The Beach House

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"Mia Perez?" I couldn't place the name.

"Mia was the women who performed CPR on you for over fifteen minutes. They found her naked and quite high on heroin pumping away on you. They tell me it is the only reason you survived." She almost seemed angry about my survival.

"Should I give her some money or something?" I again wasn't sure of the protocol in these matters.

"You would give a junky money? Might as well put a gun to her head." Monica seemed pissed for some reason. I was a little shocked at her tone. "It cost a lot, but she is currently recuperating in your house. It took a long time to convince the police not to book her for grand theft and heroin use." Why did Monica's eyes seem to be so strained? "You are buying a replacement boat to make sure she avoids grand theft."

"I didn't steal the damn boat. I'm not buying a new one." Who does Monica think she is? "What do you mean I have a junky in my house?" Now I was getting pissed. Monica wasn't deterred.

"Look asshole, you screwed up my tenth anniversary trip to outfit the house." Her hands were becoming animated. "I was literally dragged out of bed when I was making it up to my husband when your heart stopped. We weren't sleeping if you know what I mean." She was being a bit louder than usual. I didn't even know she was married. "If Charlie leaves me, or Ms. Perez ends up in jail or back on the street," she ticked off her points on her fingers, "I will never answer your call again." She ended up with her hands on her hips.

I was shocked by her tirade. She worked for me didn't she? I almost told her to fuck off, but the thought of life without Monica was a depressing one. I calmed down. Money was always easy to get. "Okay, okay, I'll buy the boat and pay for rehab." That should take care of it. I quickly had a finger wagging in my face.

"No, no, Mister Selfish. You will be solely responsible for her rehabilitation. No hiring your way out of it." She had a very determined look on her face. "She saved your life, God only knows why, and you owe her more than a brush-off." She was trying to screw up my life. "You were lucky enough to be handed a junky that knew CPR when you needed it. Now you have deal with it."

"What the hell do I know about handling a heroin addict?" I was confused why she thought this would even work.

"There is a Dr. Williams taking care of her right now. He is a detox specialist that you are paying a lot of money for. Ask him." Her hands were back on her hips.

"This has gone far enough." It was time to put my foot down. "I don't want a junky or anyone else in my house, and I am certainly not going to play social worker." Let's see if she is willing to give up on my paychecks. She called my bluff.

"Fine! Then this is the last conversation we will ever have." Her voice was quiet and her expression had lost the anger. She turned and walked toward the door. I was about to let her go when visions of the hundreds of people I would need to deal with flashed before my eyes. Monica was irreplaceable as far as I knew. Life would begin to really suck.

Before her hand hit the door knob I relented. "Monica..." She turned toward me. "I'll do it!" I felt like I was ten years old finally conceding to clean my room.

"Yes, Mr. Tomlinson." She smiled and headed out the door. No need for goodbyes.

I returned home the next day with an armload of pamphlets on cardiac health. I had an appointment with a recommended cardiologist in two weeks. I wasn't sure I wanted to go. I feared he would tell me SpaghettiOs were off limits. Of course, if I died, I couldn't eat them either. Maybe I just needed to stay away from jellyfish.

A young man exited the hall bathroom rolling down his sleeves. "Hi, you must be Mr. Tomlinson. I'm Wally Williams." He held out his hand. He looked a bit too young to be a doctor. I took his hand and shook it.

"Monica says you're a detox specialist?" I wanted to verify that I wasn't going to be doing this without professional help.

"Yep, kind of evolved into the job. I started a clinic in a pretty bad neighborhood. You can say it was on-the-job training." He seemed pleased with his chosen direction. I sensed he was a do-gooder who was in it for the satisfaction. "I usually don't do house calls, but I must say, your generous donation to the clinic made me rethink that position." He chuckled. I tried to not let on that I had no idea how generous I was.

"I'm glad you're here Doc. I'm kind of committed to seeing that Ms. Perez gets through this." I tried to sound grateful. I was hoping he would handle the heavy lifting. "I've really never done anything like this before."

"You missed the easy day. Today and tomorrow will most likely be the worst." His expression became more serious. "It's like a bad flu with a bunch of very ugly side effects thrown in. Just make sure she doesn't try to sleep on her back to avoid aspiration of any discharge. It helps to make sure she stays hydrated, especially if diarrhea kicks in." He was sounding like he wasn't staying. "I put some Epsom salts next to the tub. If she complains of itchy or crawly skin, put her in a hot bath with the salts." He was reaching for his suit jacket that was lying over the back of the chair.

"You're leaving?" I felt like I was being thrown into the deep end of the pool.

"I'll stop back in tomorrow morning. I left my card on the table." He pointed to the end table. "Call me if you run into something unexpected." Obviously, I wasn't generous enough with my donation.

"I'm really not qualified to handle this, Doc." I am sure it sounded like I was pleading. I meant it to be more instructive to illicit a guilt reaction. He just chuckled.

"Mia doesn't need a doctor now. She just needs someone who cares. In a couple of days we can start the real work." He was heading for the door. I considered tackling him, but discounted it due to recent heart issues. It was just two days he said. I can suffer through it to keep Monica on board.

"Where's Mia now?" I wasn't even sure where to start.

"In the master suite. It had the closest bathroom." He opened the front door. "See you around nine tomorrow." Just like that, he was gone. It was the first person in many years that I didn't want to leave.

I stood in the hallway, looking at the door for a few moments. I was secretly hoping it would open again, the doctor deciding to return. It didn't. I was a fish out of water. People take care of me; I don't take care of other people. I moved slowly down the hallway toward my bedroom. I figured the longer it took to get there, the sooner this would be over. I stood outside the door, not wanting to go in. I could hear a quiet moan, which made it worse. Without warning, I heard her violently vomit. I remembered the doctors warning and ran in to make sure she wasn't on her back. I really didn't want to go in.

I gagged as the smell hit me in the face. I was never good when others threw up. I started breathing through my mouth as I took in the scene. Mia was naked on the right side of the bed, and the left side had a puddle of vomit. The covers were pooled at the foot of the bed, and Mia was shivering. I had never seen anything like this. I didn't know where to start. Luckily she was on her side in an almost fetal position. I moved to the right side of the bed, trying to keep my eyes off the remnants of her last meal.

"Mia, my name is Dale." It sounded feeble considering the situation. "I'm the guy you saved a couple of nights ago." My hands kept making aborted attempts to touch her. I wasn't at all sure how to help her.

"Oh God, I can't do this!" She was weeping and shivering. "I thought I could, but I can't." I saw that some of her long black hair had found its way to the puddle. I knew I wouldn't like my hair to be there, so I reached over her body and retracted the errant hair. The ends were covered in puke, so I squeezed them dry between my fingers and pulled them back over her head. I looked at my hand and saw that some stomach chunks had adhered to my fingers. I retched and ran to the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet before I empty the contents of my stomach. My heaving was echoed by another round from Mia. This sympathetic barfing had to stop. I knew I needed to clean up the discharge if we were going to get through the day. I waited till my stomach settled, then washed my hands.

I entered the bedroom and almost lost it again. Mia had covered herself in the last round of puking. She was now outwardly crying. Fuck, this was bad! The sheets had to be cleaned up, and I was the only one there. The smell was horrendous. I shut off my nostrils and grabbed the sheet that was bunched up at the end of the bed. I moved next to Mia again and began wiping the vomit off her face and pushing it toward the other side of the bed. She was rolling back and forth making it more difficult to clean her up. "Mia, stop moving for minute. I got to get this shit off you." I was desperately trying to control my gag reflex and didn't know how long I could hold off. My stomach was empty so I knew the next round would hurt like hell.

"Please don't make me do this." She was still crying, and her shivering became more noticeable. I was hesitant to start cleaning off her chest. Some morality wall needed to be breached.

"I have to clean off the rest of you. I'm sorry." I gave her all the warning I could and began to wipe off her breasts. She had gotten the bulk of the discharge in the valley between them. I had to use two hands, one to lift and one to clean. This was the first pair of breasts I had ever touched in my life that I hadn't paid to touch. Strangely, puke had a way of making the whole experience very clinical. I wasn't the least bit aroused. I rolled her toward me and cleaned off her arm and shoulder. I placed the cleanest part of the sheet along her side and rolled her back over it. This allowed me to undo the bottom sheet and roll her back to the bare mattress. I wadded up the dirty sheets and ran them to the laundry room.

I kept praying that she wouldn't puke again while I was grabbing new sheets. I reversed the process and covered the bed with clean sheets. I let my nostrils open, and, as expected, the smell was greatly reduced. Mia, I don't think, cared. She was still weeping and still had a film of vomit on her.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed the bucket under the sink. I tried one of the sponges, but they were too coarse for her skin. I went and grabbed a new bath towel from the bathroom closet and filled the bucket with warm water. I brought it all back to Mia. I dipped the corner of the towel into the water and started at Mia's head. I tenderly pushed her long black hair out of the way as I began wiping her face clean.

"Please don't make me do this." She pleaded again. Her brown bloodshot eyes were searching for mine.

"Shhh, I have to." I whispered, trying to calm her down. "I can't lose Monica," I admitted. I don't know why I added that. I guess I felt she needed a reason for me to ignore her wishes. I wiped her forehead and around her eyes. I noticed that there were tiny wrinkles beginning to form at the outside of her eyes. She looked a lot younger from afar; closer, she looked to be in her thirties. "I'm just going to get you cleaned up." I suddenly felt and sounded like my grandmother. It wasn't a bad feeling.

She shivered as I continued cleaning her cheeks and chin. Her lips were turning a bit blue. "I'm so damn cold." Her accent was becoming more pronounced, and I was afraid she might slip into Spanish. I didn't know Spanish at all. Washing her chest was a lot more pleasant this time. I knew how sick she was, but the goose bumps on her breasts were adorable. I hid my thoughts and continued to wipe her down. I stopped at her belly, thinking that going farther would be an invasion. I forced myself not to look between her legs. I didn't even know if she was even conscious of her nakedness. "So cold..." She was really shivering now. I guess the air on her wet skin was aggravating the situation. I dried her as best I could with the other side of the towel. At the foot of the bed, I pulled up the blankets that had dropped there and tucked her in.

Her lips went another shade bluer, and her shivering increased. I could almost hear her teeth chatter. I went to the closet for another blanket and added it to the bed, but it didn't seem to help much. She looked miserable. I did the only other thing I could think of. I stripped to my boxers and climbed into bed with her. I wrapped my arm around and pulled her into me. She sank her butt into my groin and I warmed her back with my chest. Still shaking, "Better," was all she said. I held her twitching body hoping another round of puking wasn't on its way. In time, I feel asleep.

When I awoke my front was drenched in sweat. Mia was burning up. She had detached from me and rid the bed of its blankets. The withdrawal process was like a roller coaster that won't let you off. "Make it stop! Please make it stop!" She was more moaning the talking. God, I wanted to make it stop. It was beginning to hurt me to look at her. It was hard watching her suffer. I jumped out of bed and grabbed the bucket. I refilled it with cool water and snatched another towel.

"I'm so sorry Mia." I don't know why I was sorry, but I was. I began wiping her down with the cool water. Her whole body was on fire, so this time I didn't stop at her belly and I continued down her thighs and calves. "I wish you didn't have to go through this." I realized that I truly meant what I said. No one should suffer like this. I moved back to her forehead and applied the end of the damp towel as a compress. As an afterthought, I lightly blew on her newly wet chest and belly which caused a shiver to run down her body. Some of those adorable goose bumps reappeared for a moment. She was still hot.

I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a small hand towel, and filled it with ice. I almost headed back before I remembered my grandmother wetting the towel before putting the ice pack on my head when I was sick. I duplicated her system and quickly headed back to the bedroom. Mia was moaning when I sat next to her and replaced the wet towel with the new ice pack. "Shhh, the doctor says it will all be over soon." I stroked her hair even though it was now heavily knotted and still had remnants of the early bout of vomiting. I didn't care, I just wanted her to feel better.

I lightly caressed her face and hair until the ice melted. I debated getting more since she seemed to be cooling down. "Oh! Oh!" she moaned and slowly raised herself to a sitting position holding her stomach. I braced for another round of vomit. She continued to carefully raise herself off the bed and brushed off my help. Half bent over, she slowly worked her way to the bathroom and closed the door before I could follow. The sounds that followed were obviously not associated with throwing up. I remembered the doctor's statement about dehydration, and I left to get some ice water. I returned, and Mia wasn't done yet. Poor girl! I felt so bad for her.

The sheets were soaked with sweat and water. I guessed it would be a good time to change them. I set the water down on the nightstand and stripped the bed. I remade the bed with fresh sheets, then sat and waited. It wasn't long before I heard the toilet flush. It was followed a moment later by the shower starting. I waited. After twenty minutes I knocked on the door and didn't receive an answer. The door wasn't locked so I opened it, calling her name. When she didn't respond, I entered and saw her sitting on the floor of the shower hugging her knees.

"Mia, the doctor said I need to keep you hydrated." I brought my volume up above the waterfall.

"Get the fuck out!" she screamed at me. It didn't leave room for debate. I left quickly and quietly closed the door. Memories of high school flashed through my mind. I really hate other people. I left the bedroom and ran down to the beach. I would have to find a replacement for Monica. I couldn't deal with this anymore.

I sat on the lounger and listened to the ocean. It was calm and repetitive, and it washed away the world. I could think more clearly. I had many lawyers who had other wealthy clients. They must know of people who knew how to handle things. I could call them and they could find the next Monica. I felt I had a solid plan of action. If I just sit here long enough, Mia would just leave, and I would find a replacement for Monica. Then everything would be back to normal. I lay back with a smile on my face and let the waves drone on. After a while, the sun forced me to shift the umbrella. Why hadn't I researched that automatic umbrella yet?

"I'm sorry." The voice was weak. I turned to see a pale Mia with wet hair. She was wrapped in my robe. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"What makes you think I'm hurt?" My defenses were up. I wasn't going to ever admit that she got to me. If you admit it, they just pile it on. She sat on the sand next to the lounger.

"You didn't come back." She was looking up at me. I wasn't biting, so I looked back at the ocean and she continued, "I was thinking of things I didn't want to remember. They wouldn't leave my head, and I kind of lashed out at you." She looked out at the ocean with me. "I not very good with people these days." I wasn't expecting that. I felt a little out of place and didn't know how to respond, so I resorted to something I rarely did. I told the truth.

"I have never been good with people." My eyes never left the ocean. I was ready for her to recognize my weakness and beat me over the head with it. It was the biggest risk I had ever taken with someone other than my Grandma. I felt naked. She leaned over and gently laid her head along my thigh.

"We are two fucked-up individuals." Her eyes never left the ocean. I moved my hand to her long black hair and began untangling it gently with my fingers. I couldn't believe the truth was the right thing to say. We sat that way for a long time. "This is really nice... so peaceful." She was still looking out and listening to the waves.

"I come here to hide away from the world." She might as well know it all. She turned her body around and faced me.

"I can't think of nicer place to hide away." She cocked her elbow across my knee and used it as pillow. "You would've made a hell of a nurse. Not many people could have handled today."

"I'm sorry I didn't come back." I realized I was very sorry I made that mistake. I didn't want her to think less of me. I was feeling a bit wimpy and I wanted to be stronger.

"We are two sorry fucked-up individuals." She smiled. I smiled back. "If my memory serves me correctly, this is just the calm before another storm. I better get something in my stomach so it doesn't hurt to bad." I stood up out of the chair and helped Mia up.

"You've done this before?" She was still looking a bit weak. I kept her hand once she was standing.

"Seen it before. I was an RN in another life." She gripped my hand a little tighter and used me to steady her walking a bit. My survival now made a bit more sense. I had a strong desire to know more, but I didn't think it was the right time. She leaned against me as we walked back up to the house. It felt nice, sort of like the waves only a bit better.

"What would you like to eat?" I asked as we entered the kitchen.

"Truthfully? Nothing," she said as she sat on the counter stool. "But I better try to get something down. Bread, maybe?" She didn't look too excited about the proposition. I began rummaging through the cabinets and pantry looking for bread-like items. I found crackers, pancake mix, corn bread mix, and various muffin mixes. No bread.

"Pancakes okay?" It looked like they would be least invasive of the choices.

"Sure!, No syrup for me, though. Don't think I could handle the sugar." She was developing circles under her eyes. I wondered if she had slept at all last night. I grabbed the pancake mix and spent a few minutes trying to find a measuring cup and mixing spoon to go with a bowl. "You don't cook much do you?" She had been studying my assembly.

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