Chapter Eight:  The Color Green is Significant

I managed a short nap before my Mom arrived.  My “surprise” was steak.  Actually it was sprite, steak, soup and pudding.  The sprite was flat, the soup was cold, the pudding was lumpy, and the steak was blended.  Yes, I said blended.  Since chewing was not on my current list of approved activities my Mom had asked the chef to blend my steak.  Have you ever had blended steak?  Now I know how AJ feels about spit.

The rest of the morning was spent watching TV with my Mom.  It turns out this country has her absolute favorite shows, daytime dramas. Apparently they are very much like the ones at home.  My Mom doesn’t speak the language and she could follow the plots. 

TV time was followed by a light lunch, apple juice and grilled chicken on white bread. How much “lighter” can you get?  The chicken was stringy, the bread was soggy, and the apple juice had a rather interesting impact.  It’s amazing how quickly your body rejects apple juice.  Another interesting fact is that it looks pretty much the same going in as it does coming out.  Anyway, it must have made quite an impression during it’s short visit as I had the strangest dream during my afternoon nap.

Parts of it are hazy, but I was in a garden with Suzie, who was picking long, thick, green cucumbers.  Apparently my job was to water them with a long green garden hose.  I was having some difficulty with this as there was a kink in the hose, and despite the water being on full blast none was coming out.  So Suzie, ever helpful in her lime green shorts and halter, ran her hands down the hose and presto! Water everywhere!  Including all over Suzie.  She was a good sport about it, though.  You know, there sure was a lot of green in that dream, I wonder if it was significant?

I woke up late in the afternoon warm, drowsy, and....wet?  Man, that was some hose. Wait, I WAS wet.  Just a bit, and...um...in a rather embarrassing place.  Great, a new problem.  That’s all I need.  Lord, had I wet the bed? I hadn’t done that since I was five. I’m never drinking apple juice before a nap again. And if the guys ever found out I wet the bed I would die.  I would have to because they would haunt me to the ends of the earth with their teasing. 

I peaked around the room and, thank the heavens, no Mom!  I made a quick break for the bathroom and locked the door behind me.  Saved. Luckily my Mom had put extra pj’s in the bathroom for my evening bath, so I simply decided to move up the appointed time. The tub was also clean, which I knew was due to the invisible house-keeping crew.  What a terrible job.  I could never clean up after other people’s messes, I mean I was grossed out by some of my own.

I started the bath and stripped, when I discovered that my hypothesis was incorrect.  I had not wet my bed.  Well, I guess that’s a good thing, except...except....what the h....e...double....straws is this stuff?  It was a milky white, thin, and had an odd smell. That’s when I realized that it looked a bit like the stuff that came out of my foot when I had an infected cut, only thinner.  Oh, no...could I have some type of infection?  Could I have....penis rot?  Is there such a thing?  And how does one find out?  Was this God’s way of paying me back for every nasty thing I had ever done and I KNOW they say he watches you every minute (at least Brian does) but I never though he really looked at you when you were on the toilet or something.  I mean why would he want to do that I just thought he would look away and then check up on you when you were done so surely he wouldn’t watch when you were in the shower washing and that’s all I was doing was keeping it clean because my Dad said I should and I swear I was only scratching it that night in bed because it itched and I have an infection what will I do? Perhaps the first thing is not to panic. 

I tried to stay calm and took my bath.  Keeping clean could only help, right?  I scrubbed from head to foot, just in case any of the infection had dribbled on me.  I didn’t scrub the infected area, I thought that might help it spread, so I just splashed myself clean. 

“Nick?”  Oh manure, my Mom!  “What are you doing splashing?” 

“I’m washing my hair!”  It wasn’t a lie.  I just didn’t say what hair.

“Don’t get your nose wet!”  Not much chance of that. 

“OK, I’m almost done.”  Calm Nick, be calm.  Don’t let her hear the panic.  As I dried and dressed I considered my situation. What could I do?  I guess I needed to see a doctor, but what kind of doctor?  And how was I going to get there?  I could never tell my Mom, and my Dad wasn’t here.  I wish he was.  Maybe I could call him and he would tell me what to do. 

My Mom was waiting with my meds and dinner.  I was looking forward to the painkillers as my face was once again a throb-feast, but I couldn’t have cared less about dinner, I had other things on my mind.

“Eat Nick, the medication will upset an empty stomach.”  Translation... ‘ I don’t want to have to call housekeeping to clean up your puke.’ Those poor people.  OK, I’ll eat a bite.

“OK.”  I wonder how long this type of infection takes to spread?

“Eat more of the soup, baby.” 

“’K”.  I wonder where it would spread to?  Which part of my body would be next, and what would happened to the one it now occupied?

“Honey, you need to eat more than that, and you’re dribbling on your tee-shirt.  Eat a bit more and I’ll get you a clean one.” 

“OK.”  Man, I’m a brilliant conversationalist. Maybe the infection was spreading to my brain!  “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Can I call Dad?”  I need some information.

“It’s not the same time there, honey.  They won’t be up until it’s the middle of the night here.”  No problem.  Privacy is of the utmost importance.

“Can I call him then?” 

“You will be asleep.  We can call him when you wake up in the morning, it will be late evening there.”  I don’t think I can wait that long. I’m not sure I’ll have all of my parts then.

“Can’t I call him sooner?  I really want to talk to him.”  Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid.  Never let on to one parent that you “really” want to talk to the other.  That always translates into “I don’t want to tell you.” 

“Is there something wrong, baby?”  Considering the events of the past two days I thought this was the dumbest question anyone had ever asked me.  Please note that I was smart enough not to mention this to my Mom.

“No, I just want to talk to him.” 

“Nick, is there anything you need to tell me?”  Why oh why do mother’s think everything is their business?

“No!”  Drat.  Too sharp.  Now she will suspect something. 

“Umhum.”  That dreaded mother noise.  She suspects and will now begin the “wear the child down until he cracks” phase.  “Is it your face? Are you worried about how it’s going to look?”  How it’s going to look?  Won’t it look the same?  “The doctor assured me that there is very little chance that your nose will look differently.”  WHAT?

“It might look different?”  Great.  I’ll have a fat nose and no penis.  Somehow it doesn’t seem like a fair trade-off.

“Never mind.  I think it’s time you were in bed.” I’ve been in bed all day, but hey, if it changes the subject I’m all for it.  “Do you need anything?”  A doctor and a gallon of peroxide.  I remember something about rinsing your mouth with it if you have ulcers so....

“No, not right now.”  I wonder how I’ll get that much peroxide?  And doesn’t that stuff bleach your hair super blond?  Great, I’ll have to dye the hair on my head to match the other stuff.

“Good, Kevin is here.”  I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I missed his knock. I wish I could say I had missed him,  but just in case this rot was fatal I saw no reason to add lying to my list of sins.

“Hello Mrs. Car....er Jane.”  Mom had pulled her “I’m too young to be called Mrs. Carter” routine on Kevin. 

“Are you sure you want to stay here another night?  I can stay with him.” 

“I’m glad to do it, after all I sort of put him here.” You SORT OF put me here? 

“Now don’t blame yourself Kevin, accidents do happen.” Yea, let’s all feel sorry for Kevin.  By the way I really hate it when people talk about me as if I’m not in the room.

“...Nick?”  I also hate it when people switch gears and talk to me when I’m in the room.

“Yes?” 

“I said you don’t blame Kevin, right honey?”  Well, actually.....

“For what?”  I’m not lying, I’m just not cooperating.

“NICK!” 

“It’s OK, I’ll bet he’s just a bit confused from the meds.”  Right.  You and your big mouth are still in the doghouse as far as I was concerned.

“Well...I guess I’ll be going.  Nick, you mind Kevin, you hear?”  It’s hard not too when you are screaming in my ear.  “Night baby.”  A quick kiss on the head and she was out the door, but not before she stopped to have a quick whisper with Kevin.  I wonder what that’s about?  Maybe Kevin is filling her in on my woody.  And speaking of which, while no one was looking I had a quick peak under the covers.  Dry as a bone.  Er...no pun intended. 

“Nick?”  What do you know?  My covers go from full-tent to flat in less than 2 seconds.

“Yea?”  That’s it, act innocent. 

“You OK?” 

“Yea.”  Single syllable words are in vogue.

“Wanna watch some TV?”  A quick glance at the clock informed me that it was still several hours until I could call my dad.

“Sure.”  It’s better than sitting here freaking out.

Kevin actually found an American movie that had been dubbed.  He had a great time laughing at how the actors sounded in another language, and I guess the fact that the lips didn’t match the dialogue.  Sometimes it’s just so easy to please Kevin. 

I wish I could say the same for me.  The TV movie couldn’t hold my attention, what with me worrying that I was on the verge of spraying infection all over my clean white sheets. A few times I slipped my hand under the covers and into my pj’s to check “things.”   I guess everything was fine.  It didn’t seem any different.  That’s when I realized that I had never really done a major inspection of the possible site of infection.  I mean I had SEEN it, and of course touched it (Please note, I MUST touch it in order to use the bathroom. Nothing else is implied.)  But I had never really inspected it.  How would I know if, say, a part of it had changed color or something?  Man, now I was up a creek.

“Nick?” 

“YEA?” I  yelled really loud.  I was hoping it would cover the sound of  the elastic snapping back as I yanked my hand out of my pants. I’m not sure it worked as Kevin was
giving me one of the oddest looks I have ever seen.  I believe me when I say I have been the recipient of some odd looks.

“I think it’s time you went to bed.” 

“I’m in bed.”  Yes, I know that pointing out the obvious with Kevin could get me killed.  I like living on the ragged edge of disaster.

“So you are.”  Another odd look.  “Then I think it’s time you went to sleep.”  No problem.  I’m tired anyway.

“OK.”  A quick bathroom break, where I discovered the lights were not conducive to checking out one’s privates, and then back to bed. Kevin brought me my final medication of the day.  I pulled a quick one and held it under my tongue until Kevin was otherwise occupied, then placed it under my pillow.  I had no doubt I would need it later.

After a few more minutes of Kevin putting things to right, picking up any towels, folding the end of the toilet-paper role into a point, arranging the dust, he put out the lights.  Less than ten minutes later he was breathing heavy.  I sat up in the bed to aid myself in staying awake.  I still had three hours before I could call home and I had no intention of missing my chance. 

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