Topic suggested by Udhaya on Mon Apr 5 22:44:26 .
bedfellows—Part III
by Udhaya Kulandaivelu
Part 3—Trickbag
While it took some uncharacteristically fast thinking on Wayne’s part to get the Walkers’ address, the
story has raced on past tiny details. See, Wayne just can’t be trusted to fill in details that don’t matter
to him personally. He’s of the kind that likes their bread brought in with the salad and entrée. So let
me bring you up to speed, sport.
The car dealer at 'Grace Motors' wasn't very pleased to see Wayne; probably his JB breath. Before
Wayne could ask him about Connie, he made excuses about how busy he was and made our man
Wayne leave. Where else is he going to find her in this stupid town? Can’t really go around asking
about an uppidy woman. She could be real connected, her husband could have him sleeping six feet
under just to save his embarrassment over his wife’s strange bedfellows. A phone book would help if
our man Wayne remembered her last name, but no such luck. The grocery store at Harvest might be
of help, that black woman who made me a sandwich once was nice, she must know people here,
figured Wayne. Still not right to be asking about other people’s business, maybe I’ll just hang around
the grocery store to see if the car goes by, Wayne figured further. A school bus carrying little
leaguers passed by, one of them gave Wayne the bird. Normally, Wayne would've shown the kid a
thing or two but being a new town and all he figured it's good to lay low.
Three hours of sitting in the parking lot hadn't done wonders to his mood. He would’ve helped some
of the old geysers put their grocery away in the car but they wouldn't trust him. They don't even give
me a second look. Slowly the sun is sinking in the west but still bright out. The road, still breathing
heat with patches of melted tar, tightens up to the evening air. Wayne stretched his legs and his
knees cracked. A walk around would do me some good, thought Wayne and headed over to the main
road when a cop car pulled up next to him.
"What are you doing here?" The cop sounded heavy.
"Waiting for someone, um . . . Connie. She drives an Olds wagon."
"Connie Walker? What's your business with her?"
"There's no trouble man, I was just going to do some yard-work for her. She was gonna meet me
here . . . " Wayne inexplicably looked the cop right in the eye, the cop bought the story.
"Must've forgot, but they only live a few blocks down. The Walkers are good people, you hear? Stay
outta trouble." With that tough-guy warning, he gave Wayne their address and split. I think Wayne
can tell it from here.
So she is married. I want to see her sweat. See how she explains this one to her husband. The door opens
after the first ring, it's her.
"What are you doing here?" She trembles, she's not as strong as she puts out.
"Funny, a cop just asked me that." My words come out cold and they cut her.
"What do you want? You talked to a cop? How did you . . . "
"You just left me there, like . . . like I don't matter. Just pick up and leave, sure . . . this fool don't
matter."
"Look. Let's meet at that bar tonight. Whatever it is we'll talk later, now go away, please, my husband is
home." She whispers in fear. Suddenly, I feel sorry for her, maybe I've gone too far, but . . .
"Connie who's there, who are you talking to?"
I hear a voice from inside the house followed by a screeching sound. A man in a wheelchair comes out into
the living room to peek at the door. My heart sinks a little; I can't believe this is true. My God! How can I
ever live this one down? Cheating with a cripple’s wife, arrgh. The sickness I feel! No one should have to
feel it! A huge dog comes and crawls up my leg,
"Hey, Marcy, get back here! Now!" The man from the chair orders, the dog obeys.
"I'm here to do some yardwork or whatever you need done here."
"Yeah, honey I forgot to tell you about him. I saw him at a street corner yesterday, holding a sign and
everything, said he would work for food. Yeah, you know me so . . . " She goes over to him with her voice
down, but I hear it.
"Yes, absolutely. I understand. That's fine. At least the man is willing to work. I commend that. It's the
damn recession, putting people on the streets. I could use some help with the game room anyway. Come
on in, please make yourself at home. I'm Blake.. you are?" The guy is polite like someone working a
service booth.
"Wayne."
"I tell you what, Wayne, you can use the guest room downstairs to refresh yourself. Everything you need
should be there. You can take a nice shower if you'd like. Dinner should be ready in ten minutes. We can
talk business then, okay."
I would've gone straight for dinner myself, but the guy sounds like he wants it this way. So a nice shower
it is.
Connie is a great cook. Chicken gravy and corn bread seem like a feast to me and I fill up all I can. They
must've seen the look in my eyes when I saw the food, they let me have most of it. We don't say much
during the meal except to pass things around. Blake opens up a bottle of red wine after the meal and
pours me a glass of that thick stuff. I'm not much for wine but the guy wants to see me enjoy it so I try. I
wisp it down real quick and slam the glass on the table to show him I dig this shi*. He wrinkles his
forehead and wheels on down to the basement without saying anything. Connie starts washing dishes to
avoid me. I let her be and follow Blake. A wooden plank's been built over the steps to help Blake move
with his wheel chair; not a thorough job but it works.
The basement ceiling is very thin, we can hear Connie walking over us. The plaster is coming off on the
edges of the flowery wallpaper, the Sunflowers look like they've drowned. The whole thing looks like it was
done in a hurry. The different sections aren't lined right, some of the flowers are cut off in the middle and
some are bunched one on top of the other. Must've done it himself some weekend.
"One of these days I'll weed out the whole damn thing. What do you think? Would a hacksaw do the job or
maybe a machete, yes, a machete would be justice." Blake says it with a straight face and cracks me up.
"You're one crazy man, partner."
He smiles. Must like me calling him partner. He points at the huge tournament-size pool table in the
corner and swings his wheelchair around it like he's making an estimate.
"Isn't she a beauty?" He waits for me and continues after I whistle to appreciate.
"Still in mint condition. I bought this seven years ago. I used to play a lot before the accident, even
entered some tournaments but haven't touched it in the last two years. Oh I tried shooting all right . . .
but sitting in this chair, it's impossible. The long shots are hell to play. If you can lower the table by
edging the legs off a little, it would be great."
"I've done some shelves and tables, decks even but this is different, partner. We are talking genuwyne
piece of work here. I mean I don't think they even make em like this anymore. I see you can't reach your
long shots from the chair but cutting the legs short would wreck the whole thing. Besides look at the
weight of this thing, the weight of the whole table is gathered down below and connected to the legs. You
cut the legs it will fall flat, it'll be worthless. No I won't touch this thing. I'm telling you, sell this and buy
a different table maybe, but don't mess with this."
"Well it was worth a try." He pulls a long face, like a kid after breaking his best toy. I bend and check
under the table and try lifting it, no this won't fly, it seems heavier than a truck.
He flips on the TV that's jammed smack in the middle of the bookshelf taking up the whole wall behind the
pool table. There must be a few hundred books here, these two must read all the time. I look up at him,
he's been waiting to see if I want to watch something.
"That's okay partner I'm not much for TV, I'll go help Connie with the dishes."
"I'm sick of TV too let's um . . . do you drink whiskey? Good, good. I have a few rascals aging up in the
living room. Would you?"
Would I? Say no more, boss! I'll tear up the stairs like a squirrel to a tree.
There are still dishes in the sink but Connie is busy drying a glass bowl clean. I see a side of her; all she's
got on is a Montana football jersey all the way down to her knees. Somehow I can't picture her back in the
motel anymore. Not the same lady that had it all figured. She looks beat.
"Can you point me to where the liquor is? Blake wanted some whiskey".
She stares at me, her face is all pale. It gets tighter as she lifts a sharp knife from the counter and points
it to my face.
"Look, I don't know what trick you're pulling here. But remember one thing. Blake would never believe what
you say and I could have the Sheriff lock you up for trespassing."
She gets under my skin with her wimpy threat. The way she holds the knife like a flashlight makes me
laugh. I quickly grip her right hand and shake the knife loose and bring both her hands behind her. Before
she can make a move, I tighten my grip and move her towards the wall. I look her right in the eye letting
my breath fall on her lips. Her nose flares and her lips shiver. Her nipples shoot straight through the
jersey. Got you excited did I? Could kiss her if I want to. But I don't feel anything for her. She's caused me
nothing but pain. I could make her cry. I want her hurt.
"Yeah? Why did you let me in and give me a meal then? I told a cop I'm here to do some yard-work. He
sent me here believing you were expecting me. No one knows a thing yet. Now if you wanna make it hard
for me, I'd love to tell them about our little adventure at the Hot Spurs Inn."
"Nothing happened there. " I hardly hear her weak voice.
"Not the way I say it. I can paint a pretty picture with words you know. And I'm sure the foreigner at the
motel would remember a suspicious pair like us."
I let go of her. Yeah, deal with that you two-timing slut. Let's see it. Is that all from the ball-buster?
"Connie, didn't he find the whiskey yet?"
"He did honey he did, he's just making a choice that's all."
"Well just have him bring down the Black Label then."
I grab two glasses and the bottle of Scotch and head down when she stops me.
"Just mow the lawn and rake the leaves tomorrow. Then, I want you out of here. You get it?"
"We'll see." Who do you think you're dealing with princess? Watch this.
I go to the top of the stairs and yell down to the basement.
"You know, partner. I just got an idea for the pool table. I can build a platform around the table and put a
ramp so you can ease your wheelchair over it. Will give you the right height, can reach everything. It'll cost
you some money though. A coupla’ days work ought to do it. What do you say?"
"Take a week if you want. Let's celebrate." Blake yells from below.
* * *
Even after doing plenty justice to the Black Label, I can’t get to sleep knowing that Connie is up there in
their bedroom wearing that old Montana jersey. Blake is asleep in his wheelchair. God, if I wanted I can
just go up there and bite her jersey where . . . no, I can’t do this. I gotta go up there and talk. See what
she has to say.
The house is quiet except for the humming of the fridge. The light is still on in her bedroom. The door is
wide open. I slowly step in and I find her seated on a chair against the wall facing me. Her legs are up on
the edge of the chair with her arms around them. Still in her jersey, she reveals her rosy white legs and
thighs.
"I thought you would’ve been up here half an hour ago when Blake passed out. Well, here I am. Come and
get me. Or is that too much work for you? Maybe if I spread myself over the bed it will make it easy for
you, huh? Are you going to tie me up too, or is it free-style?" She snorts in a sarcastic way that pisses me
off.
"Look, I just came here to talk, so cut the victim act, okay? You are the one who started all this, don’t
forget that."
"Yeah, but you came hunting me down. What for? You could’ve let it go."
"I didn’t like being left there like garbage. No explanation nothing."
"Well, did you get your explanation? Still have any doubts in your mind about our little picnic?"
"Stop talking like that, okay? I seriously came here to talk. Put some pants on." I put some mustard in my
words and turn around to let her know I mean what I say.
From the corner of my eye I can see her stare at me for a few seconds and reach for a drawer under the
bed to get a pair of sweatpants out. She wipes the tears forming in her eyes and sits down on the bed. I
turn around and face her, her eyes are wells. Don’t know why but it makes my eyes moist. I take a deep
breath and clear my throat.
"Look, we didn’t meet in the most respectable of ways. Doesn’t mean we can’t turn things around, you
know. My highway job ends today. Tell you the truth, I could really use some work. If it’s okay with you, I
could finish up the pool table just like Blake likes it, get me enough dineero to get on the Greyhound and
beat this town. We’ll stick to the story about you meeting me on the street holding up a homeless sign.
Happy?"
She stares like she heard something surprising.
"That’s it? You just want some work?"
"I was mad as hell, I wanted someone to pay, but deep down I guess . . . I came here hoping to find some
kind of answer to why you left me. Maybe you were in a bad marriage, or a mean boyfriend beat you up, or
you had some trouble with the law, whatever the damn reason. I figured you came to me for comfort, but
you had to leave because you were scared."
"My guardian angel, huh?" She laughs a weary laugh.
"Something like that. Hey, don’t laugh. Being picked up by a woman and taken to a motel is every guy’s
dream. I just wanted to end the story right is all."
"You came here to take care of me, after what happened? I thought with Blake I had met the only decent
man alive, turns out there is one more in my life." She smiles for real and her face forgets all worries. She
gets up off the bed and comes over to me.
We stare at each other for a few long seconds. She kisses me strong on my cheek. I bring her face to rest
on my chest and cover her like she needs protecting from the wind. I kiss her head. She gently rubs her
hands over my back. I don’t know whether she tripped or if I lost balance but we fall over the bed locked in
each other’s arms. She holds up my face above her’s. I do as my mind says and don’t feel dirty or wrong
anymore.
* * *
My eyes pop open in a cinch about seven in the a.m. The sun’s brighter in their bedroom. There's no sound
up here other than Blake's throaty snoring from the basement. Connie seems to be off somewhere with the
car. I best take a look around the place and be working on something. Not because of last night. No, they
really could use my help. Wayne the handyman's really needed here.
The house looks much bigger in daylight. It looks pitiful with the white paint coming off everywhere like a
raggedy old dog with big brown blotches. The windows all around the house seem to barely hang on to the
tired walls, the two big ones jutting out in the living room are cracked along the sides without any
caulking paste to hold out the draft in winter time.
Wait till Connie sees what I do to this place. Clear as hell everything about the Walkers fell apart after
the accident. Blake or Connie haven't bothered to tell me how it all happened. Well, I'm not no talk show
host to press them on it. But it gets edgy to see her carry on like nothing's the matter with him and him
acting like he don't need her help.
Blake must fancy himself as a handy man around the house, the tool-shed in the garage is filled with
storage cases full of screws, nails and tacks to fix and make things. A weed-whacker and huge pliers hang
on the wall with a snow-blower and a lawnmower taking up the floor space. Using a wet rag I clean up the
cobwebs clinging to the shelves and gear up the lawnmower for action. Feels good to work without boots
or helmet on. By the time I get to raking leaves Connie's back from grocery shopping and gets in without
giving me a glance. I guess that’s the way it’s going to be between us from now.
She’s one of them moody women. Probably a princess who figured she would marry a smart and
sophisticated sugar daddy. Must’ve lived a pretty good life too with him seeing to her every whim. Then
she gets dealt this accident and the roles reverse. Ah, I’m going to be sucked into this quagmire if I don’t
bail soon. Who needs this headache? Yep, good ol’ Wayne’s got his own headaches to worry about.
"I'm glad somebody's up and busy this morning." Says Blake strangely twisting his body left and right
trying to crack his back in the wheelchair. He hurls a Frisbee that Marcy runs to fetch and fails.
"No, Connie must've got up before me."
"That just leaves me, the perennial winner of freebees. Fetch."
Marcy runs for the Frisbee again.
"I'm sorry I didn't mean . . .
"No it wasn't your fault. After years of practice, cynicism has replaced my conversations. It's an art with
me. The only thing I've perfected." He hurls again and Marcy catches.
"You know, partner, sometimes you just lose me. You . . . your words, what did you do before the accident
anyways?"
"Oh, I used to teach English at the U. That's where I met Connie as a T.A. "
I want to ask him what a T.A. does but he seems to be stuck in his thoughts so I continue raking leaves.
He wheels around me slowly, his head tilted and looking up somewhere. I get a good look at his legs. I
can't help staring. They're so scrawny, nothing like the rest of his body with broad shoulders and a huge
belly.
"A real eye-grabber isn't it? No don't feel bad now, padner, the longer you stare at it the more normal it
gets. Now if you make some jokes about it you can truly relieve me of feeling like a victim in your eyes.
Go ahead, I dare you. Tell me something fresh, come on."
This guy is serious!
"Come on let's see what you can think of?" Blake eggs me on.
"Your legs make you look like one of them California raisins on TV. You know the ones that sing . . . "
Marcy's raving mad, she jumps at me. Blake quiets her.
"That's a pretty good one, I've only heard that one a few times." He nods and smiles.
A cop car drives by and stops near the Walker’s driveway. A cop gets out, the same one who gave me
directions here.
"Mornin’, Blake. How’s things?"
"Hey there, Vern. What brings you here?" Blake sounds bored.
"Your help working out okay? I sent him here, the fella was looking to get directions and I sent him here.
Just wanted to see if things were okay with you. Dorsy says she ain’t seen Connie at the Co-op in months.
I just thought I’ll come on down and see if things were all right." The guy squints his eyes at the sun and
gives me the cop eye several times. I move away and start raking again. Blake and Vern chat on for a
couple more minutes before Vern gets back in his car and scrapes his squeaky wheels around the bend.
Connie steps out of the house and looks around eyeing what I've been doing.
"What did Vern want?"
"Nothing. Same as usual, looking to get into somebody’s business."
"Do you need anything, honey?" She bends and kisses his forehead from behind, without even a look or a
word my way.
"Why don't you get Wayne here something to drink. He's been working hard all morning. What would you
like, o.j. or maybe lemonade?"
"Either one is fine by me."
"Yeah, I'll have the same honey." He sends her off with that.
"No need to trouble Connie you know, I can get it myself." I offer.
He shoves the Frisbee in Marcy's mouth and the dog takes it to a corner in the garage.
"That's no trouble, Connie loves to service people. It's a passion of hers. You know, Wayne. You don't
have to feel like a charity case. You are like a guest here. I understand that your pride is hurt after losing
your job and home, but look at all the work you're doing. You're not getting anything free my friend. So
don't go and break your back trying to prove it."
This guy is making things hard to bear. He really meant it when he said my friend.
"And I wish you'd stay here awhile, not free of course don't worry there is plenty to do here. Last night
was great. Just us drinking and talking guy talk. Do you know how long it's been since I had a drink with a
friend. Initially, after the accident there were a lot of them stopping by, but after a few weeks all of that
stopped. Just as if I died. Early retirement made sure I didn't leave home so I've been bravely . . . waiting
for divine intervention."
I look at him helpless. All the while he was talking, I wanted to ask, what about Connie? But I figure he
either expects me to ask or avoids talking about her on purpose, so I let him be.
"You didn't have to ask, partner, after the food and Scotch I've been getting, you think I'd leave anytime
soon? I’m usually a bourbon man myself, but that Scotch went down awful smooth." I pat his shoulder and
fake a wink. He gives me an honest smile.
"You thought the Black label was good? You are in for a treat tonight. We’ll break open the Johnny Walker
Blue label. That puts a few more ooos in the smooth."
"Oh, yeah? Blue is better?"
"The Black label is only 12 years old. The Blue label is aged 25 years."
"What does it sell for? I’ll try it at Rusty’s next time."
"I’m afraid you won’t find it anywhere here for a fifty mile radius. The bottle costs something like $160, I
tried it at a pub once for $20 a shot. My friends and I played for it. The winner of the pool tournament was
to get it. I won it."
"And you never opened it." I can’t believe this guy.
"No. Had to be a special occasion. Tonight’s the night."
Damn, this guy is too much. I got to tell him why I’m here. It ain’t right eating his food and drinking his
liquor and eyeing his woman. It ain’t right. He deserves better. Better than the wife he got, better than
the friend he thinks he got in me.
Lemonade is here.
* * *
It's later, who cares what time as long as food and stay are taken care of. Blake's hollering from his room.
After laying out food for Marcy, I get done changing the light bulb in the kitchen, the sixth one I've
changed in the house so far.
Couldn’t quite tell Blake what I’m here for. Just couldn’t do it last night. He was having such a good time
drinking that rich shi*. It tastes the same to me, 12 years 25 years, no big difference. With every stain on
the kitchen wall looking at me real bright I head over to get a earful from Blake who's been following me
around all day letting me do chores only when he went to the bathroom or took a shower.
"Hold your horses, partner I' m coming now, what the . . .?"
"What do you think of this?" He holds up a dry-clean-fresh black suit from his closet. "I want you to try it
for size."
"What do I need a monkey suit for? Are they giving me a job at the bank?"
"Just try it on . . . there, I knew it would fit you."
"Shoulder's tight."
"It fits. Now the pants." Blake is anxious. He breathes fast.
"What's this all about, partner?"
"Great, now you're ready for my surprise."
Marcy's barking and clawing the door. Connie is back from the hardware store with everything I need for
building the platform around the pool table.
"I need some help back here."
I rush to help her forgetting what I have on and she drops the two bags from her hand. Shocked and angry
she looks at me. Before I can say anything Blake explains from behind.
"It's my idea honey, what do you think? It looks much better on him don't you think?" He brings himself to
laugh.
"I don't get this."
"Well, it was meant as a surprise but . . . this is my gift for our anniversary tomorrow." He pats me on the
back.
"What . . . what is?" Her voice is high.
"I want you two to go dancing just like we used to on our anniversary."
"No. What are you saying, this is . . . absurd. I can't even imagine dancing with someone else, much less
on . . . shoes."
"Honey this is not for you alone. This is for my pleasure too. I want to see you wearing a new dress
something shiny and bright, get your hair done, I just want to . . . see you glow."
"I don't want any of that now. I just want to stay home and . . . "
"Why, why wont you try to be happy for once. Don't you know I can't be happy unless . . . "
I gather the materials Connie had bought and take them to the basement. I line up the planks according
to my plan and, hammer away the nails as their argument is lost to my ears. By the time I get to sizing up
thick chunks of support pillars, Blake wheels on down with a deck of cards.
"Hey, save some work for later. Can I interest you in a game of gin rummy? I'm tired of playing solitaire."
"Sure thing partner."
One game grows into another and each one gets shorter as Blake lets me win it all.
"Maybe we should play for money, then you would show some interest"
"I'm sorry I just . . . "
"You know, partner, maybe this dance thing isn't a great idea. I know what you have in mind, it's very
romantic and all but, I'm not you! Get it! Simple as that. I can't take your place."
"Well, somebody has to, because I can't. I can't anymore."
"Am I hearing you right? Are you saying you want out? I can't believe it. Connie just adores you, man.
What's the matter with you?"
He stops shuffling the deck and looks up like he's been waiting to talk.
"That's just it. She just loves me too much. She does so because she thinks I need it. Do you have any
idea how it feels to soak up all that pitiful love and attention and just gloat with gratitude? Every time
she comes home a few minutes late or when she gets held up somewhere she makes up for it by buying
me presents, presents can you believe it?"
"She's just looking out for you that's all."
He takes a long, tired breath. His voice is lower now all of a sudden.
"No, Wayne, you don't understand. It wasn't always like this. Hell we used to have some great times
together and quite a lot of nasty fights. But most of all there was passion in everything we did. Even our
fights are lifeless now. Before I can tell her what I'm mad about she admits its all her fault. She's agreed
to go dancing with you. Try and show her a good time. Show her what it feels like to be alive and free.
Make her feel desirable again. Make her glow. I know I can't."
I just look at him to find something in that face that seems so sure of itself.
"Oh no it's not what you think, I . . . um. . .we still do it. Every Sunday without fail. That's the only day
she can't avoid it. She would just sit on me . . . straining to be light on my lap and watch me the whole
time with the fear that I might collapse."
"Do you . . . um. . .do you have a problem?" I mumble my words to not embarrass him. He wheels away
from the card table.
"No it was after the accident, after I came home from the hospital. She kept blaming herself all the time
for the whole thing. Crying , going to bed early, she treated me like I wasn't a man anymore. We had a
long argument. I finally convinced her to have sex, but I guess I tried too hard. When I was.. you know . .
. there, I had a spastic attack and just swooned on the floor. Connie got scared that I had a heart attack."
"But you didn't, right? You're okay now aren't you?"
"I was okay even then, it was just a contraction, but Connie never regained faith in my recovery. She
believes sex is too much strain for me now. She didn't have to say it, just watching her pretend to enjoy
doing it is enough to kill me."
"I'm so sorry, partner. I don't know what to say, but a night of dancing won't do much good. I'm not the
cure for your problems."
"But it will make her realize what is missing in our lives."
"Okay, there’s something you need to know, Blake. No, don’t say another word. You gotta hear this. You
don’t want me and Connie going out together."
"Don’t feel strange about it it’s . . ."
I can’t let him change the topic. This has got to come out.
"Connie and I didn’t meet on the street, partner. I wasn’t looking for yard-work and she ain’t mother
Teresa either, so listen up. Drink this." I pour him a stiff one from the Blue label bottle and continue,
"We met in a bar, flirted like teenagers, and headed straight to the Hot Spurs Inn. Just when we were
going to do the nasty, she got a phone call. It must’ve been you. She just took off without even a kiss. I
swear to you nothing happened between us. I just got pissed that she got my motor started and left me
there, so I came looking for her. But now, there ain’t no way I’m going dancing with . . ."
He drains the drink, tosses the glass and slams his palms on his forehead.
"My dumb luck. My bloody dumb luck." He screams.
"Nothing happened between us, I swear." As far as I’m concerned, nothing ever did happen between us.
"Something would have if I didn’t make that bloody call."
"But lucky it didn’t."
"Never mind. This still makes things better than before."
"What are you saying, partner? Did you hear what I just said?"
"Yes, you moron. I did. I guessed much more had happened between you two, that’s why I played the
good host to ensure you two that everything was okay with me. But you had to pick now to show your
wretched conscience. I even pretended to sleep down here for some days now. When you went to the
kitchen at night, I was praying you were in her bedroom. Turns out, you were more interested in the
leftovers."
"What’s your problem, partner? I thought you would . . ."
"Now listen to me you son-of-a-bitch. I have been waiting for four years for someone like you. You better
get on course and seduce Connie as soon as possible. You want me to make reservations in Hawaii, I’ll do
it. Go somewhere exotic, convince her to leave me. Show her there is life out there."
"You’ve gone and completely flipped, man. Am I drunk? Am I hearing you right? What the fuc* is your
problem? What kind of a man are you?"
"What kind of a man are you? What are you waiting for? A map to her bedroom?" He sounds like I crossed
him bad.
"I’m getting out of here, man. This situation is way too sick for me. What are you, some kind of pervert?
You want to tape us fuc*ing so you can watch? Is that it? Shi*."
"No, you degenerate. I want out of this hell, that’s what I want." He raises his voice.
"What’s your plan? What are you going to do if she leaves you?"
"I have it all planned, believe me. I’ll give her the house, see another thing for you to think about, a
house! A good divorce settlement. Then I will cash in on my insurance and go on a tour of the world and
settle down in Venice until I die."
"What do you mean cash in? Didn’t you already get paid by your insurance?"
"No, I’m talking about the nest egg insurance, the life insurance. See, there is a new breed of insurance
brokers called viaticans. They buy out your insurance plan and pay you a lump sum against it. It started
becoming popular with the Aids victims who figured they might as well take a chunk of money and live out
their last years without worrying about stretching the dollar."
"But you still got plenty of life in you, partner. You ain’t sick."
"Look around you, Wayne. Do you see any kind of life here?" Blake’s face has no blood in it. His face got
more lines and veins than a Fall leaf.
"Have you told Connie about your plan?"
"No. She doesn’t like Venice and it would just be too much to have her suffering through her chores with
me in a place she doesn’t quite enjoy."
* * *
The platform project has been going full gear all day, I just have to saw off and smoothen the corners and
make the ramp to climb on the platform extra strong, that's all.
Blake's told me he made reservations for two at the ritziest club for ballroom dancing. It must've been a
ritual with these two for every anniversary before the accident. Blake is all excited about the whole thing,
he went on and on about the music and the kind of dinner and service offered there. I turned my ears off
and was about my work the whole time. He's gone up to his room to get something he forgot to give me.
Somehow this whole thing is making me kinda eerie.
"Here, almost forgot to give you this, Connie's favorite cologne. In fact, that's the first thing she said to
me when we first met in the staff Lounge. She complimented me on my cologne. Don't forget it, a little bit
around the collar is all you need."
The cologne has a miserable foreign name with lots of Ys and Vs, I can't even say it. Worse, I'm afraid to
smell it.
"I gave you the tie, right? Okay. Hurry up and get ready you can work on the pool table tomorrow, now go
on. You have to be there in two hours and I don't care what Connie told you, it takes more than an hour to
drive up there."
"You're the boss. Hey, partner watch it when you go up and down the stairs, I need to replace the wood I
took from the plank covering the stairs, I needed it to complete the project. You can still get up and down
the stairs if you watch it. I’ll fix it tomorrow. Gotta make a trip to the hardware store again."
"Would you stop talking about hardware and get in the right mood? I saw those holes in the stairs, it’s not
a problem. Now, a beautiful woman is waiting up there for you in a gorgeous dress. Hurry up and get going
all ready." I never thought I would see him this excited about anything. He is really banking on this one.
A quick shower and I shove myself into Blake's monkey suit. Connie is all ready waiting for me. She does
look pretty in a low-cut emerald dress in a velvety satin material. It makes her look thin in the waist and
big on top. Phew, now we have to get out of this dance. For the tenth time she tries and fails trying to
talk Blake into coming with us. Then she reminds him to use the beeper anytime during the evening ‘cos
we'll only be sitting around listening to the music, for which he gets mad saying he was promised a dance
and a promise she will keep. We get inside the car. Connie toys with the car radio like it refused her
request or something, she then lets out a deep sigh and shuts the whole thing off.
"I see you and Blake are hitting it off grandly. What do you two talk about?"
"Oh, nothing just guy stuff. I guess it's been awhile since he's had friends visit him."
"You know I've tried so hard to get him to leave the house, he's just so damn stubborn. He's too proud to
ask me to drive him around. He just stays home and reads. Once a week I take him to the library where he
checks out five or six books and he is done with all of them by the next week. That's the only place he'll
go. Sometimes I leave him there and do all my chores he'd be playing chess for hours with the veterans
that hang out there . . . " So that's where he was when he beeped her at the motel! Somehow I don't think
she, or even me for that matter will bring up talk about the motel again. Boy do these two love to talk
about each other. She's still going on about him . . . "and he would never do it. No matter how much I beg
him he says he will never write again. I'm sorry did you want to say something? You look like you want to
say something."
"Can I roll the window down a little? Good. You know we don't have to go to the dance."
"Oh no, I promised Blake that . . . "
"How's he going to know, really do you think he would beep tonight? I bet he won't."
"Well, we can't go back yet. Oh, I hate this whole thing. This is so absurd. Why did he have to do this?"
"He's looking out for you. He wants you to have a life of your own. He wants you to . . . um . . . what did
he say now he wants you to . . . glow, that's right glow."
"He said that, the old fool. He gets so childish. He wants things to be the way they were before the
accident. It just can't be. Why can't he accept that? I have. I don't know when he will accept it. He takes
it out on me sometimes. He shuts me out and gets very mean and sarcastic when I try to help him with
little things like getting him his food or giving him a shower. But I know he cares. "
"Have you ever thought of leaving him? I mean, since the accident." I hope that didn’t come out too
suspicious.
"No. Never. What makes you ask a dreadful thing like that?" Her shoulders clench in a tense way.
"I don’t mean, because of the accident. I mean, the divorce rate is over fifty percent right? There are
plenty of reasons people want to split up." Maybe that was more neutral.
"Look, I know what you’re getting at. We probably should have discussed this right after that night. What
happened that night was two caring souls soothing each other. That’s all it was. I don’t regret it. You were
a true gentlemen and I was genuinely moved, but don’t go mixing it up with passionate love, okay? I have
Blake. I love Blake. There is no . . ."
"Lady, you got it all wrong. I don’t have any feeling like that. Sun up tomorrow, I’m gonna take my pay for
the work I done and leave. I’m asking you whether you thought of what Blake wants. Do you know for sure
he wants to be with you?"
"What do you mean? Did Blake say something?"
"No."
"Then why do you talk like that? Did Blake say something when he was drunk? Did he? Answer me,
goddamn it. Did he? All right, I’m going inside right now." She’s all worked up. This is not how I planned to
let her know of his plans.
"Blake said nothing, Connie. Let it go. I should’ve said nothing. Wait, we can’t go back yet. We should be
on the road by now."
"It’s time to find out who said what?" She gets out of the car and slams the door.
"Easy, all righty. Jeez." I shut the engine off and close the garage door. Somehow I feel this little talk
she’s going to have with Blake will last a few hours. I‘m so sick of this whole situation. I’ve had enough of
these two. Let them work out their own problems. Shi*. I can’t wait till tomorrow morning. Connie is still at
the door pushing hard on the doorbell.
"What’s the matter? Use your key."
She stares at me like she hadn’t thought of that option and looks through her purse for the house-key. I
get a cigarette out of my pocket and light up. I gotta go for a walk. Maybe walk all the way to Rusty’s.
Why not? Hell, I can settle his account tomorrow when Connie pays me. She goes inside the house and I
hear a scream. It’s her screaming. I rush inside.
"Blake, Blake. Are you there, honey? Are you okay?"
She runs down the planks over the stairs heading down to the basement. I see his wheel chair stuck on
the fourth step from the top of the stairs. The damn hole I left when I took off two chunks of wood. Damn,
I told him to watch out for that. Shi*, I should’ve waited till I got new ones from the store. Still, he had so
much room if he kept the wheelchair straight. Damn. I can hear Connie heaving and screaming in the
basement.
I walk down to the basement not ready for what I’m gonna find there. The plank’s been broken in three or
four pieces. Blake’s body been thrown out the wheelchair to the bottom of the stairs. His neck looks
broken as it’s twisted and tucked under the rest of his body.
Perhaps I should step in to wrap things up here. Wayne is too busy answering questions to round out
this story. Poor Wayne. He was all ready to leave the Walkers for good and then this tragedy had to
happen. Connie called the paramedics. As luck would have it, Vern somehow showed up at the scene
giving Wayne the cop eye. He didn’t take too kindly to Connie and Wayne being decked out like it was
prom night when Blake lay their dead. Nor did he approve of the missing pieces of plank over the
stairwell. What sane person would do that to a cripple unless there was something to be gained? He
asked out loud. He made Connie and Wayne go to the station to give separate statements even
though they told him all he needed to know. And then there is the matter with the freshly opened
envelope of the approved contract from the Viatican broker who had sent Blake a check for $83,000.
Now, why would a man cash in his life insurance nest egg if he weren’t gonna die of a terminal
disease? This was Vern’s question and with that question, suicide as a possibility was ruled out. It
was obvious to Vern that Blake was forced by the no-good-out -of-towner and Connie to cash in his
life insurance. So it will be questioning, questioning, and more questioning of the two suspects until
such time when the satisfactory truth according to Vern comes out.
©1998 Udhaya Kulandaivelu
All times in EST +10:30 for IST.