The Walking Man (10 page)

"Maria," I said, "It's great to see you!"

I had tears in my eyes.

"What's wrong, Buddy?"

"Nothing," I said. "I'm just happy to see you."

"Oh, Buddy," Maria said. "You are so nice."

Before we began our reading session, Maria opened my gift. It was a photo album full of pictures from our Halloween Party. Having been produced by Shyshirites, the photo album wasn't a regular photo album; it was a breathtakingly exquisite masterpiece. The album was bound in black leather. The title on its cover,
Halloween 1986, Maria and Buddy
, was rendered in gold leaf. Inside the album, eight pages presented sixteen eight by ten inch images. Each photograph was surrounded by a one inch black border which had a grainy texture formed from a million tiny ghosts yelling "Boo!" On the corner of each page, there was a tiny button that presented audio when pressed: Maria's voice recalling each photograph. It was pure magic.

Each picture in the album was a candid shot that captured Maria and me smiling or laughing. There was even a picture of us, happy as can be, on the Ferris wheel. The quality of the photos was amazing; the lighting was perfect and the timing of the shots incredible; they perfectly captured the spirit of the evening: Maria's incredible beauty and my looks of puppy-dog love.

"Remember the haystack that kept following us around?" Maria asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Inside was Matthew Gidd, the photographer for the
Shyshire Tattler
; he took all the pictures," Maria said. "What do you think?"

"Maria, this is the best gift ever. It's awesome," I told her while trying hard to hold back more tears. "Thank you, Maria. Thank you. This is my most prized possession."

"Come on, Buddy. It's just a photo album."

~ ~ ~

I'm not sure what percentage of a man's being is controlled by his need to get the girl, but as a test case of one, I can definitely state that from the moment Maria Rivera entered Room 302, my sole goal in life was to marry her. Cruel people would say my physical infirmary limited my manhood and made matrimony impossible. But my inability to walk did little to prevent me from dreaming the average man's dream of having a wife and children.

The other thing I had disturbingly in common with my fellow man was my complete inability to read a woman's heart. My family was friendly with a guy in Apple who had been married for ten years. He had a beautiful wife. His children did well in school. And once a week, his family was able to play board games without physically or verbally abusing each other. The story goes, one night, after serving a homemade macaroni and cheese dinner to her family, our friend's aforementioned beautiful wife left the dinner table. She told her family she was going to the store to buy a half-gallon of vanilla ice cream, so she could à la mode the apple pie she'd baked earlier in the day. The next time our friend saw his wife, she was sitting across a conference table with a lawyer named Richard Cleaver who was wearing a Red Cross blood donation pin on his lapel. I later overheard our friend tell my Dad that he "didn't see it coming."

I never appreciated the extent of our jilted neighbor's befuddlement until Maria entered Room 302 with her "friend." It was the Wednesday before what was supposed to be our first Thanksgiving together. Her friend's name was Johnny Bash.

Johnny Bash was a year younger than Maria, so he was a first semester college freshman. In high school, Johnny Bash was the quarterback of the Shyshire Eagles. He was a local legend. He held the school record for passing and total yards. Need I say more? The guy was a stud. His mere presence made manly men wish they were gay, and with a wink, he could cause even the most prudish woman to rush to the nearest tattoo parlor to get a butt butterfly that bore his name.

Although I supposedly had no feeling below my neck, when Johnny Bash entered my room I distinctly felt my blood rush to my feet, causing me to momentarily gray-out.

"Hey, Buddy, I'd like you to meet my friend, Johnny," Maria said as I spontaneously vomited. "Oh my God, Buddy; are you okay?"

It took me a minute to recover as Maria panicked, causing Johnny Bash to look at the ceiling and smile. Eventually, I recomposed myself and did my best to take it like a man. I vaguely remember Nurse Judy coating me with a pound of Speedi-Dry to solidify the ex-contents of my stomach, the ever-courteous nurse not wanting my life to be destroyed within a puddle of decomposing chicken potpie.

Gradually, my pulse returned and I was able to pretend I was listening to Maria while she spoke. Occasionally making pleasant one-word acknowledgments that words were coming out of my ex-girlfriend's mouth, I said things like "yup," and "ahah," and "uggh."

While my heart churned in a virtual blender, the sounds emanating from Maria's lips informed me that Johnny Bash was enrolled at the University of Massachusetts where he was seeking a degree in physical education. I later learned Johnny's academic pursuit was based on his openly stated desire to get "a massive amount of quality pussy," before returning home to join his father's business, the existence of which was revealed to me while I became increasingly cognizant of Maria's desire to engage me in further conversation.

"Johnny's dad owns the biggest insurance company in Shyshire," Maria proudly said. "Bash Insurance."

"Folks will always need insurance," Johnny assured me with a smile. "Accidents and diseases never take a holiday."

"I know," I said while Maria winced.

"Johnny and I have been going out for six months," Maria said.

I gulped, and then responded, "Congratulations."

Despite my incoherence, after minimal conversation I noticed that, when beside Johnny Bash, Maria was not the Maria I knew. She spoke carefully and always deferred to him. Her naughty sense of humor was nowhere to be found. Gone was her radiant smile.

Perhaps in an effort to halt or modify our increasingly uncomfortable conversation, Maria terminated one particularly long pause with the words I feared most.

"By the way, Buddy, Johnny and I are making plans to get married," said Maria.

I said nothing.

"That's right. We're going to get hitched. Maria wants a big wedding in Boston, but I say fuck that." Johnny Bash smiled. "Why spend all that money when you can get married at the Shyshire Elks Club. No need to drop a fortune for a single night of fun, if you know what I mean, Buddy."

"I'm afraid I don't," I said. "My penis stopped working when I was sixteen."

Maria choke-laughed.

Then, Johnny said, "Sorry to hear that, man. You don't know what you're missing."

~ ~ ~

The day after the Johnny Bash visit, Smitty entered my room, took one look at me and said, "I had a feeling you were hurting."

Minutes later, I was in my wheelchair doing laps around the back courtyard of the hospital telling Smitty my tale of unrequited love. During our walk, Smitty was exposed to a level of slobbering I prefer not to recount, so let's just say Smitty witnessed the peak of my desperation and responded in a most unanticipated manner.

"Stop crying and shut the fuck up," the usually gracious Smitty said. "Of course you lost the girl. Look at you; you're fat and you can't even walk. Why would you expect a fine woman like Maria to spend her life with you?"

"But, Smitty," I responded. "The doctors at Mass General said…"

"Bullshit," Smitty said. "Who are they to tell you can never walk again. Are you just going to accept that? Clean up your act and get the girl."

"Wow, do you really believe I'll walk again?"

"Of course I do," Smitty said. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

"Wow!" I responded.

"Real men never give up," Smitty said. "Failure is not an option."

"Is this what they call 'tough love'?"

"No, it's one man telling another man to stop being a pansy ass."

"Are you ever going to let up on me?" I asked.

"Maybe after you run the Boston Marathon."

"Thank you, Smitty," I replied with a smile.

~ ~ ~

The morning after Smitty set me straight, I summoned Rodrigo to my room. He was currently an inmate, but he was on "work-release," which meant he could leave the Leicester County Correctional Facility at nine in the morning each day as long as he was back by five o'clock. Weeks earlier, per my instructions, my brother Hal had hidden money all over my room so I could bribe Rodrigo when I needed feet on the street.

"Rodrigo, in my dresser drawer there's a bag of M&M's. Inside there's a fifty dollar bill."

"A fifty dollar bill, a fifty dollar bill."

"I need you to go to Shyshire and find out everything you can about a guy named Johnny Bash."

"Johnny Bash, the football player, the football player?" Rodrigo asked.

"That's him."

"Fifty more, fifty more!"

"I'll pay you another fifty, if you bring me back good information about Johnny Bash."

"Oh yeah! Oh yeah!" Rodrigo said. "Another fifty, another fifty. I'll be back. I'll be back."

To say Rodrigo was motivated by money would be an all-time understatement. Four hours after he was issued his orders, he returned to my room with a complete dossier on Johnny Bash. And the picture wasn't pretty; Johnny Bash was a brainless dick.

"Talked to some high school girls, some high school girls," Rodrigo said. "Johnny and his friends gang-banged a special-ed girl last year, a special-ed girl. The dads paid to cover it up. Lots of dads, lots of dads."

"Jesus," I said.

"Gets worse," Rodrigo said. "Gets worse. He's a panty collector, panty collector. He kept panties of every girl he ever banged in his school locker, names and dates on them, showed them to his friends, to his friends."

"Pig," I said.

"He did his English teacher on her desk. Caught on video. Caught on video," Rodrigo said. "She got fired, got fired."

"Okay, Rodrigo," I said. "Okay."

"They say he has a ten inch dick, a ten inch dick," Rodrigo revealed. "His nickname is the ram, the ram!"

"Enough, Rodrigo," I yelled. "Enough!"

"The other fifty," Rodrigo said. "The other fifty."

"The bottom of my wastebasket, there's an envelope. It contains a C-Note. It's yours Rodrigo."

"A C-Note! A C-Note!" Rodrigo smiled. "A C-Note! A C-Note!"

~ ~ ~

Two weeks passed before Maria summoned the courage to visit me. She brought a huge stack of newspapers hoping I would avoid the topic that needed to be addressed.

"Hi, Buddy," Maria said. "Sorry I couldn't stop by last week. I was very busy. We've got lots of reading to catch-up on."

"Maria," I said slowly. "Johnny Bash is a total asshole. What are you doing with that Neanderthal?"

"I'm not here to discuss my love life, Buddy," Maria said in a cold tone. "Johnny and I have something special, okay? So just be happy for me."

I thought about my mother and backed off. I had to free Maria to love her. But, it was the most difficult thing I ever did.

"I'm sorry, Maria," I said. "I was way out of line."

"Apology accepted, Buddy," Maria said with a huge smile, delighted I'd let her off the hook.

The remainder of our reading date was just like old times. Maria read and then we laughed. She stayed for two hours.

I had never loved her more.

At the end of our reading session, Maria closed by providing me with a bio of Johnny Bash and then went on to discuss her dreams of family.

It killed me, but I kept smiling. Seeing Maria happy, whether she was lying to herself or not, wasn't something I had the right to disturb. She gave me a big kiss before leaving. Per John Mellencamp, "It hurt so good."

~ ~ ~

Another two weeks passed before Maria visited me again. I was surprised; I'd assumed she'd be back on a once a week schedule since I'd tacitly approved of Johnny Bash. When Maria entered my room, I instantly knew something was wrong. One of her eyes was bloodshot, both her cheeks were puffy, and she was favoring her left arm.

"Hi, Buddy!" Maria said. "Sorry I've been away so long. I've missed you so much. Got lots to read!"

I pretended that I didn't suspect anything, but I'd already figured it out.

"Hi, Maria," I said. "I've been thinking about you."

"I've been thinking about you too, Buddy."

"I have an idea," I said. "Instead of reading the newspapers today, why don't we read
The Color Purple
in the hospital's library? It won a Pulitzer Prize and a National Book Award. It's a story about a perfectly innocent woman who is physically abused by a powerful man."

"Great idea, Buddy."

She knew I knew.

"Maybe some other time," I countered. "I forgot, I have Chunky Monkey on standby with Chef Royalston."

"You’re the best, Buddy," Maria said. "
The New York Times
?"

"Of course," I said, trying not to cry.

It was the saddest moment of my life.

"Any new typhoons out there?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," Maria said. "The Pakistanis are clinging to their trees."

I knew what I had to do.

~ ~ ~

It's true that Smitty and I had taken a vow to always "do good" to offset our past transgressions, but doing good can take many forms…

Smitty was no longer an inmate, but since we were "life coaches" to each other, he visited me at least three times a week; subsequently he was a familiar presence at the hospital. Thus, there was little concern when Smitty made an emergency request for a handicap van so I could visit my "sick brother Hal."

Fortunately, the moment we got into the van, Hal recovered, so we decided to catch a local football game instead of driving to Apple. It was the first Sunday in December. The weather was perfect and Johnny Bash was playing quarterback for the Shyshire Marauders, a charter member of the Pioneer Valley Flag Football League: mostly ex-jocks trying to recapture a feeling from their not-too-distant past without hurting themselves. It was the last game of the year.