and he’s certainly never been in trouble or done any drugs, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“I wasn’t trying to
get
at anything, Arlene. Omar just seems bored and not sure of himself. Anyway, I have to get back to work.”
“You should go talk to somebody in Social Services so you can get some kind of financial assistance while they’re there.”
“It’s only temporary, Arlene. And I’m their grandmother. If I need help, I know how to ask for it. And I don’t need their help.”
I just shake my head, stand up, and give her the hug I promised. I don’t mean to be such a bitch. I really don’t. I think it’s just because I want the very best for the people I love, and I get impatient when they don’t see some of the tragic mistakes they’re making. If I didn’t care I wouldn’t say anything and just keep my thoughts to myself. But I do care. Unfortunately, some folks can’t handle the truth, which is why they get defensive instead of just looking at another point of view. I don’t think I have all the answers. But some folks don’t seem to know what questions to ask.
Nurse Kim
G ood morning, Mr. Lee,” I say, shaking him. “Wake up!”
He opens his eyes and smiles. He may not recognize his wife some days but he sure as hell don’t have no problem recognizing me.
“You ready for your shower or you want your breakfast first?”
He shakes his head no, then points to his mouth.
Men. They’re all so fucking predictable. Even the old ones. I reach between the mattress on his side of the bed and grab his bottle of blue pills. I take one out and push it into his mouth. I pick up his glass of lukewarm water and put the straw up to his mouth. He sucks and swallows. I lift the covers and toss ’em to the side. He got his morning hard-on, and oh what a hard-on it is. It’s easy to understand why Miss Betty would have a hard time letting all of this fall by the wayside, and the funny thing is Mr. Lee don’t look no sixty-five, none whatsoever. I been lathering him up and down close to a year now and I can’t lie, I get a lot of pleasure out of touching him.
I unbuckle my sandals and kick ’em off. I pull my T-shirt over my head and lay it flat at the foot of the bed, on Miss Betty’s side. I watch Mr. Lee’s eyes get bigger. Glassier. Almost like they’re breathing as much as he’s starting to. I unhook my bra and drop it on the floor. Then I climb on the bed so I’m standing over him. I unzip my skirt and step out of it. Then throw it on the floor, too. Mr. Lee starts to moan. I wiggle out of my thong and drop it next to his face. I can see him trying to inhale me. He moans again, louder this time, and then opens his mouth. This is when I grab the headboard and drop to my knees. I feel his warm lips against my lips and that little muscle gets firm and fiery and I move like I’m rowing a boat and I ain’t in no hurry to get there, but when I can’t stand it no more I grab the headboard and press hard against his lips until I hear myself yell, “Shit!” But I’m greedy, so I do the exact same thing until I explode again and again and then I lean back and pull off his pajama bottoms and that thing is jumping around like it’s looking for something, so I grab it in my hands and make it be still by sliding all the way down on it. It only takes three or four minutes to make him yell out, “Oh, Kimmie! Oh, Kimmie!”
Which is when I get up. I love being his breakfast. I have to admit, out of all the old farts I’ve tended to, Mr. Lee is the best, except for maybe Mr. Jackson. He had dentures. I made him take those suckers out because his gums were so warm and smooth I hardly had to move at all.
He falls on back to sleep and I lie next to him, turn on the TV, and watch the rest of the
Today
show. I don’t know why I like that Katie Couric. She looks like a little girl and got a little-girl voice and a little body and she even got little-girl teeth. When Mr. Lee wakes up, I take
“I wasn’t trying to
get
at anything, Arlene. Omar just seems bored and not sure of himself. Anyway, I have to get back to work.”
“You should go talk to somebody in Social Services so you can get some kind of financial assistance while they’re there.”
“It’s only temporary, Arlene. And I’m their grandmother. If I need help, I know how to ask for it. And I don’t need their help.”
I just shake my head, stand up, and give her the hug I promised. I don’t mean to be such a bitch. I really don’t. I think it’s just because I want the very best for the people I love, and I get impatient when they don’t see some of the tragic mistakes they’re making. If I didn’t care I wouldn’t say anything and just keep my thoughts to myself. But I do care. Unfortunately, some folks can’t handle the truth, which is why they get defensive instead of just looking at another point of view. I don’t think I have all the answers. But some folks don’t seem to know what questions to ask.
Nurse Kim
G ood morning, Mr. Lee,” I say, shaking him. “Wake up!”
He opens his eyes and smiles. He may not recognize his wife some days but he sure as hell don’t have no problem recognizing me.
“You ready for your shower or you want your breakfast first?”
He shakes his head no, then points to his mouth.
Men. They’re all so fucking predictable. Even the old ones. I reach between the mattress on his side of the bed and grab his bottle of blue pills. I take one out and push it into his mouth. I pick up his glass of lukewarm water and put the straw up to his mouth. He sucks and swallows. I lift the covers and toss ’em to the side. He got his morning hard-on, and oh what a hard-on it is. It’s easy to understand why Miss Betty would have a hard time letting all of this fall by the wayside, and the funny thing is Mr. Lee don’t look no sixty-five, none whatsoever. I been lathering him up and down close to a year now and I can’t lie, I get a lot of pleasure out of touching him.
I unbuckle my sandals and kick ’em off. I pull my T-shirt over my head and lay it flat at the foot of the bed, on Miss Betty’s side. I watch Mr. Lee’s eyes get bigger. Glassier. Almost like they’re breathing as much as he’s starting to. I unhook my bra and drop it on the floor. Then I climb on the bed so I’m standing over him. I unzip my skirt and step out of it. Then throw it on the floor, too. Mr. Lee starts to moan. I wiggle out of my thong and drop it next to his face. I can see him trying to inhale me. He moans again, louder this time, and then opens his mouth. This is when I grab the headboard and drop to my knees. I feel his warm lips against my lips and that little muscle gets firm and fiery and I move like I’m rowing a boat and I ain’t in no hurry to get there, but when I can’t stand it no more I grab the headboard and press hard against his lips until I hear myself yell, “Shit!” But I’m greedy, so I do the exact same thing until I explode again and again and then I lean back and pull off his pajama bottoms and that thing is jumping around like it’s looking for something, so I grab it in my hands and make it be still by sliding all the way down on it. It only takes three or four minutes to make him yell out, “Oh, Kimmie! Oh, Kimmie!”
Which is when I get up. I love being his breakfast. I have to admit, out of all the old farts I’ve tended to, Mr. Lee is the best, except for maybe Mr. Jackson. He had dentures. I made him take those suckers out because his gums were so warm and smooth I hardly had to move at all.
He falls on back to sleep and I lie next to him, turn on the TV, and watch the rest of the
Today
show. I don’t know why I like that Katie Couric. She looks like a little girl and got a little-girl voice and a little body and she even got little-girl teeth. When Mr. Lee wakes up, I take
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