Free Cheapskate in Love by Skittle Booth

window of his apartment—she had
gone through the bushes and flowers that surrounded the apartment building, so
she was next to the glass—his blinds were open. One section of his window
was slightly ajar, so it was possible to hear any sounds that came from inside.
Placing her face against the glass, she could see his bed, which was the
nearest piece of furniture to the window. On the bed, she could make out a body
that appeared to be Bill’s. Although the middle section had the round mound
that she associated with him and the clothes looked familiar, it was difficult to
identify the body clearly. The head was angled away from the window, and there
was a pillow in between the head and her line of vision. Whoever’s body it
might be was still fully clothed. Even shoes were on the feet. As she was
wondering who it was, moans of deep pain and complete exhaustion arose from the
body, and Helen was positive they came from Bill. She tapped on the window with
her index finger to get his attention.
    “Bill, Bill. Are you all right?” she asked. There was no
reply, so she tapped harder.
    “Bill, answer me. Are you OK? Do you need some help? What’s
wrong?”
    He moaned. Weakly, he motioned with a hand, waving at her to
leave. In a faint voice, which she could barely hear, he said, “Go away. Go
away.” He did not know or try to see who was at the window. He was too
miserable to care about anyone beside himself.
    Helen understood what she had to do. She disappeared from
Bill’s window, breaking the bushes and flowers in her haste to get away.
    Approximately five minutes later, there was loud, urgent
pounding on Bill’s door, which rudely stirred him awake. He opened his eyes. A
voice he identified as Jonathan’s disturbed his rest even more. “Bill, are you
in there? Open up.” Bill responded, as well as he was able to, “Go away. I’m
busy.” But no one heard him. He could then distinguish a woman’s voice in the
hallway, which said, “I think he’s hurt. He wasn’t in church at his regular
time. He rarely misses this service. He’s usually an usher.” He realized Helen
was speaking and scowled.
    Bill heard keys being tried in the locks of his door and
feebly attempted to move from his bed and prevent an intrusion, but he only
succeeded in raising his head a little. He was so physically weak that he
decided to stay where he was and hope that the proper keys would not be found.
He let his head drop back on the pillow and lay still, anticipating that he
would soon be left alone. Not long afterwards, he was cruelly disappointed. His
door was unlocked, and Helen rushed into his apartment past Jonathan, who held
the door open for her.
    She went straight to Bill’s bed, without stopping to notice
the state of mess the apartment was in, and stood over him, looking at him with
genuine concern. “Bill, what’s wrong?” she asked solicitously. “Should I call
an ambulance?”
    Because of the intruders inside his apartment, Bill made a
greater effort to raise himself and show once and for all that he was not in
need of any special attention. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” he assured them. He
shifted his weight to his right side, which was nearest the door of his
apartment, and struggled to push himself into a sitting position. Helen
observed how long it took him to do this without saying anything, although she
was thinking plenty. When he had raised his torso halfway from the bed, he
irritated his torn back muscles and shouted in extreme pain, “ Oooowww .” He flopped back onto the bed like an ice skater, who suddenly loses his footing and falls.
    “Bill, tell me what hurts,” Helen demanded.
    “My back. I can’t move my back,” he admitted. Pain made him
humble and honest.
    Jonathan, who was still standing at the door, heard him and
said to Helen, “I’ll go call an ambulance.”
    “Bill, we’re going to get an ambulance for you,” she said.
“Don’t move. That may make the injury worse. The ambulance