MODERN TIMES - PART IV

         He woke up shivering; it was 2:30 and his afghan was on the floor. “I should really get changed and go to bed.” He reached back to turn off the light, but met another hand on the switch. He spun his head. “Oh hell, what are you doing here, Debbie?” It truly was Debbie, dressed in dark pants and a Christmas sweater featuring reindeer pulling a sleigh.

         “Elaine couldn’t find anyone else to do this, so she called me. Ricky had to take his sister upstate to see his mother in the home, so I was all alone.”

         “You’re not dead. How did Elaine call you?”

         “I don’t know, but I’d know her bitchy voice anywhere, even on the phone. I may have only worked a little while for her, but she was hard to forget. She said I’ll have a check in the mail Wednesday for this job. God knows I can use the money.”

         “I thought you were working at Cox & Dubinsky, or so I heard from Frank Nicola.”

         “Oh I am, Mr. Sprague, but they won’t let me get away with wearing jeans and the stuff you permitted. I need the extra money.”

         “I didn’t ‘permit’, Debbie, I never noticed what you and Trish were wearing. I hope you are not mad at me for laying you off. My old dog sure seemed pissed. He took me to every unpleasant thing that ever happened at Christmas.”

         “I’m dealing with the present, not the past, Mr. Sprague. I’m not mad at you. Cox & Dubinsky are sending me to paralegal school and giving me meaningful work.
         “Don’t move! Elaine says I have to sprinkle this pixie dust on you.”

         “Why do I have to travel. Why can’t I just stay here on the couch and have you flash slides on the wall?”

         “Like a Power-Point presentation, huh? I got to give one of them at Cox last week.”

         “What’s Power-Point?”

         “Oh, come on, Mr. Sprague. Now can we get started?”

         “Wait a minute, Debbie. I may be dull, a cold fish, and rather stupid about modern times, but all of this has been done before. I read the book in junior high school and remember Mr. Magoo playing Scrooge in a cartoon. I’m catching on pretty fast. We’ll probably see Nicola and Pitts laughing at me in some bar downtown, and I’m sure we will pay a visit to Trish. Now I know she does not have a Tiny Tim lurking around anywhere or at least she has never mentioned him, nor does she have a husband to act incredulous when she damns me with faint praise, so why do we have to go.”

         Elaine hadn’t instructed Debbie about what to do if the subject was recalcitrant. She thought of dialing her on her cell phone, but realized that even with her fifty state plan, a call to Elaine would be really long distance. She thought for a few seconds and replied in what she considered was the best way.
         “Because Elaine said so.”

         “God damn that woman! Seven years in the grave and she is still trying to boss me around. Maybe she really is trying to do me in so she can have a partner, in more ways than one, in the afterlife. What happens, Debbie, if I don’t go with you?”

         “I don’t know Mr. Sprague. Please cooperate. I want to make my two hundred dollars.” With that she touched his hand and suddenly they were not in his living room anymore, but in a small room cluttered with books, knickknacks, a small table with a chair, and two floor lamps. On the table was a laptop computer. A radio sat on top of one bookcase while in the corner on the floor was a television with its screen facing the wall. A tiny kitchen abutted off one side of the room, while across from it was a door, painted white and closed. Behind the two spectres was a small couch and chair. The door to the apartment was directly across from where they were standing.

         “Whose cluttered apartment is this? Does Trish live here?”

         Debbie pointed at the closed door that was now opening. A middle-aged woman entered the room, walking very delicately and feeling her way with her hands. She wore dark glasses but her facial features bore a certain resemblance to the man standing next to Debbie.

         “It’s Jill! Good god, we must be in Boulder. She walks like she was almost blind.”

         “Elaine’s notes say she is almost blind. She sees some out of the corner of her eyes, but very little.”

         “She’s written about her problems, but I did not know they were this bad, and if I know her, she won’t take any help from me. She never has, just as she would never take money from Dad. The last time I saw her was at Dennis’ funeral the summer after Elaine died. She could drive then. What about now?”

         “Elaine doesn’t say.”

         The woman was carrying a small Christmas tree, which she set down in front of the unused television set. She turned on her radio to a station that was playing Christmas music and reached under the couch and pulled out a flat box. She reached in, felt about, and pulled out a tree ornament that she gently hung on a branch.

         Sprague looked about and for the first time noted three of the walls had crucifixes hung on them. Photos of wolves filled the empty spaces. She had spent her life as an amateur researcher of wolf life. He wondered if she could see them now.

         He knew she lived on his monthly check for the mortgage and a disability payment. The mortgage payment would run only another three years. He remembered her first encounter with eye problems in her early twenties. The doctor felt they were caused by a hormone imbalance and suggested shots, but she insisted she liked the way she was. Maybe she would consider treatment now. In his mind, it did not appear that the crucifixes were helping, but he knew his sister would have a different opinion.

         He saw a letter on the screen of the laptop and he noted the keyboard was Braille. It must be her weekly letter to him. He edged closer to read it. Debbie grabbed his arm. The apartment disappeared.

         They were standing behind a group of men in a dark bar. Hanging from the ceiling was garland. Cardboard Santa’s decorated the area behind the bar. Christmas pop played in the background.

JINGLE BELL, JINGLE BELL, JINGLE BELL ROCK

         The song was drowned by a new wave of laughter. He heard Randy Pitts’ basso profundo ring out. “The Schmuck, the stupid schmuck, sitting there on Christmas Eve reading planning and case notebooks. The man is inhuman, a walking automaton. Doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, has the personality of a cod, and a frozen one at that.”

         After the laughter died down, Frank Nicola chimed in, “BUT HE IS OUR COD, Randy, and don’t you forget it. When he goes, I don’t know what we will do, but you’re right, god he is a schmuck. If he ever did show up at my house, I wouldn’t know what to do with him. Have to offer him a glass of water or something.”

         This time Sprague touched Debbie and the scene transformed itself into the living room of a larger apartment than the one in which Jill resided. The two features Sprague immediately noticed were a flower-patterned couch on one side of the room and a five foot tall Christmas tree on the other. Behind the couch was a door, to a closet perhaps. Sprague was curious how anyone could ever open the door, but his interest was taken away by the laughter of two children watching a Christmas cartoon on the television. Two women entered from a room that probably was the kitchen. Both carried a bowl of popcorn. The younger woman handed the bowl to the little girl seated on the floor. The boy, perhaps a year older than she was, grabbed for it and spilled some on the floor.

         “Brendan, stop that or there will be no Christmas.”

         Sprague nodded his head, recognizing Trish. The other woman was much younger, but even taller than Trish. He guessed it was Stacy, her daughter, though why he remembered her name was a mystery to him. For a second he thought her name was Sharon, but knew he was wrong. Both women sat down on the couch. Trish took a needle and thread and began to thread the popcorn. They talked to each other with the easy familiarity of mother and daughter.

         “I’ve never done this before, Stace, but I always wanted a tree with popcorn on it. Wonder if the bird would want the leftovers.”

         Sprague looked about the room and spotted the cage just inside the kitchen doorway. In it was a parakeet.

         “Mom, are you sure you locked the door. I don’t want my idiot husband busting in here. I don’t know what I am going to do about him.”

         “You’re going to go home to him eventually, silly. As much as I would love to have you, you can’t stay here. It’s just too crowded. Maybe your Aunt Rosie could put you up for a day or two, but I know they are going to Florida this week so it can’t be for long.”

         “I know we have to go home. He always cools down after a day, and lord knows I’m bigger than he is, but he scares me so. What time are Bren and Diane coming tomorrow? The Fourth will be happy to see the Third again. You know, one of the little Brendan’s should use his middle name so we can tell them apart, or should I call my brother ‘Junior’ again?

         “I am just too tired to think about it now, Stace. I am just so exhausted. Do you know I cried when I got home for an hour while waiting for you.”

         “Are you sure you are not sick, Mom?”

         “I don’t know. Can’t go to a doctor because I’m afraid of starting something I can’t afford.”

         “You still don’t have health insurance?”

         “Afford health insurance on my pay?”

         “Why do you stay with him; he’s an old skinflint. Sounds like he’ll die someday with the first dollar he made. And where will you get a job then?”

         “He’s not that old, maybe two years older than me. He is working me to the bone, but he doesn’t pressure me. Debbie and I ate lunch last week together. Debbie used to work with me until he let her go earlier this year. She is working at his old firm now. Says she gets paid more, and will be covered for partial health insurance once she is there six months. She wants me to leave and come there; she says I’d make a lot more.”

         “Why don’t you, Mom?”

         “She also says it is much more regimented. She punches a time clock, has to dress up fancy and several times has been sent out to get coffee or lunch for the staff. When she told me that, I wondered if Elaine had returned to life. As bad as John Sprague is, he freed me from being under her thumb.
         “Well, maybe he didn’t free me; after all she did die. Sometimes I wonder why the police didn’t question me to see if I pushed her down the steps. They would have had a good case based on motive. Some day I will tell you about Elaine and the dumpster, but not on Christmas.
         “Mr. Sprague, by not interfering, gave me the confidence I have in myself to handle myself with clients and others. I can’t thank him enough for that, but lord I wish he’d pay me what I am worth. I’m not getting any younger and the future is scary.”

         Stacy grinned, took a handful of popcorn from the bowl Trish was holding, and said, “Mom, know what? I think you have a crush on Mr. Sprague. Any other woman with any brains would have been out of there so fast. Must be something more than the job, huh? Imagine having a crush on a cold fish like him.”

         Sprague stood blinking his eyes. He seemed to be listening closely. Debbie put a hand on his shoulder. She left him in his bed, with his pajamas on and his covers over him. He was asleep. It was 2:45 a.m. Debbie wondered if there was mail delivery on Christmas. The check would really come in handy.

******

TO: "MODERN TIMES - PART V"