Juicy and Mr. Cracker stared at each other silently.
"I-I just woke up out of a coma...he said I can go home? I can just get up and leave? What about-they drilled a hole in my head!"
Mr. Cracker shrugged.
"Mister, this ain't right. This ain't right at all." Mr. Cracker was nodding his head in agreement.
"It's not right. But it's how the world works for us. But you're not a part of my world, are you? You need to get on that phone and call your people to come take care of you." His look was suddenly fierce...but no longer what Juicy would describe as crazy.
"Have my people come and get me? My Mother died years ago. I don't have a Daddy or brothers and sisters. I got cousins but I wouldn't call on them to do a thing for me. I had outpatient surgery one time and asked one of my girlfriends to come pick me up from the hospital...the bitch didn't show up for five hours—AND she was drunk! Mister I don't call on anybody for NOTHING! You hear me? NO-THING!"
Mr. Cracker contemplated her words. He stood up and went to a little closet. The room that Juicy was in had another bed but it was vacant. There were two bathrooms and two closets. She assumed that he was in her closet.
He returned with a clear plastic bag and laid it gently on her bed. "There's a charities foundation here at the hospital. They gave you some clothes, toothpaste and tooth brush, flip flops...things like that. Here. Get dressed and I'll be right back. I'm going to get you out of here."
"Mister!" Juicy called before he went out the door.
He turned to her. "Troy. My name is Troy."
She nodded. "I'm Juicy."
Troy's lip curled up in a grimace. "Oh. Why don't you just keep calling me Mr. Cracker and I'll keep calling you Lady." Then he left.
She huffed in total disbelief. No he didn't...
It didn't take long for Juicy to realize that she was filthy! They hadn't done a good job of washing her at all. She still found traces of blood on her body and hair! And while it had been really nice of them to give her these clothes...they were completely ill-fitting! They had given her sweat pants that were way too tight...and short, and her shirt was a button-up flower mini moo moo that reached mid calf...a good thing since the sweatpants barely contained her booty. Juicy had size eleven feet and the pink flip flops felt like half that size.
It didn't matter because as soon as she got home she was going to dump all of it in the trash! How was she going to get home? For the life of her she couldn't remember the connecting bus routes from the hospital...not that she had bus fare anyway.
Someone slid a piece of paper under the door and Juicy picked it up curiously. She felt dizzy as she squatted to pick it up and worried that she was developing a brain clot...or some brain infection from the atrocious conditions of the hospital.
"What is this?" She hoped it wasn't a bill. She read the sheet of paper slowly. It wasn't a bill exactly but an invoice of her treatment. Next to each treatment was a price and then a grand total at the bottom. A whopping two hundred and thirty thousand dollars!
Juicy was speechless. It wasn't the grand total at the bottom...it was one particular treatment that had her quiet...
Mr. Cracker returned to the room.
"Oh, okay. You're dressed." He didn't comment on the tacky clothes and Juicy didn't look up. "What are you reading?"
She looked at him with hollow eyes. She handed him the slip of paper. He read quickly lips moving silently and then stopped abruptly. He looked at Juicy.
"Oh...that..." Mr. Cracker looked really uncomfortable which made him look even younger then she had previously suspected.
"They gave me a rape kit?"
"Yes, I believe they did." Mr. Cracker licked his lips and fumbled with the invoice. "But I don't truly know if that happened to you."
She looked at him hopefully. "Maybe I shouldn't want to remember. I was hit in the head so hard that a lot of what happened is a blank. What exactly happened?" Juicy pleaded.
His eyes looked at a spot over her shoulder as if he was seeing the past. After a long pause, he swallowed and his breath came out shallow.
"I was just sitting there trying to get through a headache. It was a really bad one." He shook his head. "And I heard some guys cursing and laughing. I hoped they wouldn't notice me...mostly people leave me alone, but I remembered hearing another voice and it sounded like a child was hurt."
Juicy's eyes lowered as she relived the attack through his words. It hurt again, almost as bad as the first time.
"When I got over there I knew it was you immediately and they were punching and kicking you. I knew I couldn't take on all three by myself so I hit one with a garbage can. I made sure to knock him out. Before I did that..." Mr. Cracker finally looked straight at her. "One of them had your p-panties off, and he was struggling to get his pants down...and he was between your legs."
Juicy pulled her lower lip into her mouth and turned her back to Mr. Cracker. Her head was lowered, eyes squeezed tightly closed.
"Shanice-Lady! Juicy..." Mr. Cracker called. She couldn't hear his voice through the shattering of her heart.
She felt his hand on her arm and she had to bite back a desire to scratch and kick and scream and cry! Mr. Cracker pulled her around until she was facing him but she would not raise her head.
Had someone raped her?! Had they taken that away from her, too?!
"I don't know, Juice. I don't know if that happened to you. But it was better to be safe than sorry, okay? So they gave you the kit, just in case, okay?" He took half a step toward her, then a full step. Slowly he kept moving forward, his arms had gone around her shoulders.
He was hugging her.
Juicy didn't like it...but she didn't all together hate it either. She felt herself sigh and Mr. Cracker's arms tightened in a way that felt like she was safe and secure.
Damn, he was tall, something she hadn't recognized previously. And he didn't stink which she thought all homeless people did. He probably actually smelled better than she did!
She had thought of him as scrawny but he wasn't. He wasn't even thin. His arms were well muscled and wire tight. Juicy slipped out of his grip. Self-consciously she crossed her arms in front of herself.
Even though she had stepped back, Mr. Cracker—Troy rubbed her shoulder reassuringly before he turned to the door and blew out a stressed breath.
"Well...shall we go?"
Juicy looked at him wide-eyed. "Just...walk out?"
"Yep."
"Let's get the hell out of here." Juicy walked as fast as her sore head and little flip flops allowed.
They were ignored as Mr. Cracker pressed the down button on the elevator. She felt like she was a flaming fool! But none of the nurses paid them the least attention. Damn...she was invisible.
Juicy worried about where they were going and how they were going to get there once stepping out of the hospital. But there was a kiosk at the bus stop right outside of the hospital and Mr. Cracker led them to it.
"Where do you live, Juice?"
"Why are you calling me Juice?" She asked as she trailed behind him. He turned and looked at her confused.
"Because I can't call you Juicy with a straight face. No offense, but I feel like I'm saying something derogatory."
"Hmph. You're worried about calling me something derogatory now? But you called me a whore before. Remember?" Juicy regretted her words as soon as she spoke them. This man was helping her more than anybody else had offered to thus far. What was wrong with her? Why did she always go off the deep end? A bus drove pass and Mr. Cracker looked after it as if he wished he were on it.
"I'm sorry...Troy." She had almost called him Mr. Cracker. "I appreciate you. I really do. I know I'd be d-dead in that alley if it wasn't for-"
He looked at her. "I didn't exactly call you a whore." His eyes had taken on a far-away look. "I was saying that you looked...pretty." The next words were spoken slowly and distinctly and he used his hand to signal each syllable. "Then you asked me what I was looking at. And that's w
hen I said...I think a whore."
The people at the bus stop had stopped what they were doing to look at them.
"I wasn’t even doing anything wrong, just complimenting you! And I wasn't name-calling, you were. Remember, it was you that called me a cracker? Even when I was carrying you to the hospital you called me a cracker!"
Troy looked and sounded more incredulous than angry, but his voice had still grown definitely louder. She felt shame, like an actual article of clothing engulf her.
Juicy opened her mouth. Then she closed it. "I didn't understand, Troy. That's why I said that." Juicy's eyes began to sting. "I'm real sorry for that. I swear I am-" His eyes seemed to melt and the muscles of his face suddenly relaxed.
"Juice...I don't want an apology. I am white trash. I'm not a cracker but if that's what you see then I guess that's what I am-"
Juicy tried to shake her head and a sharp pain spiked through her. She sucked in a loud breath through clenched teeth and her knees buckled.
Troy caught her and a second later she was standing back up on her own two feet with him supporting her. His eyes were large like saucers. "I'm sorry Juice! I didn't mean to yell at you. Do you want me to take you back in the hospital-?"
"No!" The pain was subsiding. And she just wanted to be home, out of these clothes, away from these stares... "Could you please just help me home? I'll give you cab fare to get you back-"
"Yeah, of course. I'll take you home.”
A connecting bus wasn't fast coming. They had to wait twenty minutes. The little bus stop was crowded but when Juicy used her large body to squeeze herself a spot on one of the three benches miraculously there was plenty of space for both herself and Troy.
Juicy couldn't remember ever being so tired in all her life. Maybe she was going into another coma...that could happen couldn't it? She was afraid to fall asleep in case she didn't wake up for another three days!
"You okay, Juice?" Troy asked her more than once.
"Just tired." was always her response. "Don't let me fall asleep. In case I don't wake up." Troy seemed surprised by the request but he nodded in agreement.
When the bus finally came, Juicy pushed her way to be the first to board. She was sick and tired of the looks that she received. Some people even turned their nose up at her like...well like she was homeless!
Troy dug into his pocket for two very wrinkled bills and change. After securing two transfers he sat down next to her.
Not even fifteen minutes later they were off that bus and now waiting at the next stop.
She caught Troy giving her worried glances. She couldn't help the way she felt and therefore the way she looked. She felt like shit.
Troy reached out and gripped her hand; the one without a cast.
"Don't worry, Juice. I'll have you home before you know it."
"I've never felt so bad in my life...and I hope I never do again." She whispered.
Troy just looked deeply into her eyes before they flitted away to stare at the passing cars and passing people. He kept her hand gripped comfortably in his, though.
When the bus that Juicy normally rode finally arrived she was so excited that for a moment the fatigue left her body. Again she bombarded her way to be first to board. When someone stepped between her and Troy and he was about to let the women separate them, Juicy reached out and grabbed his arm and like a Momma holding on to her child and pulled him up the stairs after her. He followed like a boneless rag doll. One look at the determined expression on her face and nobody dared to protest.
After securing their seats Juicy sighed in relief. Being on her familiar bus was almost as good as being home. Maybe they'd get home before dark.
"Juice, don't fall asleep." Troy was saying. "You have to tell me which stop."
"Idlewyld...second stop on Idlewyld." Juicy found her head resting on Troy's shoulder and her eyes closing slowly. Troy's brow furrowed as he studied the little map on the bus schedule.
"Idlewyld..." He whispered. "Juice, you going to leave me hanging here?" But Juicy was already sleeping.
***
"Wake up Juicy." Troy was reaching past her to pull the string to indicate a stop request.
Her eyes popped open. That was a forty minute ride and she felt like she had just closed her eyes. But at least she hadn't fallen into a coma-and at least her head had stopped feeling like little men were trying to beat their way out of it!
Troy gripped her by her wrist and pulled her up and out of the seat and then off the bus. It was her turn to feel like a rag doll.
"Is this the right stop?" He asked when the bus was pulling away. She just smiled, lucky for them that it was or someone would be carrying her again! Actually the little nap had refreshed her and she was energized.
"I live right up here." She pointed. Troy tilted his head as he watched her.
"You're smiling. I think this is the first time I've seen you do that."
"You'll see me tap dancing as soon as I get in my apartment." Yes her energy was definitely back.
She hurried them to her four unit brownstone. Some of her neighbors were out on the front stoop. Juicy wasn't the most neighborly person so she didn't speak as she passed by. But she knew she'd be the topic of gossip for a while; dressed like a hobo, heavily bandaged AND leading a strange white man into her home.
They bypassed the front door and went around back. "Where are we going?"
"I don't have my key." The upside of having her purse snatched is that she didn't have credit cards. It was a nice purse and she hated losing it but she had just swapped it out that day and hadn't put too many personal items in it. Her wallet was the biggie but...it was really not the most important thing on Juicy's mind right now.
When they were around back she headed for a small window next to a metal utility door. She pushed it open and reached inside stretching to the fullest capacity until she had unlatched the door from the inside. Troy caught on and opened the door. She explained when she noticed Troy's confused expression.
"You see, I'm always locking myself out of my place; losing my key, having it stolen by an asshole boyfriend. So I stashed a spare down in the basement."
With only the dim light from an exit sign, Juicy sure footedly headed for a rickety metal shelf holding old tools, paint supplies and knick knacks. She lifted a can of paint that had to have been twenty years old. Beneath it was a gleaming key.
She gripped it in both hands and grinned at Troy. He thought she looked like a demented Cheshire cat but he smiled happily along with her.
She led them up the back stairs quickly and they were in her apartment a minute later.
Troy crossed the threshold slowly. He had never seen someone's home look so much like them. This apartment was Juicy if Juicy was walls a floor and...a giant palm leaf ceiling fan!
Troy stepped inside closing the door silently behind him. Juicy had swept inside kicking off her flip flops, flicking on the light switch and almost running to, what he assumed, was the bathroom.
"I'll be right out Troy. WHEW! I really gotta go! Make yourself at home!" She had a lot of animal print in her apartment. There was a faux zebra print rug in front of a black fur love seat which was opposite a red plush chair and ottoman.
Her home was spotless. Prints of African American scenes covered her walls. There was a bushman spearing a tiger, a momma holding a baby with corkscrewed dredlocks, a man's form folded artfully against a woman's.
Troy inhaled. It smelled good in here, too, like cherry candles. She had a nice size t.v. in a mahogany wood entertainment cabinet. Troy looked at some of the books and cd's she had there. She read a lot, mostly fiction but some autobiographies and medical reference books. He scanned the titles; Reflexology, Art of massage, and many books on hair.
Juicy came back into the room and Troy turned quickly, suddenly feeling really uncomfortable. It was time to go. He needed to go. He walked purposefully to the door.
"Hey, where are you going?"
"Uhm," His lip and jaw
twitched and then his eye followed suit. Juicy almost took a step back. What the hell was wrong with him now? "...it's dark. I better get back."
"Well I was going to give you some money for a cab-"
Troy was shaking his head. He shoved his hands in his pocket. "I wouldn't spend good money on a cab. I'm just going to take a bus-" His hand was reaching for the door knob.
Juicy put her hand on her hip in confusion. "Well Troy...this time of night buses run down our street every hour and a half...so you're going to be out there a long time." She sighed. "Look, come in, get comfortable. I'm going to make us something to eat..." When he didn't move Juicy gripped his wrist and physically led him into the living room.