Read Online The Walking Man by Wright Forbucks - Free Book Online Page B

condition that over-stimulated his nervous system, Smitty was also diaphoretic, which meant the slightest physical exertion caused his body to sweat profusely—like he'd just exited a sauna. Fortunately, I couldn't feel the wet spots Smitty left on my clothes after picking me up, and gratefully, perhaps due to the excessive consumption of Gatorade, Smitty's odiferous sweat was usually masked by the scent of lemons.
    To sane people, Smitty's perspiring bulk cast him as an imposing character—until he spoke. Smitty had a slight nasal voice that slurred as if he had a cup of peanut butter in his mouth. His sound caused people too busy to listen to instantly conclude that Smitty was mentally retarded. Unfortunately, this misdiagnosis was bolstered by the fact that Smitty was illiterate due to dyslexia; a condition Smitty once told me caused all multi-syllabic words to resemble "crocodiles." I thought he was trying to be funny, but I wasn't sure. Smitty had a wicked sense of humor but it was rarely aired for the entertainment of others.
    Most ironically, Smitty's physical presence effectively disguised that he was an outright genius with prodigious perception skills. To convince him of this, I once gave Smitty a verbal IQ-Test and he scored 154. Smitty's intelligence enabled him to draw extensive inferences from the slightest fact. This skill gave him an astounding ability to interpret the words, deeds, and looks of others. Smitty could tell exactly what people were thinking just by looking at their faces. On a daily basis, he would demonstrate this skill by commenting on each passerby as he pushed me down the hallways of Leicester County Hospital in my wheelchair. "Oh no, Nancy just found a lump on her breast," he would say. "Angie's pregnant… Whoa, Mary's in love…" He was never wrong. He could even read the deadpan Dr. Bonjour, whom he called "Doctor Death."
    But, even more profound than his weird physicality and hidden intelligence, was Smitty's infinite kindness. Smitty was a proverbial Teddy Bear. He had a deep appreciation of beauty, patted small things gently, and worried about his friends. Once, during an extended mid-winter power failure, in tears, Smitty removed frozen fish from the ward's tropical aquarium and buried them outdoors, not wanting to mock their prior existence by flushing them down the toilet. Then there was me… Perhaps due to the fact that we filled in each other's missing pieces, Smitty treated me as if I was the most important person in the world. He visited me every day and advocated for my every need. Also, he wasn't shy about telling me the obvious things I needed to do to live a better life. In short, Smitty cared about me like no other. So, over time, we became "ABFs," absolute best friends.
     
    ~ ~ ~
     
    My other 'son', Rodrigo, was nothing like Smitty. He was unlovable, yet possessed an irresistible comical rogue nature and a dysfunctional relationship with money. Rodrigo was tiny and he looked like a rat. In fact, if you saw him nibbling cheese you would instantly call for an exterminator. When I first met Rodrigo, he was doing three months in Leicester County Correctional facility for running a pyramid scheme out of the Shyshire Elks Club. I never got the details, but it involved raffle tickets and land in Florida. It was Rodrigo's goal in life to make money without working. He once told me "scamming was part of his DNA."
    It looked like an electromyography technician was perpetually shocking Rodrigo; his tiny blue eyes bulged and sporadically twitched as he spoke. He wasn't albino but he had white hair, which he combed in the style of Julius Caesar. His face was narrow and featured a long bumpy nose that had snake-eyes nostrils. He had pink skin and a thin white beard. Nervous energy kept Rodrigo's weight to a minimum, so even athletic-cut T-shirts rippled on his bony frame. I once asked Rodrigo if he was five feet tall and he responded, "Ten bucks. Ten bucks." Rodrigo often