Saving Stanley by Scott Nadelson

Author:Scott Nadelson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hawthorne Books
Published: 2011-05-16T00:00:00+00:00

THE NEXT DAY, I DIDN’T GET A SINGLE PLEDGE. HELEN STAYED in bed until almost noon and then wheeled directly into the living room without stopping off in the kitchen for breakfast. For lunch, I went to Kentucky Fried Chicken and ate in a greasy booth looking out toward the freeway overpass. For most of the afternoon, I ignored the phone list, instead dialing over and over the numbers for the time and the weather. Just before I got up to leave, Helen wheeled into the kitchen, holding out a check. When I took it, her arm didn’t drop immediately. It hung in the air and floated slowly to her lap. The check was made out for almost four thousand dollars, forty percent of every pledge I’d brought in for two weeks. Most of those pledges hadn’t even been paid yet. The check felt heavy in my hand, the number in the box too large. I no longer imagined myself slipping discreet bills from an innocent woman’s purse. Instead, I was beating her over the head with a crowbar and taking her entire wallet, credit cards, driver’s license, and family photos included. I asked Helen whether she wanted me to wait before cashing the check, but she said, “Don’t worry. It won’t bounce. Happy traveling.”

She knew before I did that I wouldn’t be coming back. With this much money, there was no reason for me to stay. My parents were beginning to get used to my being in the house. That morning at breakfast, my father had begun reading to me from the sports pages. He would have told me the score of every game in every sport in the whole world if I hadn’t said I was going to be late and excused my-self. I had to leave soon, or I’d never get away. But still, I said to Helen, putting a hand on her shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

She shrugged and said, “If you say so.” I hurried out before she could ask me to lift her into the recliner or wheel her to the bathroom.

In the morning, I didn’t call to let Helen know I wouldn’t be coming in. I went to the bank and cashed her check, and then had my brakes fixed, bought new back tires, and got an oil change. Helen had the number at my parents’ house, but she didn’t call either. For a few days I sat around my room, packing for the trip, flipping through my pictures from Europe, which now no longer satisfied me. Most of them were shots of architecture – steeples, columns, gargoyles, flying buttresses. I wished I’d taken more of people. Each morning I woke up and told myself I should drive to Helen’s and apologize for not coming back. I wanted to thank her for helping me on my way and tell her a proper goodbye. But as soon as I made up my mind to see her, my heart picked up speed and blood rushed to my face.

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