LAUGHING AND CRYING
Someone called him.
"Enos, wake up!"
He moaned, he wanted just to sleep. Just sleep. Why didn't they let him sleep?
"Come on, boy, wake up!" a male voice and then a pinch in the muscle above his right collarbone. It hurt; he didn't know a pinch there could hurt so much.
He opened his eyes, blurred eyes and heavy eyelids.
A white haired man was looking at him through his big glasses: Doc Appleby.
"How many Vicodin's pills did you take?"
"Uh…", he closed again his eyes, unable to keep them open, "two, just two."
"Oh Doc Appleby," a female voice, her voice. Daisy's voice.
Enos huddled under the blankets, his head too, hiding completely to Daisy, his conscience slowing emerging from that deep and unnatural sleep: Daisy was looking at him as he was sleeping because of the sedatives he took, and he felt ashamed of his weakness. He felt ashamed of his nudity, too: did Daisy notice he was naked? He NEVER slept naked, so WHY exactly that morning Daisy entered his apartment?
His conscience had a further step in that foggy sleep: Doc Appleby was with Daisy, and it meant… What did it mean? How and why did they enter his room at the Boarding House?
His mind plunged again in the darkness.
Doc Appleby gently rested the Vicodin's bottle on the night table, "It's almost full, so I suppose he took just a couple of pills, as he told us. Enough to sleep so deeply, especially if he took it late in the night or really early in the morning, but for sure not enough to kill him. Don't worry and let him sleep, Daisy."
"But… if he took TWO pills it means he had a LOT of pain!"
The doctor had a deep sigh, "Yeah, you're right, but… it won't kill him. The pain's goin' to lessen", another sigh coupled with his shaking head, "the pain would lessen if he stopped to run here and there and had some rest as I keep on repeat to him," he walked to the door, "and next time, Daisy, instead of call me shouting that Enos is lying dead in his bed, have a try to wake him up. Or, at least, check his breath and pulse."
Daisy blushed remembering her being in hysterics.
But, how not being in hysterics?
At 8 A.M. the phone rang at the farm, and an angry (or a worried, it wasn't clear) Rosco asked if Enos was there: since he didn't see him at the Police Station, and since Enos didn't answer his call at the Boarding House, he was wondering if he spent the night at the farm and why he wasn't at work.
At 8,15 A.M. Daisy parked her jeep in front of the Boarding House whereas Bo and Luke were looking for Enos' patrol car in any ravine or pond. Fortunately Enos' patrol car was there, in front of the Boarding House, and it meant Enos was still in his apartment. Why was he still there? He usually woke up early in the morning, especially when he had to go to work.
At 8,25 A.M., after a frantic knocking at his door and after a scaring silence as answer to her knocking, she opened the door thanks to Mrs. Marple's key (as owner of the Boarding House the old woman had a copy of every room's key, for any eventuality).
At 8,30 A.M. Daisy called Doc Appleby, sobbing about Enos motionless in his bed, probably dead because of an overdose of Vicodin (she noticed the open bottle on the night table and she didn't realize it was nearly full, her mind driven to the most dramatic scenario) and Mrs. Marple was sobbing too, sitting on a chair.
At 8,40 A.M. a breathless Doc Appleby entered the room, he came closer Enos, he briefly looked at him as he grabbed his wrist, and he relaxed, "He's just sleeping. An heavy sleep." He took the Vicodin's bottle, observing it, "he probably took too much Vicodin, but it seems the bottle is still full," and then he managed to wake Enos up thanks an energetic pinch on his shoulder.
"I just want to sleep, please, let me sleep."
Enos' hoarse and moaning words as Doc Appleby tried to wake him up gave Daisy a sort of vertigo: she collapsed on the couch, uncertain if crying of joy, if slapping herself because of her being in hysterics in front of Mrs. Marple and Doc Appleby, or if slapping Enos because he was the reason of all that mess.
That mix of fear, relief, embarrassment and rage prevented her to do anything: she simply stayed there, sitting on the couch and looking at Doc Appleby leaving the room, Mrs. Marple with him after wiping her eyes with her apron.
She woke up from her emotional shock and confusion when Enos moaned again, rolling on his back and emerging from the blankets.
She walked to the phone and she called uncle Jesse to tell him Enos was "simply sleeping at the Boarding House 'cause he took too much Vicodin", and she heard uncle Jesse sighing before to tell her he was going to C.B. to Bo and Luke (and to Rosco too) about it, so stopping their useless research.
Sitting on a chair near Enos' bed, Daisy wondered what to do: leaving him alone or staying with him until he woke up? Fleeting doubt.
He underwent more than six hours of surgery to treat internal injuries. He is expected to survive, the chief said.
"Daisy… it's not fair to check of signs of the surgical operation Doc talked about on Enos' body."
Uncle Jesse's reproach just few days before didn't stop Daisy's "checking" as soon as she realized Enos wasn't wearing any t-shirt. She slowly uncovered his chest and then his belly, stopping the blankets' descending some inches under his belly button.
And she saw the surgical operation's signs: a long, central and vertical scar crossed his belly, starting under his sternum and stopping at his lower belly, with two small scars on both sides of the central one, at the same distance from it; another long scar crossed the right side of his chest, parallel to his ribs.
Daisy wasn't a doctor, so she didn't know what the real meaning of those surgical scars was, but the idea of "more than six hours of surgery to treat internal injuries" was now more clear and real, and so more scaring and ravaging.
She felt the air inside the room becoming heavier and heavier, and she started to sweat as her temperature was rising more and more. She stood up and she opened the window, fall's fresh air entering the room and remembering her where she was, washing away her personal vision of that day in L.A., a vision changing every time she thought about it, adding or removing some details; a vision anyway becoming stronger and more painful despite its continuous changing: adding or removing some details didn't change the sense of that terrific vision, its consequences now real and visible in those scars.
She had a deep breath, inhaling that fall's air, Hazzard's air, and she closed the window, sitting down near his bed, her hands slowly reaching the blankets in order to cover him: she saw what she wanted to see, and she was realizing it added just more questions, and pain, instead of more answers.
"Daisy… what… are… you… doing?"
Her hands still on the blankets (blankets still few inches under his belly button), she turned to him and she realized he was blushing. And looking down at his belly she realized why he was blushing: it was now clear to Daisy he was totally naked, no sign of pants. The blankets covered him up to his lower belly, but if Daisy had lowered those blankets of some more inches...
Daisy felt again her temperature rising and her cheeks burning, now for a totally different reason: Enos was looking at her while she had her hands still on his blankets, and his blankets were just few inches above…
"I didn't see you naked, Enos. Honestly, I didn't want to see you naked, I was just… just…"
He took the blankets from her hands, "Possum on a gum bush, Dais. I can't even sleep in my bed without…," his head under the blankets now completely covering him he kept on talking, his squeaking voice muffled, "without… having someone sneaking into my room and… and… "
"Come on, put your underpants on," she opened his drawer, she grabbed a pair of underwear and she handed it out to him as his hand emerged from the blankets and reached hers.
Her arms folded in an apparent self-confidence, she looked at his arm hiding again under the blankets, his underpants in his hand, and then she observed that embarrassed and goofy bundle moving until he finally got up, his underpants on, heading to the bathroom, "When did you start to sleep totally naked, Enos Strate?"
She waited until he came out the bathroom, his hair damp and his face shaved, "I… usually don't sleep… naked, "he was still blushing, "it's that… last night I…," he turned to her, "Daisy, I'm sorry but… I don't want to talk about it, OK?" he shook his head, "I can't believe we're talking about it."
"We're talking about it simply 'cause you didn't go to the Police Station, this morning, and I had to ask Mrs. Marple to open your door, and then I had to call Doc Appleby 'cause I thought you were… dead!"
"Dead? Why did you think I was dead?" he looked at her in confusion as he opened the wardrobe to dress his uniform.
"I thought you killed yourself with… Vicodin"
"WHAT?" he forgot about his uniform, "Daisy, how could you think something like that? I took Vicodin just 'cause…," he looked away, "you know. Now you know everything about the beating, I suppose."
Her eyes lingered on his scars, "Yeah, it's why I… it's why I uncovered you… just to know about… your staying in Hospital. I'm sorry."
He realized she was looking at his scars and he was going to say something when a gentle knock at the door broke their awkward silence: probably Mrs. Marple was checking everything was OK.
"The door is open, Mrs," Daisy's eyes opened wide when the door opened, "Burns?"
"Good morning. I hope everything's OK. Sheriff Coltrane told me about … your absence, and the reason of your absence, deputy Strate, so…" Mrs. Burns entered the room and she looked at Enos and Daisy with an embarrassed smile, "Uh, sorry, I think I interrupted a romantic moment."
"Mrs. Burns, please, I've already told you I don't want to be interviewed, and I'm now asking you to leave Hazzard and not to bother sheriff Rosco… or other folks. Please!"
"We're going to talk about it later, deputy Strate… when you'll wear something more than … those pink boxers," a brief nod as goodbye and Catherine Burns left the room so silently as she came in, the silence after her leaving replaced by Daisy's laugh.
"Oh thank you Daisy. Anyway, my boxers are… pink just 'cause… I washed them with my red shirt, so now I have a pair of soft pink underwear and a soft red shirt. You should've handed out another pair… Hey, stop laughing, it's already enough embarrassing."
Daisy kept on laughing, unable to stop. She laughed and she cried, and she didn't know if she was crying because she was laughing too much, or if it was a strange eruption of her confused emotions: she was still shocked because of her believing Enos was dead, and after that fear the shock in seeing his scars (remembering her any vision of that day, stronger and vivid images than ever), and finally that embarrassing and silly situation breaking down her bad emotions.
She laughed and she cried several minutes before to calm down, while Enos stared at her in confusion.
"Daisy… are you… OK?"
"Oh Enos. You're really something else. You're able to make me laugh in the most unimaginable situations," she wiped her tears and her laughing turned into a simple crying.
"Daisy, are you… crying… or laughing?"
"I think both of them, sugar. I'm sad and shocked about what happened to you, but at the same time I'm relieved you're here with me, safe and sound, and clumsy like usual. And now, please, dress you up and…," she wiped again her tears, painful tears, now, "please, I don't want to see those scars. It hurts me. Sorry, I know you've been hurt more than me, but…," her voice cracked and she burst out crying, no more sign of laughing in her crying.
Through her tears she looked at him dressing up: shirt, pants, socks and shoes.
"I'm OK, Dais, I'm OK. Forget about L.A. I'm trying my best to forget about it, and I need you to help me. Did you remember what you told me, yesterday evening? You told me you were goin' to give me new memories, good memories, in order to wash away L.A.' memories," he came closer her and he slowly hugged her, "So, please, stop crying. OK?"
She nodded against his shoulder, finding back her self-control and realizing the deep meaning in Enos' words: she had to be strong, for him.
"Yeah. And now that journalist thinks we were having a romantic moment. You and your… pink boxers," she sniggered.
"Well, in effect… she was true. Wasn't she true?"
"Oh Enos," she parted from him and she gave him a soft punch on his arm, she laughed and then she kissed him, a deep and emotional kiss as the previous night.
LOS ANGELES POLICE DEPARTMENT
His pen and notebook in his hand, the journalist stared at the two detectives, the blonde one and the dark haired one: deep blue cold eyes and deep dark cold eyes.
"Do you think the culprit is moving to the East Coast, after his activity here in L.A.? Is he the same man?"
The dark haired man observed his hands as he was looking at something totally new, for him, as those hands weren't his ones, "Yeah, we suppose he's moving to the East Coast. We've had signs of his activity in Arizona, Oklahoma and now Alabama."
"And are you going to catch him?" the journalist had a quiver: he had to warn Catherine. If that man were moving to the East Coast, maybe he'd have reached Georgia, too. Catherine had to stop to waste her time with that cop, Enos Strate (old news), and focus on what's happening (actual news).
"We're going to help local police to catch him. Yeah."
The journalist nodded. He had definitively to warn Catherine: interesting things could happen in Georgia, and she had the opportunity to be in frontline.