Chapter 40
"Looking for Mr. Goodwrench"
I WOKE UP THIS MORNING FEELING AS THOUGH SOMEBODY HAD RUBBED MY FUR THE WRONG WAY. SOMETHING EERIE WAS FLOATING OVER ME, REACHING DOWN TO GRAZE MY SKIN WITH LONG, BONY FINGERS. THE ELECTRICAL OVERLOAD CAUSED A SPIKE THAT SIZZLED THROUGH THE ROOM, AS WELL AS THROUGH ME.
*DAMN!*
I KEPT STILL AND LOOKED AROUND, MOVING ONLY MY EYES. IT WAS DAYLIGHT, SO IF THERE WERE SPOOKS IN MY ROOM, THEY MUST BE HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT. WAS I DESTINED TO DO SOMETHING ESPECIALLY FEARLESS AND VALIANT TODAY?
*NOT EFFIN' LIKELY.*
MY HAND WENT TO MY THIGH AS A SUDDEN TWINGE CAUGHT ME UNAWARE. MY KNEE WAS FEELING THE FIRST CRAMPS OF MORNING PAIN.
*SHIT!*
MY LYRICA AND VICODIN BOTTLES WERE ON THE BEDSIDE TABLE, BUT I GRABBED THE IMMITRAX AND SWALLOWED ONLY TWO. WILLY WOULDN'T LIKE IT IF I TOOK MORE THAN HE'D PRESCRIBED. STUPID TIME TO THINK ABOUT WHAT WILLY PRESCRIBED. I LAY BACK DOWN AND CLOSED MY EYES.
ANOTHER TWINGE NIGGLED ME IN THE NETHER REGIONS … I SOON HAD TO GET TO THE HEAD.
BEYOND THE WINDOWS THE TOWN OF ETNA WAS BEGINNING TO MAKE MORNING NOISES; THE SHOUT OF A STREET WORKER, THE HONK OF A CAR HORN. IT WAS DARK INSIDE MY ROOM. I STILL HAD NOT OPENED THE BLINDS, BUT I COULD HEAR MOVEMENT FROM THE STREET AND SOUNDS OF PEOPLE IN THE LOBBY, COMING IN FOR BREAKFAST. THERE WERE LINES OF DAYLIGHT BETWEEN THE WINDOW SILL AND THE EDGE OF THE SLATS. CHRIST! I WAS WIDE AWAKE AND I DIDN'T WANT TO BE.
I SHOULD GET UP AND GET WITH IT. I DIDN'T WANT TO DO THAT EITHER. I WAS IN A SHITTY MOOD.
DOWN THE HALLWAY I HEARD THE SNUFFLE-AND-ROAR OF A LARGE VACUUM CLEANER. IT WAS HEADED MY WAY, INTERMITTENTLY SCRAPING THE WALL AND MOVING BACK TO THE CENTER OF THE FLOOR. WHY NOT USE A MOP AND BUCKET AND DIMINISH THE SOUND EFFECTS OF BULLDOZERS BASHING ROCKS? NO FREAKIN' RESPECT FOR CRIPPLES WHO NEEDED THEIR SLEEP …
IT WAS NEARLY 7:00 A.M., AND I SHOULD MAKE AN EFFORT TO GET READY TO DO WHATEVER IT WAS THEY DID HERE ON AN OVERCAST MONDAY MORNING.
BUT I SHOULD PEE AND SHOWER FIRST. (NOT AT THE SAME TIME …)
MY SHAKY BODY WAS AWASH IN PAIN-SWEAT AGAIN; ACCUMULATED WHILE I SLEPT. I'D GONE TO BED IN MY SKIVVIES. JEANS AND SHIRT WERE ON THE FLOOR IN A PILE, AND I DIDN'T REMEMBER MUCH OF ANYTHING ELSE AFTER COMING BACK TO MY ROOM LAST NIGHT.
MY BACK WAS STIFF AND SO WERE MY NECK AND SHOULDERS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. I'M GETTING TOO DAMNED OLD TO BE GALLAVANTING ALL OVER THE COUNTRY. I SHOULD FIND A GOOD SPOT AND STAY PUT.
COULD THIS BE IT?
I turned stiffly to the right and slid off the mattress into the wheelchair, the most effective results for the least amount of effort. I grabbed clean pants, a fresh tee shirt and new underwear and wheeled across the floor into the bathroom. Over to the john. Water the daisies …
Time to check out that fancy shower … let it water me!
I laid the fresh clothing on the toilet seat, stripped to the skin and rolled across the access strip into the glass enclosure. The 'rain forest' shower head had a wicked needle spray that woke me the rest of the way very quickly. I moaned out loud with the pleasure of it and raised my arms over my head like a newly converted supplicant … eyes tightly closed in an attitude of rapture …
*Yeah, right!*
At least I felt better after the shower. A lot of the stiffness had worked its way out and I was thinking clearer. I dried off and took my time getting dressed. As always, the socks caused the most trouble. Bending over to pull up the right one made both foot and thigh hurt like hell, and it took awhile. Worse yet, I remembered Hooley's admonitions about keeping up with the leg exercises, and my rigid training as a doctor always confirmed his wisdom: 'use it or lose it'. I hadn't done any of that while hauling my ass northward along the eastern seaboard. If Hooley saw me now, he would probably be highly put out with the way I moved and the loss of weight and muscle tone. I had no excuse, except that I was so weary of the escalating pain … and I economized every movement to avoid causing more of it …
I wanted to get over to the Dartmouth-Hitchcock and look up Ed Thoreau, the orthopedist that Samuel had told me about. I must also look for a place to live where I could have quiet and privacy and solitude. I couldn't long endure the constant bustle of a hotel, even as small as this one, for any length of time. I needed alone-time and freedom to let down my private barriers … as much as I needed food to eat and air to breathe … maybe more.
And I missed my music …
I trimmed up the beard and mustache again, and shaved the spaces that were supposed to be shaved. What a pain in the ass to have to do this every day if I wanted to present a clean façade to the general pub-lick!
I finally finished in the bath and rolled back to the bedroom. I opened the Venetian blinds, finally. The sun was emerging from behind a cover of clouds, and a brisk wind was quickly blowing the clouds away to the south. It looked cold out there. Dead leaves were flying. Better wear the jacket …
I paused a moment to stare at the big brown apartment building directly across the street, and my little wheels began to spin like old Steve McQueen on his tread mill. The thing was for sale. Did I want to take on the responsibility of maintenance and landlordship? Or did I just want to rent that big empty apartment while I tried to make up my mind whether this town might actually become my final resting place? (Let's make that: Final "Nesting" Place.)
What … if …?
*REALLY, House?*
*REALLY?*
*Well, why-the-hell NOT?*
Some parts of my brain yelled louder than other parts …
It was time to put the wheelchair out of the way and get back to an upright position. I was getting lazy and angry and my leg was touchy and stubborn. I would much rather have chosen the easier, softer way. But If I wanted to retain even a minimum of mobility, I must get in gear and expend more effort than I was expending now.
My lone Nike was under the edge of the bed, and the Milleniums were right beside it. I balanced myself carefully and hefted it all up onto the comforter. Then I sat down again, untied the shoe and placed it on the floor where I could step into it easily. I tied it quick, grunting with effort, and then stood up to get the crutches under me.
I stuffed my ridiculously fat wallet into a back pocket and hung the backpak on the bed post. The less I had to carry, the better. I stood up and put on the peacoat. An old newsboy's hat was stuffed into an inside pocket, so I put that on too.
I adjusted the crutches beneath my arms and opened the hallway door.
Little wheels inside my head began spinning away. I ignored them. What could I do with the building across the street? What did the owner want for it? How much renovation would it take to get it in shape? It was a little run down, and could certainly use a new coat of paint and a shitload of new trim. I kept ignoring the little wheels, but they still spun and spun … and I have this damned eclectic thinking process that insists I make the right decision … find the answer to the puzzle; my 'Rubik's Cube Complex', Wilson used to call it. The little wheels ignored me right back.
*Get your ass moving, House!*
I looked both ways, up and down the hall. My friendly vacuum cleaner had gone to bang the walls somewhere else, and I saw no one when I checked the hall all the way to where it opened into the lobby. I wanted to get the hell out of there before somebody … like Lily … saw me and started to make a fuss …
There were voices coming from the registration desk when I emerged. A young couple had their luggage standing beside the checkout counter and it looked like they were ready to take their leave. A small girl, maybe three or four years old, emerged from behind the tail of her mother's long coat and stood staring at me, wide-eyed. I recognized them as the same couple I'd seen in the restaurant the night before. The kid watched closely as I moved beyond the center of the room and started for the door.
I was taken aback when she raised her hand to wave, and called in a high-pitched 'little-girl' voice:
"Hi …"
Cute little shit … but there went my chances of making a clean getaway. I sighed and smiled at her, and waggled my fingers, doing the politically correct thing … and made the politically correct response: "Hi there. How are you?"
Evidently a direct response from her was a little beyond her ken. She disappeared behind her mom again like a rabbit down a hole. Vern and the young man both turned to look who it had been that the kid was being friendly with. I nodded and kept walking.
Quickly the young man moved toward me and grabbed the front door to hold it open. Evidently he remembered me from last night too. I felt my face growing hot, but I did glance over at him and then mumbled a 'thank you', quietly.
"You're very welcome," he said.
I hurried to my car in the cold wind, as fast as I could make it, my head full of bewilderment at the strangeness of people. This guy had absolutely no obligation to hold open a door for me … but he had. In fact, he had rushed to assist me. Once again I was pole-axed by a kindness I never expected. Was it possible that those who offered assistance were not doing so out of pity, but of common courtesy? I'd always been suspicious … "do unto others before they do unto you". And I had.
And my crappy mood left me like a rat runs out on a sinking ship. Gone.
I unlocked the door of the Dynasty, wondering what the hell I'd stepped into in this strange neck of the woods, where people smiled a little too much to be taken seriously.
Jesus! They were beginning to turn me into one of them!
I eased into the driver's seat and leaned the crutches across from me. The sun was shining, but the wind was blowing like crazy. The car door blew shut against my shoulder and my right knee bumped against the hand control lever. Pain raced from foot, to knee, to hip and back, making me gasp out loud Sometimes it just didn't pay to get up in the morning. For every good thing that happened, something shitty was waiting around the next corner to knock you on your ass. I felt like I had just tried to run a furlong in high heels …
I sat with my head leaning into the steering wheel for a few minutes until I calmed down. I thought about the kind man back in the lobby of the Watson Inn. He wasn't the only one. Not just here in this tiny town, but on the road on my way here. None of the people in my travels had any reason to come to the assistance of a scruffy, middle-aged scarecrow on crutches. But they had. They weren't after anything. I sure-as-hell didn't look like somebody who had just inherited a king's ransom. And no one really gave a shit anyway. They were nice because they wanted to be.
I had always avoided acts of generosity, believing them to be insincere, or offered purely on grounds of pity … or prurient curiosity … or seeking some kind of praise that their friends could hear … or just for personal gain. Pretty much all the same thing, I reasoned. I had never considered sitting down with my fears and suspicions to turn them over to my intellect for a good talking to. I was always ready to cast the first stone.
Gregory House of Princeton, New Jersey, had been a total prick … one giant stride ahead of all the other total pricks.
Kyle Calloway of Etna, New Hampshire, couldn't afford to do it that way.
*Yeah, you heard what I said!
*I think I'm gonna be okay here. And I'm gonna put an offer on that damn old run-down apartment over there … so get the hell off my back!*
The ghosts I'd been worried about earlier faded slowly away from the dark room of my consciousness … slowly evaporating behind the walls, through the ceiling … and out of my head.
I put the key in the ignition, started the Dynasty, and turned on the heater.
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