After extensive cranial surgery to repair the damaged caused by a super heated metal fragment, six percent of Tommy Bledsoe's brain resided in a glass specimen jar at the pathology lab at Brooke Medical Center. The missing gray matter contained Tommy's memories after the age of twelve. Although Tommy was missing a portion of his brain, he was an intelligent young man with a much better than average ability to learn. Tommy caught up to adulthood academically in less than a year. In that same year, his physical strength returned and he rediscovered females and sex.
The area where he did not advance was socially. The years during which a young person learns social skills were eradicated from Tommy's brain, and he could not go back and regain them as quickly and easily as he had history and mathematics. The lack of social sophistication was what made some people think Tommy was a simpleton.
Tommy knew that he did not make a good first impression on most people. He accepted that fact and didn't worry about it much. He didn't worry, because at home in Brantley everyone knew and accepted him. The few times he had traveled outside of Brantley had always been with one of his friends or family.
That was not the case when Tommy departed for Houston on Friday morning after tending his goats. He was by himself because Ruth had to work and Connie was tired of traveling after her trip to England. Tommy was going to miss being snuggled in between them later that night, but Molly was important enough for him to make the sacrifice. Tommy thought making the trip by himself was one more milestone in his road to becoming a functional adult.
Tommy went straight to the hospital as soon as he arrived in Houston. Molly was already awake and fairly alert when he arrived at the recovery room. Big smiles on the faces of the nurses and Molly's mother let him know the operation had been a success. Tommy handed Molly a neatly wrapped 'get well' present and Molly eagerly ripped off the colorful wrapping paper. Molly gave a bandage muffled squeal when she saw it was a picture of her and Princess from the weekend before. Cora Snyder gave Tommy a kiss on the cheek for his thoughtfulness towards her daughter, and left them to chat while she went for lunch.
With a promise to return the next morning, Tommy left after supper and headed over to the house Carolyn shared with two other co-eds. Tommy rang the door bell a few minutes past seven o'clock. A tall, slender young woman wearing an ankle length granny dress opened the door. The woman's hair was black and straight; it was parted in the middle, encircled by a tooled and beaded leather band and hung down to the small of her back. She had big brown eyes partly hidden behind pink tinted, wire-framed glasses. The glasses were perched part way down a slightly hooked nose. Her full red lips were curved in a small smile as she arched an inquisitive eyebrow.
Tommy doffed his Stetson and introduced himself.
"Hello, I'm Tommy Bledsoe, a friend of Caroline and her family. Is Caroline here?"
The young woman's smile grew bigger, showing her blindingly white, perfectly straight teeth.
"Groovy, come on in Tommy, I'm Paloma. We were expecting you earlier. Caroline and Janet, our other roomie, are primping; they both have hot dates, so you are stuck with me for the evening."
Tommy nervously twisted his hat in his hands as he looked at the young woman. She was the first genuine hippie he'd ever met, and he didn't know how he was supposed to talk to her. In addition, she talked about as fast as anyone he'd ever heard, it was all he could do to keep up with what she was saying. He finally found his tongue.
"Uh ... Miss Paloma, maybe it would be best if I found somewhere else to stay, I don't want to keep you from doing anything you had planned."
Again the dazzling smile, as she grabbed his arm and started tugging him through the door.
"Nonsense, Tex," she said, "I don't have anything planned so everything is copacetic. Besides, from what Caroline's told me, we have lots to talk about."
Tommy didn't know what to make of that statement, so he nodded, grabbed his dufflebag and allowed her to pull him into the house.
She sat him on the couch in a nicely furnished living room, then excused herself to fetch them a Coke. Tommy looked around while she was gone.
The couch he was sitting on and the matching overstuffed chairs were covered in buttery soft, burgundy leather. The walls were an off white and the floors were oak inlaid with cherry. Thick burgundy and gold paisley drapes covered the large picture window behind the couch. A glass topped walnut coffee table with a couple of casually displayed art books was in front of the couch. A big Magnavox console television/hi-fi dominated the opposite wall. Iron Butterfly was growling out the Psychedelic Rock anthem In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida on the turntable. The only light in the room was from a couple of large, cinnamon scented candles on the glass topped end tables that bracketed the couch.
All this was fascinating and more than a little scary for Tommy, but he was determined to hold his own as an adult.
Paloma returned with a couple of ice cold bottles of Coca-Cola. She set the bottles on the coffee table and folded her lanky frame down onto the couch about a foot away from Tommy. She tucked her bare feet underneath her and turned to face him.
Her real name was Susan Compton, her mother was an Osage American Indian from Oklahoma, and her family was oil money rich. The house the women lived in belonged to her parents. Paloma was not a medical student as were Caroline and the other roommate. Instead, she was a graduate student working towards a master's degree in psychology, a task she'd been idly pursuing as her Paloma persona dabbled in the counter-culture, hippy life style. She was very interested in talking to Tommy because Caroline had briefed her on his unique situation. With that in mind, she eased into a conversation.
"Caroline told me you were wounded in Vietnam," she said for openers.
Tommy bobbed his head up and down once. The subject wasn't his favorite topic of conversation, but he didn't shy away from answering honestly.
"I was. Something went into my brains and messed them up," he said. "Now I'm not so smart about some things and can't remember anything from since I was twelve until last year."
"Caroline says you are doing well, considering everything. She told me you own a ranch and are partners in her parents business."
Tommy smiled and shrugged depreciatingly.
"That's because of Mama Fricke and all my friends, they helped me a lot."
Paloma didn't ask Tommy any more questions because he began regaling her with stories about his friends and life in Brantley. They were both laughing at a story about Rex, the yellow wonder dog, when Caroline and another woman walked into the room.
Caroline's heart beat a little faster when she saw Tommy, and she felt a pang of jealousy towards Susan as the two canoodled on the couch. For a few seconds she regretted the date she had arranged so she could avoid spending any time with Tommy. She shook that idea out of her head, pasted a smile on her face, and introduced the third roommate, Janet Longrie. Caroline had no sooner made the introductions, when the doorbell signaled the arrival of their dates and off they went.
As soon as Caroline slipped through the door on the arm of a nattily dress young intern, Tommy turned to Paloma and once again asked her if it wouldn't be better if he found another place to spend the night.
"We are all cool with you staying here, Tommy, and I'm enjoying your company. Say, I made some killer double chocolate brownies; what say we eat a couple and rap for a while."
Tommy agreed and Paloma scampered into the kitchen to snag a couple of her special recipe brownies. Paloma giggled as she cut her new friend a large slab of the marijuana-laced chocolate confection. She was usually pretty stingy with her reefer, but her new friend was so up tight, she couldn't resist. Besides, she was bored, she was between lovers, and the big handsome cowboy was yummy looking in his white shirt, tight Levis and shiny cowboy boots. She figured the grass would relax him enough to make him susceptible to being seduced.
Thirty minutes later, Tommy was slow dancing Miss Paloma around the dimly lit living room when the Acapulco Gold snuck up on him. Tommy had no memories of being high with which to compare what he was feeling, so he chalked it up to the company and the music. Whatever the reason, though, he felt incredibly good. His body seemed to tingle and he felt vibrantly alive. And he was suddenly hyper aware of the tall willowy woman molded against him, her head on his shoulder, and her strawberry scented hair tickling his nose. Instantly, he was hard and throbbing. Before he could disengage enough to keep from being embarrassed, Paloma started grinding herself against him.
"Is that your six gun I feel poking me cowboy?" she whispered teasingly in his ear.
Tommy grinned and shook his head.
"Nope, it's more like a seven and three quarter gun, and if you keep rubbing on it, it's subject to go off," he replied, the grass making him loquacious.
"Then we better put it somewhere safe so we don't put an eye out," she said with a throaty laugh.
Tommy didn't need any clearer an invitation than that.
"I know just the place," he said as he whisked her up in his arms.
Paloma yelped in surprise, her arms that were already around his neck instinctively tightening. Tommy spun around and started heading down the hallway past the bathroom she had pointed out earlier. Paloma giggled and languidly gestured toward the second door on the right.
Tommy sat on the bed to remove his boots, as Paloma stood in front of him swaying sexily. When she knew he was looking, she unfastened a couple of buttons and shimmied her upper body. Her dress fell to her gently swelling hips, hung there for a moment, then slid down to the floor. The long dress was all she had been wearing. Tommy forgot about his boots; he was transfixed as her copper colored body seemed to shimmer in the soft light spilling through the door from the hallway. Paloma's breasts were small, but her areola and nipples were dark and puffy like Hershey Kisses. Her hips were slim but feminine, and her legs were the longest he'd ever seen. But the thing that riveted his attention was the fact that she was completely hairless below her eyebrows.
"I've never seen a bald one," Tommy said in wonder.
She smiled coquettishly and struck a pose with her hand on her hip.
"I started shaving what little hair I had down there when I lived on a commune in Colorado. Swami Madras insisted on it as part of maintaining a healthy body. I moved away from the ashram to start grad school, but I still shave and practice my yoga faithfully. Do you like it?"
Tommy nodded enthusiastically as he kicked off his boots.
"Oh hell yes!" he exclaimed. "Hop on this bed and I'll show you how much."
She did ... then he did.
Tommy was at his absolute sexual best that night as the THC coursing through his damaged brain put his libido in over-drive. He was a veritable sex machine from the minute he joined her on the bed, until midnight when he finally ran out of steam. He made love to her for three hours with only two short drink and snack breaks. Amazingly, she stayed right with him, contorting her long and yoga limber body into positions Tommy didn't think a snake could replicate. Even better, Paloma was a squirter like Ruthie, and she was as noisy as his friend and former tutor Becky Dierdorf.
For Paloma, whose sex drive bordered on insatiable, Tommy was the first person of either sex to completely satisfy her without help.
Paloma thought Caroline was insane for choosing some stuffed shirt intern over him. Paloma didn't mind that Tommy was unsophisticated. Instead, she thought his uncomplicated personality and his goodness made his karma certain to end him in Nirvana. And amazingly, Tommy was that way by nature, not through years of meditation and study as had been the case with her former guru, Swami Madras. Paloma happily snuggled against her handsome new lover's muscular back and sighed contentedly as she imagined his aura enveloping her. Caroline could stop worrying about Tommy getting in her way, because Paloma had every intention of monopolizing his time until he went home.
Tommy woke up the next morning with Paloma wrapped around him like a tetherball rope. He raised his arm gently so as not to awaken her and squinted at the luminous dial of his watch. He smiled in relief when he saw it was about half past six; he had plenty of time to get ready and be at the hospital by nine for the start of weekend visiting hours. Tommy tried to ease his way out of Paloma's grasp, but she wasn't having any of it. Her eyes popped open and she tightened the grip of the hand that had been loosely holding his morning erection.
"Not so fast cowboy," she said as she rolled over on top of him.
Tommy grinned in surprised delight as she mounted herself on his turgid member. He was delighted that Paloma was a kindred morning person, and pleased as punch that she liked eye-opener sex. Her long straight black hair whipped around wildly as she bounced up and down on his woody. When he reached up and squeezed her passion puffy nipples in his big calloused hands, she froze on her down stroke. "Harder!" she hissed.
Tommy was swept along with her arousal and they climaxed simultaneously a few minutes later. She fell down on his chest and quivered for a minute or so, then hopped off him and grabbed a silk kimono from the foot of the bed.
"Come on big boy, let's take a quick shower and make some breakfast, I'm famished."
Tommy popped out of bed after her. He shucked on his boxers, grabbed his AWOL bag and followed her into the bathroom.
Paloma sent Tommy out the door forty-five minutes later with a sweet kiss and a belly full of ham and cheese omelet. She cleaned up the breakfast dishes and was sitting at the table drinking coffee when a bleary-eyed Caroline stumbled into the kitchen.
Caroline was wearing pajamas and a thick robe in case Tommy was in the kitchen, so she noticed Paloma's skimpy kimono right away.
"You shouldn't be wearing something so revealing, did you forget we had company?"
Paloma looked down at her robe and shrugged.
"I'm decent; besides, he's long gone. He was in a rush to be at the hospital as soon as visiting hours started."
Caroline nodded as she poured herself a steaming mug of coffee. She eased into the chair across from Paloma and gave her roommate a small grateful smile.
"Thanks for entertaining him last night. I know he isn't that great a conversationalist, but my parents think the world of him and I ... well, he is sort of family, I guess."
Paloma cocked her eyebrow and nodded her head, clearly expecting Caroline to say more.
Caroline sighed as she made a production of putting sugar in her coffee cup. Expressing her feelings about Tommy was difficult for her.
"So anyway, if you two got along okay, would you mind if I went out again with Roger tonight? He wants to take me to some charity function. He thinks it will be good for both of our careers if we attend."
Paloma pretended to mull the question over, but that was just for show; she loved the idea of spending another night with Tommy. Finally, she lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug and smiled.
"Tommy might have plans of his own, but if he doesn't, I'll be here."
Tommy spent the morning and early afternoon with Molly and some of the other children on the ward. Molly was sequestered on the orthopedic ward and most of her fellow patients were bed bound. Although there were plenty of volunteers helping on the ward, Tommy was the only young man there, and the children took to him quickly.
Tommy had wrestled half a dozen hospital beds in a semicircle and was reading an abridged version of Gulliver's Travels to the bed's occupants, when Sheriff Wagner, Doctor Glickman and some of the officers from the Houston Shrine walked into the ward. Cy Wagner made the introductions; Tommy blushed at the glowing terms the Sheriff and Irv Glickman used to describe him and his part in bringing Molly here.
The Potentate of the Houston Shrine was a gregarious fellow named Frank Quimbly. Frank was the quasi-retired senior partner of a prestigious Houston law firm and the Shriner Hospital's biggest booster. Quimbly grabbed Tommy's hand and started pumping it.
"Good job, son, damn good job; say, we're having a little barbeque at my spread this evening and we would love for you to be our guest. Dress is western and it starts at six."
Tommy nodded and asked, "Can I bring a guest?"
Quimbly smiled and slapped him on the back.
"Sure, the more the merrier and there'll be plenty of other young people too, so you won't be stuck with us old fogies."
Tommy was pleased that Paloma readily accepted his invitation to the cookout. Paloma thought it was major karma that Tommy had been invited to the Quimbly's soirée. It was a gas to her, because her father was a member of the Houston Shrine, and her stodgy parents would probably be there also. She figured that the shock value of her turning up at the party with someone as clean-cut and all-American as Tommy would make it worth putting up with the other square old fossils. Paloma loved her parents, but they were hopelessly square and old fashioned. They tolerated — barely — her journey of self discovery, but they were beginning to pressure her to grow up and settle down.
Caroline had already departed with her date and Janet was out and about when Tommy and Paloma exited her room. Tommy was delighted with the outfit Paloma chose when he said 'dress western'. She was wearing a buckskin dress, the soft buttery leather cinched at the waist with a beaded belt. The bodice of the dress was decorated with some beaded rick-rack that matched the belt. The dress was short and fell to a few inches above her knees; her feet were shod in matching tall leather moccasins that came up to mid calf. She had ironed her hair arrow straight and the flowing mass of it tumbled down to the middle of her back. Her trusty leather headband kept her face clear of her thick tresses.
While Tommy thought that Paloma's outfit was the coolest thing ever, the gentile guests at the Quimbly's cook out had varying opinions. However, because they were gentile and hospitable, no one made a fuss about it, especially Paloma's staid parents. They might not have been thrilled with her choice of clothing, but they sure were with the date she chose. Paloma could almost see her mother picking out wedding invitations in her head, and her father was calling Tommy son within fifteen minutes of meeting him.
Caroline was very surprised to see Tommy and Paloma when she arrived with her date at the charity function. She had no idea that the event was for the Shriner Children's Hospital. The surprise was not all that pleasant when she saw the way her roommate was hanging on Tommy. She was annoyed as hell at herself for letting it bother her. After all, she was here with Justin, a man who was everything she wanted. Justin had a bright future and he was urbane, cultured and a more than adequate lover, so why was she jealous of Paloma for being with Tommy?
Tommy and Paloma left the cookout around eight. As they departed, Tommy handed Frank Quimbly a check and thanked him profusely for taking care of Molly. Quimbly was astonished at the twenty-five hundred dollar check.
"This is most generous, Tommy. Are you sure you can afford this?"
Tommy shrugged and nodded. The amount of the check was what Doctor Glickman estimated it cost for Molly's stay at the hospital, plus a few hundred dollars.
Instead of heading home, Paloma took Tommy to a house party. She thought the exposure to her counter-culture friends would be enlightening to him after his dealings with the capitalist establishment types.
Tommy, although a little shy and awkward, did enjoy meeting Paloma's friends. They were an unusual group, but they all seemed nice enough, although a little stand-offish. For their part, Paloma's friends were leery of Tommy at first because he looked more than a little like a young clean-cut cop. Once they decided he wasn't, they loosened up around him.
The party was at the pad of a young man named Roger Taylor. Taylor claimed to be an anarchist and a member of the weather underground, but in reality he was an opportunistic drug dealer making a good living off the idealistic hippies.
Roger also had his sights set on Paloma and her money. He thought he was making good progress too, as she had shared her body with him on a couple of occasions. So he was more than a little pissed that she was draped all over the square cowboy. He didn't let his anger show though, instead, he pretended to befriend Tommy. While Paloma was catching up with her friends, Roger took Tommy into the kitchen and during an unguarded moment, he dropped two hits of LSD in Tommy's Doctor Pepper. The acid was a new formulation he'd just found named New Improved Sunshine by its creator. The acid was extremely potent, and laced with a hint of strychnine to give it an extra kick.
After Tommy had downed over half his soda, Roger prevailed on him to drive to the Seven-Eleven for more beer.
"It'll only take a couple of minutes, Tom, and I'll tell Paloma where you are," Roger told him.
Tommy thought it was great that his new friend needed his help, and hustled out the door. He jumped in his truck and drove the three miles to the convenience store. Tommy walked into the store, bought a case of beer and headed back to Rogers. He was a mile from the house when the LSD hit him. The strychnine-laced LSD hit Tommy's fragile brain with the wallop of a sledge hammer. Tommy had just enough presence of mind to pull over seconds before his brain was blasted with a seething flashback of disjointed memories from his forgotten past. Tommy screamed, yanked open the door of his truck, and fell to the roadside, writhing in fearful agony.
To add misfortune to misery, the first people to spot Tommy were a car load of Chicano street toughs out cruising for trouble. The four young men pulled over, jumped out of their car and joyfully kicked Tommy into blessed unconsciousness. As a final insult, they poured beer and urinated on him before stealing his truck and wallet.
A passing sheriffs' patrol found Tommy fifteen minutes later and called in an ambulance to transport the unconscious and ID-less man to the County General Hospital Emergency Room. The emergency staff revived Tommy, only to find that he was incoherent and uncontrollable. They affixed restraints to his arms and legs, injected him with a strong sedative, and wheeled him up to the fourth floor mental ward. Tommy was placed in a padded cell and the deputy sheriffs took his fingerprints. Back at the sheriff's patrol station, they submitted the prints to the FBI's National Crime Information Center.
Meanwhile, Paloma was out with a concerned acting Roger trying to find Tommy. They started their search at the Seven-Eleven and confirmed he'd been there and purchased a case of Lone Star long necks, but they found no trace of him afterwards. Paloma finally had Roger drive her home, hoping Tommy had gotten lost and went there when he couldn't find Roger's house.
Panic set in when Tommy failed to materialize by Sunday afternoon. Paloma was worried sick by then, and Caroline was not much better. They called the police and reported him missing, then Caroline had the unpleasant duty of calling her mother. The call connected and her mother answered. Caroline took a deep breath.
"Mama, Tommy is missing. We haven't seen him since last night."
Rita Fricke patiently wrung the whole story from Caroline, then she called Connie and Tommy's sister Beth. Rita was worried, but she was not a person prone to panic. She passed some of that calm on to Beth, Connie and Ruth when she called them, but nothing in the world could stop Connie from hurriedly packing a bag and aiming her big Cadillac towards Houston. By eight that night, she was sitting on the couch between Paloma and Caroline, receiving the story of Tommy's disappearance first hand.
The Houston PD got lucky late Monday morning in identifying the John Doe they'd found by the road when the NCIC put a name to the fingerprints the Houston police had faxed. The patrol sergeant thought his men had acted correctly when the John Doe turned out to be a brain-damaged disabled veteran. He was happy to put the case to rest by picking up the phone and calling the next of kin, a sister in Florida.
A very relieved Beth Taylor immediately called Rita Fricke and Rita called Caroline. In only minutes, Caroline, Paloma and Connie were speeding towards County general.
The staff of the mental ward of County General Hospital stopped dosing Tommy with sedatives Monday morning on the orders of the Chief of Psychiatry. Doctor Raeburn made that call after reviewing Tommy's latest blood work. The laboratory report confirmed that the high concentration of psychotropic Lysergic Acid Diethylamide present when he was admitted had been flushed from his system.
Doctor Raeburn dropped in to visit his newest patient right before lunch. He immediately knew the patient had bigger problems than just drug use when he found the large robust man fearfully cowering behind his bed.
"I want my Mama," the man plaintively wailed as soon as Raeburn walked into the room.