Destination AzaharChapter 13 Selecting Critical Provisions
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Grace Bigelow, a patient under Nurse Leah Mullen's care had been raped, not once, but twice, and Nurse Mullen was furious. The thick rubber soles of her sensible shoes slapped the polished linoleum floor as she strode with purpose. At Hank Patrick's office door, she didn't knock; she opened the door and entered the office with blood in her eye. Patrick was the chief of security for the hospital.
Surprised by the interruption, Hank looked up from the papers on his desk.
"Hank, I told you yesterday that Grace Bigelow had been raped during the night," the head nurse said, her words precise and full of purpose and resolve. "You must have done nothing about it because Grace was raped again last night. I won't have that kind of criminal behavior happening on my ward. Do you hear me?"
"Calm down Leah. I hear you. Tell me what happened last night."
"The same thing that happened the night before," Leah said. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Was evidence of the crime washed away this morning, like it was yesterday?"
"No! That sick sociopath's spunk has dried on poor Grace like flakes from psoriasis lesions. I didn't like it, but I wouldn't let anyone bathe her this morning. She's completely helpless, Hank. Catatonic. She lives in a world of her own making, far away from our world. She doesn't speak. She can't tell us anything about the rapist. There's no way to even know if she realizes that she's been raped. I feel so sorry for her. Her life is bad enough without some sick son of a bitch creeping into her room at night and raping her. I don't know what the rapist sees in her; she's like a life-size, blow-up doll. She doesn't—can't respond."
"Rape isn't about sex, Leah. It's about power." He sighed and added, "Now there's some evidence of the crime, I'll call the police. They'll send out a female officer with a rape kit and open a case file. The rapist has to be a member of the hospital staff or one of the patients."
"I don't see one of my male patients being the rapist, Hank. None of them..."
"We'll check out every man who has access to your ward," he stated, interrupting her. "And when the rapist is identified, we'll have proof. We'll have his DNA, Leah."
"That's all well and good, but what about tonight? What about tomorrow night, and the night after until you and the police identify the pusillanimous bastard?"
Hank sighed. "Move her to a secure room at night."
-- Leah nodded and wondered why she hadn't thought of moving Grace at night. It was the perfect solution.
Just before the pre-school training session with the overweight students started, Danielle approached me and asked for a private conversation. As we walked away from the others, I said, "You look pretty this morning. I like your exercise outfit."
She appeared happy that I'd noticed and thanked me, and then went on to tell me that she purchased her yoga clothing online.
"There's special clothing for yoga?" I said, surprised.
She smiled and said, "Yes. The clothing is designed for comfort and style for every pose."
When we were out of earshot of the others, she said, "I hope you didn't get in too much trouble yesterday. If you did, I feel partially to blame."
"My anger and my inappropriate comments are to blame for any trouble that came my way from yesterday's debacle, Danielle. Rest easy, though. Except for making an enemy out of Harry Wiggen, I came out of the mess without any permanent scars. Tom, the principal, did ask that I apologize to Harry, which I did."
"Harry should have been the one apologizing, Coach, not you, at least that's what I told him last night. Coach, Harry and I have been dating. I think ... ah, hell, Coach, plain and simple, he's jealous of the time I've been spending with you. I haven't exactly been sensitive about it, either. I've been singing your praises. Last night, he gave me an ultimatum: have nothing to do with you, or he and I were finished. I told him bye, bye."
I said nothing.
"I wasn't in love with Harry, Coach, but I did like him, and he was good company. But yesterday ... well, you pegged him yesterday. He was extremely rude. I've never seen him act like that. I was very disappointed in him."
"Danielle, the time we've spent together hasn't been personal. We didn't go out on a date," I said. Then I grinned. "Not that I'm opposed to going out with you. I just think that dating so soon after my wife's death wouldn't be appropriate."
She nodded. "I understand."
"To change the subject, would the landlord for the rental house allow my daughter and me to take early occupancy? I'd pay the extra rent, of course. The reason I'm asking is that my wife's body was released for burial yesterday. Her father told me she wanted to be cremated, so I honored that wish. I have tentative plans for a memorial service for her on Wednesday the day before Thanksgiving or Friday the day after, preferably Friday so I won't have to miss any work. Weather permitting, my mother and an aunt and her husband will be here for the memorial service, and I'd like to be in the new house when they arrive. I purchased furniture for the house over the internet. It's scheduled to arrive tomorrow."
"I'll ask the landlord," Danielle said. "I'm sure he'll say yes."
"Danielle, it might appear crass to some in the community because not everyone knows that I don't remember my wife at all and have no emotional connection with her, but a week or so after the memorial service, I'd like to go out with you on a personal basis."
"I'd like that, too, Coach."
Robyn's office door was open, so I stuck my head in and said, "Gotta minute?"
"I do, come in."
I sat in front of her desk.
"That was a good session with the kids this morning," Robyn said. "They really seem to get into free weight training."
"They're great kids and highly motivated," I said.
"Your tai chi is still the big hit, though."
I chuckled. "It's a good exercise. Danielle uses yoga to meditate. I use tai chi."
"Isn't tai chi a martial art?"
"It can be, but I prefer krav maga for self defense," I said. Then I had to explain krav maga.
"Are you planning to teach the kids self defense?" she asked.
"No," I said. "Right now, they're getting in touch with their bodies. They have enough on their plates with free weight training, running, yoga, tai chi, and pilates. Free weight training at the intensity required for weight loss requires 48 hours of rest between sessions. Running should be used for one of the two days off from weight training. On the other day off they can exercise with yoga, tai chi, and pilates. Also, preferences will surface. I've noticed already that Nora prefers yoga to pilates; whereas Marylyn prefers pilates."
"All three prefer tai chi," Robyn said.
"Tai chi is a good way to start a day regardless of what other training is scheduled on any given morning. It's not so intense that it precludes other exercise efforts. When I said preferences would surface, I was referring to the students selecting either yoga or pilates. I noticed you haven't tried any yoga postures, and Danielle hasn't done any pilates exercises. Like you and Danielle, the students don't really need both yoga and pilates to stay fit. And don't forget that the achievement of excellence requires concentrated effort. After they become proficient in the beginning exercises you and Danielle are teaching them, I'll suggest they select one of them to reach for excellence."
She nodded. "What about Cory?"
"He hasn't demonstrated any preference yet. Robyn, I stopped by your office to talk about Larry. Would you pull his file for me?"
"Sure, just a sec."
When she returned with the file, I opened it looking for something that would help him become a better human being. What struck me most were his grades. Then I had an idea. "He's very good in a number of subjects. Can he test out of any of them?"
"Maybe, but why?"
"He needs some time during the day to work a job that pays more than minimum wage," I said. "Right now, he works nights at a convenience store five days a week. I don't know how he does it."
"Let me see his file," she said. A minute later she looked up. "I think he could test out of English, history, and Spanish. If he did, he'd have his afternoons free, except for a physics lab on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and if push comes to shove, he could test out of physics, as well. And there's an added benefit. They're all AP classes. He'd get college credit for them."
I smiled. "That would work. Now I just have to find him a good-paying job."
"Coach, while you're finding him a job, put together a scholarship for him so he can attend the community college."
"Aren't scholarships your bailiwick?" I said.
She laughed. "Okay, I'll go to work on it."
"Is there an Alcoholics Anonymous Chapter in Ely?" I asked.
"There must be. I've noticed meeting announcements for AA in the Ely Times. If you're thinking of intervening with Larry's mother on his behalf, don't do it."
I smiled. "Never crossed my mind."
"Good morning, Elizabeth," I said cheerfully on the telephone.
"Good morning, John. What can I do for you today?" she said.
"You can help me find a job for a worthy high school student."
"John, I do a lot of things, but I'm not in the employment business."
"I know that, but I also know that you know just about everyone in the professional services industry in this town. Here's the deal. Larry Foreman is a senior at White Pine High. He's carrying a 3.67 grade-point average, and he works nights full time at a convenience store, which pays minimum wage, or not much above minimum wage. His days off at the convenience store are Thursdays and Fridays so he can play football. What's more, I'm told his mother is an alcoholic. He..."
"I know Katy Foreman, Coach. She's a lost cause," Elizabeth said.
"Maybe so, but Larry works the convenience store job to put food on her plate and a roof over her head. I just left Robyn Clark's office. She's the guidance counselor at the high school."
"I know Robyn, John," she said.
"She thinks Larry can test out of some of his classes, which would free up his afternoons during the week. The football season ends this afternoon, so that will give him some extra time, as well. The boy is college material, Elizabeth, but that'll never happen unless someone gives him a leg up in life. I figure someone in the professional services industry might have a need for a motivated, smart young man to work half-days starting with the crap jobs that are part and parcel of every profession. He could start as a gofer, do courier work, filing, whatever, and slowly handle more meaningful work as he learns more about the job. I spoke with Winston Brown. He runs the computer lab at the high school. He told me Larry is a whiz at computers. The boy has also earned straight A's in math, so he'd be good with numbers, and..."
"What about his appearance?" Elizabeth said.
"He's a good-looking young man, big but not overweight, plays tackle on the football team. He's poor, though, so haircuts are rare, and although his clothes are clean, they're wrinkled and worn thin. He probably doesn't own any business casual clothes."
"Demeanor? Attitude?" Elizabeth said.
"Both are a problem," I said. "He's an angry young man, Elizabeth. Would you be pissed if you were eighteen years old, in the top ten in your high school class, but were shackled with an alcoholic mother and had to work nights in a crap job to put food on the table while trying to finish high school? Think about how you would feel if you were college material but saw no opportunity to go to college because you felt obligated to take care of your mother, a mother that others consider a lost cause. Larry can be saved, Elizabeth. He isn't a lost cause, not yet. If just a few elements in the equation that makes him angry are altered, he'll come around. I'm trying to change the equation to give Larry a brighter future. It's that simple, and it's that complex. Robyn will help. She'll talk to him about testing out of some of his classes to free up his afternoons. She's also going to work on finding him a scholarship for the community college."
"Do you have Robyn's phone number?"
"Just call the school. They'll transfer your call to her."
"I'll also speak to Tom. I'm not making any promises, but I have an idea that might solve your problem, or rather Larry Foreman's problem. Call me later this afternoon."
"You're a good woman, Elizabeth. I feel privileged to know you."
"Yeah, well, you're a fucking boy scout."
"Elizabeth! Such language coming from a leader in the community is ... Well, it's shocking." I snickered. "Probably accurate though. I'll call you from my office before I meet with the football team before the game."
I was on thin ice. I didn't know how Larry would react. Would he think I was meddling in his life, or accept my help in the spirit in which it was offered.
The young man sat in front of me with heavy, black clouds on his face ready to rain all over me at the slightest provocation.
"Larry, you have a cancer growth on your soul," I said. "You expect the worse, and that's what you get most of the time. I don't know how you do it. You go to school full time and manage to earn superior grades. You work full time at a crap job. You play football, and you excel at the game. And you take care of your mother, to boot."
"Leave my mother out of this," he hissed through clenched teeth.
"You've got to be dead tired, and if you aren't angry most of the time you should be. Larry, I didn't call you into my office to hassle you. I called you into my office to discuss your future."
He said nothing.
"Your job at the convenience store, what does it pay?"
"Not much. Not enough," he said. "But that's the only job I could find. I make do. It's not so bad, Coach. The job isn't taxing physically, and I can get in a few hours of study time most nights."
"When do you sleep?"
"I get my rest, not all at once, but ... why these questions, Coach. Do you think I'm too worn out to play the game this afternoon?"
"No. You'll play, and you'll play well. How you do it with everything else that's on your plate surprises me, though. Tell me. Why did you shackle yourself with the extra time it takes to play football?"
"I like the sport. I'm a fan. I like the contact. I like to hit the other guy and hit him hard. You talked about anger management therapy. Football does that for me. It's therapy. It's how I expend my anger."
"What happens next week when you no longer have that outlet?"
He laughed, but not with any gaiety. "I catch up on some sleep."
I laughed then, but it was an honest, happy laugh. "Fair enough," I said. "Where do you see yourself next year, Larry?"
"What do you mean?" he said.
"At college or working a job."
"College is out. If I'm lucky, I'll land a job at one of the mines."
"If college is out, why are you enrolled in college preparatory courses?" I said.
"Humph, I'm an anachronism. Don't tell anyone or l'll lose my rep, but I like learning. I don't have much joy in my life, but learning is one of them. I've learned more on my own than I have in school, and although college isn't in my future, I'll continue to learn."
"What if I told you that college is a possibility?"
"I'd ask you what you've been smoking. You don't understand my situation, Coach. Nobody does."
"You're probably right about that, Larry, but I stuck my neck out today anyway. I called around. I found you a half-day job that will probably total your pay for the full-time job at the convenience store. You'd be working for an attorney and an accountant."
"At night?" he said, looking surprised.
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