Page 13 of Mountain Man Bad Boy

He grinned. “Hooray. Thanks.”

“It’s not my call,” I hastened to explain. “But I’ll see what I can do.” I slipped out of the room without waiting to see his response. I was in way over my head with this attraction. It would be a blessing in disguise to see him released into the communal area, where we could no longer be locked into a confined space together. And then he would check himself out, and I would never see him again. What a relief that would be, not having to contain my desire any longer. Then why didn’t I feel relieved? Instead, I felt sad that our time together was at an end.

7

PORTER

Just as Gina had promised, I was moved from my locked room to a shared room on the first floor. One of the orderlies, Brad, showed me around.

“This is the game room.” He gestured to a room populated by couches, sporting half a dozen large screens where residents played somewhat dated video games. In one corner was a space for low-tech entertainment like cards and chess. Two older residents sat facing each other across a chessboard. “This is the cafeteria.” We passed a smallish room full of round tables. It was empty at the moment. “This is the gym.” He paused at a closet-sized space that boasted two treadmills and a floor-to-ceiling mirror. A set of free weights was crowded into one corner.

I noticed none of the rooms had doors. None of the dormitory rooms had doors either, so when Brad dropped me off at mine, I discovered that I would have no privacy for the remainder of my stay. I had no luggage with me, nothing to unpack or settle into my new digs.

There were two cots in this room, which was almost exactly the same as my old room. Instead of a toilet, there were some shelves with generic reading material, including the twelve-step book and a Bible. I sat down on one of the beds and looked at the wall for a moment. There was nothing interesting in here, so I decided to flex my newfound freedom by walking around the common area.

There was a nurses’ station in the middle, staffed by competent-looking men and women. Gina was nowhere to be seen, so I moved on. There were a few closed doors on this floor, and when I peeked through the safety glass, I could see group therapy sessions, people sitting in circles on folding chairs. With nothing better to do, I decided to take advantage of the “gym.”

I squeezed inside and selected a treadmill. I picked a 5k setting with hills and started off. There was no television or music to keep me company, and after thirty minutes, not only was I bored, but I was also sweaty. I moved on to the weights. After more than a week of atrophy, I could feel the difference in my muscles. Hauling lumber would be difficult when I finally got back to work. I decided to visit the gym every day if I could. At least it would give me something to do.

I drifted into the game room next and found an open console. My choices were Atari games or Super Mario Brothers. I guessed that the more modern games were off-limits due to violent content. That or they didn’t want us online trying to score dope from someone halfway around the world. The game took me back to a time in my childhood that had been alright. I remembered having sleepovers at Mike’s house and playing Super Mario Brothers. It had been old even then but still a classic.

At noon, the residents got up in unison. “Lunch,” one of them explained. I turned my console off and followed, wondering if lunch would be the same white sandwiches that I had in solitary. It was. I might thank this treatment center for saving my life, but I wouldn’t have good things to say about the menu.

We were free to choose our seats in the cafeteria, so after I gathered my tray, I picked an empty chair and sat down. A handful of recovering addicts looked up at me with sallow faces. One woman smiled, her teeth blackened and her hair whisper thin. Another man moved his juice closer to his plate, as if I would steal it.

“Hello,” the woman said.

“Hello,” I greeted her, focused on my own meal.

“Where’re you from?” she asked.

“Singer’s Ridge.”

“Where?” Her voice had a screeching quality that made me want to wince.

“It’s a small town,” I explained.

“Oh.” She sniffed.

“Ever been to Miami?” one of the other addicts asked.

I turned to look at him. He was younger than me, with holes in his ears so big that the lobes draped halfway to his shoulders. I shook my head.

“I been,” the woman said.

“I’m just stuck in Nashville ’cause I got stopped for a DUI,” the younger man explained.

I shook my head, sympathizing with him. This treatment procedure was one hell of a punishment for driving drunk. Then again, drunk driving killed innocent people, so maybe the bastard had it coming to him. Either way, I decided I didn’t really care to know a whole lot about any of these strangers. I ate my meal in silence and excused myself as soon as I could.

Gina found me in my room, lying on my bed, reading the Bible. She peered inside, looking for me. My heart thrilled with that one little revelation. I knew she was assigned to me and probably checked in on all of her patients, but the fact that she was, at the moment, looking for me took my breath away. I sat up immediately, putting the book down.

“Find anything good to read?” she asked from the entrance.

“Just the Bible.” I gestured to the open book on my pillow. “I guess it’s called the ‘Good Book’ for a reason.”

She sat down on the bed opposite mine, smiling as if we had a running joke. “And what is that reason, do you think?”

“I don’t know,” I said, warming to the topic. “It has a lot of sex and violence. If video games are out of the question, then the Bible ought to be off-limits.”

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