The Zinnias

The Zinnias

She has a flower tattooed on the inside of her wrist. I hold so tightly onto it, that I would have bent back and broken some of the tender petals. Torn them off. One by one. She loves me. She loves me not.

         I just hold on too tightly. All the time. I’ll break this flower. I’ll break her. Is it a daisy? No. A zinnia she said. The ones like her grandmother used to grow.

         If I kept squeezing, would I break her? Her bone is the flower’s stem. Can I pick off her fingers like the petals. She loves me? She loves me not?

         There’s a vein that runs under the flower in her pale skin. There is a needle in it. The machine it is attached to buzzes like a bee. That’s what it is really. It is a bee pollinating the flower. It fills her up again. With her sweet nectar. The stuff I took from her when I bruised her.

         I must still be lit. I’m not even making sense to myself.

         It’s daylight now. Wasn’t it dark when we first came here? The sunlight pours through the one window cut into the cinder block walls and washes the room with a sickly yellow. Washes over her with a sickly yellow. The green and blue bruises glow. Her lips are so pale, except for the blue around them. Maybe she’s cold. Maybe she will wake up if I can warm her. No. Maybe she needs to rest. Of course she does.

         This room is ugly. She’s too beautiful to be in here. Even now, with her dyed black hair in her eyes and crusted with the blood that oozed from her brow, she’s beautiful. She is so small. Too small. And the room is ugly. The blanket is ugly. The backless gown is ugly. The leaking sink is ugly. The chipped rubber tile is ugly.

         No. It’s beautiful. It’s beautiful because she is in it. It’s practically heaven.

         But it’s drab. Why aren’t there any flowers in here? Aren’t they supposed to send flowers when someone is in the hospital?

         Who is “they”? Of course. Nobody knows. How many hours have we been here? Why don’t I wear a watch? It’s seven. Ten hours. I haven’t heard her voice in ten hours. I haven’t hurt her in ten hours.

         I should call someone. Who? Her sister. No. Not her sister. Cunt. Her mother. Yes. I don’t have the number. They have Information for that. Nurse, is it zero for information? Or nine, zero? Thank you.

         “I need a listing please.”

         “Margaret,”

         “Jesus Christ. I don’t remember her last name. She remarried you know. Everybody remarries now.”

         “Of course not. I’m sorry.”

         I’ll call her work then. So that she doesn’t get written up for being late.

         “Lea’s under the weather.”

         “Yes.”

         “Tomorrow or next day.”

         “I’ll tell her.”

         Fucking dick.

         I’ll watch TV. But I’ll keep it muted, so she can rest. There’s no cable here. It’s because this is an indigent hospital. I saw a family in the lobby and I know they were wetbacks. They don’t bother to speak English. I know they don’t pay taxes either. We don’t have insurance is why we came here, but really we pay for it with our taxes. Not like those wetbacks in the lobby.

         They have her head wrapped. They did an X-Ray when got here and said she had a broken jaw. The fat nurse, with the red hair, pulled out two teeth from the side of her cheek when they were examining her. They said they’d keep her sedated until after her surgery. That’s why she’s still asleep. She was awake when I brought her in. They said the surgery would be at one this afternoon, but who really knows what the hell is going on in the hospital. For all I know, it could be tonight or tomorrow before they finally get her back there and fix her up right.

         Really, I’d wish they would hurry, because now that my buzz is gone, I’m feeling kind of cold in here. They keep these damn places so cold. And really I could use something to eat. I’m starving actually. It hurts. Maybe when they come to take her back, I can go down and get something to eat. They only serve healthy food in the cafeteria, and that’s alright with me because I really do try to eat right and what not, but I’m hungover and just need a greasy burger and fries.

         I just want out of this room. It’s so ugly. I don’t know why they can’t at least hang up a picture of flowers or something. Maybe a landscape since you really can’t see anything out of that little window. Hell, I’d take a picture of the devil’s dick if it took my eyes of these ugly off white, sick yellow walls. They look like bruises after a week or so.

         I don’t want Lea to wake up and see this place like this. She really is pretty. She likes pretty things too. Like flowers. And she would like to see a picture on the wall. Really, I think the right picture to hang in here would be one of those photographs of the babies that are dressed up like flowers or whatever. They are just so cute and girls like that shit.

         I wait around for a few more hours looking at those same ugly yellow walls and finally I can’t take it any more. I’m hungry, but I’m also angry. I mean really how hard is it to find something nice to look at to put on the walls? It would really help the sick people feel better. But she’s not sick. She’s bruised. She’s broken.

         So I should get her flowers, right? That’s what I need to do. She’s not going to wake up for a while now, and I can go get her some stuff. Something, anything to make this room bearable. I bet there is a flower shop near here, or something. Maybe even a grocery store would have what I need.

         Either way, I have just got to get something to eat. I walk down the hallway. All the doors are open. I think I should close them as I go. I wouldn’t want anyone to be able to peak in and see me if I was in bed with my ass out in one of those thin, backless gowns. But really it’s not my problem. I do wonder how they get any sleep at all. It is really noisy in the hallway.

         I’m pulling out my cigarettes and lighter as I step off the elevator. I breathe in the dry tobacco as I walk through the lobby and out the double doors. I have it lit and am sipping in my first drag before the sliding doors can close behind me. I chuckle and nod toward the sucker in the wheel chair puffing in on his oxygen tank at the curb. He is wearing a flat-brimmed trucker hat and looking carefully and sadly into the parking lot for his ride. He looks back at me, but doesn’t give me the knowing shake of the head I expected. Instead, he looks at me hard for a few seconds. I wonder for a second whether he can see me at all because his eyes are glazed over and fixed on me. He doesn’t blink. I shrug him off and walk out into the parking lot where my truck is. If I keep this shit up, I’ll be exactly like him I think as I flick the cigarette away from me and watch it roll in the breeze on the asphalt.

         I see this yellow slip of paper under my windshield wiper immediately. I take it off the windshield and see “CITATION” printed at the top. That really is perfect, you know. My girl is upstairs on the fourth floor with her mouth busted up and they go and hassle me for twenty bucks for parking. That’s some bullshit. 

It always takes a couple of times of trying to get this old truck to start. I never really minded until last night when Lea was hurt so bad and it took me a couple of minutes to get the truck started. She moaned softly laying on the plastic seat while I fucked around trying to get it to start. I kept my hand on her back all the way. She was crying silently and deeply. Her body writhing in pain. But she wasn’t making any noise. I carried her into the emergency room. I don’t usually stumble when I’m drunk, but carrying her, I almost tripped on the rubber mat in front of those sliding glass doors.

There’s a Burger King just down the road, and that’s as good as anything for a hangover. It’s too bad Lea’s not here because she loves their shakes. Then again, since she’s got a busted jaw, she’ll probably be drinking a lot of shakes now. I only knew one person ever to have a broken jaw. It was in Junior High. There was this really skinny, wimpy kid that was in choir and stuff. I was actually in choir, too that year. He really was slight. Well, he was actually pretty tall and apparently they put him on the tallest step risers in the very back for every concert. Well, you aren’t supposed to keep your knees straight and tight. You can’t lock your knees. Everybody knew that. They told us a hundred times. But this dumbass locked his knees. Anyway, he fell down, and right off the back of the risers. He hit his jaw on the steps on his way down. He shattered it. They wired it shut for six weeks and he had to eat everything through a straw. He drank a lot of milkshakes and protein shakes. The thing was, he had to carry pliers around in case he threw up. Something about how, if he threw up and his mouth was wired shut, he could drown in his own puke. So he kept these little pliers in his pocket just case he needed to cut the wires. The wires looked like baleen.

I’m surprised that I remember that kid. We weren’t friends or anything. I actually have a really bad memory. Like, I’ve been trying and trying, but I don’t remember why I hurt Lea last night. I always have a hard time remembering things when I drink. I’m sure we had a fight. We always fight when I drink. When I don’t drink though, everything’s fine.

When I bite into my burger, my teeth grate against each other and a sharp pain fills my whole mouth and radiates to my ear. Maybe a cavity? It reminds about the teeth they pulled out of Lea’s mouth last night. I really hope they can fix that. She has a such a pretty smile.

That was the first thing I noticed about her the night that I met her at the bar. Maybe I wouldn’t have noticed such a little girl if it hadn’t been for her smile. When she smiles, she smiles with her whole face. Even if her mouth is covered, like by a blanket while we are laying on the couch watching a funny movie, you can see her smile in her eyes. Her eyes smile. If they can’t fix her teeth, she can just cover her mouth when she smiles and everyone will know because she smiles with her eyes.

When I met her, she was a waitress at this dirty little bar by the college. I knew she was eighteen because she worked there, but if she hadn’t been working, I might have thought she was still a kid. Well, more of a kid than me. She has bangs cut straight across her forehead. That’s the way little girls wear their hair. I was there to see this band from Memphis that only comes to Lubbock every couple of years. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have even gone out that night because I had to work the next day. That’s why we hit it off. Because I wasn’t really drinking hard that night. I liked her because she could carry seven cans of beer at once and she smiled when I ordered a Pabst. I guess she liked me too, because she gave me her number when I asked.

That was two years ago. Only it doesn’t seem like that long. I don’t even think the band from Memphis has been back since then. We moved in together about four months after that night. Mostly things are good. Mostly things are fine unless I’m drinking. I told her on the way to the hospital last night that I would stop. She didn’t say anything because she was bleeding from the mouth, but I think she’ll hold me to it. Maybe just a beer every now and then.

Really, I could use one right now. It’s really the only thing that gets rid of a hangover for me anymore. I would probably feel fine if I could get a couple of beers. But it’s Sunday, and they don’t sell beer until two on Sunday afternoons. As I pull into the grocery store parking lot, I think I’ll try to buy some anyway.

The store is pretty empty because most people in town go to church on Sunday. That’s just a Bible-belt thing. If I can’t get a beer, I’ll get an energy drink or something. I’m really starting to feel the night wearing on me. I’m really tired. But when you love somebody, you don’t leave them alone at the hospital. You stay with them, even if you’re mad. That’s what love is.

I should get her a card. I go to the cards first. I look at them for a while. Really, I don’t think she would want any of these. They are kind of cheesy. I read about a hundred of them. I don’t know if I should get an apology card or a “Get Well” card. Really, I need one that is both. I look for one for a while, but I can’t find one. I’m not about to buy two five dollar cards. I guess I’ll just get this “I Love You” card. That says it.

The beer is still locked up. Fuck.

I get over to the flower shop in the back of the store and there’s no one at the desk. I wait for about ten minutes before this old lady comes shuffling up from the front with a big vase of some kind of purple flower. She’s short and stout and her apron looks unnaturally long on her. I’m afraid she is going to trip over it. She sets it down and looks at me not through, but over her gold and pink bifocal glasses.

“I need some Zinnias.”

“No I know, but my girl is in the hospital with a busted jaw and they are her favorite so you got to help me out.”

“Well don’t you have anything that even kind of looks like a Zinnia.”

Names of flowers. I don’t know flowers. Really, I don’t know what the fuck she is talking about.

“Listen, I just need them.”

“Isn’t there somewhere in town that would have them?”

“I guess I’ll just take those pink ones there.”

I wouldn’t know the difference between a zinnia and carnation to save my life, except that I have looked at Lea’s tattoo every day for two years, and I know for a fact that these are not going to make her happy. But really what else does she want me to do? I’m just bringing these as a favor so she has something to look at other than those disgusting yellow walls. I will tell her that I asked for Zinnias. I will tell her that I went to two stores.

It’s only noon when I get back to my truck. So Lea’s probably still knocked out anyway. I forgot to get coffee or a Red Bull or something. I can barely keep my eyes open. I really don’t want to go back to the hospital yet, and it’s not like she is going to miss me. I decide to pull my truck across the street and stop next to the park and doze for a while.

I like seeing kids play. Most kids are alright which is weird because most grown ups are shit. I think Lea wants to have some kids, someday. But that girl really looks like a kid herself so I can’t picture her with her own babies. She has three nephews, two of them are twins, and they are only ten and eleven I think and are already about as tall as she is.

I’m thinking about her when I fall asleep. I’m trying to remember why I got so angry last night. It was probably stupid. Maybe I’ll remember when I wake up. I’m probably just too tired to think of it. Really, I can’t remember anything when I’m tired.

I don’t know how long I meant to sleep. I don’t think I really thought about it. But when I wake up, the sun is much lower in the sky than I wanted it to be. I try several times to start the truck. I finally get it started and then the clock in the dash flashes 4:41. Shit. She’s probably awake by now.

When I pull into the parking lot of the hospital, I see the parking patrol car idling through the rows checking each person’s parking stickers. I flip him off. Really some people just like to kick you while you’re down. My spot is several more rows away from the door than this morning. I look toward the double sliding doors. I halfway expect the old oxygen hauling bastard to still be waiting for his ride, but he’s gone. Instead there are two middle aged women in his place smoking. I know they must be related. The both are really skinny, abnormally so, with big hair sprayed into clouds above them. They mirror each other while waving away the smoke they exhale. Like after it leaves their lungs, it suddenly becomes offensive to them.

I pick up the card from the plastic sack. I should have gotten the “I’m Sorry” card. I am sorry. I know that no matter what you shouldn’t put your hands on a woman, or anyone really that is smaller than you. But maybe I should have gotten the “Get Well” card because otherwise she won’t know that I want her to get better. But that’s stupid. She will get better. She doesn’t need a card telling her too. Mostly, this “I Love You” card is just stupid. The teddy bear on the front of it holding a bunch of purple balloons is stupid. The glitter on it is stupid. I’m not going to give it to her. I can’t find a pen to sign it anyway. Really, I should just tell her that I love her.

Then I look over in the seat next to me. Next to the sticky dried puddle of Lea’s blood on the plastic, sits the bouquet of Zinnias. Really they are still carnations. Only they aren’t even really carnations anymore. They are completely limp. Fuck. I should have put them in water. Or at least put them under the seat while I slept so that the sun didn’t fry them.

So I have no card, no zinnias and really don’t have anything to say. And what else is there? She’s up there with her jaw wired shut, and can’t talk. So, if I go up there, I’m going to have to find something to say. If I don’t talk, there isn’t even anything to look at since I messed up the flowers and those damn walls are so ugly and bare. These flowers are starting to stink.

I toss them out the window and stare hard over the steering wheel up at the fourth floor. I pick a window that I figure is probably hers and stare at it. She probably can see me. She’s probably waiting for me.

“I’m really sorry, Babe.”

I turn the key. The truck fires up immediately. I smile and tap the wheel as I back out of the parking space pull out of the lot.