The Nonconformist
by Ken Cohen
Chapter 6
Hospital
He lay on his right side, heard people talking far away. A sharp grinding pain below his left shoulder. He opened his eyes. A blank wall with a window, looked like rain. A cheerful smiling face looked down at him. A cheerful voice talking about flowers, then seemed to notice him.
"Oh, good. Hello, Danny. You're in the children's wing at York General Hospital. I'm Charlene Hadley, a nurse here. It's early Monday evening. They brought you here in an ambulance from your school. Someone hurt you, so you're here until you get better."
He'd been at school. He slept all afternoon? She talked to him like he was a little kid. Children's wing? I'm 16, not a child, am I? he thought, what am I doing here?
"Can I sit up?"
"Yes, hold on and I'll help you. You can also lie on your stomach or right side, but not your left side or back for now, just for a day or two. You have new stitches on the left side of your upper back from your shoulder down."
"My back hurts, and my shoulder. What happened?"
"I'm not sure, but you're injured. You have an injury on your left side below your shoulder. You lost quite a lot of blood."
With her help he managed to sit up on the bed, then he moved himself back toward the head of the bed for support. He felt weak and tired, dizzy, a bit nauseous.
She showed him a cable with a button to push if he needed help with anything including going to the toilet. He mustn't get out of bed himself, he had to call for help.
Three other beds were in the room. He could make out what looked like children in two beds on the far side of the room. Curtains hung between the beds but not in front, so he could see them and they could see him.
"Where are my glasses?"
"Oh, they're right here. Hold on…"
The nurse awkwardly manoeuvred his glasses into place.
Better, he thought, I can see now.
"Who are they?"
"Other patients. One a lot younger than you, a six year old boy. The other is a girl about your age."
"A girl?"
"We have too many patients at the moment so they put a girl in here."
Too many patients, he thought. Why is the bed next to me empty? What's beeping?
The nurse left. His mother appeared and sat on a chair next to him. Looking grumpy. She mumbled "What happened to you?"
"Hi mom. Why am I here?"
"You were fighting at school. Someone stabbed you. You lost a lot of blood. We're very worried about you. The hospital is transfusing blood into you to get you better. Who did this to you? How did you get into a fight?"
He felt tired. A fluorescent bulb on the ceiling flickered and buzzed. Raindrops spotted the window, dim misty wet outside. She's looking at him strangely. He felt sleepy, closed his eyes.
Some time later he awoke. She was still there. She noticed his eyes were open. "Are you feeling better? What did you do? Why did this happen to you? How does a boy like you end up in a knife fight?"
Huh? he thought. What did I do? I feel so tired. What did I do? He thought she might be about to say more, but someone brought a tray. Clear soup with a couple of mushrooms floating around? apple juice? He couldn't sit up. He felt like he could barely move.
"Eat," she urged anxiously, "you have to eat to keep up your strength."
Ugh! He was a little boy. They would walk and ride the bus a few blocks to the public library. No talking allowed, shush. She softly read him a story about an elephant that ate a poison mushroom and turned pink, or was it green? Was the mushroom green? The story was real.
No mushrooms, he thought, anyway, how am I supposed to eat that stuff, it looks awful?
"Not hungry."
"Why were you in a fight? Why did someone stab you?"
"I don't know."
"You must know why someone would stab you."
"Don't know."
He felt absolutely tired. He wished she would leave. Oh dear mother, please go home. He just wanted to sleep. He spoke quietly: "Go home, mom, go home. I love you, but please go home, you don't have to stay here. I'm really tired. I want to sleep."
"I'd like some answers first, if you don't mind."
He felt himself getting impatient. I'm lying here with pain and wires and stuff, she puts on her detective hat to get to the bottom of the mystery. So she could find a new reason to criticize me. Or make me feel worse than I already do. Or use this to forgive herself for whatever she feels, like guilty for being a failure as a mother. Not your fault, mom, your evil son is always getting into fights.
"I want to sleep, mom, good night."
She jabbered on. Don't talk to your mother that way. Don't tell me what to do. How dare you. Why are you here? Haven't I told you in the past not to get into fights? You used to be so well-behaved. Look at you now. Blah blah.
Oh dear mother, please go home, he thought. He closed his eyes real tight, scrunching his face as she battered away.
Beep beep beep beep, the beeping was going fast.
He wondered which of them was the real child. "Mother, I …"
"Tell me what happened right now and no lying. Your behaviour is not acceptable, I want to know what happened."
… push him enough and … "Shut up!" He screamed it as loud as he could. Wow, his voice was really loud, there was an echo in this room. The beeping became a long steady high pitched whine, he was breathing really fast, the room spun round and round, he was sweating, nauseous. "I can't stand listening to you. Go away! Get out now! Get out! Get out!"
He retched, nothing came out, he retched again and again. She sat and watched, looking stunned.
"Get out of here, mother, go away!" he gasped, then gagged and retched.
He couldn't catch his breath. He felt like he wanted to die, no, no, not in a hospital, no tears, breathing fast, child crying, girl's eyes wide open like he scared her, yelling, mother staring, mouth open nothing coming out.
Two nurses rushed into the room. One told Barbara to wait outside. He was bawling like a kid, hadn't cried like that in ages, what was happening to him? His mother argued with the nurse about her rights.
"Mrs. Stavros, leave now or I will have you dragged out and won't let you back in."
"Get her out of here. Please get her out," he pleaded. He retched repeatedly. He couldn't breathe right, couldn't catch his breath.
A nurse bent over him and listened to his heart with a stethoscope, then said quietly, "Young man, you're hyperventilating, try to relax and you'll feel better."
Calm down, he thought, try to relax. After a short while he started to recover some composure. He wiped tears with the hospital gown. The machine's beeping again. The nausea seemed to subside. Where was mother?
"That's it," the nurse said, "you're doing better now. Does your mother always have that effect on you?"
He nodded, and managed to say, "Everything's my fault, she hates me. Sorry if I broke any hospital rules about yelling at the staff, it was for my mother, not for you."
"Well, unless you stabbed yourself, this isn't your fault. It took 18 stitches to sew your back up. She doesn't hate you. You look like an attractive, handsome young man to me."
Huh? He didn't feel that way, he thought. Maybe she's flirting with me. The only other girl who ever flirted with me was Michelle that time in English, time was not so long ago I wouldn't even have recognized flirting.
He looked at the nurse. She had a pretty face, soft brown eyes, brown skin, whimsical smile, smelled like … lavender? Nice. And a gorgeous Jamaican accent like Matthew and Shawn. Her name tag said "Samantha Braun, R.N." He saw compassion in her face. "Am I in love?" he mumbled to himself. Never been in love with a girl.
"You're a beautiful woman." Did he say that? He didn't remember ever before telling a woman she was beautiful but he really felt it this time. Maybe there was hope for him yet. He felt very lightheaded. Those pills?
"Why, thank you. You're a real flirt, young man. Now just try to relax, you'll be fine. We sent your mom home."
"Are you related to Shawn and Matthew? I play football with them. I think their name is Braun."
"No, I don't think so."
At the far edge of his vision he saw the little boy in the bed across the way, sitting alone looking scared, crying on and off. He felt for him. Why was he alone? Where were his parents? He wished he could say sorry to the boy. He seemed so far away, he wouldn't hear him. Another nurse was trying to calm the boy.
He closed his eyes, lay on his right side. He felt tired.
He dozed, kept waking up. She was gone. Mother gone.
He had to pee, someone said press the button, he pressed the button. A couple minutes later a nurse came and brought him the thing he needed to pee in, they wouldn't let him out of bed, he mustn't get out of bed himself. A bed pan, the thing he had to pee in. She helped him sit up. He peed into the pan while sitting on the bed. He thought, some woman is standing here waiting for me to pee, first time for everything, and then I have to try to give the pan full of pee to her without spilling. I'll have something to tell them about at school. Show and tell. This is a bedpan. Like back in kindergarten.
A little later, someone who may have been a doctor listened to his heart, did some other stuff and left, nurses came and went, checking his pulse, giving him pills and more water.
He slept. He woke, the room was almost dark, it was dark through the window, everything was quiet. His shoulder and back, they hurt so bad. Rain splattering the window. Sounded like windy and raining hard. He had to pee again. He managed to sit up in the bed. Boy, am I dizzy, he thought. Found the button, pressed it. Waited and waited. Minutes and more minutes passed, no one came. He pressed the button again, waited. It hurt to sit this way. He lay back down. Had to pee.
He dozed off.
Some time later he awoke suddenly. A warm wet odour. He felt wet down there. What's that? He reached down, it felt warm slippery wet. His face got hot: damn, I must have peed myself! I'm sure I pressed the button.
What time is it? Is that a clock? Ten past three? Middle of the night?
More minutes passed. He felt in a trance, like time standing still. Can't stand this wet feeling down there, he thought, like I wet myself, I'm going to smell soon. He pressed the button again.
More minutes passed. No one came. Had to pee again, so he pushed the button yet again. Nothing.
He would need to get out of the bed to pee. Must have understood wrong, button maybe just for daytime? had to take care of himself at night. His fault for being stupid. All sleepy dizzy smelly wet he managed to find his feet, onto the floor at the side of the bed, tried to stand. Immediately a horrible wave of dizzying nausea overwhelmed him. Instinctively he sat back on the bed and lay on his right side. He still felt dizzy as he lay there breathing fast. All I can do, he thought, try to hold it in, mustn't pee the bed a second time. He found the button and pressed a few more times. No one came.
He needed a toilet. Hmm, the pole with the attached hanging bags of fluids connected by tubes to his arm, he could drag it to the washroom, or carry it. He had his feet on the floor and again tried to stand, still dizzy. Managed a few steps, breathe, he told himself, but something was hurting his hand. He looked down. The pole with the bags wouldn't move despite its wheels. Nor could he lift it. He couldn't go anywhere.
Frustrated and upset, he stood there, trying to figure out what to do next. He remembered once, a strange dream, a never-ending line of people in a train station, a line that began and ended nowhere…
A new nurse appeared. He didn't recognize her. He said to her, "I'm wet and I have to pee."
Her name tag said "Rona Smithers, S.N."
"You're not supposed to get out of bed alone. Didn't anyone tell you that?"
She looked down at his hospital gown and made a face.
Something about her reminded him of his grade 4 teacher. He looked down at his hospital gown and was startled. The gown was visibly wet all the way to the bottom and much of the way up his chest. The T-shirt he wore under it felt soaked at the front. He was soaked in cold urine—and it stank. No wonder she's making faces, he thought, there had to be like half a quart of pee all over him and the bedding. He must have completely let go. But he had been asleep. Oh yeah, he remembered, I had to pee, I pressed the button…
He looked back at her, hoping for some sign of compassion. Like the nurses on TV medical dramas. But nope, she was indeed very pissed about him having pissed, as though he did it on purpose. Maybe he'd need a diaper?
"So that's where the expression comes from," he mumbled to himself, "she's pissed at me for pissing myself. After I pushed the button a bunch of times and nobody comes to help me." He hoped she hadn't heard him.
"We'll have to put a catheter in," she mumbled to no one in particular.
Whoa! He was wide awake. She had his complete attention. He didn't need to know exactly what that was. He had heard of such things. Someone at school once told him about that. Their father screaming as somebody shoved a tube up there as far as it would go, like two feet or two meters or something he just kept shoving it in while a nurse stood by grinning, holding the guy down as he screamed.
He thought fast. His heart was pounding again, he was wide awake and ready to fight, his mind in self-defence mode finally cut its way out of the drug induced stupor. Catch more flies with honey… be polite… he reminded himself, and calmly said to her: "There's no way anybody is sticking anything in my dick hole! I heard about this, they don't put you to sleep, no painkillers, Bill at school told me what they did to his dad, shoved it in his, um ureter? Is that what it's called? ureter, urethra, something like that? and let him scream while they laughed. I'm leaving this place, I'll rip all this stuff off and leave."
Her face was the picture of annoyance as she ignored him, as though searching for something among the tubes and the machines. He looked for his clothes. No clothes. Felt like he was about to be the victim of a terrible crime..
I won't whisper, he thought, even if it's the middle of the night and everyone is fast asleep. Let them wake up and hear what's going on. They can't get away with this.
"Miss," he began, insistently, "you're not listening to me, I have to pee bad! Right now! I told you a few minutes ago. Where are my clothes? There's no way anyone is sticking anything in me because this is not my fault! Please get these tubes out of me. I pushed the button a long time ago, nobody came, I couldn't keep my eyes open, it's the middle of the night, you keep giving me pills and water, I pushed the damn button many times, nobody came, I fell asleep, I woke up wet, I pushed the button a few more times, nobody came. Please bring me a bedpan. Or should I pee on the floor?"
He became aware he was starting to sound hysterical. What he actually felt was a common feeling: helplessness. At their mercy. The beeping accelerated. She ignored him, began to strip the bed. He continued standing there. The dizziness came and went but he soldiered on as forcefully as he could manage, stay respectful, catch more flies with honey…
Another nurse ran into the room, gave instructions to Rona Smithers, S.N. who scurried away, the new nurse said to Danny, "Okay, okay, calm down, I'm sorry about this, we had an emergency. I'll get you all squared away here. Sit on the edge of the bed for a few minutes and let me get everything cleaned up."
"I really need to pee right now!"
She needed to get his wet hospital gown off, he stood to let her remove it. As he stood naked from the waist down with a pee-soaked T-shirt up top, she brought a bedpan, he held it, finally he could pee again and whew there was a lot, he peed and peed and filled it to the brim. Wow, relief! An old expression ran through his head, 'didn't have a pot to pee in.' He could smile again.
She balanced the full bedpan on a wee stand under the window, turned back to him and began to detach the wires that connected him to the beeping machine, which suddenly went quiet. The boy across was crying again. She unplugged the wires that connected him to the transfusion equipment so that she could remove his large loose urine-soaked T-shirt.
Fully detached, he finally could sit for a moment on the side of the wet mattress, entirely naked, eyeing her and the full bed pan wobbling on its perch. He felt embarrassed, half naked in front of this woman, and a tad aroused. She was dark haired with soft features, her neck was open, he gazed at her as she moved around. The name tag said "April Baxter, R.N." He felt lightheaded.
"Stand and lift your arms, please." He moaned with pain, she managed to remove the pee-soaked shirt. He stood, a naked young athlete in the children's ward, wondering, do I look like Bernini's David?—damn, how vain can you be, Danny?
Having a woman undress innocent him was definitely arousing him. What an exhibitionist!
Then she was bent over washing him with a soft warm wet sponge, and the most embarrassing event of his life sprang forth as the feeling of the moist sponge caressing his thighs gave him… well, you know, we needn't be explicit at this point. Right in front of her. An impromptu performance with no warning, took about one second to swell to attention. Then she was actually… sponging… it! His 16-year-old… well, you know, 'member' hugging his belly and ready to pop even as he stood there! He felt his… um… balls getting ready to unload. He was but a couple swipes of that sponge away from producing more than just piss to clean up!
To distract himself, he looked around.
That girl across the way was wide awake, staring at him. Grinning. Oh my God!
No one had ever seen him with a… boner. No one. Now two females were staring at his aroused naked self. As he would solemnly swear to his friends weeks later, the girl was grinning big-time. She'd be telling all her girlfriends! Maybe he'd leave her his phone number when he finally got out of there. That's what he'd tell his friends, anyway. He was allowed to dream. He wished she were a beautiful boy.
The nurse knelt on the floor cleaning, looked up and said a bit breathlessly, "It's okay, Denny, I see this all the time, you're a young man, you can't help it and I know that, stay calm, there's nothing to be embarrassed about, it's perfectly normal."
Denny? Perfectly normal? She's talking to me? Am I dreaming? I'm hallucinating. This has to be a wet dream. My hard dick is a couple inches from your nose, lady! That's not a normal event, in my life anyway. And unknown to you, I'm not normal. If you knew the details, you'd realize I am not normal at all. You'd call the authorities to haul me off to 999 Queen. Hmm. How do I get so aroused by all this unwelcome female attention? Well, let's face it, if I didn't get aroused, they might suspect something.
He definitely felt light-headed. At the back of his mind, he realized the pills must be affecting his mind. He wasn't sure there was anything wrong with that, he actually felt pretty good except for the pain and he was tired and hungry and…
This nurse April Baxter he felt sorry for. Works hard, he thought. Wearing plastic gloves. She stood next to him pulling the urine-soaked bedding from the mattress. Threw the smelly wet bedding and garments into a big laundry bin sort of thing. Sponged down the underlying plastic mattress covering.
Then she left him standing naked looking from one corner of his eye at the girl across the way, who was smirking, still eyeing his hard dick and probably his ass too, an eyeful, undoubtedly assembling a mental inventory of every gory detail.
He was so drugged up, though, he no longer cared. He contemplated his navel and penis as though they belonged to someone else. Pretended to ignore the grinning girl while the nurse finished wiping him down and dried him carefully with a rough dry towel. Mmm, feels nice, he thought.
Yet again he begged his dick to go down while thinking about who played second base for the 1928 New York Yankees (Tony Lazzeri?) and first base (Lou Gehrig) and other baseball memorabilia (Bobby Richardson, Mickey Mantle, Warren Spahn, oh, wrong team), but despite this mental inventory of historic tidbits, his dick refused to budge, clearly enjoying its first big chance to perform for a live audience.
It was a damn good thing his mother wasn't there, he thought.
The erection wilted a bit.
She would have disowned him, divorced him or something, called the authorities and charged him with indecent exposure. My son's a pervert, he's sick in the head!
His penis had seen its moment of glory. It sagged.
The nurse went to find him new stuff to wear. Minutes passed. She returned with a dry T-shirt and fresh hospital gown. She helped him with those, remade the bed with clean, dry sheets and blankets, dried the cleaned floor with towels, reconnected the wires and tubes, finally emptied the teetering full bed pan which miraculously hadn't toppled off its perch, even his penis could finally have a rest except, yes, he had to pee again. Why was he peeing so much? She returned with the empty bed pan and he rapidly refilled it.
He glanced across the room. The girl was asleep.
He said to nurse April Baxter, "Thank you very much, I just want you to know that (a) I think you're an excellent nurse, you really know your stuff and I can see how hard you try and how much work this is and, um, what was I going to say next… oh yah, second, I think you're very good looking, sorry, my head feels kind of funny, don't usually talk like this."
She smiled and suggested he go back to sleep.
"No catheter?"
"Catheter? Where did that come from? No, no catheter, not to worry. Get some sleep."
He climbed back into the bed, warm and dry and cozy in the fresh bedding, all peed out, hooked up, tucked in, feeling sleepy. And safe in the knowledge there would be no catheter. Show's over, girls, it's been a long, exhausting night.
He could see why people hate hospitals. No offence to all the doctors and nurses and other people who work hard there trying to help people stay alive and get better, he thought. But it's kind of like dentists and lawyers and accountants, people only come to see you when they have problems. They don't want to be there. No offence intended.
Then in his half sleeping state he ruminated about his mother, and reminded himself that she had years ago stopped loving him in the way of a mother. I repel her, he thought. Grew up too fast. No more the little boy she could control. She even resents having to visit me in the hospital. What happened to me was my fault, my business, my problem. She's offended by all the sexual stuff she sees in me, detached herself from me and my life. I'm a nuisance for her, an obligation she no longer wants.
And you know what? It's just as much my fault as hers, I've behaved badly since that summer, but she's the one who sent me… he drifted back to sleep for the last time that night.
Eventually it was the next day, at least he thought it was but wasn't sure of the day because his brain was foggy like he was only half awake, someone, a doctor, was at his bedside talking to him, saying his brain was foggy from the painkillers. Painkillers? His left shoulder hurt so much he felt like crying. What painkillers? What was the doctor saying? He fell asleep, woke later, more pills, peed, slept again.
So maybe it was the next morning or the morning after that. He was sitting up in bed. Yet another tray with "food" and a little note attached that said "soft diet." Why? He was hungry but nothing looked edible so it was left and eventually returned whence it came, untouched save for the apple juice, milk, apple sauce. He daydreamed about chocolate.
A big man with a moustache visited. "Good morning, young man. I'm from the Toronto police. May I have your name?"
"I'm Danny Stavros."
"Hi Danny. My name is Middleton, I'm a police detective."
He showed Danny his identification. Police Detective Samuel Middleton. He was surprised, the man sounded like he cared.
The detective was eating a muffin and carried a small bakery box. Danny eyed it. The detective must've noticed. "Would you like a doughnut?"
"Yes sir, I would love a doughnut, I'm starving."
"Well, here, there are two left. I'm pretty full. I'll leave these with you but you should hide them, otherwise they might take them away. Don't they feed you here? You look kind of thin and pale."
"Not much. I asked for doughnuts and chocolate bars, all I got was soft diet gray stuff. Oh thank you so much." Danny placed the bakery box beneath his blanket.
"I'm supposed to wait for your parents, but they're not here and I don't have time so some of my questions will have to wait until another time. I have talked to Mr. Fields at your school, to a Michael Inness, and a few other witnesses who were present when the assault on you occurred."
Who's Michael Inness? Oh, that's Mike.
"Michael Inness told me about Darrell Gruenrath coming to see you last week. Darrell was already known to us. He also told me about Darrell's friend who struck you at school two weeks ago. It turns out the friend is John Payne, also in grade 13. He's a young man also known to us from a previous event involving someone else. Mr. Fields told me what you said about Darrell threatening you though he wasn't certain it was Darrell.
"Danny, you are not to speak about this matter at any time now or in the future with anyone except the police, the school authorities and your parents. We are watching Darrell and his friends. We have a couple of descriptions of the boy who stabbed you and we think we will find him pretty soon."
"Detective, sir, just so you know, I have no idea what happened. All I remember is that I passed out after talking to some friends during lunch and then I woke up here, a couple days ago. I'm not even sure what day of the week it is. That's all I can tell you. Except that a week before, Darrell Gruenrath threatened to hurt me because of something that happened over a year ago in another country far away."
"That's the summer I'm interested in. The events of that summer. But we can talk about that another time."
He handed Danny a card. "Here is my business card. Please call me immediately if you are contacted by Darrell or anyone who might be calling for him."
Just then his father walked in. Alex and the detective greeted each other. They talked for a few minutes. The policeman said he'd see Danny again, and left.
His dad looked at him, shook his head, looked like he was about to cry. He sat next to Danny on the edge of the bed, put his arm on his right shoulder. He knew to avoid the other one where the stitches were. He buried his face against Danny's neck, kissed him on the cheek, said he loved him. Danny began crying a little. It took them a couple of minutes to get through the emotion. Then he asked his dad as nicely as he could to keep his mother away.
"Danny, she loves you, she wants the best for you."
He felt so angry when he heard that. "Tell her to stop blaming everything on me!"
It turned out his mother never told his dad they threw her out of there. Alex had thought everything was just fine.
At least he loves me, Danny thought. He could see it in his father's face, hear it in his voice, feel it in his touch. He was here the last two days but Danny was asleep. Danny felt a bit better but began crying again. The assorted pain killers, sedatives, relaxants, depressants, sleeping aids seemed to affect him in unpredictable ways. He felt kind of embarrassed and asked Alex to leave. He couldn't remember when he had last cried to his father.
Alex stayed. They talked for a while. His dad didn't ask the question. Danny heard an expression once, the elephant in the room. Something important that they both knew of but weren't talking about. Danny thought, he's wondering why I was stabbed? Who is this Darrell Gruenrath? And what does he have against me?
Danny stayed in the hospital five days. Mike and Barry visited him. His dad and Mary visited. Doctors and nurses came and went. It was all a haze, they weren't great days.
Except for the fourth day. That was a good day. It was the day Ken Dressen came.
Ken visited late Thursday afternoon. He arrived around 6, stopped in the doorway, looked around. Danny, on the bed in the far right corner next to a window, looked to be sleeping. The bed on Danny's left was empty. There were two beds on the near side of the room with a girl and a young boy.
Danny's eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell slowly. Blankets covered only his legs. He wore a T-shirt and what looked like a hospital gown. A chair was next to his bed.
Ken crossed to the window side of the bed, quietly turned the chair to face the bed and sat. He gazed at his sleeping friend. He instinctively recognized what he felt—he was in love.
Danny must have sensed someone's presence. After a while he opened his eyes.
"Hi Danny."
"Ken. Hi. Thanks, thank you. For coming." Danny was half asleep, but, seeing Ken felt so good.
"I heard what happened. The principal spoke to the school on the P.A. system Tuesday morning. The police are looking for the guy who did it. When I found out it was you, I was very upset. How are you? Will you be okay?"
They stared at each other. Danny couldn't keep things straight in his head. Maybe someone recognized whoever… What if everyone finds out about him?
"I'm okay. They say I'm doing well. Just sleepy a lot, from the pills maybe. Wanna know something weird? They gave me an enema this morning."
"Yuck, does it hurt?"
"Not at all, it's just, you can't expect any privacy here, they ask about everything."
"When can you go home?"
"Friday. Is that soon? The doctor's supposed to check me on Friday. He said if I'm okay he'll let me go home."
Ken had his briefcase with him. "I told your mom and teachers I would visit and bring your school work. So you can keep up. Each teacher prepared a folder with all the work and assignments your classes covered this week."
"Thanks, Kenny," he said. He felt like calling him Kenny. "I feel better today. Just hungry is all. First day I've felt hungry. Today is Wednesday, right?"
"It's actually Thursday."
"Oh. Thursday. It's hard to keep the days straight. Doctor said I could go home Friday if I'm okay. I guess that's tomorrow? Didn't I already say that? I think he'll let me go, um, tomorrow. So I guess I'll maybe be back at school Monday."
Another hospital meal tray had arrived and sat on a stand waiting. "Look at this. Would you feed this stuff to someone who needs nourishing food to recover from what's ailing him?"
"What are you complaining about, it looks delicious," said Ken. "I wouldn't eat it, but that's no reason you shouldn't." He smiled.
"Nice guy. Screw you. I thought you were on my side. At least put it over there?" He pointed to the window. Ken picked up the tray and placed it on the window ledge.
"Any idea who did this to you?"
"Yeah. This guy Darrell, he's in grade 13. He threatened me, said if I didn't transfer to another school, I'd be sorry. I went and told Mr. Fields about it, but he wouldn't do anything because nothing had happened. He said usually people who make threats don't actually do anything." His voice rose. "Mr. Fields talked like I was looking for a fight."
"But what did he have against you?"
Silence.
"Danny, you can trust me. I trusted you. You can trust me the same way."
"What's going on at school?"
"Word is a grade 13 guy named John Payne did it. Mike recognized the guy even though he was wearing a mask, it was that guy John Payne. He almost killed you. They say you almost died. Barry saved your life, he put pressure on the wound and managed to control the bleeding. There was blood everywhere. The police were there all afternoon, questioned everyone left in the cafeteria when they arrived, and went looking for more people. Witnesses. We had to wait in our classrooms all afternoon. I actually got a lot of work done."
"Who's John Payne?"
"Someone said he attacked you a week before, in the cafeteria. Do you remember that?"
"Yeah, now that I recall, that guy's name was mentioned to me. He must be a friend of Darrell."
"Why'd he do it?"
"I don't know, don't wanna talk about it. The detective was here yesterday, told me not to talk about it."
"You can talk to me. I won't tell anyone. You can't deal with it alone. Look, everyone likes you at school, you're more popular than you know. A lot of kids in our year are upset. You became famous around the school last year. Everybody knows the story about Fanny Hill. It even got into the school yearbook last year."
"No, I didn't know that. I haven't seen the yearbook. My parents don't have the money for stuff like that." That feeling, the sadness, the heaviness in his chest and his mind, was returning.
Kenny, sitting on the edge of the bed, reached over with his hands and put one hand gently on each shoulder.
"Ah! Careful, my left shoulder really hurts."
"Sorry."
He moved a little closer. Inches away. He looked straight into Danny's eyes. "What is this thing that hurts you so much? There's something you haven't told me. You're 16 years old, what could you have done in 16 years so terrible you can't talk about it?"
He paused a second. "Danny, I won't repeat a word of anything you tell me. I mean it. You're the only close friend I have. You're my best friend and I really really like you. You can trust me, we can trust each other. I keep saying that because it's true."
"It's nothing, I haven't done anything wrong. It's nothing." The girl across the room stared at them. He spoke very softly. "There's nothing wrong with me. I didn't do anything wrong."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply you did anything wrong."
He was scared. And emotionally drained by an experience more than a year prior that had taken on a new life and become an obsession for someone else, someone bent on revenge. With Kenny pressing him, he decided he finally had to let go. He couldn't hang on to his shameful secret any longer. He would have to share his so-called ugly past. He needed to break out of his self-imposed isolation.
He needed an ally, a genuine friend. This might be his only chance. He might never again find someone he could trust like Ken. If he kept pushing Ken away, he might not come back. So he would trust Ken.
Tell him, he told himself, he's on your side. If you can't trust him like he trusted you, then you can't trust anyone and might as well end it all. If he laughs at you, you can end it. You've been thinking about how to end it anyway. This would just bring things to a head. There are plenty of pills to steal in this place if you have to. He'd already had one opportunity.
Kenny gingerly placed a hand on Danny's good shoulder.
Danny's forehead was down, touching Ken's shoulder.
That contact, the first time he'd ever touched another boy in such a personal way, augured some exquisite thing he yearned for. In an instant, he realized he had feelings for Ken.
"Just get started, Danny, it will come."
"I'm, I'm… I'm not sure how to explain it, why it left me feeling like this." He felt tearful already.
"It was just teasing. I don't know why it still hurts so much, or why I'm so afraid. I feel responsible for it. I'm ashamed of it. But I actually didn't do anything. Maybe that's why I hate myself. I did nothing. I just took it.
"I was alone with them for two months. It went on day after day after day, and never stopped until we came home. I never thought I was a bad kid. I got called a fucking fairy as we were exiting the plane in Toronto on the last day. I never saw myself as some kind of useless wimp. But that's how I ended up. Like a piece of shit to be flushed down the toilet."
He took a deep breath and explained the origin, his parents offering the chance of a lifetime.
"I'd been at overnight camp for a few summers by then so being away from home wasn't new. My mother's family came from Greece a long time ago. They think they're special. They want their children to know about our, um, heritage I guess you'd call it. So my mother wanted me to go. I think she had the illusion it would make a man out of me or something like that.
"It sounded to me at 12 like a dream come true. I couldn't turn it down. I was enthralled. And my parents only had to pay part of the cost, rich people in the Greek community were helping to pay for a lot of it. So I agreed. I didn't know what I was in for.
"Anyway, 1964 came. A few weeks before the trip, we went to a meeting of the families of the kids who were going. To meet everyone ahead of time, ask questions and stuff.
"I didn't know anyone, neither did my parents. I saw all these older kids dressed in nice clothes, and their fancy parents who all seemed to know each other, smiling and laughing and chatting away with each other. No one my age. No one we knew. I sat through the meeting wishing I weren't there.
"I should have asked who would be going before I agreed to go, back when I was 12, and to meet them back then. But I didn't know what questions to ask. I was just a kid. I took everyone's word it would be a dream come true. I had no business spending two months with people like that.
"They had to know from the start I wasn't one of them. I mean, we aren't what you call poor, but my parents came from poor. To this day they're careful with money. They survived the Depression. My dad's family moved from place to place almost every year. Some days there was almost nothing to eat. So my parents live a frugal life, it's all they know. Give them a million dollars, they'd still be frugal.
"All those other kids were older, from rich families, and they knew it. Some of them gave me funny looks. And I also wasn't one of them because of how I feel. I'm all screwed up inside. I'm attracted to boys instead of girls."
He stopped and looked at Ken, realizing what he'd just said.
"Like I told you, Danny, I already know that. And there's nothing wrong with it."
"I know, I know. It's like, I didn't understand until it was too late that those kids would figure out I wasn't one of them. I was different in too many ways. Ways they could see, and the way they didn't see yet.
"After that meeting, we were driving home. I remember it like yesterday. My dad was embarrassed by his old car when he saw the shiny new Lincolns and Cadillacs and Chryslers the other families came in. One family came in this big Jaguar sedan. I kind of saw what was coming when my dad said that. He felt the way I did, just for different reasons. He was from a different class of people, so he felt like an outsider. I had nothing in common with those kids like my dad had nothing in common with their parents.
"It took a few days for me to admit to myself I was scared and didn't want to go. I just felt it. I knew I was different. It would be a mistake to go.
"So I told my parents I didn't want to go.
"My mother got mad, wouldn't listen. She was waiting for me to chicken out. Called me names. She knows me too well, knew I had the same old fear I wouldn't know anyone, wouldn't make friends. Except I was right this time. She didn't care. She was, uh, contemptuous. She believes in, I think people call it tough love. She also doesn't like me very much. She wanted me gone for the summer. And they can't waste money. It was out of the question. I had to go.
"We flew to Athens in a Boeing 707 jet. It was noisy, there was turbulence, sometimes it was like riding a bronco in a rodeo. It was an overnight flight, I didn't sleep. We arrived very tired in Athens next morning. There was a long hot ride to the camp.
"The camp was far from any city, a dry, rough place, more, um, undeveloped I guess, than any of us ever experienced. It was overrun with flies, thousands, maybe millions of them, all summer long, wherever you went, like a biblical plague that didn't end. We complained about the flies, the food, the hard straw mattresses, and just about everything else. There was no electricity. You had to walk a hundred yards to get to the washrooms. The language was so foreign it even uses a different alphabet.
"We hated the place. I didn't know anyone. All I could see ahead were two months of being alone and scared. It wasn't what I expected. I felt lost.
"So everyone's in a bad mood. A few days passed, we played soccer, went to a beach and I got sunburned.
"We slept in rooms in these cabins, three to a room. At some point in those first days, a few of us were sitting in one of the rooms. A bunch of guys were there, Americans and Canadians, talking about different things.
"There's this big guy named Richard from Brooklyn. Maybe 17 or 18, self-confident, like, um, street-smart. Had a huge mean streak. One of those New York accents. He's talking about girls he knows and sex stuff he said they did, and they're all talking about girls, telling stories, making jokes, laughing it up and having a good time. Except me, I'm sitting there wishing I could leave the room.
"I didn't know what to say. I just listened. I had no connection to it. I never had a girlfriend. I'm sure some of them were making stuff up, but it was like they belong to a club I wasn't part of, a club for the 95% of guys that like girls. Boys who belong to that club know how to talk about girls and like talking about them. And that's what they were doing. I wasn't a member of the club. Didn't know what to say or how to lie about it.
"Richard noticed. So he decided to have some fun with me. He starts talking about boys, nice boys, nice boys like Danny, Danny's a nice boy, Danny's a very nice boy, Danny's a fairy nice boy. That's kind of the way he brought it out. Fairy nice boy. He was mean and sarcastic, it scared the hell out of me. I should have stood up and stopped him. I should have challenged him, gotten into a fight and the hell with the consequences. I wanted to.
"But I couldn't. I could not fight. No one ever taught me to fight. More important, the braces on my teeth finally came off just before I left home. I used to look like Bucky Beaver, you know, the toothpaste mascot. Now I had a nice smile for the first time in my life. Fixing my teeth cost my parents a fortune. My mom never stopped reminding me about it. They spent all that money to make me look like the perfect son. That's all I needed, to lose teeth in a fight and get sent home early for fighting. My mother would blame me for sure, she'd be ridiculing me for years to come. And she'd find out why I was in a fight. Then I might not even have a home left. If she knew I'm a pervert, how could I expect her to love me?"
"Danny, you're not a pervert."
"So like an idiot I did nothing, said nothing. Like I was hypnotized. He labelled me, it was like he stuck a big fat sticker on me that said 'fag.' The other kids there didn't say anything, but this guy Richard thought he was a real hotshot. Maybe it's just something that's developed in my imagination since then, but I sometimes think at that moment I saw what the rest of my life would be like as the truth about me was laid bare by this creep who somehow read my mind and figured me out.
"Within a day or two, Richard from Brooklyn found friends from Toronto, a few of those rich kids. Darrell Gruenrath was one of them. Another was a guy named Byron Picket. And a fat sour-faced boy named Mac Mulmur who faintly resembles a pig. Those four were all bigger and older, picking on me all summer. They were the main ones. Whenever one of them saw me, I heard "fairy boy" or "queer" or something like that. They turned it into a big game. How many fairy sightings were there today? Let's keep track. Like that. I hated them and their games, but I think I hated myself more because I knew even then I was a coward.
"So instead of the learning experience I was promised, the trip became continuous chaos and disorder. Many of the kids never even tried to take it seriously, they made fun of everything. All they wanted was to party and fool around and make out with the girls.
"Every day, fairy boy Danny, queer, fag. All the pushing and shoving, tripping, jokes. I guess everyone thinks you just forget about the experience and 'move on with your life.' I sure didn't.
"They found many ways to embarrass me. And it was easy for them. I had no one on my side. Most of the kids, even the couple of friends I eventually made, wouldn't get involved. So fairy boy Danny got pushed around all summer.
"I wasn't the only one. There was a New Jersey boy there named Gene, a nice guy but there was something about the way he talked softly and stuff. He fought back, ended up getting hurt and all bloody, and they sent him home early. The adults in charge blamed the fight on him even though he was being bullied.
"And an American girl, Sue, maybe a year older than me, who was kind of chubby and unattractive but had a sweetheart sort of personality, they were always calling her names, even some girls joined in that. I could see the pain in her face. I kind of liked her so she became my friend, and I tried to help her feel better. But she wasn't my girlfriend, just my friend who was a girl.
"Then one day we boarded flatbed trucks similar to what armies use to transport infantry from place to place. We used them to travel around the country and learn about Greek mythology and history. This time it was a trip to some historic place where one of those oracles who could predict the future had lived, that was the kind of trip we took a lot. Delphi, I think it was.
"I sat at the back of the truck where it opened onto the road, at the end of one of the two benches that faced each other along the length of the back of the truck. We went around the countryside that way in these trucks, maybe 10 of us to each truck. The back was wide-open, nothing between me and the road to my left, somebody could easily have pushed me off the end of the bench and out I would go. Facing me were Darrell and his girlfriend, I forget her name, she was a conceited princess.
"I don't remember what started it, it didn't take much, but Princess was a foot or two from my face laughing at me for some reason and then called me a fag.
"I couldn't take it any more. It was one thing for some bored, spoiled Forest Hill boy to call me names, but quite another for his girlfriend to do it.
"So I said to her, 'fuck off, bitch.' She didn't like that at all. Right away she wound up and slapped my face. I remember the hate I saw in her face when she did that.
"My face felt red hot, I couldn't breathe. I was close to tears. I lost control, got real angry and slapped her back as hard as I could. It was like a reflex. She was a girl. You're not supposed to hit a girl. But I just didn't care. I'd had it, it was the last straw, having a girl hit me was the one thing I couldn't let go. It was the only time I lost control.
"For an instant after I slapped her, it felt like the universe was in a state of shock. I absolutely hated her at that moment. This look of astonishment crossed her face just before it crumpled up and she burst into tears. Then every kid on that truck kind of exploded at me. I was completely alone."
It took a minute for Danny to settle down and catch his breath. He continued in a low voice.
"Darrell's screaming directly into my face from an inch away 'you never hit a girl!' Over and over and over as loud as he could. And the other kids screaming the same thing at me. It felt almost as bad as being punched over and over. They hated me even more than they had before.
"It was my fault, though. If I had fought back at the start, I might have stopped it before it ever got this far. Now it seemed like every kid in the place hated me. Even the ones who wouldn't get involved were yelling at me.
"Pretty well every one of those teenagers on that trip knew about me, the fairy boy who hits girls, by the time we came home. Most of them hated me. The bullies of course, they hated me and I have no idea why, because I never did a thing to them. Fortunately most of the kids on that trip weren't Canadian so I'll never see them again. There were only about 15 of us from Canada.
"You know, by the time we returned home, whoever I thought I was before the trip, that kid barely existed any more.
"I came home scared the bullying would follow me to school. I worried about it through all of grade 10. When nothing happened in grade 10, I figured I was in the clear. Then I came to school a couple weeks ago and saw Darrell. Now you know why he stabbed me. Because I hit that girl. He somehow ended up in our school and found me there. He wants revenge. He hates me.
"What I was afraid of is coming true. Soon everyone at school will know about me too. I'm afraid of what my mom will do if she finds out what happened in Greece. When I was a little kid, she told me homosexuals are disgusting perverts. That's what I'm dealing with. When she finds out, I don't know what will happen.
"One thing I know. The trip was nothing. It hurt me and I'm scared, but it was nothing compared to things that must happen to other kids growing up. I know that. I've heard stories, I've read stuff in the newspaper. A lot worse things happen to some kids. Trouble is, knowing all that doesn't make me feel any better.
He lay back and closed his eyes for a minute.
"So yeah, Kenny, just like you suspected, I'm attracted to boys. I'm a coward too, I can't face what I am. I don't stand up for myself. I hate myself. For being a homo. Being a coward. That's how I feel about it. When it comes to males and females, it's the boys I like better. It's how you figured me out. You noticed."
They sat quietly, Kenny trying to think what to say. He was speechless. The old man entered the room looking for the dinner tray. A noisy city bus roared pulling away from the curb outside the hospital window.
Then, Danny became aware he was hungry, like he hadn't eaten in days, because he hadn't.
"Hey, um, we're best friends. I don't suppose you can do a favour for your friend, and go find me a cheeseburger and french fries and a drink somewhere in this hospital so I can have a decent meal? The only edible food I've had since I got here was two donuts."
It was supposed to be a joke. Where could you get a cheeseburger and french fries in a hospital in 1965? No hospital cafeteria in the city sold food that might titillate the senses of a 16 year old boy. But Kenny had an answer.
"Actually," said Ken, "I think that can be arranged. Who needs hospital food? There's a Harvey's down the street from here. Didn't you once tell me that's your favourite burger place, Harvey's?"
"That's right, it is! They have fresh cut french fries. There's a Harvey's down the street? Really? You're not just teasing? I had no idea. If you can get me a cheeseburger and french fries with a Coke, I would be a happy boy again even though I have to spend another night in this place."
"I'll be back with some food in less than a half hour, Danny."
And with that, Ken left. It was 8 p.m. Danny sat thinking about what he'd just told his friend. And about trusting people.
A few minutes after Ken went out, the girl in the bed opposite got out of bed, walked over and sat down next to Danny. "Hi, my name is Tara. I know we haven't talked all week. I hear you're going home tomorrow. I'll be here a little longer, they're trying to figure out what's wrong with me. Anyway, I overheard you tell your story to your friend. I just want you to know, I don't think you're a coward. I think you're a young guy with a good heart who was hurt by some really awful people. And I don't care if you like boys or girls or both. It's really none of my business. I just want you to know that."
Danny could hardly believe his ears. She didn't care?
"Thanks, I appreciate you saying that."
"Oh, and I think you're a really cute guy."
She winked and returned to her bed, lay back and closed her eyes. The little boy had dressed and left a while ago with a woman. That bedding was being changed.
Soon, Ken was back. You could smell fresh cut fries all over the children's wing. Tara must have been pretty jealous. Only a starving 16-year-old boy could eat such a meal, burp happily and think about looking for more food. Well, he didn't eat it all, Ken had some fries and bought himself a hamburger too. And Danny asked Ken to share some of the fries with Tara. Then they sat quietly for a few minutes. Danny closed his eyes to contemplate life. Eventually, he opened them and looked at his friend. "So how much did it cost? A dollar? How much do I owe you?"
"It's my treat, Danny, so keep your money. Besides, you don't have any money, you're a patient in a hospital. I'll take your money next time we play poker."
"Thanks, I'll remember that. It'll make losing to you easier, it'll be like paying off a debt. Um, do you understand now why I can't talk to anyone about this?"
"You could talk to a doctor," said Kenny. "How do you feel now that you've told me?"
"It helped. But look, don't tell anyone, please."
"I won't. I said I wouldn't. Besides, who the hell should I tell? Your mother?"
Danny smiled. They sat quietly for a few more minutes.
"Danny," Ken said quietly, "I didn't understand, Danny. I know now. I'm lucky, my parents love me and don't try to brainwash me. But look, stop worrying. You can trust me. I mean it. We're friends, I'll never hurt you."
An announcement came over the public address system that visiting hours were over.
"I better get going. So you're coming home tomorrow? Is it okay if I call you?"
"Sure. Thanks for coming to see me. You don't know how much it means to me. I can't wait to go home."
"I'm kind of busy with family and stuff this weekend," said Ken, "but even if I don't see you, I'll definitely come by Monday morning to pick you up and walk to school. And I'll take all this school stuff I brought and drop it off at your house."
"Thanks a million, Kenny, see ya."
Ken bent over and kissed Danny on the cheek before he left. It was his first good day in the hospital, and tomorrow he could go home.
He had trouble sleeping again that last night. He thought and thought about Ken kissing him and finally let himself see what he'd been feeling for a long time: his feelings, golden stardust in sunlight. He felt in love with Kenny Dressen.
Then he worried about Darrell and word getting around about the reason for the attack. He had to go to the school on Monday and face the music.
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