Chapter 6

I went back to my dorm room and stayed there for next six days. Tess went to foster care and Crys was stuck in that private hell reserved for people who are so bound up with their own fears they can't even say 'Thank you' to somebody who pulled their ass out of the fire.

Nah. I couldn't see that as what I wanted to do. So her mother was an ungrateful, vindictive and spite-driven person, all because she had a basic self-image problem – so what? I should just dump Tess on the sidewalk?! As my friend Evan, another member of the geek network, who was from East North Somewhere in England, would say, "Not bloody likely."

Crys may have been a jerk, but I wasn't. I'd continue to care for Tess, make things as comfortable for Crystal as possible, when she got home, and I'd study for my finals. That was enough for now. Maybe she had a girlfriend from the club – or from somewhere else – who could come in for a few hours during the day. Maybe her ex-almost-husband would show up. Maybe she'd blow away on the wind. Who gave a fuck?

I figured the police would respond quickly to a "My six year old is in danger from a predator and I'm in the hospital" type call. I picked up Tess from day care and got back to the apartment. Surprise! I wasn't arrested – so maybe she wasn't a complete idiot. The social worker had been coming over every evening about 7, and today was no exception. I gave her the news that Crystal was awake, that things looked good for an eventual recovery, and that she was expected to be released from the hospital in about a week. By now she'd gotten to know us pretty well, and some of her other 'clients' were more troublesome than we were – even if I was a minor. So she said she'd check in with us from time to time and we parted company. I neglected to tell her that Crys thought I was a slug.

There was no day care on weekends, so Saturday morning Tess, I, and a backpack of my notes and textbooks went to the hospital. Crystal was not there when we went to her room, but they told us she didn't need to be in Intensive Care any more and had been moved. So we trudged to that room, met all the new nurses and entered her majesty's room. I couldn't even formulate a fantasy that involved Crys. I just wasn't going to care any more. It hurt too much to care and be shat upon. In case you didn't know it, 'shat' is the past pluperfect of 'shit' – at least in some circles.

She didn't say a word when we entered, and I talked only to Tess. "I have to study real hard for the next few days, and now that your mom is awake, you can stay here. I'll be in the lounge at the end of the hall where it's quiet." It should be as quiet as a frat party, but it would be better than being in this room with her. "You can come and get me if you need something, but you should be ok with your mom. It's not as if you don't know her, right?" I said with a smile.

I set her up in a chair with Mr. Bear and the TV remote, and I reminded her how to work the laptop I bought on sale – it was not a geek-worthy machine but she wasn't a geek yet; she showed a lot of promise, though. I'd copied several of her tapes onto the laptop's disk so she should be ok for a few hours. And, of course, she'd be available for her mother to grill her on all the deviant sexual practices I'd subjected her to.

Tess was squirming out of the chair as I was leaving the room. "Mom. I missed you. Can I give you a hug?"

I left them to work out the details and went to the waiting room to study somehow.

Sunday was almost a carbon copy of Saturday, with us leaving the hospital for meals – maybe the cafeteria food was good, but I wasn't going to risk my teenager-hood on it, not when there was pizza available less than a block away – and going home after dinner. Tess spilled the beans about what they'd talked about – not that I cared mind you, but I just wanted to prepare my defense for the inevitable trial. What had we done? Where had we gone? Where did he make you sleep? 'Where did he make you' – those were the words Tess related to me. It was typical of her mother's attitude. What about baths?

Oh crap. Yes, Tess had a bath almost every night before bed. Yes, I had put her naked into the tub. Yes, I'd washed her all over. When I heard that Crystal had asked about that I started to wonder just how badly the other inmates would work me over before finishing me off. Tess had just answered simply and directly, telling I just washed her and used grownup shampoo, and even told how I put the heart necklace on each time and finished each bath with a spritz of Crys's perfume. I still didn't get arrested, so that was good.

I was ready for my exam on Monday; believe it or not, I and my 195 IQ managed to squeak by. I was disappointed that I got only an A (no plus!) but it was all good. I finished all my exams by Thursday and Crystal was getting ready to come home. I even managed to get to a casino for a little relaxation on Wednesday. I played well, but it didn't matter; I could have played horribly and still come out a winner. I had luck on my side that day. I was up nearly $5,000 by the end of the session. I was worried that it was too much, that the casino would remember me, but I decided that I needed the money more than I needed the anonymity. Shopping for the apartment was next on the to do list.

The docs were pleased with 'my sister's' healing rate, and they gave me a tentative schedule for her. No solid food of course, until the jaw got unwired at about 6 weeks. She'd need somebody watching her 24/7 because she couldn't even move on her own. She'd need to come in every few weeks to see how everything was going. Did I want a nurse? Once I saw the rates, I said: No thanks.

We had a minor issue on the day of her release. I realized that she'd never fit in the sub-compact that the insurance company had provided. Fortunately, this had occurred once or twice in the hospital's past – they had arranged for an ambu-taxi (I dropped the real name as soon as they said it). We had another minor issue trying to get her up the stairs to her apartment. Eventually we managed.

I moved Crys into her bedroom. There had been some changes. I'd bought a large flat-screen TV and set up the laptop to control it or to buzz my cell on voice commands. We had to train the voice program to respond to Crys's talking through a wired jaw but that was no problem. I explained that 'we' also now had an expanded selection of cable channels – at least in the bedroom. The living room was limited to G-rated content.

I helped her hop into bed and got her comfortable. She grunted at me. "Where did all this come from?"

"It came from the store. I didn't steal anything." We'd been civil to each other in the few interactions we'd had recently. I still didn't really trust her attitude, and I thought I'd better nip this line of questioning in the bud.

She shut her eyes – either in frustration or at the tone of my answer. "I know that. What I mean is: I can't pay for all this."

"Yes you can. There's more, but it's in the kitchen. A microwave. Food processor to make up the sludge you're going to have to drink for the next month," I said. "You are going to be very well off. I have your lawyer coming over on Monday to go over everything with you. But don't worry – I don't want any of it." I didn't tell her that I had paid for everything from my casino winnings. The money from the lawsuit was months away.

I started to pull back the sheet covering her and unsnapping the tent sized gown the hospital had provided. "HEY." She was upset again. I wasn't going to have it. "What are you doing?"

I explained it as if she were a first grader: "I'm going to be taking care of you. We may as well establish some guidelines. Why don't you go back to calling me by my name, not 'HEY'. My mother trained me to respond to my name, and I think I've got it by now. I'm not going to ogle you, as lovely as you look at the moment." She lowered her eyes at the sarcasm. "The hospital gown will only be necessary when you have to go somewhere, or if somebody is coming, otherwise it'll just get in the way of taking care of you."

She nodded in acceptance, her gaze still lowered. I removed the gown and once – only ONCE – when she was looking at the computer, I looked. She was naked from below her breasts, all her lower torso was still drool-worthy – including a nice regular 6" scar on the left side of her abdomen that was still showing stitches. Her left leg down to her still-painted toes (pink!) was exposed to my gaze. The hair was starting to grow back over her pussy. It was golden-blonde, naturally, and looked to be baby soft. She had closed her leg against the cast, so I couldn't see the pussy. Yes "the" pussy.

I got all that in a single glance, hurried as it was. CRAP! I was still a virgin 17 year old – almost 18 by Tess's standards. She was still a naked capital W Woman. I was still hooked, like a fish gasping for air. Only it wasn't air I was gasping for. As broken as she was, she was still gorgeous. And I still liked her. OK. I loved her. Or at least I loved the Woman that she used to be. Not that it would do me any good.

I made a slurry out of stuff on the hospital's ok-to-eat list, in the food processor. Yuck. It was mostly green and looked like something The Swamp Thing would leave in the outhouse. It did taste ok, though. I took it and sat on the side of Crys's bed, holding a straw while she slurped it down. "Tastes good, James, but I'd rather not look at it. Thank you."

Wow! A whole sentence and no insulting attitude. She didn't even want me to take a sip first to make sure it wasn't poisoned. "You're welcome," said I. "If you look close you can see carrots and peas. I think they make a lovely color combination."

"Please. Don't make me laugh. It hurts when I laugh." Her eyes lit up and she looked genuinely happy – considering the circumstances.

"Would you like some chocolate ice cream soup? It's on the list. I'll just have to heat the ice cream in the microwave. That's a sentence I never thought I would have to say."

"Yes, please." Whaddya know. This is how one makes friends with a wild animal – through food. It works on irrational people, too, it seems.

I melted a small portion of ice cream and Tess and I took it in. When I got to the door, Crys was in the process of trying to get up on her one working leg. She had worked herself around to be facing the side of the bed, with the one leg on the floor and the other, of course, sticking straight out in its cast. "What do you think you're doing?" I swear, really, it was like talking to a toddler and one who didn't even understand English.

"Bathroom." She was negotiating with her arms to try and get some forward momentum. Tess wanted to go and help, but I put a hand out to stop her.

"OK," I said. "But it's going to be easier if I help."

"No. I'm ok," she lied. If she insisted on being a jackass, I was fine with that.

She rocked herself back and forward, managed to stand – for about three seconds – and then CRASH. She fell forward on her nose, and one hand. Her one good leg was bent at an unnatural angle. She started to cry, and a puddle of urine collected under her.