Mrs. McConnal VII

Note From The Editor: The writer of this very nice story sent it to me and asked to remain anonymous. However, I have his e-mail address, so if you want to tell him what you think about his story you can email me ([email protected]) and I will make sure he gets your comments.

Chapter Seven: Higher Than I Thought

Back in rehearsal Sally Ann, now trying to comfort me, took me aside and said, "I'm sorry Mrs. McConnal is going to spank you so bad after rehearsal. I didn't mean to bring all this on you."

"She'd have found out anyway." I said, "Besides, maybe she won't spank me any more." (I guess I could hope.)

"Oh," said Sally Ann knowingly, "I feel pretty sure she's going to wear you out after we're all gone."

"Yeah . . . well . . . I guess she is pretty pissed off." was all I could think to say.

"Oh, yes," she said, "she's real pissed off at you."

Oh, well, at least I was going to be half in a daze by then. Maybe I'd even enjoy it.

The evening went on. People kept asking me if I was alright. Of course I was alright. I was just high. Mrs. McConnal kept checking with me to see if I was OK. I couldn't understand what the big deal was. I knew she was mad. I understood that, and could accept it. But I was fine. Did anybody there think that this was the first time I had been that loaded? This was just the first I had ever been this kind of high in public. I don't remember many more particulars about it after that since I was pretty fucked up. But I do remember when Mrs. McConnal sent everyone else home and asked me to stay and 'work with her on something'.

I still sat in my auditorium chair, leaning back, not moving. I wasn't tired or sleepy, I just really didn't feel like moving at all. Mrs. McConnal came and sat down beside me. Even then all I felt like moving were my eyes, so wasted that I didn't even feel like turning my whole head to look at her. She didn't really seem angry, more like concerned.

She walked over to me and looked down and asked, "Can you walk."

"Of course." I told her.

She reached out her hand. "Then let's go." she commanded.

Well, she must be ready to go to work on my ass. OK. Nothing much could matter to me at that moment. I just hoped she wanted to do it here because I sure didn't feel like walking very far just then. She led me out of the auditorium, but not into the rest of the school, but out into the parking lot. I didn't understand.

She saw that I was confused and told me, "We're going home."

Ok. That's fine with me, too. So I headed for my bike.

She grabbed me by the hand and said, "You're going home with me tonight." When she saw that I was still puzzled she went on, "Jeremy, I could never let you go home alone in this condition."

"But, Mrs. McConnal, I'm OK." I was emphatic, almost begging her to listen to me. I just wanted to go home and go to bed.

She gave me her firmest countenance, one that even in that state I knew meant: Do whatever she tells you. Don't even think about defying her now. If you try, if you don't do whatever she tells you to right now, she's going to be very angry. You don't know what she might do, and you really don't want to find out. And said, "You're coming home with me, Jeremy. Now let's go."

So I went.

But she wasn't driving home. "Where we going?" I asked.

"We're going to the hospital."

Oh, man! She's not going to do that to me is she? She can't be seriously thinking that I need to go to a hospital. Jeez! I was looking everywhere for a way out of this. I just wanted to go home.

She took me by the arm and led me into the emergency room lobby. She had me sit down and told me to wait. I could overhear some of what she was telling the receptionist. " . . . severe headaches . . . takes pain lillers for them . . . bad one tonight . . . accidently took too many . . . "

They called me right back. She stayed with me. They took my vital signs, asked me what drugs I had taken. They wound up pumping my stomach out and giving me a shot of something to help counteract the pain killers. I couldn't tell how long we were there.

When we got to her home her husband, Jed was watching TV. Jed McConnal was a lawyer in town. We spoke. She told Mr. McConnal that I would be staying over for the night, and moved me on through the house to their guest bedroom. Their daughter, Gloria, graduated from high school the year before and was away at college.

She took me to the guest bedroom, sat me on the bed and told me, "We don't have any pajamas your size. You'll have to sleep in your underwear. So get ready for bed and I'll be back in a minute."

Underwear was fine. I usually slept in those or naked anyway. I took off everything but my cotton briefs and got snuggled up in the bed and just lay there, glad to be not having to move any more.

Soon enough she came back. She sat on the side of the bed. I propped up some so that I could see her. She told me that she had talked everything over with Mr. McConnal and that if the hospital or the authorities made an issue of this that he would represent me.

Represent me? What's she talking about. What would I need him to represent me for?

She always knew what I was thinking. "Jeremy, you have committed and implicated others in more felonies tonight than most people do in a lifetime." Seeing that I wasn't sure about that, either. So she motioned for me to come with her.

I was in my underwear. I wasn't sure about the idea of her seeing me in my underwear.

"Do you have your underwear on?" she asked. I nodded. "Well then come over here." she said. And she took me to a full length mirror. She stood me a few feet from the mirror and stood behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders.

My God! I looked half dead already! My eyes were black and sunk far back into my skull. My lips were white. And I looked green. I just stood there, mouth hanging open, not knowing what to say. No wonder everyone had kept asking if I was alright. No wonder Mrs. McConnal considered taking me to the hospital. "I'm green aren't I?" I finally said.

She turned me around and asked me again, "Now tell me the absolute truth, Jeremy. Are you sure you're going to be alright? Or do we need to get you back to the hospital?"

"I'll be OK." I promised her.

"Well, one of us will be in here with you all night. And if we hear or see anything that disturbs us, we will get you back to the emergency room. No matter how much you may object. Now go on to bed. Jed will be in shortly."

She left the light on. Before I drifted off to sleep Mr. McConnal came in, with legal papers to read, and sat down in the overstuffed chair. "Mr. McConnal, I'm sorry to be so much trouble. I didn't mean it this way." I pleaded. I felt terrible about having become such a problem.

"Don't worry about it, Jeremy. I'm sure Cathy will take care of everything in the morning." Cathy was Mrs. McConnal. Some of the older girls called her 'Miss Cathy', which is a Southernism - it's an affectionate way of addressing an elder with respect. I didn't think I could ever call her Miss. Cathy. She wasn't 'Miss Cathy' to me. She was a lot more special than that.

But what did he mean by his being sure she, "would take care of everything in the morning"? I guess he meant she'd take me home.

I vaguely remember one or the other of them waking me in the night, just for a moment, to be sure I was OK.
 

The End