Cheapskate in Love

chapter 9





At church the next day, Helen did not see Bill. It was unusual for him to be absent. He was almost always at the same service she went to, sitting close to the front on the right side, near the statue of the Virgin Mary. In that sculpture, Mary was depicted as an attractive, young woman without her child, raising her hands from her sides, as if she was about to give a warm embrace. That sculpture was why he sat there, Helen had thought many times before.

When Helen didn’t see Bill at the service, instinctively she knew that something was wrong. He might lust after pretty young women—real women, not statues—and wish out loud for frequent play time with one of them, but that was just talk. She was sure of it. He had been repeating such things since he was a teenager, she sensed. For many years, she had seen that he was a regular churchgoer and active within the church community. She couldn’t explain to herself what might have prevented him from attending church, especially since it seemed that he had broken up with Linda again three days earlier. When he wasn’t trying to please a pretty young thing like Linda, Helen was quite certain he wasn’t doing much of anything, except moping.

When she returned to the apartment building after church, Helen asked Jonathan at the front desk if he had seen Bill. “No, not today,” he said. “Yesterday, he went hiking with Linda. Or that’s where he said he was going.”

“Really?” said Helen. “He went hiking?” She knew he was not the outdoors or athletic type.

“They were supposed to go to Bear Mountain.”

“I wonder if he saw a bear there,” she said.

“Maybe he walked with one.”

“He probably got mauled,” she conjectured. “I think someone should see what shape he’s in.”

“Maybe he’s still in the bear’s cave,” Jonathan suggested.

“That’s doubtful,” she said, walking toward Bill’s apartment. “Bears only like other bears. Bill is more of a weasel.”

When Helen arrived at his apartment, she listened outside the door. She didn’t hear anything on the inside. Pressing her ear to the door, she thought she discerned some low human noises, but she wasn’t sure. Standing back from the door, deliberating, the idea came to her to look into the apartment from the outside, so she went to the nearest exit.

When she came to the window of his apartment—she had gone through the bushes and flowers that surrounded the apartment building, so she was next to the glass—his blinds were open. One section of his window was slightly ajar, so it was possible to hear any sounds that came from inside. Placing her face against the glass, she could see his bed, which was the nearest piece of furniture to the window. On the bed, she could make out a body that appeared to be Bill’s. Although the middle section had the round mound that she associated with him and the clothes looked familiar, it was difficult to identify the body clearly. The head was angled away from the window, and there was a pillow in between the head and her line of vision. Whoever’s body it might be was still fully clothed. Even shoes were on the feet. As she was wondering who it was, moans of deep pain and complete exhaustion arose from the body, and Helen was positive they came from Bill. She tapped on the window with her index finger to get his attention.

“Bill, Bill. Are you all right?” she asked. There was no reply, so she tapped harder.

“Bill, answer me. Are you OK? Do you need some help? What’s wrong?”

He moaned. Weakly, he motioned with a hand, waving at her to leave. In a faint voice, which she could barely hear, he said, “Go away. Go away.” He did not know or try to see who was at the window. He was too miserable to care about anyone beside himself.

Helen understood what she had to do. She disappeared from Bill’s window, breaking the bushes and flowers in her haste to get away.

Approximately five minutes later, there was loud, urgent pounding on Bill’s door, which rudely stirred him awake. He opened his eyes. A voice he identified as Jonathan’s disturbed his rest even more. “Bill, are you in there? Open up.” Bill responded, as well as he was able to, “Go away. I’m busy.” But no one heard him. He could then distinguish a woman’s voice in the hallway, which said, “I think he’s hurt. He wasn’t in church at his regular time. He rarely misses this service. He’s usually an usher.” He realized Helen was speaking and scowled.

Bill heard keys being tried in the locks of his door and feebly attempted to move from his bed and prevent an intrusion, but he only succeeded in raising his head a little. He was so physically weak that he decided to stay where he was and hope that the proper keys would not be found. He let his head drop back on the pillow and lay still, anticipating that he would soon be left alone. Not long afterwards, he was cruelly disappointed. His door was unlocked, and Helen rushed into his apartment past Jonathan, who held the door open for her.

She went straight to Bill’s bed, without stopping to notice the state of mess the apartment was in, and stood over him, looking at him with genuine concern. “Bill, what’s wrong?” she asked solicitously. “Should I call an ambulance?”

Because of the intruders inside his apartment, Bill made a greater effort to raise himself and show once and for all that he was not in need of any special attention. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” he assured them. He shifted his weight to his right side, which was nearest the door of his apartment, and struggled to push himself into a sitting position. Helen observed how long it took him to do this without saying anything, although she was thinking plenty. When he had raised his torso halfway from the bed, he irritated his torn back muscles and shouted in extreme pain, “Oooowww.” He flopped back onto the bed like an ice skater, who suddenly loses his footing and falls.

“Bill, tell me what hurts,” Helen demanded.

“My back. I can’t move my back,” he admitted. Pain made him humble and honest.

Jonathan, who was still standing at the door, heard him and said to Helen, “I’ll go call an ambulance.”

“Bill, we’re going to get an ambulance for you,” she said. “Don’t move. That may make the injury worse. The ambulance should be here...”

“No. No ambulance,” he interrupted. “I don’t need an ambulance. I’m fine. I just need to rest. I’ll be OK, if I just get some rest.”

“Bill, don’t be stubborn,” Helen warned. “You’re hurt, and you should see a doctor to make sure there’s no serious damage.”

“I’m all right,” Bill replied. “I just had a little fall. It was nothing. You can go now. Thanks for checking on me. I’ll lock up behind you.”

He started to move sideways on the bed to reach the edge. He wiggled his legs, then his rear, then his shoulders, repeating the process again and again, until he could swing his legs off the bed and stand up. He moved as fast as a caterpillar.

“Don’t try to move,” she said. “Just lie there. No, don’t move. You don’t need to get up. We have the keys. Don’t move.” Helen attempted to hold him on the bed with gentle, coaxing pressure, but Bill brusquely swung his legs, and the rest of his body rolled off after them, because he was unable to lift his torso. It hurt his back too much to try to rise into a sitting position. He was also too weak to grab onto the bed and catch himself. Helen tried to push him back from falling, but he was too heavy, and she was too mild-mannered. He fell to the floor on his side with a firm thud.

Kneeling next to him, she asked, “Are you OK? Bill, are you OK? I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop you.”

Shaking off the slight daze from the impact of another fall, he groaned, “Oh, my back, my back.”

“Let’s get you up on the bed again. It’s more comfortable,” she urged.

“No. Let me lie here,” he told her, trying to move into a more comfortable position. “I’m—ow!—I’m fine. Lock the door behind you when you go. I’ll be all right. Ow!”

“Let me help you get on your back,” she said. “That would be better.” He didn’t resist, as she pushed and pulled him with both of her hands, until he lay flat on his back.

That position brought some relief to the invalid, and he lay on the floor without more struggle.

“If you don’t want a doctor, at least let me get you some pain medication,” she suggested.

Bill paused to consider what she said. On the one hand, he did not want to appear dependent on the assistance of others. In his mind, that would be an indication of age and weakness. On the other hand, he really needed the medicine.

“OK. Extra strength aspirin would be good,” he said.

“I have some codeine,” she offered.

“Even better,” he replied. The thought of receiving a powerful, pharmaceutical drug made him feel as if he was already starting to recover.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back,” she advised. Standing up, she hastened out of his apartment. Jonathan left with her, locking the door behind.

When Bill was sure they were gone, he felt his strength return. In reality, it was his pride, masquerading as strength, that came back. He decided to show them that they had merely caught him at a bad moment. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He didn’t need any pain medication. He certainly didn’t need any kind words. He would be standing at the door when Helen came back with the codeine, and he would wave her away, saying she should find a suitable subject for her well-meaning charity.

But there was a slight hitch in his plans: It was still extremely painful for him to move. Despite yelling and cursing so loudly that residents up and down the hallway outside his apartment could hear, and even people at the swimming pool turned to look in his direction, wondering if someone was being murdered, Bill could only raise, push, and pull himself back onto the bed. There he lay, trembling, sweating, and panting, waiting like a wounded animal for Helen to return.