Chapter 5: Catherine’s Story

Tuesday, May 18, 1971

“I don’t know what you did to her, but that’s the happiest I’ve seen that girl since her momma died,” Sydney said, smiling like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.

“What time is it?” I groaned, trying to wake up.

“Oh ... it’s almost sunrise,” Sydney told me cheerfully. Somebody was way too happy for this early in the morning.

“How on earth can you be so happy this early?” I groaned again.

“You forget,” a new voice replied. “It’s almost quitting time for us.”

I stared at the new voice, as I arched my eyebrows at Sydney.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I forgot. Michael likes to know everyone’s name. Allow me to introduce you,” Sydney told the other nurse.

“Michael, this is Mrs. Beatrice Holmes. Bea, this is young Master Michael Wagner.”

I smiled at her choice of salutation. This part of the Southern Appalachians was originally settled by the English, and you can still see the vestiges of it in her old style of addressing young boys with the title of Master in place of Mister.

Bea’s ancestors, however, most likely did not come from England, but probably from Africa. She was in the older mom/younger grandmother age range, which meant I didn’t have a clue as to her age. But I knew that she was old enough to have experienced a significant amount of the racial turbulence that had embroiled the country in the ‘50s and the ‘60s. However, her nametag said ‘B. Holmes - RN’ so that meant she had earned my respect.

“It is an honor to meet you, Mrs. Holmes,” I said as I lifted her hand touching the back of it to my lips.

She looked surprised for a moment, trying to figure out if I was mocking her. Giving me the benefit of the doubt, she touched the hem of her uniform, and curtsied.

Then changing her tone slightly, she added, “My, my, he shore is a pretty one, ain’t he? Why, my heart ain’t gone piddy-pat like that since Wendell done took me on that there whirly-gig out to the fair last year.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, until I looked at Sydney, who was about to choke to keep from laughing.

“Where did that come from, Bea? I’ve worked with you for years, and have never heard you talk like that,” she was finally able to ask. Then turning to me, but still talking to Bea, she said, “Yeah, Bea, I think we done gone an’ got ourselves a real dandy!”

They both laughed and continued to talk across me like I wasn’t there, as they prepared the room and me for the day. Thank god, that included removing the IV. I moved my arm experimentally. It seemed to work okay, but I could tell my muscle tone was shot.

I was still concentrating on my arm when I heard Sydney say, “Seriously, Bea. You should have seen our little Gracie last night. I think she must have floated all the way home.” Then looking at me as she continued speaking to Bea, “But for the life of me I don’t know why she insisted I get that catheter out today!”

They both shook with laughter at my discomfort as I blushed. Then to me, Sydney asked, “Would you like it removed now, or after breakfast?”

“Let’s get it over with!” I said quickly. Although I didn’t actually know what was involved since I hadn’t been awake when they had put it in.

Bea put on gloves while they continued talking over me. Then, she folded back the covers and raised my hospital gown, revealing my shriveled penis with the small tube that led to the edge of the bed. It was the first time I had actually looked at myself down there.

It didn’t take Bea long, and after only a brief discomfort, she had it out. I silently applauded her expertise. It didn’t actually hurt, but my penis was very uncomfortable after it came out.

“Here, Michael. Let me get you cleaned up,” Sydney said as she began to bathe my privates with a warm cloth.

I swear I couldn’t help it. Sydney wasn’t doing anything overt or unprofessional. It’s just that while I may be fifty-six years old, the hormones that were responding to this attention were still only sixteen. I closed my eyes as Sydney gently cleaned me, trying to remember the last time I had felt something this good happening to me.

“Oh my goodness! He’s huge!” Sydney thought.

My eyes snapped open as I looked to see what she was referring to

Bea noticed Sydney’s gasp as she removed the catheter bag that had been attached to the bed frame. Then she straightened up and saw what had caused Sydney surprise. I just lay there, feeling myself reddening with embarrassment.

“At least Grace will be happy now,” Sydney quipped mischievously, breaking the awkward silence.

“Oh yeah! I done thinks our little Gracie, is done gonna be one happy young’un!” said Bea in her cornpone accent, a huge grin on her face. “In fact, I thinks she’s done gonna be one VERY happy young’un!” as her face took on a glazed look, which Sydney finally recognized.

I just groaned. When Bea was touching me, I hadn’t felt any additional sensations, outside the discomfort she created as she removed the catheter. But when Sydney touched me, I was immediately flooded with her already heightened emotions that started as curiosity and quickly exploded into what I can only describe as lust. There was no stopping it! Her passions overwhelmed me and I erupted on her hands, and my hospital gown, and the sheets. It was everywhere!

I didn’t open my eyes. Instead, I just lay there, vacillating between extreme humiliation and extreme contentment. Truth be told, it was one of the most erotic experiences I had had in a long time. Bea went into the bathroom as Sydney continued to rub her hand gently along the length of my slightly less turgid member. I felt a slight shudder run through her, then she slowly withdrew her hand.

Bea, returning from the bathroom with a warm washcloth, handed it to Sydney. I expected to see condemnation in Bea’s eyes, and steeled myself to take whatever tongue lashing she might dish out. However, her face showed a gentle thoughtfulness as she looked at Sydney.

“I’ll go get some clean sheets,” she told Sydney. “First shift will be arriving soon.”

“Miz Bea?” I said trying to deflect any ire away from Sydney and onto me.

She turned at the open door, looking at me, but saying nothing.

“Thank you for removing the catheter,” I stammered, trying to smile my warmest smile.

“The pleasure was all mine,” she replied. Then turning back towards the door she added, “ ... and Sydney’s too, I think!” We could hear her chuckle all the way down the hall. Maybe Sydney wasn’t in as much trouble as I feared.

“Let’s get you cleaned up!” Sydney told me suddenly. And with that, she was once again Nurse Sydney.

She didn’t say anything else as she went about her work, so I closed my eyes and tried to sense her, but she was moving around and seemed far away. I was sated, happy, and still. I must have dozed off.

The next thing I knew, I was being awakened once again. This time, it was a young Nurse’s Assistant that I hadn’t met before. Her pale blue uniform seemed just slightly too big for her, but she didn’t let that dampen her excitement. She giggled as she set my breakfast on the rolling table, then looked at me with a questioning look.

I just grinned at her as I waited to see what she would do next.

“Here’s your breakfast. The regular Nurse’s Assistant that was supposed to be here couldn’t come because she’s in finals today. The juniors and seniors have finals all week, so when Jen’s mom said she needed help, a whole bunch of us volunteered. And we get to, I mean we’re supposed to feed you,” the words came racing from her lips, nervously. For some reason, she was blushing as she said it.

“And good morning to you. My name is Michael. At least that’s what they tell me. What’s your name?” I could see ‘Laurie’ handwritten on her name tag, but I wanted to hear it from her.

“I’m Laurie Teffeteller. And I get to feed you breakfast,” she said, a little slower, but still blushing.

“Well, Laurie Teffeteller, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Breakfast sounds like a great idea. I sure hope there’s a cup of coffee with my name on it in all that food,” I said.

Laurie began looking over the loaded tray, searching for the coffee. When she couldn’t find it, her bottom lip quivered as she looked at me with big blue eyes. Quickly realizing that coffee was probably not a staple of the standard pediatric menu, I changed subjects.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we tackle what’s here and worry about the coffee later? Okay?” I smiled.

“Okay,” she said, standing there looking at the tray. I could see the hesitation on her face. It was obvious she was unsure how to proceed. Trying to ease her discomfort, I told her, “I don’t remember much about my past, but I am pretty sure that I liked to eat. And since I probably liked to eat the same way you do, why don’t you pretend you’re feeding yourself, but just put it in my mouth?”

She thought it through for a few seconds, the light dawning in her eyes as she realized we had just taken a task she was unfamiliar with and made it simple. She smiled and I could see her dimples.

“Okay!” she said, and began removing covers and unwrapping everything.

“How long have you been a Nurse’s Assistant?” I asked her, as I began trying to draw her out.

“Uh, well, you see, I’m uh, not really one yet. You see. I get to like start, like, the training program this summer,” she explained. I smiled at her as she tried to reach up and over the rolling table to reach my mouth. It was quite a stretch for the small girl, but she made it. I quickly chewed and swallowed before she could get another bite to me.

“Laurie, the Nurses Assistant last night had trouble feeding me too, so she just sat on the bed and reached across the tray,” I told her as I began to move my body closer to the side of the bed to give her room. I sure felt a lot more mobile since I had gotten rid of that damned catheter and the IV drip.

She immediately hopped up on the bed and resumed feeding me. It was much simpler this way. In between bites, I ask her questions about her school, her family, and her friends. As she continued to feed me and answer the simple questions, she relaxed. Soon she opened up, happily talking a mile a minute. It turns out she would turn fifteen on Saturday and she would be finishing the ninth grade in two weeks. Her dad worked for Alcoa, and her mom was a surgical nurse here at the hospital. They lived in a tiny house near my cousins with her two brothers and her two cats. Her mom is good friends with my cousin Sarah, who I found out, is (and I quote) “ ... the head nurse or something...” Anyway, because all the regular nurse’s assistants would have spotty schedules this week and next, due to finals for the upper class students, the ’head nurse or something’ was looking for fill-ins.

“ ... so I got to do it this morning. Your cousin, Jennifer, she’s like my best friend and she gets to do your lunch. She is so going to love this, you know? I know you want to get out of here, like, soon, but I hope I get another turn before you do,” Laurie told me.

She stopped. Now I know it’s scientifically impossible to talk non-stop for five minutes without breathing in, but I would not swear she actually took a breath the whole time. When she did stop, it was sudden, and I looked closer at her. She blinked her eyes and then blinked again, slowly. Finally, it dawned on me.

Laurie was flirting!

Now, speaking legally as a fifty-six year old male, fifteen year old Lolita’s are a major red flag. And I sure didn’t want to spend the rest of my new life as a cellmate to some tattooed gorilla named Bubba. So my first impulse was to stop this and get her out of here as rapidly as possible.

But something about my developing talent for sensing feelings stopped me from acting brusquely. I could sense that Laurie was exploring a boundary she had not yet crossed. And I knew she wanted to explore her budding sexuality without the danger of harmful repercussions. In fact, I could tell she wanted it so much, it was almost a need.

“Don’t run away from her, Michael!”

The command, and it was most definitely a command, came unbidden into my mind. I looked up and saw my grandmother standing in the doorway with David and a different redhead. A dangerous looking, beautiful redhead, who just happened to be wearing a gun.

“Flirt with her a little. Encourage her. But don’t hurt her,” the voice inside my head said.

Looking across to my grandmother, I nodded, and then returned my attention to the soon-to-be fifteen-year-old. Across the now empty tray, I met Laurie’s eyes. Taking her hand in both of my plaster encased hands, I raised it to my face and gently caressed the back of it with my chin. Then I kissed her hand, looking into her eyes as softly I told her, “Thank you for feeding me, Laurie.”

Once I touched her, I could sense her feelings more clearly. It was like a seething cauldron of emotions, with little or no recognizable patterns. The feelings were split between abject terror and unbridled passion. She wanted to jump down and run away, and to have my children. All at the same time.

As I held her hand to my cheek, I marveled at the complexity of what I was sensing in this woman/child. For she was indeed both.

Boys are boys, and men are just big boys. We’re basically simple, and simple-minded.

But to observe this vastly more complex entity that was a young girl growing into a woman was staggering. It is something most males rarely get to glimpse. And unfortunately, even less likely to understand. I wondered if women even understand it themselves, what with all of its complexities. I decided I would do everything I could not to hurt this blossoming woman-child.

“Harrumph,” my grandmother coughed.