Tortuga Page 3

  “Good,” he nodded, “then you and I are in business. Let’s get with it. First the barber. He’s going to cut your hair, shave it. It’ll be more comfortable and easier to work with when the cast goes around your head,” he explained as a short, pudgy man entered the room. “Okay, Cano, make him bald.”

  “Yes sir,” Cano said and snapped open a cloth which he threw around me. “How you doin’, kid,” he smiled and began cutting. He talked continuously while he cut, and when he smiled his thin, penciled mustache turned up at the edges. “You got good hair, dark and wavy, the kind girls like,” he winked and rolled his eyes, ooh-la-la. “My poor mother, she used to say hair like this should be burned so the witches don’t get hold of it … they like to build nests in it. Just like a woman, huh, build a nest in your hair!” He roared with laughter and swept aside the hair he had cut. “My mother believed in witches … see?” he held up his hand. He had only four fingers. “She says I got this cause a curse was put on her when I was in her belly. Who knows. Dr. Steel, he wanted to make me a new finger, and I bet he could, these doctors can do anything nowadays, they’re getting too much power, like God, but I said, ‘No thanks, Doc, if I can clip hair with four fingers then I’m happy. Don’t go tampering with God’s ways’, I said to him …”

  He finished cutting, lathered the top of my head with thick, warm soap, slapped his razor on a leather strap and began shaving.

  “So how old are you, kid?” he asked.

  “Sixteen,” I answered.

  “You’re lucky, you still got lots of time in life. You’ll like it here. They got everything for you, a swimming pool, school, church, good food, TV, games, everything. For some of the kids it’s better than home … some don’t wanna leave after awhile …”

  I felt cold as the razor shaved swathes across the top of my head.

  “So what happened to you?” he asked as he wiped his razor on a cloth on my chest.

  “Accident—”

  “Ah, life is full of accidents. Too many kids get hurt nowadays. Polio, epilepsy, everything … sometimes I get sad when I see it all. Wonder why God would do a thing like that. One day I asked Filo. You came with Filo, right? Well, he’s a smart man. Must be over a hundred years old and still carting the kids around. Anyway, you know what he said? He said it’s just a waystation on the journey of life. I don’ know what he meant. Do you?”

  I shook my head. He wiped my bald head with a wet cloth then dried it. “No, I don’ know what he meant. ‘This is like a station’, he said, so that means there are more. And here they sew you kids back together. They can take a piece of bone from the tail and put it in your arm. They can take bones broken in ten places and put them together with steel pins. They can make crooked feet straight. Kids you think are dead, they bring to life … damn, one of these days they are going to put a motor in you and make you walk whether you want to or not!” He laughed uneasily. His mood had grown serious. “So that’s it, kid,” he smiled and held up a hand mirror. I looked at my shiny bald head. My arched nose and dark eyes seemed more pronounced without the hair.

  “Don’ worry,” he said, “it will grow back. Better than my finger, which never grew. You know, they say hair grows even on people who are dead—” He gathered up his tools and went out waving and saying, “Don’ worry, kid, it will grow back …”

  I closed my eyes and thought, but if it grows equally on the dead and the living, how can one tell if he is alive or dead? And this Dr. Steel, I thought, the miracle worker according to Cano, what in the hell is he going to do with me? How in the hell is this cast going to help me walk? What do I have to find inside this broken body to make it move again? I strained and pushed my legs, but felt nothing. Damn, I cursed, damn!

  Then I lay quietly and listened to the hospital sounds. I thought I heard a group of girls calling to each other. Clepo had said something about a girls’ ward. Somewhere someone strummed on a guitar and sang softly …

  It’s been a blue, blue day

  I feel like running away

  I feel like running away from it all …

  Dr. Steel reappeared with two other doctors. “These are the plasterers,” he said as he inspected my head. “Cano did a good job, not a scratch.” He ran his hand over my bald head.

  “Looks as bald as the mountain,” one of them joked.

  “Well, let’s give him a shell, then. You ready?” Dr. Steel asked. I nodded and they went to work. They worked quietly and efficiently. One of them mixed the gypsum with water and a smell of fresh, wet earth filled the room. Dr. Steel and the other man covered me with cotton bandages and a thick gauze. They wet the bandages in the mixture and covered me with them, winding the bandages around and around. The cast grew quickly, covering me from my hips to the top of my head with a hole left for my face and ears. I closed my eyes as the shell grew. With Dr. Steel directing the operation I felt in safe hands. He was a cold, methodical person, but he knew what he was doing. So I lost interest in the process and retreated into my thoughts, and there I saw the image of the mountain, imprisoned like me, until, as Filomón said, an earth change would come and free it. Did he mean that I would have to learn to be patient like the mountain, to sleep in my shell until the blood clotted and I was barely alive … just waiting for the spring …

  “But why the spring?” I wondered aloud.

  “Yeah, almost through,” the doctor answered.

  The shell tightened around me, from my navel to the top of my head, with holes for my arms so I could drag myself around like Tortuga, when the sea swept over the desert again … white and pure as the plaster my mother’s saints were made of.… Outside the winter wind moaned and I wondered what time it was. Someone sang

  Who’ca took’ca my soda cracker

  Does your mama chew tobaccer …

  “Damn kids,” the doctor laughed. He leaned back and lit a cigarette. They were done. Only Steel continued pulling and tugging at the cast, trying to get it perfect.

  “Good enough to dry,” one of them said. They looked at Steel. Finally he nodded. “Yes, good enough to dry. It’s going to set straight as a ramrod.”

  So I was safe, safe in my new shell, safe as the mountain, shouldering a new burden which was already tightening on me.

  “You’ll feel it tighten a bit,” Steel said, “but that’s normal. We’ll give it a little while to dry and then we’ll x-ray to make sure it’s set straight. Then you’re on your way,” he patted my arm and they went out of the room, closing the door behind them.

  Safe as hell, I thought. Safe in my new shell. Safe as the mountain. With the door shut the room grew hot and stifling. I drifted in and out of troubled sleep. Once I thought I heard someone open the door.

  “Hey, there’s somebody in here.”

  “One of Steel’s new ones … drying out, looks like.”

  “Let’s use another room.”

  “Whatever you say nurse …”

  They went out and so did the lights. The dark grew more oppressive. The cast tightened like a vise around my chest, its sharp edges dug into my stomach. I called out a couple of times, but no one heard me. With the door shut I couldn’t hear any of the sounds in the hall, but if I lay very quietly I could hear the sound of water running somewhere. I listened to the rushing sound for a long time, then no longer able to hold my own water I wet the gurney mattress and the sheet that covered me. I cursed, tried to turn my head and discovered that I no longer had even that freedom. I cursed again and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t with the cast tightening in on me and the heat of the room suffocating me. The nurse had cleaned my bedsores and powdered them with something, but they were hurting again, burning and sending stabs of pain up my back. I was about to call again when I heard the door open, saw the shaft of light on the ceiling, then heard it close.

  “Doctor!” I called out. “Nurse!” But there wasn’t anybody there. Someone had just looked in and I had missed my chance. Then I felt a presence in the room. Someone had come in and was standing by
the door! I held my breath and listened and I heard someone moving very softly towards me.

  “Who’s there?” I asked. There was no answer, but someone was in the room. “Who’s there?” I called again.

  “I been watching you since you got here,” a voice answered.

  “Who are you?”

  “Never mind who I am! But I know who you are,” the voice answered. There was a threat in the sharp answer.

  “Call the doctor,” I said.

  “No!”

  “Then I’ll call him myself—” I started to shout but a thin, withered hand clamped my mouth shut. I gagged at the rancid fishy smell on the hand. I spit and tried to shout but the dirty, scaly hand held tight.

  “The doctors are all on a coffee break,” he taunted, “and by the time they get back it will be too late, turtle!” He laughed and drew closer and I could smell his bad breath and see his yellow eyes shining in the dark. “Don’t shout!” he hissed, “Don’t shout and I’ll let you loose—” Slowly he removed his dry, twisted hand from my mouth.

  I gasped for air. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “I heard you were here … you came today with Filomón. Did he tell you his crazy stories about the mountain?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answered. He sounded crazy.

  “Oh yes you do, Tortuga!” he snapped. “Don’t get smart with me! I saw Filomón bring you in! I know Cano cut your hair! Now they put you in this turtle shell, trying to make you like a turtle! So Filomón says everytime the mountain moves somebody in here moves! That’s his story. And he thinks you can beat the paralysis that keeps you on your back like an overturned turtle. Well, I think that’s a bunch of bullshit! You hear me, Tortuga? Bullshit! Go ahead! Try moving! Try it!” His voice rose, shrill and insane.

  “You’re crazy,” I said.

  “Crazy, huh,” he sneered. “See this hand?” He held up his withered hand for me to see. “It’s been drying up like this for a year, and nobody can do anything about it! I used to believe in Filomón’s crazy stories, but that didn’t do any good either!”

  He was shouting and panting. His spittle fell on my face, and his eyes opened wide and glowed in the dim light.

  “So you’re supposed to be the new Tortuga, huh! They gave you a large shell, just like the mountain, huh! Well I’m going to find out if Filomón’s story is true or not! Let’s see if you can move!”

  He struck a match. The light flared in the dark and filled the air with the sharp smell of sulphur. In the light I could see his face, twisted and angry, and his withered hand which was brown and wrinkled.

  “I’m going to find out if you’re Tortuga!” he shouted and brought the match close to my eyes.

  “Tortuga!” I shouted, “You’re crazy!” I tried to turn my face from the hot flame but I couldn’t.

  “Move!” he shouted. “Move, mountain! Come and cure my hand! Move, Tortuga!”

  “No!” I cried. “I can’t!” I closed my eyes and smelled my singed eyelashes.

  “Move, Tortuga!” he shouted insanely, “Move! Show us the secret!”

  Just as the hot flame seared my eyes I heard the door open and somebody shouted, “Danny! What the hell are you doing in here!”

  Lights flooded the room. The hot flame quickly disappeared.

  “Nah-nothing,” the boy named Danny whimpered and drew away. I opened my eyes and saw him move around the gurney. “I was just visiting, Mike, I, I was just visiting with Tortuga—”

  “The hell you were!” Mike shouted at him. “You’re up to no good again! Get the fuck outta here or I’ll break your goddamned arm!”

  I heard Danny run out of the room, then the squeak of a wheelchair as Mike approached me.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “You came just in time,” I answered. “I don’t know why he did it, but he was holding a match up to my face—”

  “He’s crazy,” Mike swore, “he does crazy things. Once I lay the law on him he behaves pretty well—Hey, you’re the new kid the ward is talking about. Just got in with Filo, huh? I’m Mike. I heard Danny call you Tortuga, like the mountain, fits now that you got that body cast … you kinda look like a turtle, you know.” He tapped the cast. “They did a beautiful job on it, bet Steel did it.”

  “Someone taking my name in vain,” Dr. Steel said as he entered the room.

  “Hey, doc, how you doing? I was just talking to Tortuga here, praising your work …”

  “Tortuga,” Dr. Steel murmured as he tapped the cast and felt its dryness, “so Mike’s given you a nickname already—”

  “Fits, don’t it?” Mike smiled. “Besides, Danny beat me to the punch. Danny gave him the name.”

  Dr. Steel smiled. “Yeah, Tortuga fits just right. How does the cast feel?”

  “A little tight.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” he nodded.

  “Cuts around the stomach, shoulders—”

  “That’s no problem. We trim that and tape it. Feel up to an x-ray?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, let’s see how it set—” He pushed the gurney out of the room while Mike asked him if I could stay with them when I got back to the ward.

  “He’s from my part of the country,” Mike said.

  “We’ll see,” Dr. Steel nodded and pushed me into the x-ray room. The x-raying didn’t take long, a couple of shots and Dr. Steel was satisfied that the cast had set right. “You’re ready for some rest, and some supper.” He trimmed the edges of the cast with a small electrical saw, then quickly taped them. It felt better, though the weight of the cast was still strange to me. “It’s been a long day,” he said as he finished the taping, “we had visiting day and surgery at the same time, that’s why there’s been so much confusion in the halls. It’ll be more quiet in the ward. I’ll prescribe something for you to sleep tonight, then I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” He called for an orderly and a slick, gum-popping man jumped forward and saluted.

  “At your orders, doc.”

  2

  “My name’s Waldo,” he said, “but everybody calls me Speed-o. Jack of all trades, orderly, driver, I can get you anything, I mean anything you want from town. And I take care of a few of the nurse’s aides around here.” He leaned over me and winked as he pushed the squeaking gurney down the deserted hall. I could smell the sweet smell of pomade on his hair and the Dentyne gum he chewed. “What’s your name, kid?”

  I thought awhile then answered, “Tortuga.”

  “Tortuga! Hey, that’s all right daddy-o! I like that!” Then he burst out singing.

  Hey, watch out!

  Turtle man coming down the road

  And he’s carrying a heavy load

  Just looking for a place to sleep tonight!

  “Like that, huh?” he snapped his fingers. “I’m a real swinger, just a real cool swinger!” He stopped suddenly and pushed the gurney into a dark corner. “Hey, Tortuga, you don’t mind if we slide in here for a minute, right. There’s a new nurse in this ward that is bad. I mean really bad! but she likes you know what. Everytime I pass by we slip into the linen closet for a quickie.” He giggled crazily. “Whad’ya say?”

  I was about to answer, but he was already gone. I just wanted to get somewhere and rest, I wanted to put everything in perspective and get a sense of where I was. But why did the girl Ismelda keep popping in and out of my thoughts. I had only been here a few hours and already met some crazy characters … what would the future hold for me? How soon would the doctor start the therapy? And how much movement could I recover from my legs?

  I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the hospital. Somewhere dishes clanged and kids shouted to each other. From faraway I thought I heard the whimper of babies crying. Along the wall the steam radiators pinged and groaned as they swelled with steam. Overhead the cold wind moaned … and if I listened very carefully far beneath the frozen earth I could hear the sound of water, Tortuga’s warm pee cutting new channels through
the frozen wasteland …

  Follow the river, Filomón had said, and yet even he seemed lost in the storms which racked us as we crossed the barren desert.

  Wait till spring …

  Pray to God, God’s will be done …

  I prayed, a million times I prayed, why the paralysis? Why me? What did I do to deserve this punishment? Why? Why? Why?

  I awoke in a sweat. “Where am I?” I asked, and in the darkness I heard an answer, I heard someone moving around the gurney and for a moment I thought Danny had returned.

  “Is this Tortuga?” the voice asked.

  “Yes, he has come to live with us.”

  “Filomón brought him.”

  “Is he an orphan, like us?”

  “Will he go to live with Salomón?” the voices whispered.

  “Pray he doesn’t, sister, but Salomón knows he’s here.”

  I thought I was dreaming. Dark figures shuffled around the gurney, wheelchairs squeaked. “Who’s there?” I asked.

  “Are you awake, Tortuga?”

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “Your brothers and sisters,” came the answer.

  Someone tapped on the cast, but because the gurney was high I couldn’t see anyone. Then I felt a tug as an arm wrapped itself around my cast and pulled. At first I thought they were pulling me down and when the face of the girl appeared suddenly over me I realized she had pulled herself up. I gasped with fear. Her twisted face was gray and wrinkled, the face of an old woman. She drew closer and I saw the hump on her back. She was a small, deformed creature. She had clawed her way to the top of the gurney, now she smiled at me.

  “Who are you?” I cried. Around me the others also squirmed their way up the side of the gurney, giggling and calling out, “Is that Tortuga?” “Does he look like Tortuga?” “Lemme see—”

  “Yes, it is Tortuga,” the hunched back girl smiled. Her eyes were pale green in the dark. Her breath was sweet on my face, but her face was twisted and deformed.

  “Who are you?” I cried again.

  “Cynthia,” she whispered.

  “Is he going to stay in our ward?” another one asked.