The sky was clear, at least what I could see of it. Not a sound but the wind. I tried to think what I needed to do. Water was the next chore. It had to rain on this mountain once in awhile, or these trees wouldn’t have gotten as large as they were. I wondered if I could boil the liquid out of sap. Maybe create some way to condense it. It was certainly cold enough for it. Of course, I wasn’t sure if water would be the only liquid to condense. I could save pee. I wasn’t really high on either solution, but thinking of peeing made me run off into the woods. I drained my bladder into nature. I knew the cold was disguising my thirst, but it was doing a good enough job that I wasn’t desperate yet. I was resecuring my pants when I thought about Dorothy. How was her bladder?
“Dorothy?” I said, slightly shaking her shoulders. There was no movement except her rhythmic breathing. “Dorothy, I am really sorry about this, but I have to check.” I lifted the blanket and carefully placed my hand between her legs. “Shit!” I yelled loud enough to wake the dead. She was warm and very wet. I left the hovel. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I shouted at the world. Unconscious people pee.
If it got as cold as last night, or colder, being wet could very well be a death sentence. Dorothy was my only friend. We were each other’s blankets. There was no way I could lose her. I wasn’t sure I could survive without her. I knelt down and looked at her sleeping face from the door. There was no way I was going to let her die. A pilot, two old men, and a little boy were it. The world wasn’t going to take her as well. I silently prayed her husband was an understanding man.
I broke the latch on the other suitcase. I needed to assess the clothes we had and pick out something dry for Dorothy. It looked like her son’s suitcase. Extra shoes and many sets of clothes that fit no one on the mountain. Even the socks looked too small for mittens. Under the shirts, I found a rare gift. Torn cellophane containing three juice boxes. The writing was Russian, but they looked grape according to the picture on the side. No clothes, but I did have the means to create more pee. I laughed at the irony. There were a few more days of survival in those boxes.
I rummaged through the contents from the other suitcase and chose a pair a pants. I thought about the men’s underwear. I shook my head and decided Dorothy would rather go commando than wear some old man’s underwear. I took a deep breath and crawled back into our home.
“Dorothy,” I said loudly, hoping she would wake up and take care of this herself, “I need to change your pants.” No movement, not even an eyelid twitch. “This is not ideal,” I continued as I began undoing her belt, “but I have little choice. Your parts would become ice cubes, and I can’t have that.” I pulled the belt through the loops. She was wearing button fly jeans that made me struggle exactly where I shouldn’t be struggling.
“You had to wear button fly jeans on the plane,” I complained, “just too be difficult I assume.” The first button finally released. “I hope you know I am not enjoying this,” I went to work on the next button which was more stubborn, “if you would just wake up, you can save us all sorts of embarrassment.” Of course, if she didn’t wake up, I would be the only one embarrassed. The last button finally relented.
“Last chance,” I said, looking at her calm face. It was a rather nice face, now that the blood had been cleaned off. With no response, I started tugging the wet pants down her hips. It was a challenging operation since she couldn’t help by lifting her butt. I paused and tried to stifle a laugh.
Dorothy was wearing yellow panties covered with images of cute ducks in different poses. It wasn’t any cartoon character I was familiar with, but it definitely didn’t fit a mother. They would be more at home on a toddler. The timing couldn’t have been better. The laugh allowed some of my guilt to drift away.
“When you wake, I am going to need an explanation for your choice in underwear,” I said as I removed her shoes and tugged her pants over her feet. “I guess you didn’t expect the plane to crash.” Quickly, without trying to think, I laid the back of my hand on her yellow ducks. They were soaked.
“I am going to do this a clinically as I can,” I said, looking at Dorothy’s face, “I wish there were another way, but the cold leaves us no options.” I sighed and then pulled her wet panties down her legs and over her feet. I tried to keep my eyes on her feet as I took the dry pants and began running them up her legs. I paused.
“Apologies,” I said, then ran my hand carefully up the inside of her thigh to the apex. Her skin was too wet and I could imagine a rash would develop. I pulled off the dry pants, grabbed the first aid kit and ripped open a disinfectant wipe. I took a deep breath then began wiping her. I gave up not looking and moved her legs as necessary, even turning her on her side to get underneath. There was nothing I didn’t see, but I shut out the desire to see it. I was a doctor, not a voyeur.
When I was done, I grabbed one the boy’s shirts and dried her off. I tested the skin and decided she was clean and dry enough. I quickly ran the pants back up her legs, lifted her butt and zipped them up. Her waist was fairly trim compared the man who wore the pants. I retrieved her belt and spent some time feeding it through all the loops. Once cinched, she looked like a hillbilly. I had to smile. She was a cute hillbilly.
I took her wet clothes outside and laid them on one of the logs. We had limited resources so, drying them out seemed reasonable. I had no idea how long the two of us were going to be stuck on the mountain and a change of clothes, dirty or not, might become important. The duck covered panties continued to entertain my mind as I began to build a fire. I really wanted to meet the woman with the guts to wear such a garment. She obviously had a humorous side.
To be on the safe side and conserve matches, I lit the Sterno can first before trying to ignite the branches I was using as kindling. I was proud of my decision when the wood failed to catch prior to the match dying out. I started the kindling with the Sterno, then covered the can to preserve it.
The warmth the fire created was a luxury. The sun had heated the air enough that the cold was bearable, but the heat was most welcome. I turned my ass to the flames and let them return me to a sense of normalcy. I took stock of the situation.
Three juice boxes and four Ramon packets. My stomach was growling, but I didn’t want to partake of the food without the ability to share it with Dorothy. In time, if she didn’t wake up, I would have too. The juice I could possible share. I wondered if swallowing was as much a reflex as breathing. We would both need liquid to keep our innards working. The sugar might even give us a little energy.
I turned, facing toward the fire when my butt began to feel the burn. The wood was burning quickly. I wrestled one of the big logs, dragging the end into the fire. My hope was to slowly feed it in and not have to constantly feed smaller pieces. I thought of Dorothy as I singed the hair on the back of my hand. She deserved some warmth as well.
I crawled back into the hovel and checked her breathing. Steady as ever. I rolled her on her side, tucked the blanket underneath and let her roll back on top of it. Slowly, I pulled the blanket like a sled. The ground was a little uneven, but I don’t think it bothered her. I laid her near enough to the fire where she could feel the warmth, but not burn. I sat on a log next to her head and smoothed out her hair, pushing it out of her eyes.
Dorothy was a phenomenal listener. I explained our situation and sketched out my current plans, which were weak. I began talking to her about Kimberly. If I survived this rock, I would need to make some decisions about my future. I loved Kimberly some of the time. It wasn’t fair to her, or to me, to continue a relationship that was doomed to fail in the long run. Kimberly, I was sure, was thinking the same thing. I explained the whole relationship to Dorothy, defining when things began to not be right. I also expressed my reservations of hurting Kimberly. We had been together for so long, I wasn’t sure we knew how to be apart.
I drifted from Kimberly and I talked about my job. I was getting tired of popping around the world, never staying in one place long enough to see the sights. My partner Doug Finley and I started the business ten years ago. I just wished he took on some of the travel. It wasn’t all bad. I have seen more of the world than most people. The cultures I have been exposed to, have given me an understanding of people that has enriched my life. It is exhausting though.
Doug had mentioned that he had a buyer for the firm. I think he was getting tired of it all as well. I wasn’t ready to let the firm go and didn’t want to assume a loan to buy him out either. I told him to sell his half to the buyer. The buyer wanted all or nothing which left him in limbo. I was rethinking the situation. Maybe it was time to sell.
I rotated the blanket in a circle to warm Dorothy’s other side. Color had returned to her cheeks which made her prettier. I parted her hair and looked at the cut that had caused all the blood before. It seemed to have scabbed over nicely. There was no puffy redness to indicate infection.
Popping the straw into the little hole of the juice box was not as easy as the picture made it look. You needed a bit more force than I figure a child could employ. Needless to say, I ended up wasting some of the precious liquid when I squeezed the box as I poked. I hoped Dorothy would be awake the next time. I assumed she was practiced at it.