Chapter Fourteen
Pam Hinkley stopped in to visit Bill at the hospital after leaving the art gallery. He was sleeping when she arrived and she was grateful for that. She could not initially hide how aghast she was at how Bill looked, especially when Nina the nurse came in to put another ice pack on his right hip and she got a glimpse of the sheer hideousness and size of that bruise.
Pam sat down, committed to stay for an hour or two. Bill deserved it.
He was the most unusual man Pam had ever known in her life, including some eccentric law professors and a few of the various and sundry men she had dated before meeting Ralph. He contained the entire bell curve of personality traits; he was black/white, up/down, inside/outside all in the same tall, muscular, handsome, square jawed body.
Pam believed that no one on Earth was more a mass of contradictions than William Maxwell.
He was neurotic at times about his health; he was calm as could be in a gun fight. He was full of stereotypes about people; he let them go easily and was by no means a racist or bigot. He openly despised all the mushy stuff of life; he was notably mushy himself when it came to horses, dogs, children, friendship, women. He was pushy and obnoxious; he was caring and humorous. He was abrasive and rude; he was reasonable and patient. He was attacked mercilessly by Carlisle; yet, Pam was sure he liked his boss, and would, anyway, put his life on the line for him. His modus operandi was to wave his badge aggressively in someone's face; he was shy and courteous with women. He could abuse his friends; he was undeniably eternally loyal to them—if they didn't break the law--and placed immense value on their friendship. He would try to use the suit for tiny acts of personal gain—winning a little money, getting out of a police ticket; he was truly committed to being a "good guy", an honest, incorruptible Fed. He love the thrill and action of his job; he loved being quiet in the beauty of nature, doing nothing more than fishing or digging for gold with a friend. He derided modern ideas such as feminism; he highly respected Pam, her brains and her career. He would complain for ten minutes about ketchup touching his food; he would stoically wrap his broken hand in a towel and continue on with a case. He was staunchly right-wing Republican, anti-Russian, anti-communism, pro-USA, pro-FBI; like a hippie, he preferred walking around as unclothed as possible. He hated tomatoes; he snacked on dog biscuits. He was brave and courageous; he was openly terrified of the very aliens who had so positively impacted his life. He acted tough and inflexible; he was a really a very decent man who enjoyed helping others out.
The list could go on and on.
Pam sometimes thought Bill was as alien to Earth as the green guys were. She had never met anyone who was anything like him. He would fascinate her, irritate her, drive her crazy, make her laugh, surprise her, and save her life, all in the same afternoon. Being with Bill sometimes was like being on a drug trip, she imagined, or watching some bizarre Eraserhead type movie where nothing at all was comprehensible, but it was a relatively enjoyable experience nonetheless, and gave one various ideas to ponder.
And the best aspect about it all was that Bill Maxwell considered himself to be normal and Pam to oftentimes be the strange one! God, she loved that!
If she believed the aliens knew what they were doing when they chose Ralph to wear the suit, she had to believe they knew what they were doing when they chose Bill as his partner. She hadn't been lying to Ralph—she did actually believe Ralph and Bill made a great team.
She thought of the play "Fiddler On The Roof", the song where, after being together twenty-five years, Tevye and Golde finally admit they love each other. Pam sighed. After nearly living together with Bill Maxwell for three years, Pam supposed it was high time she admitted to liking the man.
She sat in her chair silently sending out a prayer for Bill's rapid recovery, eager for him to awake, so she could give him some sympathy, glad tidings and, more importantly, some playful grief.
No use changing the rules to what had turned out to be a uniquely peculiar, but successful, relationship.