What the hell's wrong with you, Scallen? No way to feel after a lovely piece of tail.
But that's the way I felt. It didn't seem right. I didn't like it, but it was there, and it wouldn't go away, and I didn't know why.
I thought of Mary Beth's ass, but all it made me feel was the same hollow, empty feeling.
I stopped thinking about it suddenly because somebody was pounding on the door.
'Open up! Who locked this door! Open up!' The voice went on screaming. It sounded like Miss Cook. Mary Beth ran back into the room. She was trying to keep from laughing and put her clothes on at the same time.
'Is she crazy?'
I shook my head and put my finger to my lips.
'Unlock this door!' Miss Cook shouted.
Mary Beth was trying hard to keep from laughing and get her sweater buttoned. Finally she buttoned her sweater and smoothed her skirt and went to the door and unlocked it, turning the knob suddenly.
Miss Cook stumbled, then almost fell into the room. Her face was red and her voice was hoarse. Her eyes bulged with outrage.
'Just what do you think you're doing?'
I laughed.
'This is my sister, Miss Cook. Mary Beth, Miss Cook.'
Miss Cook gave her a scathing, glaring glance.
'What were you doing in here?'
'Talking,' I said.
'Why was the door locked?' She looked at the bed, but it didn't tell her anything.
'I asked her to lock it,' I said. 'I haven't seen my sister in two years.'
'Your sister!' Miss Cook snorted. She was furious.
'Hey, watch it,' I said.
'And I've been worried about you. Worry is wasted on people like you.'
'Thanks a lot.'
Miss Cook left the room. A few minutes later Miss Cassidy came in.
'What did you say to Miss Cook? She was angry.'
'We were discussing football with my sister here.'
'Don't be a fool,' Miss Cassidy said. 'She'll cause you trouble.'
'She doesn't believe Mary Beth is my sister.'
'Neither do I,' said Miss Cassidy. She looked at Mary Beth. 'Don't you know this man has had a head injury and shouldn't be excited?'
'Nobody told me,' I said.
'Why do you think your head hurts?'
'Who said so?'
'You're very stupid, Mr. Scallen. If you want to go on fooling yourself, please do so. I'm not supposed to tell you about your head.'
'Ah-ha, she cares about me,' I said.
'You're an ass,' Miss Cassidy said. She turned and left the room quickly.
'I'm sorry,' Mary Beth said.
'Forget it. I think you cured me.'
But I knew something was wrong. Maybe not just my head, but the strange, funny feeling I had, watching Miss Cassidy going out of the room. I didn't know exactly then what I felt or why Miss Cassidy should give me a strange feeling I couldn't understand.
I know I didn't like it because I couldn't put my finger on what it was. I like to put my finger on things.
Maybe it was just my cock wanting me to put my finger on Miss Cassidy's ass.
Yes, that was it. But I wasn't really sure.
Chapter 7
Nothing much happened until that afternoon. Not a word from Rodger Binks, nor from anybody on the team. Nice bunch of people. Screw them all. If I got out of this I'd take Vakos' job away from him. If I got out of this.
Dr. William Nolen came. He was a fat quiet little man who seemed nervous. He kept reading the charts at the foot of my bed and papers about me in a folder he held in both hands and finally he told me I'd been given a sleeping electroencephalogram, but they weren't quite sure.
'Quite sure about what?'
'Well, uh, we're not sure.'
'What the hell,' I said.
'Nothing really specific.'
'When do I get out of here?'
'We're going to try again. We'll give you a waking electroencephalogram.'
So they wheeled me downstairs and the electroencephalogram was taken in a white, sterile room. The doctor who did it was a black and he was smiling all the time. It took about an hour with all those damn little needles he put into my scalp. He kept coming in and out asking how long had I played football, how many times had I been kicked in the head. Hell, if he only knew my head had a ringing sound in it half the time I was in high school and the rest of the time in college and this was a normal noise for a pro. How many times had I been knocked out? I had been knocked out once in high school, three times in college, three times in pro football. Miss Cook came in and looked at me and made a face like she wished those needles were buried two feet into my brain. The doctor said Miss Cook was a wonderful nurse and I was lucky to have her on my floor. Yes, I was sure lucky.
What did he know about a Miss Cassidy? He had never heard of her. After it was over, I was wheeled back upstairs on the elevator and soon I was back in bed. The fat doctor Nolen said he wanted to go over my brain wade tapes with another doctor and he would be talking to me again that afternoon. I waited and I waited and got tired of waiting and pressed the button on the bell cord and Miss Cassidy came in. I asked her for a glass of water.
'I'm sorry,' she said. 'No water or food until after the doctor sees you.'
'What's the latest gossip about my brain?'
'I don't know.'
'You mean you know something but you can't say anything.'
'Really, I don't know.'
'Where did you get that skin? Mother or father?'
She didn't answer. She went out and I lay there. There was nothing but kiddy programs and soap operas on television. I was bored as hell.
Then the fat nervous little Doctor Nolen came back with another doctor. They were carrying my brain-wave tapes. They studied them standing beside the bed.
'Nothing too specific again,' said Dr. Nolen. 'Hmm,' said the thin tall younger doctor. His name was Dr. Henry Cohen. He kept looking over Dr. Nolen's shoulder.
'How do you feel?' said Dr. Cohen.
'Bored.'
'Your head. Does it hurt?'
'A little bit when I move around.'
'You've had a mild concussion.'
'How long was I out?'
'Fifteen minutes.'
'A first for me.'
'See,' said Dr. Nolen. He held up the brain-wave tapes.
