Chapter 14
Trouble With A Capital T
What more trouble can a boy like me get into as I lay there naked in a hospital bed, but that is nothing compared to the tongue lashing I got from Ma and my grandmother? For nearly dying right there on the floor; Ma, Pa, and Grandma have seen me enough times recently without my clothes on. But the thought of everyone else that was standing around my bed half of them were girls and women, didn't make me feel any better.
I dared not ask; I was too embarrassed. How many more would see me in all my glory before I turned old and gray? Maybe I'd be better off streaking down the hall like Sam and Aaron do from time to time. I knew just by the look on my sisters' Julie and Anna's faces that it was too late when they said. I had the cutest little bare butt, they have ever seen, and the rest laughed in agreement. With a kiss on the cheek, I sighed. That's all I needed to know.
Apparently, I'd punctured a lung, and it caused me to cough up blood; I nearly tore out all the fresh stitches. Grandma said they wondered if I'd have any skin left to stitch at this rate and if I ever did anything that stupid again. Ma and Pa would bend me over their knees, and she would personally paddle my naked behind until it was blue for a month. Somehow, I didn't doubt her one iota. Especially having already received many spankings from her when I was younger; it was nothing compared to what my parents did mind you. I mean, unlike them she could control her temper. It was also the very thing I knew I had to get control of, or I would end up just like them.
Pa and Ma promised me 'come hell or high water.' A popular saying my Grandmother would always say and had seemed to have rubbed off on to my Ma and Pa from time to time, like whenever they meant business. That they will find a way for me to blow off steam in the right way instead of it blowing in the wrong direction. When Ma's angry or upset she would cook up a storm that would feed an army. Pa would chop firewood and sometimes plow the field by hand and horse instead of using the tractor when he was angry or upset.
Later on in my life, I found writing and doing plays in school helped. Where I could transfer my emotions into a character, but it always seemed I spent more time in the councilors or principal's office because of it. Some of my English teachers became fearful of my dark writing to the point I stopped altogether. Just to avoid being sent and having to explain my fears and thoughts, which in turn exposed me to more beatings at home.
I learned early on; it was better to be silent than rather expose the truth to what was really going on at home or in my mind. Depending on where and which foster home I lived in. I will most likely go into more detail later on, but I will say the Downings encouraged me to write and weren't afraid of me or the secrets that I held.
Soon after, they had brought me back from the dead one more time. I met a strange man by the name of Doctor Whitmore. Doctor Kollie Whitmore. Born and raised in a small village in Kenya, which was located in Eastern Africa near the Indian Ocean. His parents died when he was two, leaving his grandparents to raise him and sent him to Emory University School of Medicine to become a doctor in specialized medicine and served in the Vietnam war where he met Doctor Hatfield and worked by his side for nearly five years.
During that time, they traveled to the United States training nurses and junior doctors for the Red Cross. He met his young wife Renee at a local dance in a small town of Evansville, Kentucky and was married a week later. Not once has he ever looked back as he held a locket of her hair around his neck. He towered over most men reaching the height of seven feet tall because of his long legs, and built like a brick house (meaning a huge man made of huge muscles.) Having brown hair, blue eyes and a strong jawline. Like his grandfather and had his mother's aristocratic nose. Kollie loved his life as a doctor and being a father of two boys Frank and Mark who was the spitting image of him when he was a boy.
What was strange about this man was his bedside manner and the clothes he and his boys would wear. Doctor Hatfield had pulled out all the stops, by having this one ace up his sleeve. Since figuring out that the loincloth was causing more damage by increasing the infection, not to mention it was rubbing my skin raw; and the fact that I had to wear something other than a sheet if I was ever going to get out of bed. Or either that or simply go naked. Not that Ma and my two Downing sisters would have cared, considering they had seen me and my brother Aaron enough times that mattered no more and was the same for Will and Robert.
It happened to be then that I had met Doctor Whitmore for the first time; he was making his rounds and dressed in a long, flowing dress that barely covered his kneecaps. The bright yellows and swirls of orange. Well, they could blind a horse from a mile away. It looked, to me, even worse without my glasses as they blended together. I had to blink a lot just to get a clear image of him as he walked into my hospital room.
Ma and Pa gasped; their mouths hanging wide open, wide enough to catch flies. He would merely grin as he strode over, picking up the chart at the foot of my bed. His black beads reflecting off his hairy chest of what we could see of it. He had a long V-cut that went halfway down his bare chest. He wore short sleeves that were hemmed with black lace and along the bottom of the dress. I couldn't believe what I was seeing: a man wearing a dress; Instead of hospital scrubs and rubber hospital shoes replaced with sandals.
He gave me a quick wink and sat on the edge of my bed; crossing his hairy legs that would put my father's to shame, I am told by my grandmother. Not that he ever wore shorts, and especially not in public. My mother confirmed it years later, but to this day I have never seen them or have I ever seen him not fully dressed in the home or in public. He reached into his pocket removing a jar that held an old torn piece of cloth and small pieces of glass mingling with small bits of straw. It wasn't hard to guess that the source of the infection was mostly because of the scarecrow still naked in the old barn. Ma didn't find it at all funny as Doctor Hatfield came into the room.
Doc Hatfield laughed when he saw all our expressions as he introduced him to us after a brief hand hold hug and handshake and a pat on the back. Spying on the jar with the contents only made matters worse; mentioning. "So that old scarecrow has had the last laugh I see." But all he got was a scowl from Ma when she eyed the strange doctor in a dress and Doc Hatfield knew him personally. She felt as if someone had tricked her. I knew I was in trouble. To think that this man here and his family would soon become my best friends. The world is indeed a strange place. Don't laugh too hard at what I am about to tell you. It was not a mere coincidence or chance that Doctor Hatfield brought him of all the surgeons he knew; like I said his ace up his sleeve.
It wasn't long before what they had attended for me and my new embarrassing problem. As Doctor Whitmore introduced his wife Renee and his son Frank his son wearing an exact copy of what his father was wearing except his was blue or bluish as the colors ran together, while they introduced themselves, coming to his side as we shook hands.
Renee Roslyn Whitmore named after her Grandmother born and raised in a small backwoods town in Evansville, Kentucky and was married by the time she turned seventeen like most girls her age. She was small in stature like her mother at five feet six with long raven black hair and blue eyes. Her face rounded around the corners with a slim, but petite button nose, giving her the look of an angel according to her husband and her two boys. With a stubborn streak that could put a mule to shame, she gladly embraced being a stay-at-home mom. Throughout the long summer months, she showed the skill of a tailor. She was also renowned for her homespun clothing.
Frank was the oldest and took after his father with his short brown hair and bright blue eyes and chiseled chin. He was growing fast for a boy of fourteen almost six feet tall, and could put my friend Rocko's feet to shame at size fifteen at least. But he was his mother's pride and joy and had her stubborn streak, but he was smart as a whip and loved the outdoors like his brother Mark just a year younger than him and his best friend Peter, who I will introduce later.
Frank handed me a package wrapped in a brown paper, just begging to be opened. What I found shocked me to the core. I found a bright blue dress in the same style as Frank's and his father, and a pair of homemade sandals to boot. I groaned, setting them aside while everyone laughed except me and Ma and Pa as they stood there stunned. Doctor Whitmore informed me that was going to be my new clothing known as a "Kitenge gown" for men. To me, a dress was a dress, and guys didn't wear dresses. Again, streaking was becoming more and more a better idea than wearing some dress. As soon Ma got over the shock she said. "You got to be kidding, Doctor?"
Doctor Whitmore calmly explained he needed me out of that bed in two days no more no less. I couldn't just wear a sheet and still move around freely. Sure, I could go naked if I so desired, but having a houseful of women didn't sound all that appealing either.
Since Mary and Lizzy have taken up residence there to watch over my family while Pa and Ma spent quality time with me in the hospital. Grandma was busy taking care of my brother and her son, Don. (Richard's character in my series; who has told me to leave him out of this; so, you can only read about him in my series. If I want a place to stay; I will leave him out altogether, including pictures.)
They came to a settlement. After a good look over by both doctors; I was sent home wearing a dress and a pair of comfortable sandals, not that I wore them much. So, I could almost go completely barefoot and still work on the farm and two pairs of crutches to keep the stress off my legs and chest. (I had pictures, but my father burned them with the rest of the Downing's stuff. Which I will go into more detail when we arrive at the said event.)
It was nice to be home again as I smelled the fresh country air while my Pa carried me into the house. I was certainly glad I was decent despite I was wearing a dress that barely covered my knees. While everyone yelled welcome home, with a big banner across the fireplace and streamers and balloons in every color. Pa laid me on the couch so I could visit with everyone.
When all my family saw me in a dress, I felt embarrassed, but one look in the eyes and faces of my sisters and brothers made me realize it wouldn't matter if I could have worn a clown suit and wouldn't matter one lick on how they felt about me. My sisters kissed me over and over my face and head, until Ma had to rescue me so I could come up for air. My aunts nearly hugged me to death, adding more bruises to my already sore body.
I never saw my other sisters Susan and Becky until later that day as they passed my bedroom and sneered angrily when they saw me alive and well; being prodded along by my Aunts. While Ma sat in a big chair doing some sewing keeping an eye on me; I did my homework, which had piled up since I was in the hospital. I had another pair of new glasses waiting for me with a note from my Grandmother stating that she was staying with my parents hoping to protect my brother.
The State felt since they could not determine who started the fight. There was no reason that Aaron and my sisters should not live at home with my parents, and there was not a single mark on either child to prove otherwise. There was no reason they could find in separating them from their children. Again, our words against theirs did nothing to sway them. But having Grandma at my house, she simply sent my sister to my aunts to levity the stress; without informing the State. The matter was on the hush, hush side as for as everyone else was concerned.
Pa was so angry he and the boys plowed the hay field nearly until nightfall. Pa and Judge Parker had Mr. Stringham put up security cameras, the kind they used in banks and the police station. One on the porch and in the living room, attached to an alarm system that would notify the police just by a simple push of a button by the door; so, whenever my parents came over, they'd be recording every visit from now on.
They would never overlook proof again when it concerned my parents dirty tricks. Yet, I suffered from slow healing as the damage had already been done. The summer picnic was coming closer to the new school year. My wounds would keep me home for the entire summer and part of the school year, according to Doctor Whitmore, when he came to visit, bringing the rest of his family to help me and my brothers cope of being in a gown.
There was no way I'd wear a girl's gown made for men in public. As I stared at it until my eyes bleed sore from the colors. Even though my Downing sisters didn't mind me wearing one, my brothers seemed bothered by it, but wouldn't say anything about it at least to me or to Ma's face. Even my aunts grumbled under their breath while they smiled, seeing me sitting in bed doing my homework. Every time I thought I'd catch them they immediately turned away from broaching the subject re-tucking the sheet behind me, so my butt didn't show. I stopped caring about it since the world had seen more than its share.
I spent more time wearing a sheet either on the couch or in my bed instead of wearing an eyesore. Ma and my sisters would ensure my coverage by folding a large towel over my waist and the back of me, or cutting down a sheet small enough to prevent excessive sweating in the summer heat, I could have gone naked far as they were concerned, but that wasn't going too happen. Not with Susan and Becky in the house.
Ma couldn't stand it anymore, knowing I needed to get out of that bed after more than a week; a lot longer than she had promised the doctor. She called in reinforcement to help. That was when I met the rest of my new friends that made the world a brighter place.
Ma threw a dinner party to thank everyone for all the help they had given us. But Pa and we boys had other plans in mind. Having my aunts take them on a long-deserved shopping trip. Taking Sam and picking up Aaron and Grandma along the way. This, in turn, gave us boys the opportunity, with Pa's help to give our gifts of love we had been saving for. Pa chipped in the rest that we were short to help pay for the new dinnerware for Ma, and gifts for the aunts. Even a small bottle of perfume and necklaces for the girls, including Susan and Becky so they wouldn't feel left out; except theirs was store-bought nothing fancy compared to the ones we were giving to our sisters.
Robert cut heart shapes out of oak, and I carved each of their names in one and sanded and polished then stained each one until each of them shined into complete heart shapes as smooth as a baby's bottom. Robert then took them and hollowed them out and fitted a clasp and a small golden hinge. Pa shrunk down the pictures of us boys and placed them into a locket while he picked up the gift orders. Will carefully put them on a gold chain and wrapped them in tissue paper. In the prettiest blue and pink box, he could find topped with a blue or red bow. Susan and Becky were in a plain cardboard box with leftover white Christmas bow, wrapped in pretty wrapping paper.
Pa had an extra surprise for Ma hidden a way which made this the perfect moment to give it to them. Pa covered all the bases with Mr. Whitmore and his boys. They had agreed to our plans, finding out they were looking for an opportunity to give their Ma something special as well.
While the woman went shopping, we boys set our plans in motion. Pa laid me on the couch with a brand-new Swiss pocketknife that he had given me as a welcome home present, placing a bucket near the couch and a sack of potatoes, carrots, and apples to peel. And a dripper for the peelings, which the pigs ate happily; while Pa and my brothers prepared a dinner that would astound them when they returned.
Marry and Lizzy made sure to keep them busy long enough so we could set our plans in motion, which included more guests, Ma had in invited. Not aware of the plans Pa had already set ahead of time. Having Pa set out the table outside on the new foundation behind the house. Yes, sir, it was going to be a dinner party to remember.
The table looked great on the foundation with twinkle lights strung around and soft music playing in the background. Ma's new dinnerware sparkled as we boys placed the new linen napkins with a red rose on a plate for each of the girls. We piled the presents high in the corner with pretty wrapping, and we tied bows with a name tag that I had spent time on, using my best handwriting script. Pa gave me two choices: either the dress or spend the evening in my room lying in a boring bed.
I hated the idea of being seen in that dress especially in front of strangers, but I hated being left in a room by myself more while the fun was out there. Pa dressed me in the gown and carried me down the hall, placing me on the couch until our visitors arrived. Long before everyone else arrived, Mary called to make sure that we would be ready; Pa said the Whitmores had arrived, but that the boys needed a bath and asked her to stall for another hour or two.
Robert answered the door with his mouth wide open, seeing a man wearing a bright green dress and long black beads around his neck. His eyes narrowed on three boys as Mr. Whitmore introduced Frank, Mark and their friend Peter Price: all wearing similar gowns and sandals, holding packages under their arms.
Mark didn't have the height yet like his brother just under five feet, but that could change as his father put his arm around him. Sometimes he felt bad that his grades weren't as good as his brother, but he was an excellent athlete when came to track and field. He loved how the wind would blow through his light brown hair. Girls always seemed in awe of his deep blue eyes that were like his mother's.
Sometimes he'd have to fight them off with a stick or run even faster to get away from them. He loved working with leather, and he helped his mother making leather goods. Some would say he was a mamma's boy and tease him, but his brother made life bearable whenever he got into a fight and would come to his rescue; they were like two peas in a pod.
Peter Price held a special place in the Whitmore's hearts, going beyond just being a best friend. The Whitmores considered Peter Price more than just a best friend, but also like family, starting when he was thirteen years old. He mostly lived with his grandmother Who worked under Mr. Whitmore at the Payson Hospital as a nurse ever since his parents died when he was a baby. He was too young to remember them and always wished he had brothers so he wouldn't feel alone in the world. He had blond hair and blue eyes and was the smallest of the three, but he didn't mind. To him, this was where he belonged, and he loved them just the same and they consider him as their own; relation had nothing to do with it.
After making the introductions, the boys quickly removed their sandals and set them by the door. Frank explained Ma doesn't allow shoes in the house; his Pa confirming it was true, removing his as he set his right next to his boys and his wife's before stepping into the house. All Pa could do was open the door, watching a rainbow of swirling colors walk by them. Robert introduced the boys to me while I stared at the brightly colored gowns that would knock a bird out of the sky. Mr. Whitmore laughed took a seat next to me, and his wife taking a chair across from us; my Pa taking the other.
Robert and Will sat on the floor next to me staring at the gowns that most likely make them go blind. Mr. Whitmore coughed, stating why he was here; that there was a reason why his sons and friends wore these gowns. Placing a photo album on my lap, he began his story. Apparently, he was born and raised in a small town that bordered Eastern Africa. When he was a boy, they were poor like most; not having expensive clothing. The boys and girls would wear flour sacks sewn together; they were durable, cheap and comfortable. More so during the hot summer months.
We looked down at the photograph, seeing boys the same age as me and my brothers playing kickball in the street wearing gowns similar to mine and his sons. I passed the photo around so everyone could see it. As he continued on with his story about how he ended up here. Doctor Whitmore traveled from place to place with a small nursing staff, which included Peter's Grandmother. Helping kids like me that needed special care other doctors could not give them. Including help with severe night terrors of abused children.
Doctor Hatfield left nothing to chance. He knew from experience that I would wake up screaming in the hospital night after night. Ma and Pa coaxing me, calming me and telling me that nothing or nobody was going to harm me; but the dreams continued regardless of. (Nothing has changed after all these years. I still cry at night after I had awakened from them. I still fear my dreams.)
It was Frank's turn as I watched him take off his gown standing only in his boxers; while he turned, letting me see all the scars that dug deep across his chest and down his legs. Explaining that while riding his bike, he hit a rock, causing him to roll down a hill into barbwire and breaking his leg in two places. This gown was the only clothing he could wear other than a sheet. Mark fell out of a tree and rolled in poison ivy. Peter had chicken pox last summer. Frank and Mark handed Will and Robert each a package finding a new Kitenge gown and pair of sandals. Robert's was bright green and Will's a bright sunflower yellow.
All they could do was stare at the dresses in their hands. Not knowing what to say. Mark laughed. "Besides, it's fun when you spin like this." Twirling around making the colors blend as the gowns ringed around him, which in turn made us laugh. Robert and Will quickly ran down the hall to change and while the rest of us laughed. It wasn't long before they to were spinning, making my ribs hurt from laughing so hard. But time was wasting and as Pa quickly told the boys to bathe quickly hanging up the gowns for later. This was going to be a party like no other.
Pa and the Whitmore's quickly put the finishing touches on the table and doing up the dishes. Man, did we look smart? Robert and Will dressed in nice suits with a black bow tie and polished shoes. Me in my blue gown going barefoot as Pa placed me at the table next to the Whitmore boys and their friend Peter. It was six o'clock on the dot when the girls arrived from their shopping trip. Will, Robert, and Pa standing by the door waiting for the ladies to enter the house.
Pa gave a bow to Ma, handing her a red rose with a quick peck on the cheek. Robert followed suit with Julie and Will did the same for Anna. I turned to give Grandma a rose as they stood in shock seeing the Whitmores and the three boys dressed in gowns.
Ma was speechless, seeing the table and the fine dinnerware with candlelight. She gasped, trying to hold back the tears. Pa announced. "Dinner is served, ladies. If you would care to freshen up while the boys finish the dishes." Robert and Pa gave another bouquet to my aunts and Mrs. Whitmore and each of my sisters a single rose.
Susan and Becky sneered in contempt as we watched them throw down the roses, and stomp rudely down the hall with my Aunts and Grandmother following closely behind. Grandma tried to apologize for their rude behavior by grabbing some nice dresses for the ladies. While Robert and Pa dressed Sam and Aaron in nice play clothes, they didn't bother with shoes or socks, knowing without a doubt that the boys would be quickly left behind within the hour. Besides, Ma hated it when wore our shoes in the house and complained often enough about the dirt and scuffs on her wooden floors.
Robert, Will, and Pa stood as they led the ladies to the table. Each pulling a chair out and sliding them in behind them; Mr. Whitmore followed suit with his wife. Robert and Will served everyone as if they were waiters at a fancy restaurant. Pa put on soft music from the radio and taking his seat at the other end of the table; Susan and Becky glared angrily at the boys across from them. Even more so when they stared at me with such hate and contempt as they merely pushed the food around on their plates.
Susan expressed, "This food is not suitable for pigs, and I prefer starving over being poisoned by filthy backwoods mongrels." Grandma hissed angrily, almost slapped her; but kept her anger in control. Not easily, mind you, as I watched Aunt Lizzy whisper in her ear that made Susan's eyes pop. Whatever she said, it brought my sister's attitude in check; for she was silent through the rest of dinner.