HELL BY FLORESCENT LIGHT
Miss MOTU (self-proclaimed Master Of The Universe someday) is still in her twenties.
She looks like a glammed down Winona Ryder on Dilaudid (because well, she IS on Dilaudid), only without the saucer-sized doey eyes. She surfs the net (a little too much for my comfort). Has a dry sense of humor (all the younger chronic patients do). Likes kungfu bears, Shrek, and origami.
She also has a permanent catheter to drain urine. An ileostomy bag takes care of the rest. EVERYTHING (medicines AND food) she gets at home or in the hospital is via I.V. Total paraplegia below the waist since she was a teen. And chronic phantom / scar tissue pain from where her bowels used to be.
Anything below her waist either hurts or has no feeling at all.
She tells me as if from a dark dream,
"When I was younger, I was in this pediatric ward. They had all these sickle cell kids that always needed these monster doses of morphine because they had built up such a tolerance to it. They could kill a horse with the amount of morphine these kids needed,"
and then,
"Oh wait ... you have to see this. This is the part where the bird explodes when she sings to it. It is so funny!" (While Shrek was on TV.)
Miss MOTU also has this intimidating scowl, probably from years of hard hospital time. I haven't seen it since the third day of her admission though. That's when I could tell she was starting to soften up. When she said,
"Remind me not to kill you when I become Master Of The Universe."
I think she likes me.
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HEAVEN BY ACCIDENTAL TANTRICISM
2 A.M.
*BEEP*
I pick up my recently rediscovered cell phone (it was under my car seat for the past three months -- NO exaggeration) and dial the same fucking floor for the third time that night.
I listen to the nurse on the other end rattle for five minutes about something that definitely does not need a call at 2 a.m. under any circumstance. I suppose it could be worse. It could be 4 a.m.
"Tha's fine," I say and nod off again to sleep.
"Baby," Amy whispers to me. It's weird hearing Amy's awake voice after 9 P.M. anymore.
"I had another nightmare baby," she says in the dark, "I dreamed we were hugging each other with our arms and legs and these people saw us. And they said, you can't do that. You're brother and sister!"
"Uhh....?" I articulate.
"But I told them I don't care! We're together anyways," Amy said wide awake ... which is even weirder than her dream.
" ... Guhhh...." I confirm while slobbering on my pillow for emphasis.
"I told them I don't care, it doesn't matter," she says desperately as she puts her arm around me and snuggles up to my back.
What the hell is going on here? Amy never does this. And at 2 A.M.?
"I also dreamed you were sucking my nipple and it was bleeding," she adds strangely.
I ponder her perverted dreams for a few minutes. The tender desperation in her refusal to have us separated. Her arm around me in the dark.
I slowly but surely wake up.
In every way.
I turn around to embrace her and she's waiting.
And it feels so good. I could move in her forever. Stay inside her forever.
I just wish the mattress was a little harder to tell you the truth.
And the weird thing is ... I don't finish.
I mean, Amy does, but I, in some bizarre involuntary tantric feat, I just don't. Normally this is just about the most frustrating thing for a male (next to impotence, which is not getting an erection in the first place) - to be UP and not be able to finish. This is how you get blue balls, people (the medical term being myballsus fuckingacheus).
[And no, I am not trying to subtly brag about having "endurance" or anything. I mean there have been plenty of times where an Olympic 100-yard dash lasted longer than my Hatless Baldman has during more frenzied instances.]
But I wasn't upset or frustrated, and I think Amy was getting sore so we stopped there. She was happy and I was 90% satiated so it was okay. (Although I was still ready to go at it again.)
Maybe I was too tired (but not that tired though). Or I wanted to stay in that moment. In her. It wasn't just sex after all.
It was pure union.
At least, that's what it feels like when you haven't had it with your own sexy bride in a while.
Of course, masturbating to those Eros clips just before going to bed probably didn't help much either.
[Lee Jung Hyun's new song "Crazy" makes me just that (Track 5 sample here).]
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CLARIFICATION
And contrary to what I may seem like from my writing or K-pop obsessions, I AM NOT A SPAZ !!!!
In person, I am so sedate and quiet as to be nearly pulseless and anti-charming. Amy gets the excitable version of me sometimes though.
