Chapter 16 - A Shitty Conversation
When she was just a child and her parents were going through the most horrible of divorces in the history of horrible divorces, Mary Wilson dreamt of being a top model. Her blue-eyed blonde Barbie knockoff was the one to blame, plastic perfection at her fingertips whispering it was okay to have wild fantasies, that the nasty days would soon be over.
The doll was a liar, and she never forgave her for that. She didn't forgive her mother either when, after another intense fight with her soon to be ex-husband, she unleashed all of her frustrations on her with an open lighter. Most of her burns eventually healed except for one, a wound so deep that, even after months of surgeries, left a permanent scar on the back of her right arm. Mary's imagination had its wings clipped on that fateful night and, for years, she refused to talk about what happened, bottling everything up because of unspoken trauma and stubbornness.
She ended up in the system, the bureaucratic machine that sought to protect her from the ghosts of her dysfunctional family only to come face to face with even more. At thirteen, she saw her foster father, a Pastor well-loved in the community, try to take his own life with too many pills because of an unrequited love. Two years later, in another house where everything seemed perfect at first glance, a family dinner with her two new sisters exploded in broken glass and bloody wrists because of a stupid joke. It was then Mary realized the universe was insane, a certainty that, against all odds, kept her alive.
Becoming a paramedic wasn't something she decided on a whim, oh no. She spent the next two decades of her life keeping herself together with occasional jobs here and there. She was a babysitter, waitress, cashier, saleswoman, even a tattoo artist. The owner of the place that hired her gave her a lovely butterfly to cover her scar, and would have given her a lot more had she been willing, if only things were meant to be. Their separation was amicable enough yet it seemed her streak of bad luck was to be endless.
A prized lottery ticket changed all that. The money wasn't enough to live a carefree life until the end of her days but it allowed her to go back to school, learn all the things she never had the chance to in the past. She wished to become a surgeon yet wasn't smart enough for it and so life led her along the ambulatory path where she met Nick. The two of them worked well together and she could smile for once. Most of the times, she kept to herself to be more efficient but when she was in a talkative mood, well...
"Mary, you know I love you, but you can be a real jerk, sometimes." he had said not so long ago before heading out to patch Gail.
"Only sometimes? It's part of my natural charm, sweetie." she had replied, yet another truth she would do well not to forget.
"I promise I won't take long."
"Take as much time as you need to keep her satisfied. Nobody likes a guy that comes too early."
Yes, she had overdone it a little with her sexual innuendo but seeing Nick blush was a joy to behold. The only things she loved more than that were reading forbidden pulp erotica novels and taking a dump the size of California after more than her fair share of burritos. As she almost choked laughing while her co-worker trailed off with the deviant secretary in hand, her stomach growled, a strong abdominal pain telling her it would be "the size of Texas" this time around. She ran to the closest bathroom and...
... that's how she talked to Angela for the first time.
"This horrible day will soon be over," Mary heard her mutter the moment she entered the adjacent stall and sat on the cold white porcelain. The therapist's silky voice was unmistakable, and so were her shoes.
"Amen, sister," Mary muttered in reply, breaking off her mantra.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I'm sure your mother will be fine," Mary reassured her, head leaning against the thin wall that separated them. It wasn't her first awkward bathroom conversation. It wouldn't be the last.
"Oh? And how do you...? Ah, you're Nick's partner, right?"
"That's me all right and let me reiterate what he said in the ambulance. What you did to calm your mother was impressive."
"Thanks. Oh God, what is that smell?" Angela frowned.
"I call it 'How-to-not-eat-healthy-while-on-the-clock-101'. An easy subject to learn, yet tricky as hell to master."
"No offense but it seems you're quite the expert by now."
"None taken. I practice it a lot more than I should because of the job."
"Yes, I imagine it's rough."
"Not as rough as it is for the doctors and nurses around here but yeah, the responsibility still wears us down. Junk food keeps me focused for longer periods of time. At least, that's my excuse. What's yours?"
"Huh?"
"I can smell what's going on there too, sister. Did you pee yourself or something?"
"Hmmm..."
"Oh my God, you did!" Mary cackled. "What the fuck?"
"It's not what you're thinking, okay?"
"I wouldn't be so sure because I can think of some crazy shit. Hell, I lived through some crazy shit most of life."
"Haven't we all?"
"I guess, but not all grown women end up sitting in a hospital bathroom because they peed themselves. Too much stress because of what happened to your mother?"
"I'd... rather not talk about it." Angela's voice choked.
"Understandable but I think you should. It will do you good."
"And why is that?"
"It will keep your mind off the scent... sorry but a woman's got to do what a woman's got to do." Mary's buttocks cracked wide open as a foul stench enveloped the air.
