Today’s Short Story
Insolent
little prick. Who does he think he is, stealing my
girlfriend like that? What gave him the right?
OK, so I hadn’t really been seeing Cheryl regularly for
some time and I was sleeping around before we technically stopped dating, but
that had nothing to do with him sweeping in and taking her away. There are
rules and she still belongs to me.
“Don’t they make a cute couple?” her sister says. She
never did like me. James is a little taller than Cheryl and older by five
years. He’s a Vietnam Vet, although he came in at the
tail end of the conflict when all that was left to do was deserting the
civilians and leaving them to suffer at the hands of the North Vietnamese. Hardly a hero.
I love Cheryl. She’s innocent and sexy. She’s petite and
a little plump, but beautifully shaped. Her skin is smooth, caramel colored and
seamless. She has crystal green eyes, wire brush hair and a wonderful laugh.
Her voice is deep, erotic and dripping with honey. I love the way she says Superfine,
her favorite word. Her voice on the phone sets me off more than seeing her in
person.
She
was the perfect girlfriend. She adored me, did whatever I asked, waited for me
to call, never crowded me and loved me any time I wanted her. She knew I had
other girlfriends (OK, maybe not to the extent that she knew I was sleeping
with them) but seemed fine with my friendships with other women. She had told
me once, in that beautiful, sexy voice, “You men have to have your playtime
because you think your all that, but you always come home.” If we ran into some
girl I knew, Cheryl would fade into the background until I finished my
conversation, happy just to be continuing on down the road with me.
I
swear, I tried to ignore her after she told me about
James. I just couldn’t quit. I talked to her and she said, “Well….you know….it wasn’t like we were going to get married or
anything. It seemed like you got tired of me. James is nice. He needs me. He’s
suffering from the agent orange and he has Leukemia
and he has a bad heart. Doctor’s say he dosen’t have a lot of time left.”
“So
why hitch your wagon to that misery?” I knew it was wrong the minute I said it.
“What
do you know about anything?” She had tears in her eyes. “All you know about is
you. You don’t call. You told me not to bother you so much. What am I supposed
to do? Wait for you to get tired of your other girlfriend. At least James
appreciates me. Maybe I can make him better.”
“Sorry.”
I was sorry. Sorry I had lost her. Sorry I had taken advantage of her and then
tossed her away. Still, I know men. There is no card we won’t play to get a
woman to care for us. And the sympathy card is the ace in the hole. There’s not
a guy in the world that hasn’t wished for some dreaded disease just so he could
use it to get some unattainable piece of ass. “Don’t worry about me, baby. It’s
just the cancer.” I knew James wasn’t as bad off as he said he was. Proof of
that would bring Cheryl back to me.
The
first thing I did was shut up about James. I needed information, so I didn’t
comment one way or another. I left it alone and if Cheryl wanted to talk about
him, I listened. The first thing I heard about him was his money situation. How
she was helping him out now and then when he had to pay his car note or was
short on a house payment. All of his money went to medical care, she explained.
Now
Cheryl doesn’t make a lot of money. She works what she calls in that luscious
voice “full-part time”. Plenty of hours and no benefits.
She really can’t afford to be paying this guy’s bills, but she has always given
her all for a chance on love, a flaw in her character I had exploited and it
now seemed that James was taking advantage of. I gave money to Cheryl from time
to time, but that was to pamper her. “Go get your nails done, baby.” That kind of thing.
I’ve
seen James’ car. It’s an old if well kept Camero
Z-28. If he’s still paying off the note, than he’s been paying on it for well
over 10 years. I haven’t seen his house, but as a vet, he likely got a good
deal on the interest rate on something modest and some of his healthcare must
be taken care of by the federal government. I also knew that he had a lump sum
payout from Uncle Sam because of his disabilities and a monthly stipend.
I
heard about his ailments. He may or may not have had bone cancer. Nobody knows
for sure. Now this is something that is lethal, not something you can stave off
with a few meds. And his Leukemia was under constant treatment. From what I
know about this, treatment sucks the life out of you, makes you useless for
days. He also had Bronchitis, but still smoked dope (“…for his pain”, Cheryl
sighed in that breathless way she has). To top it off, he was suffering from
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from his time in
Now,
it may seem that Cheryl is, well, not too bright. I think the case is more that
Cheryl is trusting. It would never occur to her that someone would lie to her.
She takes everyone at face value. If you walked up to her with a shaved head
and told her you were the King of Siam, she’d give you the benefit of the
doubt. It is one of her most endearing qualities.
So here’s
this guy, using everything in his tool bag to get this girl to do his bidding.
If he didn’t want to see her, he’d just tell her that he was having a bad day
or that he had a doctor’s appointment. If he wanted her to come over and cook
and clean, he’d explain he was feeling a little weak. He never took her
anywhere because he said large crowds made him feel closed in, afraid that his
PTSD might kick in so, no movies or concerts or dinners. Of course, if she
offered to pay, he would go out of respect for her kind gesture.
Most
Fridays, he would pick her up from work and take her home where she’d keep
house. In the evening she’d cook his dinner and they’d watch movies until it
was time for bed. Monday night he’d take her home so she could get herself ready
for work the next day.
In
the mean time, I continued to look after her. If she needed a ride somewhere, I
took her. If she was bored, I took her to lunch or to the mall and if she
wanted to talk, I listened.
She
first got a clue while sitting at James’ house after a Saturday of cleaning and
doing his laundry. The doorbell rang and James, too weak to help with the
housework to this point, leaped from the couch to answer the door. It was some
woman who was asking James if he felt like going to the casino for a few hours.
It was obvious that they knew each other. Through the half open door, the woman
saw Cheryl sitting on the couch. “Oh. Sorry,” the woman said, somewhat
surprised, “I didn’t realize that you had company. Maybe some
other time.”
Later
in the week, as Cheryl relayed the story to me over the phone, I could hear her
bewilderment. That velvet, erotic voice was soft now, meek and vulnerable. It
made it hard for me to concentrate. She wondered aloud what she ought to do. I
offered my opinions as comfort. “Well, maybe he’s just confused about what he
wants. Maybe he’s seeing this other girl because he’s afraid that he cares too
much for you and doesn’t want to admit it to himself.”
“Ya think? I mean, do men really think like that?”
“Well,
sure. Men’s logic is all screwed up. We want someone to belong to us but we
don’t want to belong to anyone else. And we’re always hedging our bets. Once we
have one girl, we want another girl. But we don’t want to toss away the first
girl just in case things don’t work out with the new girl.” He acts one way
with you and he acts a different way around this other girl. I mean, if he were
really as sick or stressed, he wouldn’t feel like going the casino. And the
other stuff, the money and all…..no man wants a woman knowing he’s broke or
that he doesn’t manage what money he has well. It just makes him look stupid.”
“You
don’t think he’s sick?” She started to doubt him. Perfect.
“I’m
sure he’s sick,” I said, “maybe not as sick as he says he is. Look, if he
starts to get too close to you he can claim that he doesn’t want you to have to
go through his misery with him and he can cut you loose without your feeling
bad about it.”
“He
said something like that the other day. That he never wanted me to see him…
weak.” Genius. Evil, but genius.
“Look,”
I said, “he knows who you are. You want someone to look after. That’s why you
do his cooking, his cleaning, his laundry. It makes
you whole.” There was silence on the other end of the phone. “Maybe he wants to
get out of this thing with you so it’s not your fault. If there’s some other
girl coming around, he knew it would just be a matter of time until you ran
into each other, you’d leave and the problem would solve itself.” More silence.
“He
seems like he wants me around.” It was a plea.
“For what?”
I can’t let her slip away. “I get it. You want to take care of him the way I
want to take care of you. If that’s what you want to do, then you’ll have to
put up with stuff like this.”
“You
always look after me. Even after……”
“Not
your fault. I treated you poorly and it’s my own fault you went looking for
someone else. I made a mistake and I’ll always have to pay for it. You are not
to blame.” I heard her exhale.
So
now, here we are, hips locked together, her sensuous voice, throaty and raspy
making that “Uff…Uff…Uff” sound. Her arms are spread above her shoulders, hands
grasping mine like she’s lost. I’m telling her I love her and how much I’ve
missed her. I look into those brilliant green eyes. She can’t see me clearly
without her glasses. Still, they pierce me. I want her more than ever.
After,
we’re lying in bed together, the sun burning into us through the sheer, golden
curtain on the western window. The light filtering through the curtain makes
her skin glow. I have my arm around her and her head on my chest, her right leg
thrown over me. Her skin is smooth, seamless, just as I remember, her hair
scratching me just a bit. She is warm and calm. I am comfortable, full of
myself. I hear her whimper. “What’s wrong?”
“I…..James…..I
have to tell him. I have to let him know what I did.”
“Sure,”
I say, “but not this minute.”
After
a bit, I told her that I would go to James and tell him that she didn’t want to
see him anymore. I would pick up the few things from his house that belonged to
her. She won’t have to call him, she won’t have to see him, she
won’t have to talk to him. That way she won’t be embarrassed about being with
me and he won’t have a chance to make her feel any guiltier than she already
does. I’ll take care if it.
I
stand on his doorstep and wait. The house looks pretty much as I expected. Dirt yard. Landscaping long gone to hell. The sticker on the
front door warns me that there is oxygen in use in the house and that no
smoking or open flames are allowed. The door opens a crack and when he sees
it’s me he opens it all the way. He blinks in the bright sunlight. He’s
shirtless, wearing blue shorts and flip-flops. He has no idea. Oxygen tubes
drape from his shoulders and he smells like pot.
“What’s
up, man. Is everything OK?” He looks up at me and grins that stoner grin.
“I
came to pick up Cheryl’s things. She’s not coming back here anymore.” I say it
slowly. At first, James doesn’t say anything. Things aren’t quite registering. Must be good shit.
“She’s
not here. I mean, she won’t be here ‘til this weekend. What things?” He’s
sorting out the conversation out in his mind.”
“She
left some things here. A watch, a bracelet, some of her
laundry. She asked me to pick it up for her.” He seems to be catching on
and motions me in behind him. I follow him through the foyer and into the
kitchen at the back of the house. He’s trailing the oxygen tube that snakes its
way to a large, dark green tank. There are dirty glasses in the sink and a tray
full of prescription medicine on the counter. James sits down at the table, out
of breath and puts the oxygen tubes back into his nostrils. He reaches around
behind him and cranks the valve on the cylinder until a small white ball floats
midway in the tube attached to the valve. A slow, steady hiss comes from the
tank.
“This
heat, it takes a lot out of me.” He glances around the room and nods toward the
living room. “I think her watch is in there on the coffee table. Maybe the
bracelet, too and she’s got a laundry basket with some stuff in it in there.”
He raises his right arm with some effort and points to the small laundry room
just off of the kitchen. I go into the laundry room and retrieve a small, green
tote with Cheryl’s laundry neatly folded into it. There’s a few
I
tuck the basket under my arm and head toward the living room and find the watch
on the coffee table next to a potted plant. It’s one I gave her some time ago.
The face rotates underneath the crystal, which has colorful markings on the
edge. Once a minute, the markings on the face and the crystal
line up to spell “I Love You” before becoming a jumble of lines again. I
pocket the watch and spot a small remembrance bracelet next to the TV. “This it?” I ask. James wheezes and nods in agreement. I
turn it over and look at the inscription. “All my love-J”.
It goes into my pocket with the watch.
I
start to sidle out from behind the coffee table. I knew before I came up here
what I would say to him. I had an answer ready for every response, but he just
sits there breathing slowly in and out.
“She’s
not coming back?” He asks this as if to clarify what I said earlier, to make
sure that he didn’t hear me wrong.
“No.”
I say. “She’s done. Listen, this has been hard on her, She
pretty upset. Try not to call her, OK? “ He nods
again.
“I’ll
sure miss her. She helped me a lot, especially on bad days like this. I
understand, though. I never treated her right. She deserves better. Better than me and better than you.”
I stand there for a second
and turn toward the door. “I’ll let myself out.” I say. I walk into the bright
sun. The hiss of the oxygen tank is the last thing I hear as I pull the door
closed behind me.