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“For taking in the rain when I'm feeling so dry
For giving me the answers when I'm asking you why
And my oh my
For that I thank you

For taking in the sun when I feel so cold
For giving me a child when my body is old
And don't you know
For that I need you

For coming to my room when you know I'm alone
For finding me a highway, for driving me home
And you got to know
For that I serve you

For pulling me away when I'm starting to fall
For revving me up when I'm starting to stall
And you got to know
For that I want you

For taking and for giving and for playing the game
For praying for my future in the days that remain
Oh Lord
For that I hold you

Ah, but most of all
For crying out loud
For that I love you
Ah, but most of all
For crying out loud
For that I love you
Ah, but most of all
For crying out loud
For that I love you

When you're crying out loud
You know I love you”

“For Crying Out Loud”

Words and Music by Jim Steinman

Part 1

Chapter 1

This woman walks into a bar…

I was having a really bad day.   Working a shift in the Emergency Department of a hospital will do that to a person; especially if you are Obstetrics nurse most of the time that trades floors once in a while. 

I don’t know why I torture myself with it except that it’s like working two jobs at once even though the pay still sucks.

And little did I know my day was just about to get worse.

There was this little bar down the street I thought I would visit after work to relax with a beer (or two or three and maybe a shot of whiskey and a cigarette) and put the day behind me.

I ordered whatever they had on tap and made myself as comfortable as possible on the stool where I was sitting. 

All of a sudden I hear this guy yelling “Tracy! Tracy!” and from the sound of it he wasn’t calling for his girlfriend.  I had only been in England two weeks and wasn’t too familiar with all the slang words.

I turned around and I saw an obviously very angry man yelling at this guy who happened to be wearing makeup and a dress that would put my wardrobe to shame.  He looks up at the guy and says, “My name is not Tracy!”   

I should have known that whatever part of the world I visited, if I walked into a bar, there would be a fight but for some reason I couldn’t let this one go. 

I watched in horror as Mr. name-caller proceeded to beat the crap out of the guy in the dress. The guy in the dress did well for a while but Mr. name-caller knocked him to the ground and he hit the floor unconscious for a few seconds.

I watched him slowly rise to his feet again. But there was something even worse going on.  

What the guy in the dress didn’t see, but (maybe) luckily I did, was that his attacker had about 4 friends ready to go after him.

That’s when it happened something possessed me. I found myself running across the room towards where they were fighting. 

“Hey asshole! Do you pick on everyone or just people who are more attractive-- but wait, that would be everyone wouldn’t it?”   I yelled as I stood toe to toe with him. 

He took a swing at me and I ended up grabbing his wrist and throwing him to the ground and repeatedly punching his head. My cousin had taught me how to fight when I was very young and it sort of stayed with me over the years. This was a good thing at the moment because as soon as that bastard was on the ground his friends came after me.

One of them hit me in the side from behind. I didn’t even see it coming. Another hit my face. At first I thought I had made the biggest mistake of my life and was about to meet the same fate as the guy I was trying to defend but finally I turned around to deal with them.

And I was punching, and butting their heads together and throwing them to the ground and beating the crap out of every one of them like something out of a Jackie Chan movie without the Karate.

Then as they’re lying there on the ground unconscious unbeknownst to me, someone had called the police and a crowd had gathered to watch the fight like it was on pay-per-view and I was Mike Tyson.  They were cheering and clapping and shouting the whole time and I never knew it.   

The guy in the dress said nothing. He just stood and stared at me and acted as if being at a loss for words was rare for him.   We didn’t have time to talk just then because some people fought their way through the crowd and kicked us out. We would have to wait outside on the curb for the cops.

So we’re sitting outside on the curb, staring off into space in shock, it’s kinda cold but not enough to mind and we still hadn’t said anything to each other.

Finally, and maybe it’s because of the situation we were in (about to be arrested) I blurted it out: “My first time outside the United States, never so much as a parking ticket and the moment I decide to set foot outside my homeland what happens? I get arrested for defending a transvestite. This is not a phone call I’m looking forward to making to my Mom.”

“I didn’t ask you to help Me.” he replied. I’m not sure what he meant. I think he was trying to make me feel better or ease his own conscience because I got involved and he wanted everyone to think he didn’t need help or a total stranger got hurt and arrested because of the way he likes to dress. 

In any case I tried to reassure him. “I’m not blaming you. I was just making an observation. Let me see your face. Your wounds, I mean.”   “Why?” he said abruptly as he pulled back to look at me. “It’s ok, I’m a nurse.” 

He relaxed and leaned in to let me see what damage had been done.  I put my hands on his face to feel for broken bones and looked around for bumps and bruises. Some bruises were already starting to form around his eyes. He had the bluest eyes I had ever seen next to my own. Everyone had always told me I had china blue eyes. His were like crystal. 

I got lost for a minute then I noticed the gash on his forehead. He must have hit something when he fell.  “Well, nurse, am I ok?” “I think so. Looks like some soft tissue damage. I can’t feel anything broken. You still should go to the hospital for x-rays and you might need some stitches for your head.”  “ How many stitches?” “Off the top of my head I would say three or four. I’ll get you some ice and a towel.” The bartender was kind enough to let me peek my head back in the door and ask for some makeshift ice packs and washcloths—some for me, some for the guy in the dress whose dress jacket was torn from the fight. 

I sat back down beside him and got the ice pack ready. I put it against his face and he winced.

“I’m sorry.” I said with a nervous laugh. “You have some bruises starting to form. This will prevent them from getting worse and keep the swelling down.” 

“So, do you mind telling me your name?  I keep wanting to call you the guy in the dress and considering what you’ve been through I thought you would consider that rude.”  That little comment seemed to make him laugh.  Amidst all his pain he managed a smile and gave me a strange look.   “Well, as long as you didn’t mean it in a negative way, it’s alright. You can call me Eddie, Eddie Izzard.”  “Ah, French. Although from your accent I would say you were from England.” “My family was French back down the line. I grew up all over Europe.  And you are?” “Lisa… Holliday.” I stammered, surprising myself that I was too rattled to say my own name and that my heart was in my throat.  “I’m an American in case you haven’t noticed from my accent but I live here now.” 

“Does it always take the cops so long to get here or have they forgotten about us?” I wondered aloud half hoping they wouldn’t show up. 

“It’s only been a few minutes and they’re busy this time of night. A lot of people get into fights in bars.” We looked at each other and laughed as if we had shared the same thought and he was the one who expressed it openly. 

Just then I could see the lights from the police car coming up the street.  “Time to go to jail.” I thought to myself while fighting tears…

Chapter 2

Cheez it, the Feds!

The cop car pulls up to the curb and we stand up to prepare for our impending arrest.  Much to our relief and shock they decided to take us to the hospital to have our wounds examined.  They skipped the handcuffs, put us in the back of the same car and we headed to the hospital.  I was staring out the window, clutching my ice pack to my face, my pain finally setting in, my ribs beginning to hurt, trying to think of something to say, trying to get a handle on the moment. 

I must have made a face because Eddie broke the silence.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a concerned tone of voice.

“I think so. It’s probably a pulled muscle or something. Keep pressure on your cut.” I said, grabbing his hand that was holding the washcloth and putting it to his forehead.

“You said something about your mother, does she live in America still?” he inquired. “Yes she lives with my dad in Illinois.”  “Why did you move to England? If it’s not too personal.” “Oh no, not at all. I got a job offer to work at a hospital in London. “  “From Illinois to England. That must have been quite a change.”  “Still is. I must admit to being more than a little overwhelmed.  The people I’ve met here so far except the people I work with don’t exactly like Americans. But there is some unspoken bond with medical people.

 I should have made up an accent or told them I was Canadian although I don’t think that would have worked with the way I talk.”  

“I think you made a few friends with the crowd in the bar.”  He chimed in. “Maybe they didn’t hear me speak.”  “Or maybe it’s because you defended the famous tranny.” “Excuse me, the famous what?”

“Tranny. You know, transvestite?”  He tried to explain. 

I put my hand on my side as I laughed. “What’s so funny?” he asked with a smirk on his face. “Well, where I come from, a tranny is the transmission to a car. It’s a car part. ” Realizing what he said, he laughed either with me or at me I’m still not sure.  

“You said you were famous, what did you mean?” I asked curiously.  “I’m a comedian and an actor.” “Ah, have you been in anything I would know?”  “Mystery Men, Shadow of the Vampire…” He tried to stick to the American films he had done.  

 “Oh my God! I thought I recognized you. You did that thing on HBO I saw late at night a few months ago. I came in on the middle of it so I never caught your name. I just defended the guy from HBO. I can’t believe it.” 

The car pulled up to the hospital and we were wheeled to our separate slots. Oddly enough this was the hospital where I worked, everyone in the emergency department knew me and waved as I went by.  

The nurses helped me up onto the bed and checked me over. I said I was fine and they needed to check my friend.  I realized what I had just said, “my friend.” It sounded so cozy and familiar as though I had known him a lot longer than an hour.  

“He’s getting checked out too.”  Carol, one of the nurses, told me. “He’s gonna be fine.”   

After much poking and prodding, I was informed that I had to stay there overnight for observation because two of my ribs were fractured, one of which nicked one of my lungs.

As promised by Carol—and everyone else in the emergency department-- Eddie was fine—no broken bones or concussions. He needed a few stitches on his forehead and some ice packs. They gave him extra packs since I said he was my friend.  

After being questioned by the cops for what seemed like eternity they decided not to send either of us to jail. The guy who started the whole thing took off with his friends and they were still looking for them but they assured me they would be found.  Somehow I found no comfort in that.

I put those thoughts away so I could rest and I was laying in my hospital bed, IV butterfly in my hand connected to a Demerol drip when I heard a knock at the door.

“Go away!” I snapped, thinking it was another cop doing a follow up.

I then heard a familiar voice. “Ok, if you’re sure you want me to leave.”

I looked over and saw Eddie with flowers for me.  They let him go home and change clothes.  He was wearing a blue women’s suit that looked like it was made for him.  It brought out the color of his eyes even more.  The bruises were more noticeable but he had tried to cover them with makeup. He had a bandage on his forehead covering the stitches to keep them clean.

“I thought you could use some cheering up.” He said warmly as he handed me the bouquet of roses.

At that point I broke down. I started crying and couldn’t stop.  He sat beside me on the bed looking very concerned.  “I’m sorry.” I sobbed. “ It must be the damn drugs I’m not normally such a baby.  ” I sobbed some more. 

He took me in his arms, careful not to aggravate my injury, putting his hand on the back of my head, bringing it to his chest.    “Shh. Shh. It’s alright.” He whispered. 

“I came here all alone and now I’m more alone than ever.” I sniffled, trying to compose myself.  “My family was right, this was a bad idea.”

“Oh, don’t even say that. If you hadn’t moved here I would have been hurt a lot worse than I am now. And you do have mates. One mate anyway.”

“Who?” I asked feeling confused.

“Me.”  He said in the most comforting voice I had heard since I had moved so far away from home.  

“I wanted to thank you for what you did.  It took a lot of courage. And I know you didn’t have to fight for me, you just did, before you even knew who I was. That says a lot. I’ll help you get settled in. We moved around a lot when I was a kid and I know how scary a new place can be, especially one so far away and different from everything you’ve ever known. Just promise me you’ll give it a chance. I think you’ll love it here.”

I regained my composure as he wiped the tears streaming down my face.

I looked deep in his eyes and said softly, “I promise.”

He kissed my forehead. “It’s been a long day for both of us. You should get some

Rest.”

I laid back down and drifted off to sleep. He stood in the doorway and watched me for a moment to two, then turned to leave.  

Just before I drifted off to dreamland I whispered to myself. “I promise…”

I didn’t know it at the time but he had heard me as he turned to leave.

Chapter 3

Will You Accept the Charges?

After a surprisingly restful night at the hospital I awoke early.   It was time to make the phone call I had dreaded the night before.  My mother worries a lot.  Telling her what had happened might send her into a frenzy of uncontrollable sobbing but not telling her would have the same effect only she would then resent me for the rest of my natural life for not telling her.

These things ran through my mind as I listened to the phone ring, waiting for my mom to answer the collect call I had placed.  I had left my purse at the bar, which had my calling card and was either stolen by now or in some lost and found pile that someone had stolen.

Finally she answered.

“It’s ok, Mom. Just accept the call. “ 

“No mom, everything’s fine.  I wanted to let you know I got into a fight but I’m ok.” 

  I had called so early in England that it was the middle of the night back in my former part of the world.   Phone calls in the middle of the night make my mom’s heart skip a beat; even wrong numbers.

“I’m sorry mom. I forgot about the time zone thing.”

“ Well, there were these guys beating up another guy and I stepped in. I know it was stupid, I could have been killed but you didn’t see it. I had to do something.  Remember I know how to fight. Jason taught me, and then there were the Karate classes a few years ago.”

That seemed to set her mind at ease so I put the phone back on the table and I let her go back to sleep.  I sighed and looked out the window of my hospital room as the sun came up.  The left side of my face was swollen and bruised so I couldn’t see very well from my blackened left eye. 

“ Hey Lisa, in the mood for a visitor this morning?” One of the nurses was doing her morning rounds in the midst of a shift change. 

“Hey Abby, I suppose so as long as it’s not another police officer.”  I said warily.

“Could you bring me my discharge papers before they threaten to feed me?” I joked.  

“I’ll try to catch the doctor.” She said, laughing a little.

Suddenly I heard a laugh that sounded very familiar. I should have known.

“Back so soon?”  I said as I looked up at Eddie standing in the doorway.

“Someone called me and said you might need a ride home. They said you couldn’t drive yet.”  He replied. He looked a little more bruised but not too bad.

“Actually, I don’t have a car. I either walk or take a cab.  I refuse to drive in this country-- too many psycho drivers. Plus this left hand side of the road thing is confusing.”  

Abby came back with discharge papers for me to sign along with my instruction sheet about rib fractures and punctured lungs and a prescription for painkillers.

She also removed the IV and put a band-aid over the hole.

“Now, all that’s left is for me to get dressed.” I commented, hoping Eddie would get the hint that it was his cue to leave for a second.

“I thought you might me feel that way. That’s why I got you some clothes.” He said, handing me a shopping bag and obviously realizing what I had said.

“You didn’t have to do that. I would have gotten some scrubs or something.”

“You didn’t have to help me, but you did.” He shot back kindly as if this were a verbal tennis match.

“Well, thank you. Could you leave now so I can change?” I asked him with a smile on my face.

He helped me into his car and after directing him to where I lived I was on my way home. 

We talked about this and that along the way. He said he had been up all night thinking about me and what had happened. I told him I was too drugged to think of anything but what was said in my hospital room.  He wondered if I would keep my promise.  Believe me, I would.

The whole time I was thinking why I decided to save him. I had seen lots of people in lots of fights even people I knew really well, and never even batted an eye. Why did I step in this time? I didn’t even know who he was at the bar.  That at least would explain it. 

Maybe I was tired. I had seen so much violence in the emergency department---patients who were beaten, shot, or stabbed for no reason ---maybe I wanted to do something this time, stop it from happening from someone else, even if it was just one person.

We finally arrived at my humble abode—my apartment building on the outskirts of town.  It wasn’t much but it was home, my new home.  There was no elevator and the thought of climbing two flights of stairs with fractured ribs didn’t sound too appealing.

“He’s not gonna carry me.” I thought to myself.  

As soon as I thought it, my feet went out from underneath me. He was carrying me up the stairs.

“Did you honestly think I was gonna make you walk?”

“I wasn’t sure.” I said as I put my arms around his neck.

We got to my door and he sat me down gently.  I had my old clothes in the shopping bag, which had contained the clothes Eddie had so graciously bought for me.  Thank God my keys were in the pocket of my jeans and not my purse which was long gone by now.

“I think I got it from here. Thank you for all your help.” 

He got that strange look on his face again.

“You are a very confusing woman.” He told me matter-of-factly.

“Whaddya mean, confusing?” I sort of snapped back.

“Any other woman would running after me with questions or trying to get me into bed.”

“Oh, I feel like going to bed but not for sex, believe me. Maybe some other time.” I said with a nervous laugh.

“I have to go now. I’m still sore. I should lay down.” 

He turned to leave and I grabbed his arm. He turned back around and I kissed him. It was nothing much, just a light kiss on the lips.  He leaned in and kissed me back.   

To Be Continued…