I Need A Shower

I Need A Shower

This is just a story of two people who know each other well finally finding each other.

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Never play with a dog you don't know. My parents told me that time and time again when I was growing up. Here I am sixty-three years of age and still I haven't learned!

"The doctor will see you momentarily."

"Thank you, nurse." She stepped back into the hallway. She's a pretty girl. What is she, maybe twenty-five, maybe thirty at the most? She can give me a sponge bath anytime!

I know, I know, I'm a dirty old man. Look, I may be getting old, but I'm not dead. I mean, I'm slowing down, but the equipment still works! You know what I mean?

She's younger than my kids. I'd never actually do anything, but it's nice to imagine.

Yeah, imagine this! I'm walking down the street with that sweet young thing on my arm, I get a kiss and a hug, maybe we go dancing and I hold her close... Oh, yeah! I like that. Where was I? Oh, yeah, I'm walking down the street with that sweet young thing on my arm and passers bye are thinking "That's nice. She's spending time with her father." I take her dancing and the band starts up a slow tune, and they're all thinking, "Dirty old man! He's old enough to be her father!"

Oh, screw it! Just stitch me up and let me be on my way. I'm wasting a perfectly good Saturday.

I'm sitting behind the curtain lost in my thoughts, and I don't hear the curtain open. "Hello, Mr. Barnard. I'm Doctor Peters. What seems to be the problem?"

"I was misled by a deceptive smile."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I was out for my morning run and there was this little terrier. He ran over to me, and he seemed friendly enough, so I bent over to pet him when the little cur bit me on the hand."

"You should never pet a dog you don't know."

My look said it all. He didn't wait for a verbal response.

"Yeah, well, a little late for that, right? Do you know the owner? Is the dog up to date on its shots?"

"Yeah. The owner was an older woman. She was upset and blamed me for the dog bite, but she showed me her ID and I wrote down her contact information."

"We should have the police pay her a visit just to be safe. We'll make sure the dog is up to date with its shots. Meanwhile, you're going to need some stitches in your hand."

I thought, "Tell me something I don't know..." A couple of shots to numb my hand, a few quick stitches, and a charge to my health insurance that would make a Sicilian jealous, and I was out of there and ready to be headed home. I was thinking, "I can't believe that took two hours! Good thing it wasn't serious."

That's when I saw her. It was Gerri Jenkins. I hadn't seen her at work for the better part of the week and here she was being wheeled to the curb.

"Gerri? Are you okay?" That earned me the same look I gave the doctor.

"It turns out I'm ditzier than I thought." Gerri laughed. She always was someone who enjoyed her own joke.

"Seriously, what can I do for you?"

"For me? What happened to your hand?"

"Oh, I tried to pet a friendly dog."

"Good thing it wasn't an unfriendly dog! It might have bitten you someplace more sensitive." Like I said, Gerri always enjoyed her own jokes and this one made me laugh, too.

She continued with her story. "I fell Tuesday after work. EMS brought me in, and they did tests that show I've lost my equilibrium. I had it Monday. I don't know where I left it." There's that laugh again and I start to wonder what kind of drugs they gave her?

"What kind of tests?"

"They told me to stand up and I fell over!" Even the nurse pushing her chair was laughing at that one. "Apparently, I have some kind of inner ear infection. They said it should clear up in a few days, and until then I'm supposed to stay home and not drive."

"How are you getting home?"

"I called an Uber. They'll be here soon."

"Nonsense! I'll drive you home."

She looked like she really didn't want to take the Uber. It didn't occur to me until much later, but she was worried about getting from the car to her condo.

"I don't want to be a burden."

"Don't be silly! I'm happy to do it. My car's in the garage. I can be back in two minutes. If the Uber driver gets here, tell him you got a better offer." With that, I headed for my car without giving her a chance to say no.

I should tell you a little about Gerri. First, she's two years younger than me. Please, don't tell her I told you. She tries to pass for younger. Second, she's one of those people that tend to deflect any personal questions. I won't say she's a woman of mystery; she's just guarded. Working in the same shop for twenty years gives you a chance to figure out what makes a person tick. I have a very good sense of who she is even if I don't know all the details of her life. She is capable, genuine, and caring, but you don't get to see behind the veil easily. She is more than a bit guarded, but I often get the sense that she wants me to know what she is never comfortable saying. She just has that way about her. I know this much - she is single, lives alone, never married, never dated that I know of, and she maintains a good group of friends. I also have the definite impression that you could ask her for anything you need, but she is never going to ask you for anything. That's not an insult; it's just a measure of her independence.

So it was a big deal that she accepted my help and a drive home. It may sound odd, but I was flattered that she thought enough of me to let me do this small favor for her.

Getting her into the car was an adventure. I opened the passenger door, the nurse positioned and locked the chair, she took Gerri by the arm, and as Gerri stood, she immediately began to fall away from the nurse. I caught her in my arms with a body check that almost knocked me over. I was trying to match her angle of fall so she didn't slip between my arms. With her legs locked and my firm grip, we stood her up, turned her, and gently lowered her into the seat.

"That was fun!" She forced a laugh, but I could tell she was worried. No wonder. She had a lot to be worried about. I knew for a fact that she had major knee surgery about six months before and was still recovering. Falling onto the pavement with those new store-bought knees would only have compounded her problems.

"Fun" wasn't the word I'd have used.

Once seated, she could get herself into the car and she closed the door herself. Like I said, she's an independent woman.

It was summer and as I thought about how I was going to get her into her condo I began to be grateful there wasn't snow and ice on the ground.

I thought about stopping for lunch on the way, but I wasn't about to try getting her out of the car and then back in any more times than I needed. The drive to her place was light and the conversation flowed freely. We had never had any difficulty carrying on a conversation.

I backed into the short driveway of her condo and parked. "Stay there. Don't try to get out on your own." I think my assertiveness caught her by surprise. It was a good thing, too, because what happened next would have been humorous if it hadn't been so serious. I opened her car door, she placed her feet on the driveway, and I took her hands to help her stand. She immediately began to fall away from the car. I caught her for the second time that day and I held her upright. It was clear she had the strength to stand, but her balance was shot.

"I can make it!"

"The hell you can! You won't make it two steps before you're down again." With that, I wrapped my left arm firmly around her waist and said, "Okay, let's dance!"

There was that look again!

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "Ready? Right foot first." I took a step and with a slight chuckle she followed. I took another step and she followed. "We dance rather well together, don't you think?"

She punched me. She was laughing, but she punched me.

"Hold on! I turned and wrapped my right arm around her briefly and used my left to close the car door. Then with my left again around her waist, I said, "Ready? A one... and a two..." She laughed and punched me again. Make no mistake about it; Gerri was supporting her own weight, but I was keeping her upright. I doubt she could have crawled to her door. How she thought an Uber driver would get her inside is beyond me.

Our movements were heavily choreographed, but we managed to get her inside and seated in her living room.

"Thanks, Jim. I don't know how I would have made it without you." She thought I was leaving, but I had other plans. I patted her hand and set off for the kitchen.

"You don't have much in the fridge."

"Yeah. I had carry-out the night I fell and was planning to go shopping the day after."

I could see the two opened boxes with beef and broccoli in one box and rice in the other still on the kitchen table.

"I think it's past its prime!"

"Oh crap! Is that stuff still in there?"

I walked back into the living room and sat next to her. "So, what should I get at the store? I could get some steaks and a couple of potatoes, maybe some peppers and sausage, or I could make some Carbonara? I've always liked a nice Carbonara with broccoli on the side. How does that sound? I'll get some nice ham and cheese, some fresh bread, and we can make sandwiches for lunch."

She was looking at me with a combination of confusion and annoyance. "Aren't you going home?"

"No. I'm going to the store to get a few things. Don't you cook for yourself? You can't eat carry out all the time."

Oh, if looks could kill! "You don't need to worry about my skills in the kitchen, which for the record are formidable! I can cook circles around you!"

"Not today you can't. You can't even stand. Is there anything else on the shopping list before I leave?"

I was getting a look that I could not decode. It was some combination of annoyed, appreciative, and confused. In time she said, "No. Well, maybe some ice cream."

"Do you still like cheesecake?"

"Do I look like I like cheesecake?"

Until a few years ago I'd been married. I knew enough not to answer that question, so I smiled and said nothing. I asked if there was anything else she needed including any help getting to another room. That was my way of asking as subtly as I knew how "Do you need to pee before I leave?" She declined.

Ninety minutes later I was back and walking through the door with three bags from the food store and my suitcase.

"Are you moving in?"

"Just for a few days until you're up and about."

I was getting that look again. I was expecting an argument, but in the end, I didn't get one. I guess practicality overruled her sense of independence, and she eventually said, "Okay. What did you get at the store?"

"I got exactly what I said I'd get - steak and potatoes, broccoli, sausage and peppers, green beans, and the ingredients for a nice Carbonara. I got enough eggs for breakfast in addition to the Carbonara and some ham for breakfast or lunch. Oh, and there was nothing in the house to make a halfway decent salad. Plus, I got some bacon, but I'm a man so that's basically mandatory. Then last, I got ice cream and cheesecake just because there wasn't any and they're essential. Just your basic low-cal diet food."

That earned me a smile and I set about stocking the fridge. I was just finishing when she called out, "Jim? I'm going to need some help."

I headed for the living room only to find her on her hands and knees on the carpet and she was wobbling still. "I thought maybe I could make it on my own, but I couldn't."

As I got her back on the sofa, I asked, "Where were you headed?"

She hesitated. She tried several times to answer me, but the words weren't coming out.

"Gerri, are you okay?"

She let out a deep breath. Finally, she was resigned to the embarrassment of it. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Oh!" I couldn't help chuckling. She is so damn independent. "Okay, you point the way."

"It's down the hall."

With that, I helped her stand, and it was "Ready? Right foot first. And one... and two..." We laughed all the way to the bathroom. That was when the laughter stopped.

I got her in front of the toilet, and she said, "I can take it from here." She was holding the windowsill to steady herself. I stepped back, she let go of the sill to reach the waistband of her pants, and it was "Timber!" I barely made it back in time to catch her.

Holding her to me with my arms around her back, I said, "You can't do this yourself."

"Well I have no intention of putting on a show for you!"

I took a deep breath. "I'll close my eyes."

"You'll peak!"

"No, I'll want to peak, but I promise I'll keep them closed."

"This is humiliating."

"Yes, but after today I'll be able to say that I got Gerri Jenkins out of her pants!"

Ough! Okay, that punch hurt. It didn't keep me from laughing, though.

I continued to hold her close, and I had to admit to myself that I was enjoying it. However, the moment ended all too soon.

"Okay, but you need to promise me you won't peek!"

I didn't say a word. I just kept staring at her.

"I said...!"

"I'm thinking!"

Ough! Another shot right to the ribs.

"Okay. I promise."

She turned slightly, grabbed the windowsill again, and I gently slid her pants down to her ankles.

"You better not be looking!"

"I'm not." and with that I slid my hands up the outside of her legs.

"Hey!"

"I'm not looking!"

"You're taking liberties."

"I'm having to find my way back with my hands." I forgot that my eyes were closed, but hers were open. She saw the big-ass grin on my face and that earned me another shot. Okay, they were hurting less every time. I think she was warming up to me.

I took hold of the waistband of her panties and said, "Ready?"

"Ready. Don't peek!"

"I won't." With that last promise, I gently slid her panties to her ankles.

"For God's sake don't take so long! "I've got to pee!"

The panties were down, I stood, and then opening my eyes but never breaking eye contact I helped her sit on the porcelain throne. Don't ask how, but that's when I learned she was covering her mound with her hand.

"Out!"

"I'm going. Just call me when you're finished."

"Don't go too far. It won't be long."

I closed the door and heard a very audible "Bwuuufff!" I had to stifle my laugh. There was no way I was ever going to admit that I'd heard her fart.

A minute later I got the call, and as I opened the door she called out, "Eye's closed!"

"Woman, if I need to find you with my eyes closed, we're both going to enjoy the experience. Now cover yourself! I'm coming in!"

I was greeted with a wilting case of stink eye, but we got it done. I stood in front of her, bent over until we were looking each other in the eye, and I helped her to her feet. She grabbed the windowsill, I closed my eyes, and we reversed the process of just a minute before.

We both needed to wash our hands and the only way to do it was for me to pin her to the vanity and reach around her to get my hands under the faucet. It was pretty silly and broke the tension from all the nudity.

As we danced back to the sofa, I was given a very shy and appreciative, "Thank you, Jim."

I should know better by this point in my life, but I couldn't resist. I said, "No, thank you!"

She punched me again. "You said you wouldn't peek."

"And I didn't."

She stopped our dance, placed her head on my chest and her other arm around me, and said, "Thank you, Jim. I don't know what I'd do without you."

I couldn't help myself. I kissed her on top her head and said, "You'd do the same for me."

That earned me a chuckle. "No way! I'll point you at the toilet, but you're on your own after that!"

Now I probably should have complained about the inequity in her response, but the mental image of her standing behind me and holding me as I struggled to hit the bowl was just too pleasant to dismiss. I suppose that might sound odd to some, but I'd been married for a long time and being single at sixty-three isn't what it was at twenty-three. It's lonely. Everyone should have someone in their life that has seen them naked and accepted them. A person shouldn't go through life knowing that only their doctor has seen their goods. I'd been married for so many years that anyone before my wife was a distant memory.

We eventually found our way back to the sofa and I fixed a pair of sandwiches with two small salads for our lunch. As we sat together for a time talking about her knee surgery, her experience in the hospital that week, and what was going on at work, it seemed to me the afternoon was passing in a very pleasant way. I had long forgotten about the dog bite that took me to the hospital and her equilibrium was causing her no pain, so there was no need for pain killers. We just relaxed and talked. I kept her iced tea glass full and there was another trip to the bathroom before dinner. I confess my motivations were not altogether innocent, but I mostly behaved myself.

For dinner Gerri selected the Carbonara. She said she'd eaten too much mystery meat in the hospital, and I knew what that meant. I added broccoli to the plate, and we ate well that night.

It was getting late when she addressed the elephant in the room. "Where do you think you're sleeping tonight? You know this is a one-bedroom condo."

I somehow didn't think that was quite the honest question it was posed as; she was telling me where I was not sleeping. "I figure I'll sleep on the sofa. You keep your bedroom door cracked and you can yell, or if you have a bell or a horn we'll put it by your bed, so if you need me in the middle of the night you can wake me up."

"It's not a foldout."

"Thank God! Those things kill my back!"

"You'll never be comfortable."

"Is that an invitation?"

"You won't be that uncomfortable." Well, she was smiling when she said it.

When it was time for bed, we danced our way down the hall, and she leaned on her dresser while I turned down the bed. I could not help but notice it was a queen size bed, but I wasn't invited to share it. Once the bed was turned down, we danced across the room, and she sat on the side of the bed.

"My nightgown is on the chair in the corner."

I looked over and so it was! So I retrieved it and was dismissed.

"Not so fast. You can't bend over without falling on the floor and you can't lift either of your feet off the ground without falling in that direction." I had a mental image of her rolling off the bed in whatever direction wasn't braced.

I bent to my knee and as I reached for her right foot she said, "Oh, James, this is all so sudden!" I looked up and she was laughing herself silly.

"Well, if we're engaged, then it's time I was granted some liberties."

"Oh no you don't! Just the shoes and then you leave."

I removed her shoes and her socks, tickled her feet just enough to assert myself, and wished her a good night. She must have gotten herself situated well enough because I didn't hear a peep out of her until morning.

"James!"

"Yes?"

There was a noticeable hesitation before she answered. "I need your help again." That set the tone for the next two days. I'd get her clothes set out under her direction and she could mostly dress herself as I would take care of her shoes. I think she did it by lying down on her bed, but I was never allowed to watch. I'd walk her to the bathroom and steady her as she brushed her teeth and washed her face.

Helping Gerri in the bathroom was becoming one of my favorite things to do when things took a turn late Sunday morning.

"Jim?"

"Yes, Gerri?"

"I need your help again."

"That's not a problem."

"This is worse."

"What do you mean?"

She looked at me with an apologetic face and the look of vulnerability I hadn't seen in her before. I became concerned. "Gerri, what's the problem?"