I Don't Even Know Your Name - Brian Hesse (the mitten read aloud txt) 📗

North Carolina climate is a wily animal indeed, at least to a Northern boy like Shane Briar. In fact, some would say that anything under the brilliant sun and the moon with the slightest hint of cunning, was too much for a dull boy like Shane to fully understand. Not that any mortal would accuse him of being dull. He will be the first to tell you with a flare of pomp and arrogance, just how high he scored on his military entrance exam. Or just maybe, if he felt you were worthy, he would tell you how he could run the two-miler in under twelve minutes. The weather was certainly one point he felt on an equal footing with the mere mortals that surrounded him each prolonged haze filled day.

Today was a special day. Another deep notch on his belt. Another reason to look in the mirror and bury his deep insecurities, like an animal digging furiously to hide from a perceived dangerous and unforgiving world. Today, was the final step in achieving yet another award made of nothing more than cheap carboard and smudgeable aqueous printer ink. Today, Shane was on his way to becoming an Emergency Medical Technician-Intermediate. For some, a designation of little importance compared with the chance to help others with unwavering selfless service. For him, this certificate must be protected at all cost, encased in its lamenated coffin, only to be released when the time came to be copied and submitted for promotion points. He was a soldier on a mission. A mission of personal gain. A longing for advancement with all the privilege’s that, he believed, can only come to the strong, even at the cost of the weak.

“Is this not the law of nature.” he stated out loud, driving to the local Emergency Room.

He played over in his mind how he would act, like a black and white movie on a reel that never seemed to end. How he would act, finishing his twenty-four-hour hands on practicum in the Fayetteville ER. His head danced with romantic notions of posing for the camera as he saved lives, hugged the grieving of the dead, and flaunted himself shamelessly as a man of all seasons; a man of kindness and reason.

“Holy Christ!” He exclaimed as he pulled up to the front of the ER. He lost all track of time and memory of his fifteen-minute trip. This lapse of time was not an unusual occurrence for the brave soldier. Starring in black and white movies in his mind often slowed time as if carelessly floating through a worm hole from front to end, oblivious of the beauty in between. In his case, his fifteen-minute journey excluded the beauty of the world outside his car window. He missed the beauty of the perfectly curved arches of the Red Twig Dog Hobble tree. He missed the sweet-smelling aroma of the Southern Waxberry plant, miraculously collecting its lifesaving morning dew. Mother nature had nothing to offer him in the realm of mystery. She wept, watching him speed by poisoning her creations with noxious exhaust without even the slightest courtesy of mentally capturing her beauty.

#

“Nurse we got another Jane Doe in room five.” stated a young man wearing a blood stained pristine lab coat, as he brushed past Shane without a glance.

Shane could smell the thick scent of antiseptic and talcum as the man rushed by.

That’s ok, he thought, I never needed a hello from anyone in my life anyway.

“I need you three in here with me now,” said a nearby nurse, pointing to Shane and two other EMT hopefuls.

He walked into room number five and looked at the figure lying on the hospital bed in the middle of the room. Another nurse, much sterner looking and, wise, stood above the urine stained bed, stuffing a Macintosh blade down the figures throat. The blade was long and curved, now speckled with bits of bright red blood and thick yellow mucus.

Shane watched as the nurse continued to insert the hammer like object into the throat causing loud gurgling noises, like water forced down a partially clogged drain.

“I need one of you here, right now!” she exclaimed. She scanned the faces of each trainee with eyes that first revealed anger, then revealed understanding.

Shane was no stranger to the ways of the world. Looking at the faces of his two trainee colleagues, he guessed they were not virgins either. The figure on the bed was a prostitute. Only upon closer inspection was Shane able to identify the emaciated form as a woman. He only took a few small steps toward the woman to develop a mental image and, having satisfied his curiosity, quickly stepped back into the corner with the other two fellow cowards. This mental image of the woman fighting for breath did not fit well with the black and white movies of personal heroism he kept guarded in his subconscious mind. The movies of taking center stage, he guarded like a lonely miser sitting on top of a mound of gold and treasure.

Shane considered the light hanging directly over the woman’s bed. The young nurse, the pretty one, he thought, brought the light down to eye level to better see the ghastly form chocking on the soiled hospital bed.

Shane saw his reflection in the polished stainless steel and looked at his own reflection. It was distorted, like the image viewed in a fun house mirror.

This is not my face, he thought, as he recalled the reflection he viewed every day in the comfort of his suburban home. He considered how that reflection was always neatly shaved. That reflection with its never out of place hair, starched uniform adorned with ribbons and medals. That reflection with mirror shined jump boots that impressed some and, intimidated others.

Without thinking, he dawned the protective gear customary when caring for the high-risk people with no names.

With face mask and shield, plastic gown, and double gloved, he felt like he was walking in space toward some alien thing. Some unknown alien species to be feared, ruthlessly examined and, if need be, left to die.

#

He stood next to the woman, closed his eyes, and prayed for the courage to look death in the eye for the first time in his life. His senses were muffled by the protective garments, just as if walking in the cold vacuum of space. He opened his eyes and looked at the figure below. From the outside of the dark vacuum he heard a whisper. One of the trainees said, “He’s crazy going near that.”

Instinctively he turned to reply with some choice words of his own, but stopped his feet dead in their tracks. He considered the words and agreed that he may very well be mad.

Maybe my whole life until this point, I have been crazy, he thought with some feeling of relief. As though a weight was lifted from his shoulders. As if his soul lightened, shedding pounds of flesh, mimicking the emaciated form lying in front of him. He sighed deeply and looked into the dying woman’s eyes.

The once white of her eyes were a bright yellow, with bright red veins scattered throughout. The tracheal tube was now deeply inserted into the woman’s throat and small streams of dark red blood trickled from the corners of her mouth.

Shane thought about how her skin must have looked before the ravages of the street seeped under her flesh and into her flawless soul. The skin was now dry and cracked, like the surface of a desert. The pushers of the street sold her the poison. The poison that sucked the life from her smooth dark skin until nothing was left but a barren wasteland of deep cracks and gorges, occasionally pock marked by the tip of a syringe.

Shane turned to walk away believing that the powers of the universe were through and had their little laugh at his expense. He turned, and stopped like a deer looking into the high beams of oncoming death. He stopped because he felt slight pressure on his right hand. As if a small child tapped his hand for his attention.

He looked down and watched as the fifty-pound emaciated woman tapped her thin finger across the top of his hand. He looked at her and felt a shiver race through every nerve in his healthy body.

My God, she looks like a child lying here,” he thought with growing tears that he fought back, never to show the world his weak vulnerability.

He gently placed her small hand in his, and looked one last time into the dying woman’s eyes. What he didn’t see before, now revealed itself like a thunderbolt slicing through his numbed mind. He saw a bright sparkle directly in the middle of her fading eyes, like a single star struggling to shine alone in night filled heavens above.

He watched, hypnotized as the sparkle slowly faded away into that dark night.

#

Driving home, Shane turned off the radio, rolled down his windows, thought about his son, and smelled every intoxicating scent Mother Nature could throw his way. He packed away those old black and white movies he guarded so vehemently, and promised to never view them again. After a short while, only one thought ran through his brain like a rat running through a maze with no exit or, no reward at the end……

I don’t even know your name.

I don’t even know your name.

End

Publication Date: 07-25-2017

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