Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  She eased into the Whirl Pool and tried, unsuccessfully, to wash away the memories.

  After bathing and feeding Annie, she dressed the complaining little girl.

  “I don't want to go fishing with Junior. I want to stay with you, mommy."

  “I know, honey, but mommy needs to spend the day with Papa Sam."

  “Why can't I go with you?” Annie pouted.

  “I wish you could, and I know Papa Sam wants to see you, but the hospital just doesn't allow children to visit patients."

  Shelly kneeled at her daughter's feet, putting on sneakers, as the doorbell rang. “That's Mrs. Dollar now,” she said. “Tell you what. If you catch a big fish, we'll have him for dinner."

  “Ooo,” Annie responded with upturned nose and curled lips. “I'd rather let them go."

  Shelly laughed. “I was hoping you'd say that."

  She stood on the porch and waved as Sandra's red Cavalier disappeared from sight. She went through all the bills and junk mail before she noticed the blinking light on the answering machine. She reached for the button and grimaced as she heard the familiar voice.

  “Delilah, I made a mistake in letting you go. The customers miss you. I want you to come back as my headliner. I'll give you a substantial increase and this time you can keep the contract in your possession. I swear I will never again go back on my word. You can perform any act you like without my prior approval. Hell, for all I care, you can just do a simple striptease. Honey, with all the recent notoriety you've received, we'll make a fortune. Call me."

  Knowing there would be no one at the club this early, Shelly punched in the familiar numbers and waited for the machine to answer. “Fuck you!” she barked and slammed down the receiver with a smile of satisfaction.

  All the way to the hospital, Shelly repeatedly rehearsed her speech, changing it each time she mentally delivered it. She stopped at the nurses’ station and identified herself. A doctor, leafing through a chart, looked up.

  “Mrs. Pond,” he said as he approached, “before you visit your husband I'd like a private word with you."

  She nodded and followed him into a small consultation office. She sat in the chair indicated and he pulled another chair directly in front of her, so close their knees almost touched.

  “Are your legal problems resolved, Mrs. Pond?” he asked, looking her directly in the eye.

  She nodded. “Does Sam ... does Sam know about me?"

  “Yes. Once he became alert, we thought it best to advise him fully and honestly of the situation. I'm glad we did. He watched the news on television this morning and they presented a full review of the case, including the arrest of Ronald Ascue. Had we not told him, the shock may have impeded his remarkable progress."

  “What was his reaction?"

  “It's hard to tell. He cried a little, but that's healthy."

  “What does he think of me?"

  “You'll have to cross that bridge yourself."

  “Is he going to be okay?"

  “Yes and no. You probably know his left side is totally paralyzed. He may regain some movement, but not much, I'm afraid. He has good control of his head and right side except for the fingers on his right hand. I believe, with physical therapy, he will regain full use of the hand. His bodily functions such as urination and defecation, digestion, breathing and pulse are all normal. There is every indication that his memory and thought processes are unaffected, but he is having an extremely hard time with speech. The verbal difficulty seems to frustrate him badly. Try not to antagonize him, but don't patronize him either. You will not initially understand much of what he says. Don't pretend that you do. Try to ask questions he can answer by nodding his head."

  “I was so afraid he was going to die."

  “All things considered, he's a very fortunate young man."

  “Doctor, would it be best if I go back home without seeing him?"

  “Lord, no,” he said. “Your visit with him this morning is crucial to his immediate future."

  “Crucial?"

  “There is no medical reason to keep Mr. Pond in the hospital any longer, and Mr. Pond's HMO is chomping at the bit to get him out of here. If his reaction to you is, uh, bitter, we are going to have to find Mr. Pond a convalescent care facility. If his response is positive, he can go home tomorrow."

  “Tomorrow?” she exclaimed. “That's wonderful!"

  “If you don't think you can care for him yourself, we have a list of practical nurses you may employ."

  “I'll do whatever it takes, doctor,” she said, the excitement building in her voice, “but someone must teach me."

  “Can you spend the day with us, Mrs. Pond?"

  “Yes. Friends are looking after Annie.” Friends! Real, honest to goodness friends!

  “Is your bedroom on the ground floor?"

  “No, it's not."

  “Do you have a room on the ground floor you can use?"

  “Yes, but there's no full bath on the ground floor."

  “Then you will need to install a chair lift."

  “I don't know what that it, but I'll do whatever is necessary.” If there's anything we can do, let us know. Who said that? Tim Dollar!

  “You'll need a wheelchair too."

  “And a bedpan?"

  The doctor smiled. “No. Sam has normal control of his bowels and bladder. If you support him under his left shoulder, he can make it to the bathroom."

  “Doctor, do you think Sam will let me take care of him?"

  “I don't know. That's why your visit this morning is so important."

  After promising to give an honest report to the head nurse, Shelly slowly made her way to Sam's hospital room door. She paused, took a deep breath and entered.

  With the stuffed Lucky's head resting on the pillow beside his, Sam broke into a wide grin, held up his right arm and screamed, “Deee-liiii-laaaah!"

  She rushed into his outstretched arm, pressed her lips to his and enjoyed his probing tongue as she bathed his cheeks with her tears.

  “Uve oou!"

  “Oh, God, Sam. I love you too. I'm so sorry.” She drew back and gazed into his happy eyes.

  “Ocker ut am's air,” he said, touching his useless right hand to the bandage on his scalp.

  “It'll grow back, baby."

  Still smiling broadly he shook his head and motioned to the bedside table. “Ocker—ot Deee-liiii-laaaah.”

  She smiled helplessly. “I don't understand, Sam."

  He patted his stomach with his uncooperating hand. “Am-sun.” He brushed the back of the hand against her stomach. “Deee-liiii-laaaah. Ocker ut am's air, ot Deee-liiii-laaaah.” Again, he motioned to the bedside table.

  She picked up the letter written on prison stationary and tears slipped down her cheeks. “But it was Delilah who caused the doctor to cut Sam's hair."

  “Emple ot all."

  “No, and if you will let me, I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure the temple never falls on my Samson."

  “Uve oou!"

  “Do you, Sam? Can you really still love me after all that has happened?"

  He nodded his head vigorously and the doctor, standing just outside the door, smiled and headed for his next patient.

  “Baby,” she said, propping on the side of the bed, “the doctor told me you can go home tomorrow if I can learn to take care of you. They're going to teach me today."

  “Ate! Anee!"

  “Annie wants to see you, too. She can't understand why they won't let her visit you in the hospital."

  She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Please forgive me Sam. As I said in the letter, I want to spend the rest of my life looking after you and making you the happiest man who ever lived. We'll use Annie's college fund to live on and when that runs out, I'll get a job somewhere. We'll make out."

  “Aaper."

  “What, honey?"

  “Aaper. Ox."

  “I'm sorry, Sam. I don't understand."

  He frowned and worked his mou
th carefully. Still, what came out was, “Aaper. Ox."

  She smiled. “I can't get that one, Sam, but we're doing pretty good."

  “Aaper! Ox!"

  “Honey, don't worry about it. Soon you'll be talking plain enough.” She smiled, wanting to change the subject. He looked so distressed. “When I got home last night, the house was full of your friends. They cleaned up the house and filled the kitchen with food. You have so many good friends, Sam."

  “Ou too."

  “Maybe one day they'll be my friends too. Oh, there was a message on the answering machine from the Crazy Cat Club. They want me back."

  The distressed look deepened. “Ohaa."

  “Not okay. I left my reply on their machine this morning.” She placed her lips next to his ear and whispered. He guffawed.

  “I thought you'd like that,” she said, returning to an upright position. “From now on, Delilah Delight dances only for her Samson."

  He smiled wickedly.

  “Honey, I need to make a quick telephone call."

  “Ohaa."

  She looked up the number for Timothy Dollar and placed the call. “Damn,” she said. “I was hoping you'd be home, Tim. Maybe you'll get this message soon enough. The doctors are going to let Sam come home tomorrow. Last night you said to let you know if I need anything. I need a chair lift in the stairwell so Sam can get to the bedroom. I don't know how to proceed and I thought maybe you could help me out. I also need a wheelchair for Sam. I'll pay you somehow, Mr. Dollar. Please do what you can for me—for Sam."

  She hung up. “Damn answering machine,” she said. “Don't worry, honey, we'll work something out."

  She closed the room door, again sat on the edge of the bed and began to unbutton her blouse. “May I do something wicked, Sam?"

  The smile on his face and the focus of his eyes answered her question. She opened the blouse, unclasped the fastener between the cups of her brassiere, and pulled his right hand to her breast.

  Shelly sighed as the tears returned. “I thought I'd never again feel your hand on my boobs,” she explained.

  “Uve oou!” he said as the useless fingers at last found motivation to move, pressing deeply into the swollen, snow-white flesh.

  * * * *

  Shelly was soaked with perspiration as she reached the edge of the street, turned the push mower around and started back towards the house. She saw Leora Borders emerge through the tree blind, carrying a glass of lemonade. Grateful for the break, Shelly shut down the mower.

  “Child,” Leora laughed, handing Shelly the cool, sweating glass, “do you have any idea of the current temperature?"

  “Don't tell me,” Shelly joked. “I'm near the finish line."

  Leora watched Shelly gulp down the refreshing liquid. “Rome wasn't build in a day, Shelly. Save something for tomorrow."

  “Sam is coming home tomorrow!” Shelly beamed. “I want everything looking nice for him."

  Leora hugged the smaller woman. “That's wonderful, Shelly. I'm so happy for both of you."

  “Leora, last night Detective Spencer said it was your faith in my innocence that saved my hide. How could you possibly believe I was innocent after I confessed?"

  “Let's don't talk about it honey. It's over now. My,” she continued as she looked at the flowers next to the house, “you've weeded Sam's flower garden."

  “I hope that's all I did. I may have pulled up some plants, thinking they were weeds. Leora, I hate to ask after all you've done, but I need more help."

  “What is it, child?"

  “Teach me all you know about flowers, lawn care, cooking, and sewing. I'm a total dummy."

  Leora smiled kindly as she waved to Carl Eliot, emerging from the front door on the way to his pickup. “I'll try, Shelly, but let me ask you something. Did you know how to do any of those things when you and Sam first met?"

  Shelly shook her head.

  “And he fell in love with you anyway?"

  “Yeah, he did."

  “Concentrate on what attracted Sam to you initially. The rest is icing on the cake."

  “You know damn well what first attracted Sam to me."

  “Yes, child, I do."

  “The trouble is, I don't know how to bake a cake, let alone apply icing."

  Leora chuckled. “All in good time, dear. Are you having some remodeling done?” she asked as Carl went back into the house.

  “Come and see,” Shelly replied, her eyes twinkling. She led the elderly lady inside the great room.

  “Wow. That's a fancy wheelchair!” Leora said.

  “Motorized, and there is another just like it upstairs so I won't have to lug one up and down the staircase. And look at this,” Shelly continued, pulling Leora to the foot of the steps.

  Leora's eyes sparkled as she examined the newly installed lift. “Annie will enjoy that as much as Sam. This must have cost you a pretty penny."

  “Mr. Dollar bought it and won't let me repay him.” She smiled at Carl as he came down the steps. “Mr. Elliott won't let me pay for the installation, either."

  “All set, Mrs. Pond,” Carl said, his brilliant white teeth showing in sharp contrast to his chocolate complexion. “Climb in and let's give it a test run."

  “You do it, Leora."

  Leora sat in the lift. “What do I do now, Carl?"

  “You can activate the lift with the buttons on the arm, or Mrs. Pond can use the wall buttons at the top and bottom of the steps."

  Shelly pushed the up button on the wall control and the lift slowly began to ascend the steps. Leora squealed like a child.

  Carl made his departure when the lift safely returned to the ground floor and Shelly walked with Leora back outside to complete her yard work.

  “Shelly, I'm an old lady so it's permissible for me to pry. Sam is not likely to recover completely, is he?"

  “No,” Shelly replied sadly.

  “I imagine things are going to be tight for you and Sam for a while. I have a little money put away, if it will help."

  Why is everybody being so damn nice to me? “Leora, that's sweet, but we'll be okay. I have some money set aside also and, as soon as I came home this afternoon, I called Sam's lawyer, Susan Kimel. She is going to file the necessary papers for social security disability insurance. I may see if I can get a job waiting tables at the Korner Kafe. We'll be okay."

  * * * *

  Shelly and Annie bathed together in the Whirl Pool, ate supper together at the kitchen table without putting a noticeable dent in the food so generously provided the night before, washed dishes together with Annie standing on a kitchen chair and, after Annie put on her pajamas, watched the cartoon channel on television together until Annie fell asleep in Shelly's grateful arms.

  After tucking Annie in bed, Shelly went to the study and sat at Sam's desk, sorting bills and writing checks. She glued a stamp on the last envelope and leaned back in Sam's chair. Thank you, God, she prayed. I didn't think I would ever again have a day as happy as this one has been. You sent so many good people to help. I know you did it for Sam and Annie. He's such a great guy. Some day, I hope I will be a good person too.

  As if she were writing a journal, she relived the day in her mind while stacking junk mail and magazines in an empty box for Sam to look at later.

  Her mind roamed back to the one thing Sam said earlier that she could not make out. Aaper. Ox. Paper. Box. What paper, Sam? What box?

  She searched the drawers in the desk and at the very back of the bottom drawer on the left, she found a small, gray metal storage box. She sat it on the desk and eyed the chrome keyhole. Where's the key, Sam? she wondered. She tested the lid and it opened.

  On top, in a plastic cover, was a document labeled “Last Will and Testament of Samson A. Pond.” She read the short document and, although there were many unfamiliar phrases, she realized Sam left everything to her in the event of his death.

  The tears flowed so heavily as she replaced the will in its protective cover that she went in search of
a tissue.

  Returning to the desk, she read the life insurance policy. Why do they use so many “wherefores” and “whereases?” she wondered as she folded the document and returned it to its protective case.

  She pulled the final, unlabeled plastic sleeve from the box, extracted the document and spread it out on the desk. She again burst into tears as she read the heading.

  Solid Rock Life and Casualty Company, Inc.

  Policy Number 121396

  Samson A. Pond

  Disability Insurance

  Finis

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