The Handyman's Dream (18 page)

* * * * *

“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?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ed said in a sweet-as-honey voice. “Thanks for reminding me. I need to have that looked at.”

They glared at each other. The drive to Ed’s house was completed in silence.

* * * * *

Ed stopped by Claire’s after his last job of the day. He wasn’t feeling terribly inclined to do Rick any favors, but hoped if Rick had his book to read it might keep him quiet. Claire met him at the door, book in hand.

“So how’s it going?” she asked.

Ed debated a moment about how truthful he should be. “Oh, not too bad,” he finally lied. “We’re getting through it.”

Claire smirked at him. Ed saw a twinkle in her eye. “You, you,” he sputtered. “You set me up.”

“Who, me?” she giggled.

Ed grabbed the book from her, resisting the urge to hit her with it. “I will get you for this someday.”

Claire’s giggles broke into laughter as she closed the door. “Thanks again, Ed. Bring him home when he’s human.”

Ed stormed back to his truck and threw the book on the seat. How do you like that. That crafty broad sure knew what she was doing when she dumped Uncle Rotten on me.

He headed back across town, and his anger began to fade. Despite the current hostilities with Rick, Ed still loved him. In some weird way he thought he loved him even more, now that he knew Rick was just as capable of being a jerk as anyone else, including himself. Ed had been around long enough to know that you really don’t get to know a person until you’ve seen him at his worst. I hope, he thought, entering his own driveway, this is the worst Rick gets.

Ed went in the house and pulled some hamburger out of the refrigerator for dinner. Then he walked back to the bedroom to give Rick his book. Rick looked up apprehensively. Ed handed him the book.

“Thank you, baby,” Rick said softly.

Ed found himself smiling back at the jackass. “You’re welcome. I’m going to make some hamburgers for dinner. And a big salad, I think. Do you want some fries? I think I have some in the freezer.”

“Whatever you want to do is fine, but do you think you could help me out to the couch? I sure could use a change of scenery.”

Ed helped Rick off the bed and into the living room. On his way back to the kitchen he turned on the stereo and restacked his Beatles records. He was tearing lettuce for the salad, happily humming along with “Help!” when Rick called to him from the living room. Ed walked back to see Rick staring with annoyance at the stereo.

“Hey, do you suppose we could hear something else for a while? I mean, enough with the John Lennon tribute already.”

“What do you want to hear?” Ed snapped, his good mood crashing and burning once again.

“How ’bout ‘The Sounds of Silence,’” Rick retorted.

“Aw, crud.” Ed took the needle off the record just as he heard a knock at the back door.

“Yoo-hoo, anybody home?” Norma called.

Ed groaned. Oh, this is just what I need. He turned to Rick. “So help me God, if you give her any ammunition, I will flush your pills down the crapper.”

Norma came in through the kitchen. “Well, there you are. Looks like you’ve got supper going so I won’t stay. Rick, how are you doing? That back giving you fits?” She barreled on without waiting for a reply. “My father had a bad back so I know how you feel. Oh, he had terrible pain. We all suffered with him, believe me.” She turned to Ed. “Everything okay here? I just brought over some cookies I baked for poor Rick here.” She handed Rick a paper bag.

Ed narrowed his eyes at his mother. Cookies, maybe, but the real reason she was here was to gloat. He was sure of that.

“We’re doing just fine, Mom,” he said smiling at her.

Norma narrowed her eyes right back at Ed, telling him she knew better. “That’s good to know. Well, Rick, I hope you feel better. Enjoy the cookies. Oh, don’t bother to thank me. It wasn’t any bother. Chocolate chip. Ed’s favorite, you know, so make sure he gets some. I’m sure you’ll be back on the mail route in no time.”

Rick looked inside the bag and grinned. “I’ll thank you anyway, Norma. That was very nice of you. Probably nicer than I deserve. I’ve been a bit of a creep today, as I’m sure Ed will tell you.”

Norma looked surprised. “Oh, now, Rick, I’m sure that’s just not so. You misbehaving? I’m sure you’re handling this much better than that. I’m sure you’re handling it much better than my father did. In fact, I told Ed that very thing when he said you’d be staying with him. ‘Take good care of that Rick,’ I told him. I just hope he’s doing a good job.”

Ed glared at her, his mouth open to respond, but Rick beat him to it.