Chapter 10

John woke up at four in the afternoon, when Dr. Hilbert, Nurse Betty, and Mary entered the room. His back hurt from sleeping in a chair. John glanced at the clock and saw what time it was. He realized that he had missed all of the hospital staff that had come to visit him. He shook his head and said, “Nurse Betty, you should have woken me. All those people went out of their way to come up here and you let me sleep through it.”

Dr. Hilbert answered, “You might be a hero, but you’re not a superhero. Remember that. When you are tired, get some sleep. Your body needs sleep to heal.”

“Yes, Sir.” He recognized the validity of the advice. In a way, he was actually pleased that he hadn’t had to deal with visitors. This hero worship thing was getting very old. He didn’t feel like a hero, although he had no idea what a hero felt like. He felt bad that he had let down people that helped so many patients.

“Now let’s get those bandages off so that I can see how you’re doing.”

Nurse Betty came over and removed the bandage. Mary stared open mouthed at how calmly he took the removal of the bandages. Dr. Hilbert stepped up and examined the burns. The healing rate on this guy was phenomenal. Nurse Betty was about to replace the dressing, but Dr. Hilbert stopped her. “Dr. Capstone will be here in a minute.”

While they were waiting, John explained that he would like Mary to assist him in working with the patients. Dr. Hilbert was a little skeptical, but decided that if John requested it then there might be a good reason. It was then agreed that Mary would go on the rounds with him. Mary was extremely surprised at the ready agreement.

Dr. Capstone arrived and greeted them, “Hello, John, how are you doing?”

“Hello, Dr. Capstone, that’s for you to decide.”

He bent down and looked at the leg giving it a cursory examination. He immediately stood up in surprise. He bent down and looked at the leg again with much greater care. Dr. Hilbert was smiling at the expression on his face. Dr. Capstone stood and looked at Dr. Hilbert. He said, “Doctor, I forgot my epidermal probe. Could I borrow yours?”

Dr. Hilbert understood that this was a request for a private conference. He answered, “Sure, come with me and I’ll get it for you.”

The two doctors left the room. John asked Nurse Betty, “Epidermal probe? You have to be kidding! They could have talked in front of me.”

Nurse Betty shrugged her shoulders. She decided that no answer was better than making something up. This guy was scary at times with his insights into people and his total lack of self-interest. She suggested, “You never know what they talk about.”

The doctors returned to the room. Dr. Capstone asked, “John, could you sit up so I can see your back?”

John sat up and the bandages were removed. Dr. Capstone examined the back very carefully. Satisfied, he said, “Nurse, you can bandage his back and the surgical wound. We agree that the burn should be exposed to air now.”

Nurse Betty nodded her head and got to work. John asked, “So where is this famous epidermal probe?”

Both doctors looked a little embarrassed. Finally, Dr. Capstone said, “Well, we were trying to decide what to do with you.”

John asked, “So is it a firing squad or death by hanging?”

“Nothing that drastic. We were considering walking the plank or sacrificing you to the volcano.”

“I’m not a virgin so I guess it’s the plank for me. Sorry, guys.”

“Seriously though, if you continue to heal at this rate, we won’t need to keep you in here more than two days. We’ll take out your stitches tomorrow afternoon and bandage your wounds. We don’t want you to leave just in case something happens.”

“Sounds good to me, Dr. Capstone,” John said. He turned and winked at Nurse Betty before asking, “Does that mean I’m getting a dozen sponge baths over the next two days?”

Nurse Betty had the grace to blush. The doctors looked at each other knowingly. Finally, Dr. Hilbert responded, “Oh, I think you can handle three a day. You’re young and resilient.”

John went on the rounds with the doctor, Nurse Betty, and Mary. Mary had learned how to distract people from their pain very well. John watched her work and let Nurse Betty know when it was time to remove the bandage. With practice, Mary’s technique became better.

A very attractive black woman sat in the chair. Her posture was impeccable. She sat straight up in the chair, shoulders back and chest out. Her legs were crossed at the ankles. Her hands rested on her lap. She was conservatively dressed in a black dress that came down to the middle of her shins. It was plain, but clearly expensive. One thing gave away her sadness; her eyes were red and puffy from crying. A knowledgeable observer would recognize her as dressed in mourning.

Ms. Smith, having learned the identity of the lady, had warned her not to hug him. She explained that he had stitches along his back and a hug could rip them. The woman didn’t know how to act and sat there wondering what to do. She owed this man so much and had no idea how to repay him. She was lost in thought when he entered the room.

“Hello, I’m John Carter. Who might you be?” asked the man as he extended his hand.

The lady looked up in surprise. The man looked just like her son had described him. She had not believed her son. She couldn’t believe that some white man would risk his life trying to save her children. She answered, “I’m Virginia Hill.”

“Oh, that’s a nice old fashioned kind of name. You don’t meet many Virginia’s any more. It’s a shame. I’m rather partial to that name, myself.”

She smiled and said, “I was named after my grandmother. She was named after her grandmother. That woman was named after her owner.”

Her statement might have intimidated some, but John followed up with a question, “What did she do for her owner?”

“She was freed before they put her to work. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Civil War,” she answered. There was a little tension in her voice.

“Ah, she was most fortunate. Of course, the times after the Civil War were quite hard for most blacks. Their standard of living often went down. They had nothing and usually could only find work that paid less than it cost to feed their family for the day. A lot of them moved west to try and start a new life in the wilderness where color didn’t matter. Most people don’t know that the majority of cowboys were black. It wasn’t John Wayne that rode herd on the cattle, it was Samuel Blackman.”

“You know a lot about black history,” she said impressed by him. “Not many whites know that kind of stuff.”

“Well, I talk to a lot of the blacks in the neighborhoods around where I live. I listen to their histories. Lots to learn from people when you give them a chance to tell their story and you take the time to listen. That’s why I asked the question about your great-great-grandmother. It was another chance to learn.”

“Oh,” replied Virginia. She had not come here with the intention of discussing her family history. Her family had a rather checkered past. Her mother had been tough on her while growing up. Her mother always stressed education and if Virginia made less than an A in a subject, she would get beaten. Her mother always told her that an education was important. It always meant more money. Even an educated whore made more money than an ignorant whore did.

“Do you have a picture of her?”

“No, I used to have one, but it burned in the fire last night,” she replied. The question reminded her of why she was here.

John nodded as he drew the correct conclusion. He asked, “It wouldn’t happen to be the one that I was at last night?”

“Yes, sir. It was,” her voice was suddenly respectful.

“Could you tell me the names of your wonderful children?”

“Ryhem and Shawana.”

“Well, Ryhem was very polite, brave and obedient. You must be really proud of him.”

She laughed at the characterization of her son. She asked, “Are you talking about my boy?”

“Yes, Ma’am. When I set him down and told him to stay there until a proper authority came he told me, ‘yes, Sir,’ and he stayed right there. He also told me about his sister still being in the house. He didn’t panic or anything.”

She asked, “Do you know how he described what happened?”

“No. What did he say?”

“He said that he was standing there staring at the fire and didn’t know what to do. Then a wizard walked through the flames and carried him out of the fire. He knew you were a wizard because you had a long beard, long hair, and carried a magic staff. He was afraid that he was going to get burnt, but you used magic to keep him safe.”

John laughed and said, “Me a wizard? Wow, that’s great.”

“Shawana said that a skinny Santa Clause rescued her.”

“That’s even better. No wonder they both cooperated so well. I wouldn’t argue with a wizard or Santa Clause,” John said. He thought about the last person in the house. He added, “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“He was a drunk. He caused the fire that almost killed my babies. I loved him, but I’m mad as hell at him.”

“It’s hard to carry such mixed emotions around with you.” John didn’t really know what to say. He chose the course of action that seemed best. He suggested, “Would you mind standing up?”

She hesitated and then stood. John stepped close to her and put his arms around her. He held her close. Her head rested on his shoulder. She gently wrapped her arms around him and started crying. It was as if a dam had burst. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. She had lost her lover, her house, and her past all in one night. John held her and swayed slightly. The slight rocking motion calmed her down.

It took a while, but she finally collected herself. She stepped back and sat down. John handed her the box of tissues from the table. She blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and tried to collect herself. Her makeup had run. She sniffed as she said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to break down like that.”

“No problem,” John replied. He asked, “Are you feeling better?”

She stopped and thought about it for a moment before she answered, “Yes, I do. I really do feel better. Thank you.”

John nodded and suggested, “Why don’t you use my bathroom and wash your face? I’m sure that you’ll feel much better then.”

Virginia smiled hesitantly and headed towards the bathroom. While she did her feminine magic of transforming her appearance, John thought about what she had experienced in the last day. He understood her need to be held. She returned looking and feeling much better. She asked, “What can I do to thank you?”

He thought about it a moment and then stated, “There is something that you can do for me. It’s rather personal, though.”

Her eyes flicked to his groin. Her estimation of this nice guy went down a bit. In her mind, he became just another lowly man driven by his sexual urges. In a slightly flat tone of voice she answered, “Okay, I guess.”

John appeared not to notice her appearance her glance and lack of enthusiasm. He sat down on the edge of his bed and motioned to her to have a seat in the chair. He said, “Quite simply, I would like to know more about you.”

She frowned, as that was not the request she thought he was going to make. She sat down. Not knowing where to start, she asked, “What would you like to know?”

“What do you do for a living?”

She frowned again. She hated to admit her occupation away from the job. She said, “I’m an exotic dancer.”

John smiled and said, “An artist in a very underrated art form. It’s such a shame, too. It could be one of the most significant art forms and yet it isn’t. It should be respected like ballet. Society tends to frown upon it and the people that engage in it. Even the dancers that engage in it look down on it. Of course, polite society is always embarrassed by the most basic aspects of life. Are you good at it?”

“Huh?” she said admitting her confusion.

“Are you good at it?”

“Do you understand what I do?” she asked.