The Walking Man (6 page)

It was the mid Eighties and Ray Kurzweil had yet to perfect text-to-voice synthesis, so each patient at Leicester County Hospital was assigned a reader. A reader was a volunteer who kept patients abreast of current events by stopping by two or three times a week and reading newspapers and magazines to their assigned quadriplegic; media included: the
Boston Globe
, the
New York Times
, and the
Shyshire Tattler
. Over the years, there was talk of establishing a radio network to broadcast the news, but hospital's staff and volunteers rejected the concept. In Shyshire, tradition always prevailed.

Seconds before first sight, I fell in love with Maria Rivera. I cannot explain it, but as Maria twisted Room 302's doorknob to meet me for the first time, her spirit made an irrevocable connection with me. I know it is hard to believe, but before we even said hello, Maria became my "one," and from that point forward she was my first thought each morning and hers was the image that rocked me to sleep each night. Further, I knew 'Maria' would be the last word I uttered before entering heaven or the nothingness that I fear awaits us all.

"Hi, my name's Maria," she said, treating me to an enormous smile.

I was too stunned to talk, so I strung together a bunch of "Duhs" and "Uggs."

"I'm here to read to you," she said. "I have the
The New York Times
,
The Boston Globe, Time,
Newsweek, and the local rag
!"

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life," I said.

Maria smiled. "Pardon me?"

"I didn't want
New York Times
to be the first words I ever said to you."

"Fair enough. In that case, your compliment is accepted," Maria said with even a bigger smile. "Thank you.
New York Times
it is."

Maria was a stunning-looking woman, but her beauty went far beyond looks. She radiated a spiritual energy that was indescribable; her piercing green eyes could melt even the most hardened soul. Her hair was jet black and wavy. She was lithe, and had olive skin with no freckles, and a cute angular nose. Her lips were thin and her teeth were perfect, unnaturally white. She had a delicate gold chain around her neck that complied with the curves caused by her breasts. She had a baritone voice and a deep laugh that was highly contagious.

I later learned Maria's father was Puerto Rican and her mother was Irish. Her dad worked at the Shyshire Mill as a machinist. Her mom was a schoolteacher at Shyshire Elementary School. She had a brother named John, who was a marine, and another brother, Gerardo, who was still in grade school.

"What section?" she asked.

"What section?"

"What section of the
New York Times
do you want me to read?" she said in a strange voice.

"Do you need a glass of water?"

"No," Maria said. "That was my Pee Wee Herman impression. My pathetic attempt at comedy."

"I'm sorry, I don’t know Pee Wee."

"You gotta check him out when you get a chance, but make sure the nurses line your bed with a couple of extra diapers before you watch his show because you're going to piss your pants laughing," Maria said in a near uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"I'll make sure I do that, Maria." I laughed, shocked by my teenage beauty's irreverence.

"You took too long," Maria said. "I pick the International News, I love reading about natural disasters and stupid wars. Don't you?"

"Can't get enough of them," I said. "Nothing better than reading about a flood in Bangladesh. I love the imagery of a million refugees living in trees."

"Exactly!" Maria laughed. "I think I'm going to love reading to you."

After the jokes, Maria adopted a more serious tone while she read. She read each article verbatim and never injected a comment, until she'd completed reading the piece in its entirety and had shown me any accompanying illustrations or photographs. She read fast and had perfect diction, albeit accompanied by a slight and strange accent, half Puerto Rican, half Gaelic.

The first article she read was about Oliver North routing dollars from Iran to the Contras in Nicaragua to suppress a left-wing government that somehow posed a threat to the United States.

"So what do you think?" she asked.

"I think Oliver North's a cowboy."

"I think he's a total asshole," she said. "Funneling dollars to a bunch of murdering right-wing nut cakes without the approval of Congress. This is the shit that happens when you give low-IQ eagle scouts real guns. He thinks he's being a real American and he considers real Americans left-wing crackpots. I hate the guy."

"Are you always this opinionated, Maria?"

"I'm not opinionated. I'm right," she declared, back in Pee Wee mode. "Next section? Remember, the
New York Times
doesn't have Comics."

"You make the call," I said. "I don't want to cross you."

"Good plan, Chief." Maria laughed. "Never cross an Irish Puerto Rican or we'll stab you in your knee caps."

Maria only read for thirty minutes. But it was the best thirty minutes of my life. After completing a couple additional articles about Iran-Contra, she read about an agreement between Gerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead and Ben and Jerry's to make a new flavor of ice cream called
Cherry Garcia
.

"Have you ever had Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey?" she asked.

"Can't say I have."

"Banana flavored ice cream, walnuts, and chunks of dark chocolate, it should be illegal."

"I'll make sure I tell Chef Royalston about it."

"You have to, guy, it's awesome!"

After the Cherry Garcia article, Maria read about the Red Sox decision to play Billy Buckner at first base despite his bad knees; the trial of Jon Demjanjuk, accused Nazi "Ivan the Terrible;" and IBM's new personal computer operating system, DOS 3.3.

Upon finishing the IBM article, Maria said, "Who would ever want to own a personal computer?" She then abruptly stood up and said, "I got to run, my man, see you in a couple days." Before leaving, she planted a kiss on my left cheek, which remained unwashed for the next two days.

Unfortunately, Arthur Slank witnessed my interaction with Maria. Consequently, I knew it was critical to hide my love, or he would use it to destroy me.

"Nice reader you got there, Slave," Arthur said.

"Her, you gotta be kidding me. What a bimbo. She is one stupid bitch," I said. "She's probably done every boy in Shyshire."

"Really," Arthur said. "I'll have to tell Maria about your true feelings someday."

I heard a click.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," Arthur said. "Just playing with my new mini tape recorder, listen."

I heard a brief rewind noise followed by my voice saying, "She is one stupid bitch. She's probably done every boy in Shyshire."

I was apoplectic. "Give me that tape, or so help me I'll kill you, you bastard!" I screamed.

In response, Arthur laughed then began to sing, "Love is a many splendored thing…"

~ ~ ~

I carefully arranged Maria's second visit with Nurse Judy. In preparation for the encounter, I bought some new clothes: gray Khaki pants and a Bruins Jersey. Earlier in the week, I forced myself to watch
Pee Wee's Big Adventure
, plus I made special arrangements with Chef Royalston to deliver Maria a bowl of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey fifteen minutes into our visit.

When Maria arrived in my room, Nurse Judy was waiting. She re-directed Maria to the courtyard where I was waiting, alone.

"Great idea, Buddy," Maria said. "It's a great day to read outdoors. Partly cloudy, no black flies. Awesome."

I coughed a bit when Maria mentioned the black flies but was able to stay cool and deliver my first line as planned.

"I like it out here," I said. "I was an outdoor person before I became an indoor person."

"Yikes," Maria said. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"Sure."

When my story was complete, Maria started to cry. I was upset. It wasn't my intention.

"Please, please, Maria, don't cry. I'm okay. Really I am."

"You're brave, Buddy," Maria said. "In some ways, I wish I could be like you."

Luckily, Chef Royalston arrived early. I suspect he'd been watching us.

"Young people, a bowl of Chunky Monkey is in the house," the back-pedaling chef said.

"Buddy, you shouldn't have." Maria smiled.

"No big deal," I said. "My friend, Chef Royalston, stocks every Ben and Jerry's flavor."

"Sometimes I run out of Chubby Hubby," Chef Royalston said. "It's my personal favorite."

"Mmm, this is awesome," Maria said.

Not wanting Maria to see me being fed, I told her I'd eaten ice cream after lunch, so I wasn't hungry.

"Your loss, Buddy." She grinned. "I can't read during Chunky Monkey time, so you'll have to wait."

"No problem, Maria. Take your time. Enjoy the ice cream. No need to rush."

After knocking back her bowl of Chunky Monkey in less than two minutes, Maria opened up the
Shyshire Tattler
.

"I thought you may like to hear what's going on in town," Maria said. "So I brought a copy of the
Shyshire Tattler.
You have a choice. We can read about the secret behind Farmer John Smith's award winning hogs, the police log, or the zoning battle over siting a McDonald's on Main Street."

"Start with the pigs please."

Maria laughed. "Good choice."

I knew the outdoor reading was a one-time event. So I had to risk exposing Maria to Arthur Slank during her follow-on visits. During the fourth visit after our outdoor date, Arthur said nothing while Maria read. He was a total gentleman. His silence frightened me. I knew he must be planning something special—he was up to no good.

On Maria's seventh visit, Arthur launched his attack, and to my surprise, it did not involve his tape recorder.

He was waiting for a combination of factors to occur: an untimely bowel movement by yours truly while Nurse Judy was on break…

"Maria, my dear," Arthur said. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor before you read today."

"Sure, Arthur."

"Nurse Judy is on a well-deserved break and my roomie seems to have soiled himself. So I was wondering if you could clean him up before you read today, dear."

"No way, Maria," I said. "Nurse Judy will be back in a few minutes."

"Don't worry, Buddy," Maria said. "It's no big deal. I'll clean you up. I used to change my little brother's diaper all the time. No biggie."

"No, please, Maria," I begged. "Just wait until Nurse Judy comes back."

"Roomie, come on, Nurse Judy could be ten minutes," Arthur said.

Before I could stop her, Maria had removed my sheet and was cleaning my ass.

"Whoaa, Buddy this is quite a load," Maria said. "Looks like somebody ate an entire meatloaf."

"I'm sorry, Maria," I said, doing my best to speak in a normal voice despite my seething anger at Arthur Slank.

"Don't be silly," Maria said. "It's nothing really."

For the rest of her visit, I didn't hear a word Maria said. I was too busy trying to control my anger.

The minute Maria left the fight began.

"Your girlfriend is a cutie pie," Arthur Slank said. "It must've been embarrassing when she wiped your filthy ass."

"You can torture me, Slank, but Maria's off limits."

"Off limits." Arthur Slank laughed. "This is war. Nothing is off limits."

I was seething. "Glad nothing is off limits, Slank," I hissed.

One week after my brother told me about the death of my mother, I received some mail from Hyannis, a newspaper article and a police report. Over the years, when Arthur Slank was in the tub room, I'd occasionally convince a volunteer to read me the articles until I had the pertinent facts permanently burned into my head - in case I ever needed to use them.

The time had come.

"December 28, 1969," I said.

The words instantly silenced Arthur Slank.

"Dateline Hyannis, four time convicted drunk driver kills his family in a head on collision on Route 6."

Arthur said nothing.

"What's wrong, my master? Got nothing to say?" I teased. "The police report said the force of the impact decapitated your four-year-old daughter. They found her head in the breakdown lane, a quarter mile away. Good job, Dad!"

As I spoke, my words stung me.

I heard Arthur frantically clicking his BIC lighter, so I was sure I was about to be burnt alive. But my anger was too great; I couldn't stop.

"And how about Arthur Junior, they needed dental records to identify him. Serves him right. He probably would've produced an Arthur Slank the third."

Arthur remained silent, still frantically clicking his BIC as I continued to regale him with gruesome details about the death of his children and his wife's valiant struggle to remain alive.

"They said your wife kept saying she needed to live to take care of her kids. But they were already dead, now how funny is that, Master?"

Arthur remained silent. I was filled with anger, hate, and pride. At long last, I was crushing Arthur Slank.

Less than a minute passed before Arthur Slank began to whimper. The whimpers gradually escalated to cries, which eventually morphed into bone-chilling howls before shattering into multiple tiny voices that sounded like teatime for little girls.

Next, I smelled smoke. Arthur had lit his own bed on fire.

An alarm rang and Nurse Judy was in our room within seconds. She quickly grabbed an extinguisher and doused the fire. Arthur was physically okay, but inconsolable. His unnerving babble continued for an hour until an anesthesiologist arrived and put him down.

"Your roommate has had a nervous breakdown," the sleep-doctor said. "He'll be okay."

"No, he won't," I said.

~ ~ ~

Arthur Slank remained in a catatonic state for about a month before gradually returning to reality. We remained roommates, but he never spoke to me again. The silence was no longer rooted in anger. It had more to do with Arthur's inability to acknowledge my existence.