The Country Duet(27)

“You’re quiet.” Dave looks up to me over his magazine. “Not getting laid?”

“Got that department under control.” I kneel down next to him. “You’ve been out of the hospital for a couple of weeks now. You need a damn shower. I’m going to get it ready then I’m dumping your stinky ass in it.”

He only grunts, but I don’t give a shit. This man has been given a second chance at life and will not sit around in his own shit on my clock. Sad, but true that I had to wash his tub out before bathing him. I’m thankful there’s a bench he can sit on and a removable showerhead making this task much easier.

Rifling around in his closet while the water warms up, I find myself laughing my ass off. The man has at least fifty black t-shirts, sweatpants, and jeans all with their tags on.

Dave has his shoes kicked off and waiting on me. I scoop him up in my arms, packing him back to the bathroom. His bones scream out in pain from just lifting him up.

“You weren’t shitting about not being a people person?”

“You know, sometimes I think you’re a smart boy then you say something stupid like that.”

“Found your stash of black clothes.”

“Better not be stealing any of those.”

“Not my style.”

I help Dave get settled then leave so he can undress. My head falls back on the wall outside the bathroom. There’s no way in hell he’ll be able to get in the shower all by himself. I don’t need Dave falling and breaking a hip when I’m here to help.

It’s not like I’m excited to give a grown man a bath, but it needs to be done. I hear him rustling around, so I walk into the bathroom and see that he’s ready to get into the bathtub. With shaking hands, I pick Dave up and set him on the bench. Waiting until he’s sitting underneath the spray of hot water, then I pull the shower curtain shut.

I made sure to have an open bottle of body wash in there for him. But I figure at least he’s under hot water, that’s a small victory itself. Dave spends several long minutes in the shower and, if I’m not mistaken, begins humming to himself.

This man has come into my life making a huge impact, forcing me to ponder what the true meaning of life is. Still, late at night when holding Teale to my chest and sleep is elusive, I have no idea why or what for. The conversations with the doctors and social workers wanting all his personal information and demanding answers from me weighs heavy on my thoughts. He needs someone in his life, and I’m determined to be that person.

It is not just because of the turning point we had at the shop today. It’s simply a man in need and a man that can help. The water to the shower shuts off, and I pull back the shower curtain to see Dave smiling like he’d just won the lottery. I toss the clean towel to him, stepping back to give him privacy to dry off.

Giving privacy to a full-grown man while showering truly is a conundrum and impossible. I help Dave from the tub once he’s dried off and then help him into a clean pair of underwear.

And then he shocks me with the next question he asks me.

“You mind shavin’ my face?”

“Excuse me?” I ask.

I'm pretty sure I misunderstood him. I must be going crazy, or the odors in this damn house are making me insane. It’s one thing to help Dave bathe for hygiene purposes, but to shave another grown man’s face? That’s a whole other playing field.

Yes, I am losing my fucking mind.

“Haven’t had a nice clean shaved face in long years. Sure be good to have one.”

I don’t answer with words, but pull open the medicine cabinet above the sink and guess what I find? Dozens and dozens of brand-new razors in the package, not opened. And right next to them, three cans of shaving cream.

I ease Dave into his crisp, new pair of black sweatpants and then have him sit down on the toilet. Dave grabs the t-shirt off the counter, struggling to put it on himself. I’d have it done in a matter of seconds. It takes a considerable amount of willpower to let him have this moment.

Wrapping a clean towel around his shoulders once his shirt is on, I guide his hand to hold onto it. My hands tremble, fighting to steady the razor in my hand. My memory escapes me, and it happens so damn fast that I can’t recall the first step in shaving. I step back, peering into the mirror, breathing in and out. This isn’t awkward I tell myself over and over…it’s empowering for Dave.

A heap of cool lather foams in my palm. Once his lower jaw is covered, I raise my still shaky hand. The first swipe only manages to collect the shaving cream. Inhaling, I try again still with a nervous touch. Then it all comes naturally to me just like I’m shaving my own face. Steady rhythms of swipes begin to work their magic.

Only half of his face is shaven, but I’m already beginning to see a brand new man. Dave even slips up a time or two, letting a smile grace his face. Rinsing the razor off, I continue shaving his face.

“Dave, got a question for you.”

He’s unable to talk, but I know he’s listening when he makes eye contact.

“When you were in the hospital, I got hit with some pretty tough questions. Do you have any idea what you’d like…um, for your funeral? Do you want to be put on life support or…”

He leans back, so the razor isn’t pressed against his face. “Going to be cremated and scattered on the farm. I’ve already paid the funeral home and have it all lined up. When it’s time to go, it’s time to go, no other bullshit.”