Healing (Part Three)

© 2013 David Jasmin-Green

I guess my new job started turning sour when a staff member called Donna Cooke and I took a couple of residents to the pictures to see a Disney movie. Donna and I got on pretty well (or so I thought), and we both enjoyed a laugh and a joke. Sometimes when we were alone the banter went a little over the top - Donna got a trifle too fruity for my liking despite the fact that she was a married woman, and a happily married one to hear her talk, though I must admit I was happy to join in once she got the ball rolling. I didn't read anything serious into those sexually charged conversations and I didn't let the situation worry me because I seriously believed that we were engaging in a bit of harmless fun.

Though Donna was fairly attractive (if you like that sort of thing) I didn't fancy her in the slightest, I guess she just wasn't my type. Her eyes were by far her best feature. They were huge, greenish blue pools of phony delight that I didn't dare to look into for too long, though I had no idea why – I had no inkling of the depraved monster that swam in their dreamy depths. Donna looked a lot older than her forty three years, and as if that wasn't bad enough she was a heavy smoker and she reeked of stale tobacco, a feature that I've never found much of a turn on. I've never been overfond of working with smokers because every time you need some help the idle bastards are outside having a bloody fag.....

It was an afternoon showing at the cinema, and apart from us the theatre was empty. George and Emily, our residents, were severely disabled and profoundly deaf. Though it was strictly against company policy staff tended to speak freely about adult issues in the presence of residents because their communication skills were almost non-existent and they didn't have the slightest inkling of what you were talking about. We parked their wheelchairs in the small disabled bay, catered to their immediate needs and sat on the back row just in front of them.

Some twenty minutes into the film Donna put her hand on my knee, and after a moment she repositioned it on my thigh. Initially, rather foolishly I suppose I ignored the intrusion. To tell the truth I felt awkward, paralysed almost – I felt violated, for fuck's sake, but because of my discomfort I couldn't decide upon the best way to deal with the situation. I guess Donna mistook my inertia as acceptance, as a come on even, and oh so slowly her hand began to creep towards my groin. I put a stop to it then, grabbing her wrist firmly and pushing her away.

“We could be so good together, Richie,” she whispered in my ear after an uncomfortable silence. “We could have so much fun – we could be something else, baby boy. You know what I wanna do? I wanna suck you dry, right here, right now. It's tit for tat, mind - I don't dish out fucking freebies..... No one can see us except for the cabbages, and they're hardly likely to spill the beans. Waddaya say? I don't think you'll get a better offer today.”

“I-I don't think that's a good idea,” I replied.

“What's the matter with me?” she snapped. “Am I ugly? Do I fucking smell, or what? I thought you liked me, you bastard, but obviously I was wrong.”

“Donna, I don't want this. I guess I haven't completely gotten over losing my wife yet, and I'm nowhere near ready to start another relationship. Let's leave it at that, OK?”

“I don't want a relationship,” she said. “I already have one of those, for what it's worth. I just want a bit of fun, that's all. I want a bit of extra curricular cock, for Christ's sake. What's wrong with that? And I somehow managed to convince myself that you were the right man to provide it..... I'm used to getting what I want, Richie Brand. You've led me on for ages, you fucking pussy teaser, but even though you're single and you must be gagging for it when it comes to the crunch you don't want to know. Though I'm loath to admit it your rejection has wounded me deeply, and one way or another you're going to pay for that.....”

And that was that. We sat through the rest of the film in silence and it was the last that was said about the subject. I expected Donna to give me the cold shoulder after that disquieting episode, but though her sexual banter cooled off a smidgen she carried on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

*************************

There was one of the female staff that I liked, and foolishly I was completely open about it. Meena Devi was something else. She was a tall, stunningly beautiful woman of Indian extraction, though she came from a very westernised family and many of her relatives were in mixed race relationships. She was nearly fifteen years my junior, and though we openly flirted and she obviously loved the attention it was obvious to both of us that it was just a game - I only pursued her half-heartedly because I knew I had little chance of copping off with her. Anyhow, Meena was already taken, she lived with a white guy who ran a small transport company and they were engaged to be married.

About three weeks after the incident with Donna another female staff member called Keera Pratt (yes, that was her real name) started poking fun at me about my attraction to Meena, but there were no witnesses - she invariably did it when we were out and about with the less communicative residents or catering to their private needs behind closed doors. It started off quite innocuously, and little did I realise what horrors lay in store for me. I knew that Keera and Donna were friends, but I didn't realise how close they were and I had no idea that I was being set up for a fall.

“Your crush on Meena is getting pretty serious, isn't it Richard?” Keera said one afternoon as we were changing the incontinence pad of one of our more severely disabled service users.

“I wouldn't call it a crush,” I replied. “I like to be open and honest, and whether or not that's the best policy in life I've made it clear that I like Meena. If I was ten or fifteen years younger I'd probably make a play for her, but she's engaged to a man that she obviously loves very much and it isn't worth the hassle - I don't want to make waves. And I have to be realistic. What could a gorgeous thing like Meena possibly see in me? She's thirty four in a couple of weeks time and I'm forty nine, I'm old enough to be her dad, for fuck's sake, and she probably sees me as more of a father figure than a potential sexual partner. As you no doubt appreciate, young women need young, virile partners in order to be satisfied, not old codgers with recurrent sciatica and dodgy knees.”

“That's not how I see it,” Keera said. “You want to get in her knickers big time, and maybe the feeling's mutual. You two are always whispering and giggling when you're working together. And it's not what I've heard, either.....”

“And what's that supposed to mean?” I said. “What exactly have you heard, madam?”

“I've heard from a reliable source that you said you were completely obsessed with Meena and you couldn't get the ugly, stupid, big-nosed Paki fuck out of your head,” she muttered, rattling out her vicious monologue in a flat, emotionless monotone as if she'd learned it off by heart, and I couldn't help feeling sickened by her hatred. “I've heard that you wank yourself silly every night over her, that you'd love to throw her on one of the resident's beds and shag the arse off her. My informant said that she heard you say that you wished Meena would ditch her boyfriend because you want to knock out a few mongrel kids with her. I don't see the sense in that, though, she'd probably dress the poor brats in burkhas and train them up as suicide bombers.....” I didn't know quite how to react to that, so I kept my mouth shut, busying myself with cleaning my client's bottom with baby wipes.

“I bet you wouldn't be wearing that expression of barely disguised disgust if it was Meena's thighs spread wide open on the bed and her prawn balti flavoured chocolate starfish winking at you and giving you the come on,” Keera chuckled. “I bet your tongue would be straight in her arse-hole, no messing, you rabid fucking dog.”

“That's enough,” I said, more than a little shocked. “What's with all this racist shit all of a sudden, anyway? I thought you liked Meena, but you can never tell in this academy of back-stabbers, can you? You can never be sure who's in league with who, which staff members are bosom buddies and which hate the frigging sight of each other. I like this job, but I've never worked in such a scheming, underhand, covertly vicious place. What's the fuck's the matter with you people? Is it something in the water or something in the air? If not, where does all this horrendous, crippling poison come from?”

“I was only kidding,” she said defensively.

“Sure you were,” I grunted. “Look, Keera, you're a lesbian, right? How would you like it if I made snide comments about one of the other girls that I suspected you fancied? And remember when I saw you in that Italian restaurant in town with your family? Your sister's married to a Jamaican guy and she has a mixed race kid. What if I said the kid was a grinning pickaninny and your sister was a dirty nigger loving slut? I ought to report you to the manager for what you've said, but I'm not going to – that's not my style. Maybe it's the time of the month, or maybe something else has upset you and you simply lost control, I dunno, and I doubt if you're going to tell me. But that's enough, OK? It stops now, or I will report it, I promise.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “Look, it was just a stupid joke. I have a surreal, some would say evil sense of humour and I thought you did too, I thought you'd take it as meaningless bollocks like a lot of the other crap we talk about to break the monotony in this uninspiring shit-hole. My mouth ran away with me, and I really am sorry. Please don't report me, it won't happen again, I promise. Morsey would take it very seriously indeed – he hangs on to such shit like a bull terrier and refuses to let go, and more than likely I'd be dismissed.”

“All right, apology accepted,” I said as we finished up and left the room. “I don't want to hear about it again. Just forget about it, OK?”

I know I should have reported this incident and the one involving Donna to my manager as soon as possible after they occurred, but as I've already said, grassing isn't my style. I was brought up to obey a distinct code of honour and I believe that it's wrong to betray anything said to you in confidence even if it dribbles out of the lying mouth of your worst enemy, unless of course the act of betrayal is likely to avert a life threatening situation. That belief is unshakeable and it's meant to protect everyone, but it's not a tenet that will protect you in the vicious world of Social Care. I didn't suspect that a failure to grass might feasibly go against me, and I had no way of knowing that it would contribute to my ruination.