Helen turned slowly to look him in the eyes. After a pause of intense eye contact, she purred in a low, sultry voice, “Good morning, Bill.”
Shaken as he was to the very marrow of his bones, although he now realized he knew who this heavenly woman was, he could only splutter, “Hel...Hel...Hel,” before he starting coughing uncontrollably. His body bent over, racked with a hacking cough, as if he was expelling every old thought and feeling he had ever had of her.
“Bill, are you all right?” she asked in a higher-pitched voice, somewhat alarmed. She dropped the cool, coaxing character her friends had advised her to put on in order to seduce him. Without waiting for a response, she ran to him, as well as she could in heels, still trying to keep her chest high. She began to rub his back strenuously, which made his eyes glaze with pleasure, despite his coughs.
After a few minutes, his couching subsided, but she kept rubbing her hand up and down his back. When he finally responded to her question, “I’m fine, just fine,” he didn’t indicate in any way that he wanted her to cease the back massage or leave him.
“What happened?” she asked, using her sultry voice again and pretending to be featherbrained. She knew what had caused him to cough, but her friends had advised her to act like a bimbo.
“I must have had a hay fever attack,” he said.
“I didn’t know you had hay fever.”
“Neither did I,” he replied. “It was a sudden attack.”
“You poor thing. Let me drive you to church,” she urged. “Sandra gave me her car while mine’s in the shop, so you’ll get to ride in a Jaguar. It’ll be a trip to remember.” Sandra and Joan had persuaded her to believe that what men like most after a beautiful woman is a toy, such as a fancy car. Sandra had forced her to take her car.
“Uh, I, uh, well, I, uh, maybe...” he bumbled.
“Come on,” she encouraged, raising her chest, pressing nearer to him and rubbing his back a bit more vigorously. “What will you do if another attack occurs?”
After giving her another look over, he said, “OK.”
“Can you help me put on my jacket?”
“Sure.”
She stopped rubbing his back and handed him her jacket. “I better cover up before we get to church. People there are so old and boring.”
“That’s what I think, too,” he said, looking appreciatively again at her front side, then her back side as she turned around to slip into the jacket, which he held for her with pleasure.
When she had buttoned her jacket, she slipped her right hand around his left arm. He didn’t think of resisting her touch. “Gossiping is their favorite past-time,” she said. “Some of them might say there’s not much between us.”
“They would say that,” he responded, happy to agree. He had seen that there was really very little in the way of clothing between them. Eager to please her now, when they reached the door, he held it open for her with the courtesy of a prince. When they were outside, he remembered his mission from earlier that morning and wondered if he could combine the present love of his life with another, abiding one. He stopped and asked her, “Uh, do you? There’s donuts in the social hall after church. How about, would you like, do you want, maybe, to go? They’re free.”
Helen managed to suppress a laugh at his cheapskate suggestion. Although she rarely touched donuts, after a moment of mustering what simple-minded delight she could, she chirped gaily, “That sounds wonderful. I would love to.”
“There’s always a good selection, but we have to get there quick.” When the subject was free food, he was always a serious strategist.
“I’ll be ready to run. Just say when.”
She pointed out the Jaguar in her parking spot and took hold of his arm again, which he gallantly extended. Although they only talked of the weather and other ordinary things, anyone who saw them would have thought there was a lot between them, a lot more than what a mere friendship could contain.
Chapter 25
Before the final hymn of the church service was over—in fact, even before it had begun—members of the congregation started to trickle into the social hall, where the donuts and refreshments were being served. Bill was not the first to arrive in the hall as he had planned, because an overweight grandmother in a wheelchair blocked the exit from the pew where he and Helen sat. He was fuming immensely in frustration.
He had carefully chosen to sit at the end of the pew closest to the door leading to the social hall, with the intention of bolting for the free food at the first opportunity. But soon after the service was underway the grandmother in the wheelchair, who had poor hearing, vision, and mobility, had been rolled up next to Bill, spoiling his plans. When Bill saw others leaving for the social hall, he wanted to climb over the grandmother, but Helen perceived what he was thinking and locked her arm tightly around his, pulling him closer to her. She gazed at him with a seductive, come-hither half-smile. Instantly, he forgot about donuts. But when the celebrant had passed them by in the procession out, and the stream of people going into the social hall had increased, he regained his senses. Pulling his arm from Helen’s grip, he told the grandmother he desperately had to go to the bathroom, as he pushed her wheelchair out of the way. Not hearing him clearly, the grandmother was alarmed and shaken, fearing she was going to be harmed by his crazy behavior, but Bill sped away without noticing. Helen apologized for him and tried to soothe the grandmother’s distress, but soon she left in pursuit of Bill.
Helen caught up with him, as he was impatiently jostling and pushing his way past people to enter the social hall. She was right behind him when he peevishly raised his voice at an elderly couple and said, “Excuse me. Excuse me, please.” She slipped her hand around his arm, trying to restrain him, but her power over him was much less now, since the free, fatty breakfast foods were close at hand. He strove forward like a burning-hot lava flow, turning to tell her, “Didn’t I tell you it would be a madhouse in here. It’s a cattle stampede, except for these two turtles in front of me. I can’t get them to move.”
The elderly couple overheard and ignored him, while Helen tried to change the subject, “I still think people shouldn’t leave until the music ends. It seems disrespectful to run out.”
“Tell that to the others,” he remarked. “Free donuts seem to matter more to them than religion.”
She was about to say in an airhead way that he seemed as interested in donuts as anyone there, but he rushed on, since they had arrived inside the hall, “Finally. We’re here. Can you get the coffee, while I grab the donuts?” He couldn’t entrust the more important task to anyone else. Before she could say, “OK,” he sprinted to the table where the fried, sugary delicacies were spread out and already being taken.
A single line had formed, and people were picking up donuts in an orderly manner from one side of the table. On the other side of the table, there was an elderly volunteer lady, who acted as the guardian and protector of the donut domain, sometimes laying out new ones and making sure the table was kept tidy.
Hurrying to her side of the table, Bill grabbed a plate and napkins. When she saw him quickly take three donuts, she announced decisively in a loud, firm voice, like a father of the church delivering immutable church doctrine, “Two’s the limit.”
“My friend has diabetes,” Bill hastily replied, “and she needs to eat something quick, or she’ll faint.” He took three more donuts, all different kinds, and popped a donut hole in his mouth, before she could say anything else to him. She frowned at him severely, as he sped away. She could not tolerate ecclesiastical aberrations, especially ones advanced with such specious reasons.
On her way to get two coffees, Helen saw some of Bill’s behavior. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at his greediness. His ability to disregard what others thought when he wanted something amazed her. It was definitely a male quality she decided, probably worsened from his living alone so long. As she contemplated how she might cure him of his boorish displays of gluttony and cheapness, or
at least lessen their severity, her cell phone rang.
“Hi, Sandy,” she said, answering the call.
Sandra was calling her from the large outdoor patio of a popular restaurant in a nearby town, where she and Joan had gone for brunch, purposefully leaving their wedding bands at home. They were wearing new outfits from Sandra’s daughter’s closet. In their young, stylish, extreme clothes, they were attracting lots of attention from men of all ages, as well as lots of glares from other women. Although Sandra was not giving any encouragement to the men who noticed them, Joan was having great fun flirting with strangers. Consequently, other women glared at her the most. At the moment when Sandra had dialed Helen, two suave, dark-haired, Argentinian-looking men in their early forties had approached. The more talkative of the two handed his business card to Joan, while the other gave his to Sandra. Joan preened with pleasure at their interest and chatted vivaciously with them, teasing them and insinuating things that kept them hoping. With the slimmest of smiles, Sandra silently took the card, which was offered her. Giving the man no more attention, she spoke with Helen.
“So what happened?” Sandra asked her. “Give me all the juicy news.”
“He had a coughing fit.”
“He had a what?” Sandra demanded. Coughing didn’t sound like a sign of young romance to her.
“He was so amazed, he couldn’t speak. He choked saying my name. For minutes he was bent over, coughing.”
“See? Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I?” Sandra bragged. “I knew the three Bs would bowl Bill over.”
“You were totally right. He’s been a piece of putty this morning. So easy to talk to and persuade. So completely different. It’s like he never saw me before.”
“Oh, he saw you in the past,” observed Sandra, “but he wanted to see something else. Today, you gave him his fantasy. Men need more of that to start a relationship than women do.”
“I believe you now.”
“Where are you?” Sandra asked.
“Eating free donuts,” was the droll response.
“Free donuts!” Sandra cried out so loudly in disbelief that Joan’s attention was turned from the two Argentinians. Although Joan had a suspicion about where Helen was and what she was doing, she echoed, slightly puzzled, “Free donuts?”
“That cheapskate!” Sandra fumed to Helen, not responding to Joan, who didn’t mind, because she gladly jumped back into her tantalizing, animated conversation with the two handsome, younger men.
“I know,” Helen said. “That’s what he is. He’s stuffing his face right now. He snatched a whole plate full, and it looks as if he hasn’t eaten for a couple of days.”
“A cheapskate and a glutton,” Sandra scoffed in disdain. “Such a penny-pinching miser and such a voracious pig. Are you sure you want that combination?”
“At least, he knows how to enjoy the simple things in life,” Helen said, with humorous resignation. “And he’s easily satisfied.”
“I see you’ve begun to convert all his faults into virtues,” remarked Sandra dryly.
“It’s all a matter of perspective. I’m not making things up.”
“It would be hard to make up things about Bill,” Sandra observed with a strong dose of sarcasm, “since he seems completely predictable. How he reacted to the three Bs is not at all surprising. His gorging on free donuts isn’t either.”
“Predictability isn’t a bad thing. It can be charming. It can be a comfort knowing what to expect in a man.”
“OK, OK,” said Sandra. “You’ve convinced me that you’ve fallen for him, just as much as he’s fallen for you, so do what we planned next. He should be in a good mood with all that free food.”
“You’re right. He is. I’ll call you and tell you how it goes, unless we elope, and there’s no time.”
Sandra warned her not to act foolish and lose her head, so Helen, who had been joking, laughed and ended the call. After she picked up cups of coffee, she spoke to a couple of people, whom she knew, as she made her way back to Bill. They didn’t recognize her at first, and when they did, they kept marveling at her altered appearance. Helen simply remarked that she had taken more time getting dressed than usual that morning.
After Bill had escaped with his plate a safe distance from the donut guardian, he wondered whether he should find a place for Helen to sit, or stay where he was, since he planned to plunder the donut table a second time. He decided to stay put. As he began to devour donuts, his friend Stan approached.
“I knew I would find you here,” Stan said, greeting Bill, whose bargain-hunting gluttony was well-known to him. “Trying to extend your life with a healthy, moderate diet as usual, I see.” Although Stan didn’t always go to the same service, or even the same church, as Bill, he liked having a donut or two. So sometimes he would come to the once-a-month donut socials at the church Bill attended and say hello.
“Stan, have I got something to tell you,” Bill said, excitedly, taking a short break from biting. “But if you want a donut, you better get in line. They’re going fast.”
“I’ll take one of yours,” Stan replied. “Your waist is round enough.”
Bill reluctantly let Stan take a donut from his plate, while he handed him a napkin. To prevent him from asking for a second or cracking another comment about his waist, he said, “They’re not all mine. Some are Helen’s.”
“Who’s that?” Stan asked.
“She lives in my building. I’ve known her a long time. Her husband was a buddy of mine. He died.”
“You never mentioned her before,” Stan said. “Are you...” There was only one reason he could imagine why Bill might be seeing a woman or why a woman might be seeing Bill. He had known Bill too long to think he was interested in platonic relationships with any female.
“There’s nothing between us,” Bill interjected, understanding quickly what Stan thought. “She’s friendly, but old. Let me tell you my news. You’ll never guess who I met.”
“Tanya’s sister? Tanya’s seven cousins?”
“No,” Bill answered, annoyed that Stan could ridicule his new-found happiness. “Donna. She owns a hair salon. She’s incredible. Amazing. Out of this world.”
Stan looked at Bill’s head carefully for the first time, since seeing him. “Your hair looks so good I didn’t notice anything unusual. But looking good for you is not normal. Gosh, what a big difference.”
“Funny.”
“She’s definitely talented if she took the dead cat off your head,” Stan continued. “And she covered up the grey. Nice job.”
“Talented is not the word. She’s a ten, one in ten million. And guess what.”
“She wants to see you in a month,” Stan guessed, trying to pretend that Bill had found only a new hairdresser and not a new infatuation.
“Ha, ha. I’m going on a date with her next Saturday. We’re going to a barbecue. I’m meeting her friends.”
“That’s really something,” marveled Stan. “You ought to have a great time. There’s sure to be mounds of free food. A lot more than donuts. You’ll be able to pig out with gusto, which is more enjoyable for you than making out.” In his ribbing of Bill, Stan kept a straight face, although he was having a very good time.
“True love is nothing to make fun of,” Bill said with vexation. He wished he had not given a donut to Stan, because he seemed determined to belittle his attachment to Donna.
“Nor is free food,” replied Stan. “But I don’t need to tell you that.”
At that moment, Helen walked up with two coffees and handed one to Bill. He shoved the rest of the donut he was eating into his mouth to free a hand.
“Here’s your coffee,” she said to him. “I hope you like milk and sugar. I already put it in.”
Mumbling with a full mouth, he replied unintelligibly, “Tha. Mil an sug i fi,” and took the cup of coffee.
Stan was about to take the first bite of his donut when Helen appeared. But when he saw her, he froze in astonishment with the donut inches fr
om his open mouth. Although Stan was himself good-looking, wore nice clothing, and moved confidently in an upper-middle-class level of society, he was not prepared to see such a chic, attractive woman as Helen, talking to Bill in a familiar way. The overt, sensual appeal of her makeover affected him, too. Stan was not as stunned as Bill had been when he first saw Helen, but he was still transfixed by her and rendered rather senseless. His hand holding the donut up to his mouth slowly dropped down to his side, and he stared uncontrollably at her with an open mouth. Amused at the affect she had, she smiled at him in the detached manner movie stars use, when a flock of fans finds them.
Bill didn’t notice Stan’s reaction to Helen, because he was concentrating on chewing the mass of donut he had shoved in his mouth. After he swallowed it all, he asked Helen, “Do you want a donut?”
“No. I’m fine,” she answered. “You can have them.”
He was very pleased to hear this. “Could you hold this plate then?” he asked her.
“Sure,” she replied, taking the plate with the three donuts from him. When it was in her hand, he took another donut and began to eat it eagerly. It wasn’t until that moment that he noticed Stan staring at Helen with his mouth open and realized he hadn’t introduced them. Quickly clearing his mouth, he said nonchalantly, “Helen, this is Stan. I used to work with him. Stan, she’s my neighbor.”
At the sound of his name, Stan was pulled out of his stare. Automatically raising his right hand to shake hands with Helen, he realized that he was holding a donut in those fingers. Switching the donut to the other hand, he tried again, but saw that Helen had no free hands. So he stuck his donut between his teeth, took the plate of donuts from Helen, and shook hands with her. Afterwards, he took the donut out of his mouth, keeping the plate of donuts in his left hand. In an unusually nervous voice for an executive, he uttered some bland pleasantries rapidly, stumbling over his words, like a teenager unaccustomed to speaking with girls. At the end, he added, “Bill and I go back a long time. But he’s never mentioned you. Why I don’t know. I can’t see why. He should have.”
Cheapskate in Love Page 17