by Nick Poff
“It’s no problem, really. I’ll come over after I’ve grabbed something to eat. Has he had his supper yet?”
“Yes. All four of my kids have been fed. Oh, and, Ed, one tip from someone who’s been there. I’d suggest you stop off at the IGA on your way over here for some butter pecan ice cream. He always asks for it when he’s sick in bed. I blame our mother. She always gave it to us when we were kids.”
“Butter pecan ice cream,” Ed repeated. “Hmm. Okay. I can do that. I’ll be over in, say, forty-five minutes.”
He hung up with Claire, excited by the change of events. He and Rick were actually going to be living together. Even though this was only temporary, Ed hoped it might give him an idea of what living with Rick would be like. They hadn’t discussed it very much. Both being rather practical, they had more or less agreed that any talk of cohabitation would wait until they had known each other a good deal longer. Still, Ed thought, there’s nothing wrong with a trial run.
Ed made and ate a sandwich, then inspected his house, imagining that both he and Rick were living in it together. Ed had bought the small forties-era bungalow for a good price several years earlier. He was no decorator, but he’d been able to create a warm, cozy environment with things he’d acquired over the years.
He climbed the stairs to the second floor, remembering his grand plans for running the plumbing upstairs someday and creating a master bedroom suite. He’d pretty much given up on the idea until Rick appeared in his life, but he was beginning to think about it again, along with even grander plans for a bigger house of their own. He stood, hands on hips, looking the place over, letting his imagination run wild. The phone rang, and Ed, shaking himself back to reality, ran down to answer it.
“Ed? It’s your mother.” Norma barked her usual greeting.
“Hey, Mom.” He wondered how his mother always managed to time her calls for when he had something better to do.
“Ed, you’ve got to talk to that sister of yours. She seems to think we should have Christmas dinner at her place this year. She seems to think that the children would have more fun there, with all of their Christmas things. Why, what does she think? That I won’t have presents for them under my tree? And I hate to mention it, but you know she just can’t roast a turkey as good as me. I don’t want to bring up Thanksgiving, but—”
“Mom,” Ed interrupted. “I’d love to talk Christmas, and I promise to talk to Laurie, but I really need to get going. I promised Claire I’d come over and help out with Rick. He hurt his back at work today.”
“What? Hurt his back! After all these years of carrying mail, doesn’t he know how to take care of himself? Honestly.”
“Well, he did. It was probably all that Christmas mail. Anyway, I’m going to bring him over here so he can rest for a few days.”
“Ed Stephens,” Norma hollered over the phone. “Have you lost your mind? You call that sister of his right back and tell her you’ve changed your mind.”
“Mom, why would I want to do that?”
“The very idea, taking care of a man with a bad back. Why, my father had a bad back, and I swear it took five years off your grandmother’s life! Oh, he was just awful, I tell you. Whining. Complaining. Ordering her around. I’m surprised she didn’t go after him with her iron skillet. You know, the one I use for fried chicken? Oh, I could just see her walloping him upside the head with that thing, visions of myself being an orphan when they hauled her off to prison. You just call Claire Romanowski right back and say you realize you’re coming down with the flu and you can’t take care of him.”
“Mom, I can’t lie. And besides, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Oh, I have raised a fool,” Norma moaned. “Here I thought I was going to get you married off so I didn’t have to worry about you anymore, and you do this. After a few days of his carrying on you’ll never want to see him again. Ed, stick him in a nursing home for a week.”
“Mom-m-m-m, I can’t do that. A nursing home? Are you crazy?”
“Not as crazy as you are. You mark my words, young man. A man with a bad back is the devil himself.”
“I can’t imagine Rick being like that.”
“They’re all like that,” Norma said darkly.
“Well, I’ll just have to find out for myself.”
“You certainly will. Don’t come running to me, asking to borrow that skillet either. Get your own.”
“Mom, I really should get going. They’re waiting on me,” Ed said, glancing at his watch.
“Oh, go then. You’ll see. Neither you nor your sister ever listen to me. Honestly, why do I bother? Humph. Well, I’d better be going, too. I might as well go out and return Rick’s Christmas present. I won’t have any use for it after this week is through. You two won’t be speaking to each other.”
Ed hung up the phone, shaking his head. His mother exaggerated everything, he thought. He didn’t expect Rick to be his usual sunny self, of course, but he couldn’t picture Rick being the monster Norma predicted either. He grabbed his coat and keys. First stop, the store, he thought. I hope to hell they have some butter pecan.
* * * * *
Ed entered Claire’s house through the front door, noticing that the doorknob he’d installed that past Saturday was working fine. Rick was stretched out on the sofa under a blanket, while Judy was sitting in front of the TV, engrossed in The Newlywed Game. The rest of the family was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey, there,” Ed said softly to Rick.
“Hey,” said Rick, weakly smiling at Ed.
“These people are so dumb,” Judy remarked, glancing up at Ed. “I wouldn’t go on this show until I made sure I knew everything about my husband.”
“That’s the point, Judy,” Rick said impatiently. “They’re newlyweds. They haven’t had time to learn everything about their spouses.”
Judy shrugged. “Well, I still say it’s not worth looking dumb on TV just for a washer and dryer.”
Rick sighed and rolled his eyes at Ed. “I hate this show.”
Ed, who’d always enjoyed it, didn’t respond. Claire appeared from the kitchen, Josh and Jane in tow.
“Hi, Ed,” she said. “The Red Cross has come to the rescue. I’ve got Rick’s bag packed. Now all we have to do is get him into his coat and out to your truck.”
“How long is Uncle Rick going to be at your house?” Josh asked Ed.
“I’m not sure,” Ed said to him. “I guess it depends on how long it takes for his back to feel better. But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that. I just wondered.” Josh looked up at Ed seriously. “And I just wanted to remind you that he snores. A lot.”
Ed was beginning to wonder if Josh was more insightful than the grown-ups gave him credit for. As Ed reached to pick up the overnight bag, Jane came over and grabbed his arm.
“Let’s play Candy Land again.”
“Not tonight, Jane,” Claire said, helping Rick to a sitting position. “Ed needs to take Uncle Rick over to his nice, quiet house for some rest. And you have to get ready for bed.”
“Humph,” Jane snorted, marching down the hall toward the room she shared with Judy.
With some help from Ed, Claire put Rick’s slippers on his feet, then pulled his coat over an old flannel shirt. Ed looked doubtfully at the pajama bottoms Rick was wearing.
“Don’t you think you might get a little cold?”
“I’ll live,” he grumbled. “We’re just going across town, not to Siberia. Don’t you have the heat on in the truck?”
“Of course,” Ed said, stooping to pick up the overnight bag.
“Well, then, I’ll be fine!”
Claire and Ed led Rick down the front steps and over to the truck in the driveway. Ed stowed the bag next to the toolbox behind his seat, while Claire helped Rick into the truck.
“Now, you behave,” she warned Rick, slamming the door.
With some effort, Rick rolled the window down partway. “Oh,
for God’s sake. Okay, I’m a little cranky. You would be, too, if your back hurt this much, but I’m not gonna take it out on Ed.”
“See that you don’t,” she said, giving him a level-eyed stare.
Ed started the truck, leaned over Rick, and called out the window, “I’m sure we’ll be just fine. A little TLC, and we’ll have our boy back handing out Christmas cards again in no time.”
Claire looked rather doubtful, but managed a smile. “Okay. Thanks again, Ed. Call me if you need anything.”
“Bye,” Ed called, as he backed out of the driveway.
Once they were on their way, Rick leaned his head back and heaved a big sigh. “Thanks, baby, for all of this. I love those kids, but they were about to drive me crazy. Claire too. She means well, but she treats me like one of the kids when something like this happens.” He glanced at Ed. “I’d much rather be with you.”
Ed reached for Rick’s hand. “I don’t know how good of a nurse I am, but I’ll do my best.”
Rick squeezed Ed’s hand. “I’m sure your best is probably better than I deserve. But could we make a stop on the way? I’d just about kill for some butter pecan ice cream.”
Ed smiled. “That’s already been taken care of.”
* * * * *
“How’d you do this, anyway?” Ed asked once he had Rick settled comfortably in his bed.
“Oh, it was so stupid,” Rick muttered. “I was at the Johnson house, near the end of my route on Nash Street. I bent over to pick up their newspaper, to put it in their box with the mail, and something just went ping in my lower back. I tell you, the pain took my breath away. I stood there, bent over their front steps for the longest time. Mrs. Johnson finally came out and helped me into the house to sit down, which was about the worse thing I could’ve done, because it took me forever to get back up. I managed to finish my route, but it was a nightmare.”
“Poor baby.” Ed stroked his hair.
“Then Claire came home and hauled me off to the emergency room at Porterfield General. That quack of a doctor she sees just happened to be there, so he looked me over. Like he could do anything. But he did give me prescriptions for painkillers and muscle relaxers, so it wasn’t a total waste of time. He also suggested I go see a Dr. Quigley, some chiropractor here in town. Probably another quack.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Actually I’ve heard he’s pretty good. It can’t hurt. Do you want me to make an appointment for you in the morning?”
Rick shrugged. “Okay. If you want to.” He looked up at Ed. “It hurts like hell, but I feel better already, just being here with you. Maybe love is the best medicine.”
Ed kissed him. “Let’s hope so.” He picked up Rick’s empty ice cream bowl. “Do you want some more of this?”
“No. Actually, these pills are making me a little sleepy. After all that’s happened today, from John Lennon to this, I’d like to just go to sleep. Or at least try to.”
“Okay.” Ed got up from the bed. “I’ll hang out in the living room until bedtime. I promise to be quiet, and I’ll try not to wake you up when I come to bed.”
“You’re going to sleep here?”
Ed stopped, halfway to the door, and turned around. “Well, of course. It’s my bed, ya know.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Rick said patiently. “But I’m also aware of how you toss and turn in your sleep. That’s about the last thing I need tonight.”
“Oh,” said Ed, taken aback. “Well, okay. I guess I can sleep on the couch.”
“Would you, baby?” Rick turned a pathetic face to Ed. “The doctor said I really need to get as much rest as possible.”
The one you said was a quack? Ed wanted to ask, but didn’t. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. Call me if you need anything.” He carried the ice cream bowl to the kitchen, wondering if having Rick around was going to be so great after all.
* * * * *
By midmorning of the next day, Ed felt more bossed around and abused by Rick than he did from even his most annoying clients. Ed had managed to make an appointment with Dr. Quigley for early afternoon, and Rick had grumbled about having to get dressed to leave the house. He had turned his nose up at the eggs and toast Ed had thoughtfully prepared, saying he only wanted some more ice cream. Then Rick had insisted that a hot shower would help his back, and bitched when Ed tried to help him into the bathroom, saying he could do it himself. Rick had then proceeded to use up so much hot water that Ed’s own shower had been rather chilly. Shivering a bit, he got dressed, silently thankful that he was due at elderly Mrs. West’s house to help her put up her artificial Christmas tree.
“Is there anything else you need before I leave?” he asked Rick, a little less than pleasantly.
Rick gave an impatient shrug that was beginning to get on Ed’s nerves. “I guess not. I sure wish I could watch TV, though.”
“I can set you up on the couch. I think it’s time for The Price Is Right.”
“Shit,” Rick moaned. “Isn’t there anything better than that on?”
“Hollywood Squares?”
Rick snorted in disgust.
“What is it with you and game shows?” Ed asked irritably. “I like them.”
Rick just rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Well, don’t bother then. I sure wish I had that mystery book I’ve been reading. I can’t believe Claire didn’t stick it in the bag.”
Ed sighed. “I’ll stop and pick it up later, after Claire gets home from work. Until then,” Ed said, looking at the pile of magazines and some of his own books he’d stacked on the nightstand, “that should keep you busy.”
“I don’t know.” Rick looked at them with little interest. “Maybe I’ll just take a nap.”
“You do that,” Ed said, thinking that a sleeping Rick was not a bitching Rick. “I really need to get over to Mrs. West’s. She gets all excited when I’m late.”
“Why the hell do you have to put up her Christmas tree? Since when do handymen put up Christmas trees?”
Ed resisted the urge to snap back at him and instead said, with as much patience as he could muster, “You know a lot of my clients are old. They have a hard time doing physical things for themselves. You also know I help Mrs. Heston every Tuesday with her grocery shopping and stuff. I like doing things for them, and the money they pay me helps to pay for this house and that bed you’re lying in!”
“Well,” said Rick, all offended. “You don’t have to get so touchy. I was just asking.”
“Yeah, you were. And I told you. So now I’m going to go put up an old lady’s Christmas tree. Okay?” Ed turned and stomped into the living room.
“Well, don’t break any ornaments,” Rick hollered as Ed left the house.
Only over your head, darlin’, he thought as slammed the door.
* * * * *
Mrs. West was properly grateful for Ed’s help, and Ed enjoyed hearing her stories about her ornaments as he helped her hang them. His good nature was completely restored by the time he headed home for lunch. Still, he braced himself before he entered the house. All was quiet as he walked to the bedroom. Rick was in bed, flipping through a Mandate magazine.
Rick looked up at Ed’s entrance and smiled. “You know, a magazine with pictures of naked guys was probably not the best thing to leave for a man who’s having a hard time getting around.” He put the magazine aside. “I’m sorry for being so bitchy this morning, baby. I’m just not used to lying around with nothing to do.” He held out his hand to Ed.
“Hmm,” Ed murmured as he sat next to Rick on the bed, resentment fading. “I think I can forgive you. This time anyway.” He went to put his arm around Rick and noticed the rise of blankets over Rick’s midsection. “Well, look at that. You are a little excited. I think,” Ed said seductively, putting his hand gently on top of the rise, “that I can take care of that without inducing too much pain.”
“Oh, baby,” Rick whispered, lying back. “That is not what the doctor ordered, but I think it might do wonders for me.
”
* * * * *
Later that afternoon Ed sat in Dr. Quigley’s waiting room, thinking that although he hated to admit it, perhaps for once in her life Norma had been right. Not long after their careful lovemaking session, Rick had returned to his former cranky self and complained all through lunch and all the way to Dr. Quigley’s office. Ed wasn’t ready to clobber him with a skillet, at least not yet, but he was tempted to help himself to some of Rick’s pills.
Ed looked up as Rick and Dr. Quigley walked out of his office. “Now, I want to look at those X-rays I took, and I want you back here on Friday. We’ll do a little more work on loosening up that disc. You did yourself quite a mischief there, Rick. Go ahead and make an appointment, and I’ll see you on Friday.”
Dr. Quigley went back into his office while Rick stiffly walked to the receptionist’s desk. Ed caught a glimpse of Rick’s face and prepared himself for some more Mr. Hyde behavior. After they were back in the truck, Ed asked him how it had gone.
“I hurt more now than when I went in there,” Rick grumbled.
“Well, he’s probably just working out the kinks, getting things back where they belong,” said Ed, who didn’t really know much about it.
“Oh, for God’s sake. I know that.”
“Then what are you bitchin’ about?” Ed demanded, slamming the truck in reverse.
“I am in pain,” Rick said through clenched teeth.
“Thanks for the update. I’ll be sure and call Walter Cronkite. He’ll want to lead with it tonight!”
Ed yanked the truck into drive and roared off onto Main Street, a good ten miles per hour over the speed limit. Shortly past Dr. Quigley’s office he approached the Norfolk & Southern tracks without bothering to slow down, hoping in his most evil heart of hearts that Rick would get good and jarred. He hit the worst part of the crossing at full speed, and the truck bounced so hard their heads almost hit the roof of the cab.
“Jesus Christ,” Rick yelled. “Don’t you have any shocks on this thing?”