Perfect Match (17 page)

“Tell your son to feel free to drop by my room anytime if he
wants to ask me any questions.”

The intercom squawked for Rachel, and she was gone.

Roscoe passed on supper, since he’d gotten the largest Frapp
with enough caffeine to drive a freight train. He decided to watch TV until he
fell asleep. Took him five minutes surfing channels to decide against TV, and
do some thinking about a business plan instead. He got on his Media Tablet and
checked out a couple of details, keeping notes as he went along.

Close to midnight he fell asleep, but sleep was fitful. The
sleep he got was stocked with a mixture of dreams…getting fired by his
grandmother…the crying woman he’d put out of the car…the wreck…the run-ins he’d
had with the doctors and nurses. He’d wake after each dark episode, heart
beating rapidly.

Back to sleep, more dreams…his brother Rodney…his best
friend Billy…meeting Selena…meeting Amazon Annie…meeting Pastor Ramona… awake,
then back to sleep. In one portion of his dreams the cab driver sat in the
empty church parking lot, hunched over the steering wheel, crying. But the
dream that kept recurring was seeing Selena sitting on the front pew in her
church, and then the next dream the pew would be empty, but the congregation
would be filled and everyone would be crying. Those portions of his dreams kept
alternating.

Friday

A little after five in the morning, Roscoe gave up sleep,
limped to the bathroom to shower, and start his day. Staying in bed didn’t
translate into sleep for him.

After dressing, he lounged back on the bed, and worked more
on his business plan, until they brought his breakfast. It was tolerable and he
inhaled all of it, except for the coffee. The coffee wouldn’t pass for muddy
ditch water. I guess that’s my punishment for tasting the real stuff yesterday,
he thought. I may have to make another run to the vending area today. He chuckled
silently.

His doctor had promised a heads up on when he would be
released from the hospital. He hoped soon. The walls were beginning to close in
on him and the two hours of freedom yesterday made him yearn even more to get
out of the hospital.

He had fleeting thoughts of Pastor Ramona, who struck him as
very attractive, and then he had flashing images of Amazon Annie in her nurse’s
uniform, and of her pole dance routine, which he’d seen a number of times.

Sexual heat flowed through him. He wondered if that meant he
was becoming normal again. But he had mixed feelings about being his old self
again.

Rachel broke his thoughts when she breezed into the room.
“How’s the number one runaway patient this morning?”

“Still here,” he said, smiling.

“Good thing, because you’re going to have another X-ray on
that foot today. When your doctor learned that you’d gone on a field trip
yesterday, and fallen, he was not happy. Actions do have consequences don’t
they, Fallington?”

“Gee, I would’ve never figured that one out.”

Rachel laughed deeply, looking at him. “I’m glad you’ve got
a good sense of humor. I need a good tough patient once in a while.” She took
his vitals, and continued, “My shift ends in about half an hour. When I come
back I don’t want to hear any bad report involving you. Understand?”

“If you’ll arrange for the Starbucks delivery truck to stop
by at ten, two, and four o’clock every day, I’ll take up permanent residence
here. I promise never to escape again.”

“I’ll write that on your patient records. No problem.” She
laughed again. Her face grew serious. “Thank you for asking about my family and
me.”

“I meant it.”

Roscoe agonized through another round of X-rays, and a bland
lunch, before his doctor rushed in with his cheerful comments in the afternoon.

“I was going to release you from the hospital on Monday, but
since you fell and banged up your foot again I can’t do that.” He shook his
head. “Although the healing seems on schedule, your fall irritated the soft
tissues…we’ve got some leakage. Can’t have that, so-o-o, a few more days in the
hospital.”

Roscoe listened, remaining silent, thinking it’s best not to
tangle with the doctor.

The doctor scribbled a few notes, looked up, and said, “I’ll
keep the staff posted when you can go home. Try to stay out of trouble.”

“I can do that.”

“I doubt it.” The doctor was chuckling as he left the room.

He sighed, but thought leaving the hospital yesterday was
worth it. I learned a lot about Selena.

He swung his feet off the bed and got in his wheelchair,
gliding from the room, heading down the hall toward the corner sunroom.

As he got closer, Selena was laughing with two teenage boys.
This was the third time he’d spotted the two boys visiting with her.

He stopped short of the sunroom, his chair against the wall,
hidden by some desk-size piece of machinery. She couldn’t see him but he could
see and partially hear them. The boys were dressed in baggy jeans and faded
T-shirts. The tall boy had a heavy chain running from his belt to his wallet
poking from his hip pocket.

Tall boy kept touching Selena’s neck, shoulders, and arms.
Although she laughed and giggled, she would push his hands away.

He was persistent. “Aw, Selena, I’m just trying to give you
some hugs. Let me touch you.”

Her voice carried an edge. “Gregory, I said stop. Let’s just
talk. Can’t we just do that?”

Gregory sighed. “You’re no fun,” changing in mid-stream,
“when’d you say you gettin’ out of this medicine box?”

“Soon, I hope.” She looked down at her lap.

He said, “When do they turn the lights out around this spooky
place?”

She giggled. “The lights are on 24/7, but I’m usually asleep
by nine o’clock. My meds sometimes make me drowsy.” She looked up from her
wheelchair at the short boy. “Where are y’all going tonight?”

“I ain’t sure. Maybe just hang out or something.”

She said, “Is everyone at school excited about graduation?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I’ll be glad when it’s over. I’m tired
of school.” He hesitated. “Will you be at graduation?” He stared at her
wheelchair.

She smiled. “I hope so.” Then her smile faded.

Gregory said, “Come on Kenny; let’s get out of here, before
we get sick.” He chuckled.

Kenny looked down at the floor.

Selena said, “Thanks for visiting me. Kenny, tell everyone
at school ‘hello.’”

He nodded.

Gregory laughed. “Yeah, and I’ll tell everybody at the
trucking terminal ‘hello.’ Workin’ is hell guys, but the money sure is good.”
He patted his wallet with the chain.

As they turned for the hall, Roscoe slumped in his
wheelchair, letting his head droop, closing his eyes. The boys sauntered his
way.

Gregory said, “Hey, Kenny, did you hear that? She’s usually
asleep by nine…must be some good meds, huh?” They shuffled along. “I’m coming
up here tomorrow night, slip in that bitch’s room and get a feel of that cute
little ass—”

“Shh-h, keep it down…that guy in the wheelchair.” Kenny
pointed a thumb.

Gregory turned his head. “Humph, that old man’s fast asleep.
Shit bird must be on some meds of his own.”

As they passed Roscoe, he cracked his eye watching.
Gregory’s shirt read “Party Rocker”. He inhaled, getting the scent of dirty
clothes and smoke. He recognized the smoke.

Kenny said, “Selena’s a nice girl. Don’t cause her any
trouble. She’s got enough with her health stuff, and all. Anyway you might get
caught, dude.”

Gregory laughed. “Damn if I care. I’ll smoke me a little
stuff before I come up. Know what I mean?”

“I wouldn’t…”

Their voices faded as they rounded the corner.

Roscoe sifted through what he’d observed and heard. After
settling things in his mind he wheeled down the hall, into the sunroom, sounding
a little out of breath. “Selena, guess what? Do I have some news for you?” He
braked his chair at an angle to hers.

Her head jerked up, her pen still in position on her
notebook. “What? What news?”

“First, it’s good to see you. I’ve missed our bantering?”

She smirked, but with a small giggle. “Yeah, I’ll bet. So
what’s the news?”

His eyes crinkled, as he smiled. “She’s not sixty-five.”

“Who’s not—?”

“The pastor of your church.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion filled, “You’re trying to trick
me.”

He laughed. “Does this sound like a trick? Her name is
Ramona Brimstone…love the tattoo on her neck…beautiful quilt wall-hanging
behind the pulpit…nice red cushions on the pews,” he watched Selena’s eyes
water, as he continued, “the reading group you work with…your work with the
church newsletter…and I sat in the pew where you’ve sat.”

He paused.

“But the most interesting thing I learned was how much the
people of your church love you, Selena.” He nodded his head.

“I can’t believe…how did you find all that out? You’re in
the hospital like me. You must have called the church or someone.” She was
shaking her head.

He laughed. “I went out there yesterday afternoon.”

“Then the rumor I’ve heard must be about you, the patient
who tried to escape from the hospital? I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“Now, Selena, you should know by now that any rumor you hear
about me is absolutely false, not an element of truth.”

They both laughed.

She looked at him closely. “Why
did
you go out
there?”

“Because you suggested it.”

“Just like that…because I…but you really don’t know me,
Roscoe. I could’ve been making that up.”

“I know you now, so I’m glad I took your suggestion.”

She was speechless.

Finally she said, “So, how did you like Pastor Ramona?” Her
expression froze, waiting for his response.

“I like her as a pastor. Although she’s an attractive woman,
she’s not sixty-five, so I’ll have to pass on her.” He laughed. “I finally
figured out where you got the age sixty-five. You were eavesdropping on my
phone conversation the other day.” He was still chuckling.

Denials came quickly, “No, Roscoe, that’s not how it was.
You were talking loudly and I couldn’t help but hear, especially the part about
your niece, and being married 40 years and your jealous wife, and your name
being Tom Anderson. That was too good to pass up. Maybe I don’t know who you
are. Tom or Roscoe?” She turned her head and looked straight ahead, but her
devilish smile was tugging at the mouth.

“I’m Roscoe and don’t you forget it.” He looked down at her
notebook, pointing. “Tell me about your writing. What exactly are you writing?”

She tilted her head around. “Do you like to read?”

“No.”

“Well, we may as well end the conversation right there. You
won’t be interested.”

“Why don’t you test me, and find out?”

She sighed. “Have you ever read a novel?”

“Not that I know of.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Why don’t we talk about your little
joy ride yesterday afternoon? How was the weather outside?”

“It was beautiful. The air was fresh and warm.”

Her face grew serious. “I wish I could go for a ride. I
would really enjoy that.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he managed a smile. “The next
time I break out of the hospital, I’ll take you with me.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I’d like that.”

She paused.

“Okay, I’ll tell you about my book.”

She took a deep breath.

“I’m writing a romance novel.” She hesitated. “Do you think
you’d ever read a romance story?”

“If you write it, I’ll read it.”

She beamed, holding out her small hand. “Let’s shake; that’s
a deal. If I can turn you into a reader, that’d be a major accomplishment for
me.”

His large hand held hers gently. She felt warmth and
strength. The last man’s hand she’d held was her granddad’s, several years ago.
She didn’t want to let go of Roscoe’s hand, but she did.

He said, “First tell me how you even come up with an idea
for a book, and where do you begin? That might help me get a sense of what’s
involved.”

“I can do that. Those are good questions, Roscoe.”

Selena explained how writers differ in their approach to
developing a story, piece by piece. She gave him a quick review of plot,
character development, and how a story is fueled by tension and conflict. She
touched on the challenges facing the writer who must tell the story in an
interesting way for the readers.

“So where are you in the development of your book?”

“I have a general outline for the story. I know where it’s
going. I’ve written several sections or scenes, sometimes called chapters.”

“Where do your characters come from? Are these real people
you’re writing about?

“Gosh, Roscoe, these are great questions? You’d make a good
student.” She giggled.

“Well, let’s see, characters come from everywhere. They are
usually parts of a writer’s imagination and could be bits and pieces of people
the writer knows or has heard about. Maybe certain character traits are from
real life. But remember, a novel is fiction, not true.”

She watched him, as he rubbed his chin with his thumb.

“Since you’re writing a romance, tell me about the woman or
women in the story.”

Selena was beaming at his questions and interest. She
flipped through her notebook. “I’ve got my character details right here for the
lead female character. The lead is called a protagonist. Remember that word. I
might test you on it later.” She giggled again.

“This sounds complicated.”

“Okay, let me tell you a little about the woman. She has a
laugh as warm and comforting as hot chocolate and cookies. Her hair is rich
brown, flowing below her shoulders” Selena’s eyes were watching his face. “Her
face radiates strength, but reveals passion and fun when she smiles and laughs.
Her hazel eyes sparkle with flecks of gold, and the shape of her nose and full
mouth cause men to take a second look.” Selena caught Roscoe’s almost
imperceptible nods. “She likes to gently touch those close to her, when talking
with them. When she asks a question, she often tilts her head a little. She
smiles at kindnesses others give her. She loves her son and loves doing things
with him. She—”