Juicy (3 page)

Felix was like a girl, though she would never say that to his face, even though she always got caught saying, ‘Girl, let me tell you!’ But he seemed to love it when she did that, so it was never a big deal. He liked to dress up in their mother’s clothes—mostly her mother’s clothes because he said her Momma was hip and his Momma was a thrift store Queen! He liked Barbies and having tea parties. But he also knew how to fight and he taught her how to kick, to punch and to stomp the shit out of someone...but mostly he liked acting like a girl. Felix’s passion was fashion and make-up, and as they grew older his love of fashion spread to her, pushing her to be his model. Felix went a long way in convincing Juicy that just because she was big didn’t mean she couldn’t be beautiful.

As a result, she and Felix dressed better than anybody else in the entire school and she made sure that her hair was more stylish then any of the other girls. Sometimes he would steal outfits for her and sometimes she’d take them both shopping with money she made from doing hair. She learned everything that she knew about fashion from her homosexual best friend.

When someone would make disparaging remarks about how she looked, Felix would be at his most violent. He fought for her more then he fought for himself. She had spent her life watching Momma fight, and now she was watching Felix do it and that seemed to squash the fight right out of her. She wouldn’t let anyone put their hands on her, but insults were things that she pretended not to hear. Juicy just held it all in until she felt like her heart would explode out of her chest in rage.

She could have learned from Felix, who never let anyone get the last word, even if the end result was that he would still get beat up. He would always say, ‘They just jealous of you, Juicy. That’s why they talk about you. You look good and they wish they could look this hot. Vogue, girl!’ And then they would prance around like models in a Madonna video; laughing all the while.

One day Juicy sat on the stairs behind the school where people sometimes went at lunch when the weather was nice. She grabbed the stairs before anyone else could and waited for Felix. He sat down slowly, his elbows resting on his knees. He stared at the ground and mumbled a half-hearted greeting.

“What’s wrong with you?” She passed him a slice of butter cake that she had packed for him. He took it but did not make a move to eat it.

He looked at her suddenly. “Juicy, when you look at me what do you see?”

“What?” She shrugged. “Felix, who else?”

He closed his eyes slowly and sighed. He looked at her again. “No really. What do you see, if you didn’t know me, what’s your first impression?”

Juicy munched her cake and squinted. “I see a light skinned guy, with light eyes. Sixteen. Thin build, but in shape. Hmmm, dress nice-”

“You see a sixteen year old boy.” He repeated.

“You
are
a sixteen year old boy, Felix.”

“You don’t see a fag? A queer, a punk, a sissy-”

“What the hell?!” She swallowed, alarmed. “What brought that on?”

“Because that’s what everybody else sees.” His light eyes flashed, then he calmed and the fire went out.

Juicy did not like seeing him like this. She was quiet for a minute. “Is there anybody in particular that we’re talking about?”

He turned to her again. “I like the same guys that you like, Juicy. I like the jock and the brain, and the cute guy with the goatee. Unfortunately, those guys will never like me.”

“That’s not true.” She blinked. “Just because the world is filled with people too chicken to come out the way you have-”

“I did not COME out, Juicy! I was forced out!” He frowned and though his words were angry and frustrated they suddenly became soft. “The way I walk, and the way I talk, and the way I look meant that I could never hide what I am.” She stared at her friend, feeling his pain, but not knowing how to stop it. She was stunned by this conversation because Felix had always been proud of himself…or so she had thought. He had always looked openly at what he admired and didn’t hide who he was. And now he seemed to be unhappy with what he was. This was not a side of her friend that she was used to seeing.

“Who?” She asked simply.

“Who?” He gave her a confused look.

“Who told you that you were a punk? Who made you feel like this? Who do you like that you think that you can’t have?”

He watched her with steady eyes. “Everybody but you.”

One day he sat on the roof staring at nothing in particular, with scraped knuckles and the residue of blood beneath his nose; not much different than any other day. But a month later he had either jumped or been pushed off the roof of the building.

Without Felix, High School was intolerable. Her other friends were almost whitewashed compared to Felix with his flair and dramatics. Hell, she felt whitewashed without his encouragement and laughter. And on top of that, the same sorry bitches at school that made you jump off roofs…or maybe that even pushed you off roofs—well those bitches had finally stretched her last nerve; the one that was already stretched far too thin.

One day, one of the light skinned girls had made another black joke about her. The next second that girl was lying on the floor. No one moved. It was just too strange to see the quiet, fat girl react, and at first no one believed what they had seen with their very own eyes.

Juicy returned to her business, but a great weight that had been sitting right over her heart had suddenly lifted. I can breathe, she thought.

Juicy didn't even get in trouble over it. As a matter of fact, the teacher seemed reluctant to punish her for something that they all had long overlooked. And Juicy couldn’t stop thinking about how tight her chest had felt and after she let loose on the girl she could breathe, she could think again.

It began happening with more and more frequency; the tightness and then the release…same scenario, different facts.

She is just sitting in class, minding her own business and one girl is wearing a denim jumper almost like the one she is wearing; except Juicy’s outfit is not a knock-off like the other girl’s. And her friends are snickering and making fat jokes. For a moment, Juicy thinks, ‘I shouldn’t have worn this. I’m never wearing this again…’ The next minute she is picturing Felix’s face when he picked this outfit for her.

Juicy knows that rage has a distinct flavor. She tastes it on her tongue, it’s like a copper penny or maybe just the taste in your mouth when your Momma runs a red light and almost kills you and all of the people driving on the street with her.

Yes, that is the taste of rage. First she has the taste, next she is standing up and pounding on the girl and swinging at her friends and there is long hair caught in her fist…no not hair, just weave. Girls are crying and the teacher is holding her arms down against her body and screaming over and over, ‘Juicy stop!’ And then suddenly she can breathe and think again.

It begins happening too often now for her to get off scott free. For that incident she had to go to court. She had given one girl a broken nose, another had gashes in her no-longer-picture perfect face. Juicy didn’t remember doing it…but one girl’s nose was broken and the other girl was all scarred so she couldn’t dispute it. Afterwards instead of laughing at
her
when they walked down the halls, people laughed at those two girls.

The same thugs that used to torment her and chase Felix home last year were following her around this year. She wished that she could talk to Felix and ask him why these fools were bothering with her. But she couldn’t. So one day she just turned to one of the more persistent thugs and with wide eyes she just shrugged. “What?!”

The thug grinned. “Why are you trying to play hard to get?” He kept following her, bringing her snack cakes at lunch, slipping her notes, and then catching her behind the school one evening.

She balled her hands into fists. “I’ll fight you just as fast as I’ll fight any of those bitches in there!”

He just grinned. “I know. A brother needs a strong woman to have his back.” Juicy gave him a confused look.

“Why you fooling with me when all those popular girls are always sniffing around you? I see them following you around.” In fact she had been watching him as hard as he had been watching her; just trying to see what his game was.

“Because you’re fine, Juicy.” She had given him a surprised look, and then later had gone home where she promptly stripped out of her fashionable clothes and stood in front of the mirror in her Momma’s room.

This time she looked--looked past the hair that didn’t flow to her shoulders like Momma’s, and the way her ass and boobs bounced around when she moved. She just looked.

And what she saw is that she had pretty smooth skin that didn’t have even one pimple; flawless. Her color was ebony like polished wood, her brow was arched naturally the way that others paid fifteen dollars a pop for her to do for them with a pair of tweezers. Her eyes were deep and black, like endless holes-not even brown but solid black and almond shaped like a Hawiian’s. She had a voluptuous body back when all of the other girls had flat chests and boyish shapes. Big and solid is what she was, like an hour glass, a coke bottle a guitar…

Juicy laughed. He said she was fine. Felix said she was fine. Momma said she was fine, so why the hell hadn’t she ever seen it? Because she let other people convince her that big and black was ugly!

She went back to school dressed in her most fly suede mini skirt and matching boots with her short hair styled like Anita Baker’s. She grabbed the thug-boy between classes, pulling him behind a set of lockers and gave him a kiss; her very first. Afterwards, when she walked down the halls in her tight jeans and baby doll tops, rocking her UGZ and she got stares, Juicy no longer cared. Some maybe thought that she was too fat, some thought that she looked good, but it didn’t matter. Juicy already understood everything at the age of sixteen; people will make you want to die. People will make you hate yourself; and you can not survive that without fighting.

CHAPTER 3

The world spun but not in a bad way. It was nice, like being held in Momma's arms when she was a baby. Momma…
Juicy nestled her head against the warmth; that spot under Momma's chin—Her eyes popped open. Her head was being nestled under someone's chin alright...but it wasn't Momma's!
Mr. Cracker looked at her. He didn't seem to be very happy. Juicy's face twisted in a grimace of pain when her head whipped around to stare at him. Mr. Cracker was carrying her and they were heading out of the building and into the dark alley that she had so recently been attacked.
"They wouldn't come, lady." He mumbled.

"What?" She asked. What was he talking about?
He was carrying her like a baby and they were hurrying down the sidewalk now. How strange...Juicy wrapped in a dirty blanket being carried down the street by a crazy homeless man. Surreal was the word. She'd always read of it but never thought she'd experience it.
"I tried to bring them but they wouldn't come. We are invisible, you know that, right? You're invisible now, too. When those...hoodlums attacked you, three people walked by and ignored your calls. Three people, Lady."

Juicy watched Mr. Cracker intently. He hurried along only mildly out of breath. How could he be carrying her like this...and where was he taking her?
He halted long enough to look both ways before crossing the street. Then he continued his quick walk. When people drove past in their cars, did they even take a double look at the sight the two of them must have made? She blinked her eyes and focused, unwilling to allow the world to slip away from her again.
"I even went to the cops. I said that a lady had been attacked in the alley and she needed help." Mr. Cracker's lip twitched then his eye twitched. He cleared his throat and acted like he was about to start stuttering.
"I haven't spoken to the cops since..." He shook his head. "They just told me to get lost and when I tried to make them follow me they threatened to throw me in jail." He took the time to look at her intently. "I couldn't let that happen, Lady. I didn't know if you would be alive or dead. Those men...they hurt you bad." He whispered the last.
Yes, they had hurt her bad. He did understand. "You...you helped me, though." She said weakly, feeling so tired.
"Yes." He affirmed. "Yes." He nodded his head. "I helped you. You got any money, Lady?”

“What?” She squinted up at him in disbelief.

“Any Insurance, money, anything?"
The tension that had built within Juicy at his question quieted and she closed her eyes. "I have a Medicaid card but that and my money was in my purse. You didn't manage to-?"
"No I didn't manage to do much but..." Mr. Cracker halted long enough to hoist her up. Juicy grimaced.
"Okay?" He asked.
"Yes." Was her weak response. "Are you carrying me to the hospital?" Because that was so crazy, to be carried to a hospital…Why didn’t someone stop to help them?
"I don't have much choice. The ambulance never came." Juicy gave him a sharp look but Mr. Cracker either ignored it or didn’t notice it.
Juicy’s world began to turn black again. "I'm really bad off Mr. Cracker..." And then she remembered no more.
***
Troy liked the name. Mr. Cracker...sounded right.
He had needed to get the lady to General Hospital where they took nameless, invisible people; like them. People drove by without stopping, without helping until finally a taxi cab had stopped. The good samaritan had given them a ride. His arms had been about to give out and he was sweating furiously by that time. But if he left her then she'd be nothing but another dead invisible person. Just like the countless others he'd seen over the years.
When they got to admittance it was already crowded wall to wall with people in various stages of illness; from drug overdose, to broken limbs, even a gunshot wound.
They placed the lady on a gurney while an intern checked her injuries. Mr. Cracker noted that she didn't wake up while they did it. They took some time to ask him questions about her. He lied about the things he didn't know...Like her name. She looked like a Shanice to him and so that became her name for the records. And because he was Mr. Cracker, she became Mrs. Cracker. Otherwise, they would shut him out...and he knew the routine. If he didn't stay around they'd leave her on the gurney until she slowly passed away, and it would be written up as if she had died of her injuries instead of died of neglect.
Mr. Cracker didn't fault anyone for this. He was too realistic for that. This hospital treated all classes of people and that the majority of their patients were the poor and uninsured meant that there was less room for the patients that could pay their bills...they came first while the invisible came last. It was just the way of the world.
Still he didn't like that she was still on the gurney an hour later. Thankfully the cops had arrived to take his statement. He got through it without stuttering much, or blacking out. Remembering Kelly helped him.
It was their insistence that she be seen immediately that finally got her into x-ray and then surgery.
Mr. Cracker felt bad that he didn't know who her next of kin was so that he could call them. Instead he played the role.
'Mr. Cracker we're so sorry, your wife's in a coma.' 'Mr. Cracker if she makes it through the next twenty four hours then it looks promising.' 'Mr. Cracker please be prepared for a vegetative state', and so on and so on and so on.
He checked the papers everyday for news of a missing person...but there wasn't any. Strange how easily Shanice had disappeared from society. After three days she wasn't in the papers, and not in the news.
But three days did signify something important; she opened her eyes.
Mr. Cracker was very happy. He'd been using her hospital shower to bathe and had been eating her meals, which they brought everyday even though she was being fed intravenously. Sloppy and a waste of money, but why should an underpaid attendant care what happened to the hospital’s money? However, when she opened her eyes that first time after three days in a coma, he was fine with giving up her meals and shower.
Juicy squinted at the sunlight streaming into the window. The first thing she noted was that she was comfortable. She was in a bed with pillows and blankets. Silently she realized that it was a hospital. Lastly, she saw the man sitting in a plastic chair next to her bed. She looked at him in confusion. Who was he? Not a doctor...Mr. Cracker?
Mr. Cracker smiled in a twitchy nervous way. "You're not brain damaged are you?"
"Huh?" She asked with a crinkled brow.
"Damn...that's too bad." His eyes looked distant as they focused on a spot behind her.
"What are you talking about?" Juicy's lips were dry and cracked and her throat felt like she'd swallowed gravel. "Is there something to drink?"
Mr. Cracker stood and reached for a plastic pitcher and plastic cup from the table next to her bed. Juicy could barely recognize him. He had cleaned up and was now completely transformed. His hair was blonde and shiny from a fresh washing. He had evidently shaved because he now only had a bit of mustache and goatee and he had lost the dirty baseball cap. And now that it was gone, she could see his dark grey eyes. The bruise under his eye had faded to a dull yellow and his split lip was only slightly discolored. Even his clothes were clean.
Mr. Cracker was younger then she was! He handed her the cup of water and she struggled to sit up. He found a remote and raised the bed for her. Then he pulled his chair closer and watched as she drank the cool water.
God, it was delicious! She drained it in two seconds. Mr. Cracker poured her another cup.
"So, are you saying that you are
not
in a vegetative state?" He asked moving his lips slowly and precisely as if he was talking to a deaf person.
Wow, he was crazy, Juicy thought. "I'm not in a vegetative state." She said plainly. "I'm talking right at you."
He sighed. Then his happy expression returned. "I'm glad."
Juicy blinked. When he smiled he didn't look like a crazed lunatic, he was actually very handsome.
"Did...did you carry me all the way here?"
Mr. Cracker shrugged. "Mostly, but a cab picked us up the last few blocks."
"Oh." Juicy looked down at her hand. It was in a cast. She wiggled her fingers and it felt sore.
"You-uhm-have a broken hand. And a bad concussion. Your brain began to swell and was pressing against your skull." Mr. Cracker cleared his throat. "It was a pretty big deal. Surgeons thought they were going to need to cut away part of your skull to make room. All they ended up doing was drilling a hole in your head to release the pressure."
What? Drilled her head?! Juicy's face twisted as she used her good hand to tentatively touch the side of her heavily bandaged head. A nurse walked in then holding a tray of food. She smiled when she saw them talking.
"Good morning Mrs. Cracker. Nice to see you finally awake. You've been asleep for some time."
"Huh?" Juicy asked with her mouth still hanging open. What had that lady just called her?
The nurse had a stricken look on her face. "Oh goodness." The nurse turned to Mr. Cracker. "We'll have the doctor come in to discuss your options for treatment of the brain damage."
"She doesn't have brain damage." Mr. Cracker replied. "That's just the way she talks."
"Oh..." The nurse said and watched Juicy like she was under a microscope. Juicy ignored their interaction.
"What do you mean I've been asleep for days?"
Mr. Cracker nodded. "Three days you've been in a coma."
"That's messed up." Juicy said slowly. A coma…a real life coma.
The nurse placed the tray of food on a table and pushed it in front of Juicy.
"I'll have the Doctor come right in and discuss your condition." She checked the IV then left.
Juicy was still wearing a grimace as she digested the idea of being in a coma. Mr. Cracker lifted the lid off the tray.
"Are you hungry?"
"No." Juicy responded absently. After a quiet moment she noticed Mr. Cracker eyeing the tray of food with interest.
"You can have it." There was soup, a flat sandwich and a small plastic container of JELLO.
He didn't wait for her to repeat the offer. He picked up the sandwich and munched on it happily.
"Why did that nurse call me Mrs. Cracker?"
"Oh yeah, that. You're my wife. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to sit here and keep an eye on you." He paused in his chewing to give her a long look. "And since you named me Mr. Cracker, it's your name, too."
Juicy felt her face turn warm, but she'd be damned if she would apologize. When she had referred to him as a cracker he sure was acting like one!
"Then how are they billing me for this if they don't have my real name?"
He shrugged. He'd finished the sandwich in one last bite and removed the plastic lid from the bowl of soup. He drank it in three gulps.
Juicy sighed. None of this was neat and tidy. She didn't like a lot of stray ends. Would Medicaid even cover all of this?
Mr. Cracker was removing the plastic shrink wrap from the JELLO . "Why are you so worried about it? You're invisible, like me...Mrs. Cracker. What are they going to do, mail your hospital bill to my boarded up room in the alley? I'm not going to tell anybody your real name...even if I knew it."
He picked up the plastic wrapped package of utensils and removed the spoon. Mr. Cracker moved his chair closer to her and spooned up a small portion of JELLO which he held close to her mouth.
Juicy shook her head but Mr. Cracker wasn't taking no for an answer and gently prodded her lip with the offering. She accepted it reluctantly.
Mmmmm. Good. She hadn't had JELLO since elementary school. Mr. Cracker continued feeding her.
"Well what's going to happen when it's time to check out and I haven't paid? Are they going to call the police on me?"
Mr. Cracker's lip twitched once. "Are you sure you don't have brain damage? I just told you. Besides, I don't recall you asking for medical treatment. How can someone be forced to pay for something that they didn't even ask for? You really don't know much about how the system works." He sighed. "I'm MISTER Cracker, let me handle this, okay?"
Dear Lord, he was so crazy! Juicy thought warily.
The Doctor came in soon after she'd eaten the JELLO. She wished there was more, it had been delicious. The Doctor checked the dressing on her head, didn't mention her sore ribs or back and just like Mr. Cracker promised he fielded all questions about insurance. Once the Doctor determined that there was going to be no payment forthcoming he gave Juicy a clean bill of health and announced that she could leave that same day. Then he left without another word.
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."