody need anything?” Amy asked.

    “Can you slide my bacon closer so I can reach it with my other hand?” Colleen asked.

    “Sure,” Amy replied, and then stepped over to Colleen’s table.  “Here you go.”

    Amy slid the plastic-wrapped bacon closer to the edge of the bedside table.  Colleen’s PCA pump continued to dispense morphine at a quiet, steady rate.

    “Do you need anything?” Amy asked as she turned toward the twenty-five-year-old August Riley.

    “No, thanks,” Augie replied.

    “Okay, I guess I’ll leave you two alone for a little while.  Hit the call button if you need anything,” Amy said.

    Amy left Room 258 so Augie wouldn’t be uncomfortable talking in front of her.  Amy felt that having Colleen as a room mate would be good for Augie, since she spoke freely as if she had known Colleen for years.

    “So how long have you been married?” Colleen asked.

    “Comin’ up on five years,” Augie replied.  “I met him at the restaurant where I work.”

    “Which restaurant do you work at?” asked Colleen.

    “Hometown Buffet,” Augie replied.

    “No shit!  The one on Cochran?” Colleen said.

    “Yup!  That’s the one,” Augie said.  “You know it?”

    “I’ve never seen you there,” Colleen said, surprised.  “I go there about once a month for Sunday Brunch!”

    “That’s why you’ve never seen me there,” said Augie.  “I don’t work on Sundays.”

    “Hmmm,” Colleen said, thoughtfully.

    “Hmmm what?” Augie asked.

    “I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever been there other than a Sunday.”

    “I would have remembered you if you had,” Augie said.

    “Why, you got a good memory or somethin’?” asked Colleen.

    “No,” Augie replied.  “I get the feeling everyone notices you when you go there.”

    “Awww,” Colleen said.  “Thanks… I think!”

    “You… have… just… this thing about you,” Augie said, trying to think of a way to describe Colleen.  “We don’t need lights in here.”

    “What does that mean?” asked Colleen.

    “Even all busted up, you brighten up this place,” Augie said.

    “Awww,” Colleen said again, choked up.  “You’re gonna make me cry.”

    “Don’t cry!” Augie said perkily.  “Let’s change the subject.  What kind of music do you listen to?” Augie asked.

    “Well, let’s see…,” Colleen said with a sniffle.  “I listen to Van Halen, which is my favorite…, Linkin’ Park, The Five Browns, Michael Buble’…, Sanjaya… stuff like that,” Colleen said.

    “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?  You listen to Sanjaya?” Augie asked, flabbergasted.

    “Nah… I’m just shittin’ ya.  I hate that little bastard,” Colleen replied.  “If his face was on fire, I wouldn’t piss on it to put it out.”

    Augie pulled her head back and howled with laughter.  She held her ribs as she tried not to laugh so hard because of the pain in her chest.

    “Uhhh, shit…” Augie said.  “That’s hilarious!”

    “Actually I meant to say Chris Daughtry,” Colleen said with a chuckle.  “I have to delete music from my iPod every so often to make room for different stuff I like.”

    “I had an iPod,” Augie said in a tone that Colleen found sadly familiar.  “My boyfriend sold it.”

    “Sold it or stole it?” Colleen asked.

    “Both,” replied Augie.

    “Your boyfriend?” Colleen asked, confused.  “I thought you said you were m-“

    “I am!” Augie interrupted in a sharp tone.  “It’s a long story.”

    “Well, we ain’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon,” Colleen said.

    “The Five Browns… that’s classical, isn’t it?” Augie asked, rapidly changing the subject.

    “Yeah…,” Colleen replied as she thought about what Augie said before.  “What do you listen to?” she asked.

    “I listen to a lot of punk and metal shit,” Augie replied.  “I also like some of the electronica slash ambient stuff and like the coffeehouse instrumental stuff.”

    “Like what?” Colleen asked.

“Well… Yellowcard, for one… good punk shit,” Augie said.  “I listen to the ambient stuff like Moby, MinusBlue, early New Order, and I’ve gotten into MerlinMoon as of late.”

    “MerlinMoon?” Colleen asked.

    “Yeah… he’s sort of a style all his own,” Augie replied.  “Good guitar work… kinda metal, kinda not.  It’s reminiscent of… did you see the movie Dune from the 80’s?”

    “One of my favorites, believe it or not,” Colleen said.  “How do you know about a movie like Dune, of all things?  That was made before you were born, wasn’t it?”

    “I know about the movie because of the music, smartass.” Augie replied.  “And no… it wasn’t made before I was born.”

    “The music was done by Toto, right?” Colleen asked.

    “Abso-fuckin’-lutely!” Augie said with a hint of excitement in her tone.

    “Hmmm…,” Colleen said.  “The force is strong in this one.”

“What?” Augie asked.

    “Never mind,” Colleen replied.  “So MerlinMoon is like Toto?”

    “Sort of,” replied Augie.  “I heard that he’s gotten into some soundtrack work for movies.  Can’t wait to see what he comes up with.”

    “Well… If I ever get outa here, I’ll have to download his stuff,” Colleen said with interest.

    Augie sat in silence for a few seconds and Colleen could see the smile disappear from her face.  Augie leaned her head back against the thin hospital pillow and closed her eyes.

    “What’s wrong?” Colleen asked.

    “Nuthin’,” Augie replied.  “It’s just that when I think of getting’ out of this place, I have to face reality again.”

    “Oh,” Colleen said sympathetically.  “Not lookin’ forward to going back to work?”

    “It’s not that,” Augie said.  “My life is such a mess compared to yours.”

    “Awww, come on, Augie.  It can’t be that bad, can it?” Colleen said, offering sympathy.

    “Pfft!” Augie sputtered.  “Let’s see… I have a husband in the Military who I haven’t talked to in almost a month and I don’t know if he’s dead or alive… so there’s that.  I have a boyfriend who sells my shit and beats the shit out of me because I don’t make enough in tips.”

    “I thought-,” Colleen started and was interrupted.

    “My family disowned me because I ran away from home when I was sixteen, and now they won’t have anything to do with me…,” Augie continued.  “How’s that for a fuckin’ mess?”

    A tear made its way down Augie’s right cheek.  The bandage over her left eye was already stained with dried tears from earlier that morning.

    “Shit, Augie,” Colleen said as her heart sank in her chest.  “I’m so sorry.”

    “Oh, it’s not your fault, Colleen,” Augie said through a sniffle as she wiped away her tear.  “That’s not even the worst part.”

    “It’s not?” Colleen asked, trying to be supportive.

    “No… seeing that priest this morning brought back all kinds of memories from when I was nine years old,” Augie said.  “The priest from our church used to take me into the basement and sodomize me until my ass bled.”

    “Sick bastard,” Colleen offered.

    “You got that right,” Augie sniffled and wiped another tear from her cheek.  “He said if I told anyone, I would go to hell and never see my family and friends again… and when you’re nine, you believe anything a priest says.”

    “That’s fuckin’ bullshit!” Colleen shouted.

    Augie sniffled again, brought her arm up to her face, and covered her eyes with the inside crook of her elbow like Amy did earlier that morning.

    “You know what the worst part is?” Augie asked in a muffled, weeping tone.

    “What?” Colleen replied.

    “Even now… after all I’ve been through…,” Augie said, weeping uncontrollably.  “Nobody believes me.”


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