Read Online Turtleface and Beyond by Arthur Bradford - Free Book Online

across my back. I was very startled by this. I followed her out of the cafeteria and she handed me a folded-up paper towel and then turned away.
    On the square of paper towel she had written, in crayon, “I am not crazy. Meet me. OK?”
    By the time I had read it she was gone. I tried to figure out where she wanted to meet me and was frustrated at the vagueness of this request. But then, that afternoon, as I walked away from the main building toward the bus stop to go home, I saw her sitting on the side steps smoking a cigarette. Most of the residents were not allowed to smoke. She had permission though.
    I walked up to her. “I read your note,” I said.
    â€œGood,” she said.
    â€œWhat did it mean though?”
    â€œI can’t discuss that right now,” she said, looking away.
    â€œOkay,” I said.
    We talked a while longer about things unrelated to the note. She told me she was from Wisconsin. She fidgeted a lot. Abruptly, in the middle of a sentence, she stood up and limped back up the stairs and went inside.
    Like I said before, I knew it was irresponsible to be flirting like that with a resident. But she didn’t seem “mental” to me. She just seemed nervous. And she was older than me. At that point in my life I assumed that wisdom came with age.
    A few days later I was working an overnight shift and she startled me. It was nearly 4:00 a.m. and I was on the covered walkway between the residential halls. She darted out from the shadows and took hold of my arm.
    â€œThis way,” she said.
    We went into the exercise center and there she removed my clothes and then she took off her pants. I wanted her to take off her shirt too, but she wouldn’t. She lay me down and climbed on top and we had very quick, hurried sex on one of the firm vinyl-covered mats. When it was over she grabbed her pants and shuffled off, leaving me there naked. I gathered up my clothes and finished my shift.
    From that point on, whenever I had a night shift, we would meet up in the exercise room and have awkward, half-clothed sex. We rarely spoke and when my shift was over I would walk home in the dim morning light wondering if it hadn’t been a dream.
    This pattern continued for perhaps two months and then she stopped meeting me. I tried to catch her eye in the cafeteria during the day but she wouldn’t even look my way. I was sad and a little heartbroken, but took it in stride. I was beginning to notice a pattern in my relationships with older women, or so I thought.
    Elsa and I hadn’t spoken or made eye contact in over a month when she approached me in the hallway and shoved another folded-up paper towel into my hand. This time she stayed there and waited for me to read it.
    It said “pregnancy test.”
    â€œYou took one?” I asked her.
    She shook her head. “I need you to buy one,” she said. “Buy one for me.”
    â€œYou’re pregnant?”
    â€œI need you to buy a test,” she said, “from a drugstore.”
    â€œOkay…” I said.
    I fretted over this for hours until my workday was done. Then I went to the pharmacy and picked out the simplest-looking test. I was mortified to be seen buying such an item. I looked over the directions and it explained that the woman had to pee onto a strip of paper. The paper would show one red line if she wasn’t pregnant and two if she was. What was it about pee that told you a woman was pregnant? I considered tampering with the test, peeing on the strip of paper myself so that the result would come out negative, but then I realized this wouldn’t actually change things. I wasn’t thinking rationally.
    I returned to Riverwood and slipped the testing kit to Elsa. She thanked me and went on her way. I wanted to wait around for the result, but there was no good excuse for me being there after the end of my shift. So I went home and didn’t sleep at all.
    The next day Elsa handed me