Gibson
Monday morning, I left early for a job but stopped to check on Marvil. When I'd arrived home late Sunday night, I noticed the lights were still on at the old man's place. He was usually in bed early, so it seemed odd, but I figured he must have fallen asleep watching television. So I made a point of stopping at his cabin to be sure he was okay.
There was no answer when I banged on the door, but I could hear the television blaring. I peeked through the window and saw Marvil lying on the floor of the living room. He wasn't moving. Something was very wrong.
It took a few seconds to find the emergency key the old man had stashed near his rusty barbeque grill, but soon I had the door open. I rushed to his side, and he looked up, startled.
"Marvil. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I always lay on the floor like this when I've broken my leg."
He had managed to put a pillow under the injured limb. I carefully pulled back Marvil's robe, revealing a bruised and swollen area just below the knee.
"I suppose it hurts. Don't move."
"What do you think, smart guy? It hurts like a son of a bitch. I couldn't get to the phone, so I've been here since last night. I even pissed myself this morning."
A stab of guilt twisted in my gut. I should have checked on him last night.
"I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you, buddy. Don't worry, help's coming."
I ignored his grumbles as I raced to the bedroom. I punched the buttons on the old landline phone and waited for the call to go through. When the dispatcher answered, I explained the situation, and she assured me an ambulance was on the way.
I returned to the living room, handed Marvil some clean underwear, and helped him change. I removed the soiled robe, and helped him into a sweatshirt, some loose shorts, and socks. If he was embarrassed, he hid it well. The pain was more of a challenge, and he cried out every time I touched his leg or jostled him. Once he was dressed, I placed some pillows from the sofa under him, taking care to not move the injured leg any more than was necessary.
"What were you doing, Marvil? Dancing in your underwear again?"
His smirk was quick, eclipsed by a grimace from the pain. "I fell asleep on the couch, and my leg was bent under me. It had gone numb. When I stood to go to bed, I tripped on the rug and down I went."
"Well, I'm sure you'll be fixed up in no time. Just stay still."
His dark eyes snapped open. "Where do ya think I'm gonna go, smart guy?"
I ignored his question. It meant he wasn't feeling too bad if he could insult me in his normal fashion.
Soon the wail of the ambulance carried through the open front door, so I went outside to flag them. Two paramedics came in, and after examining Marvil, they determined it was best to get him to the hospital. He cursed and grumbled as they moved him to the ambulance.
It was almost an hour's drive to the nearest emergency room, but I followed them. I made some calls along the way so I wouldn't be expected on the job site. Marvil needed me, needed someone. There was no one else that I knew of in the old man's life. It was sad to think of him living alone all these years. What if I hadn't checked on Marvil? I didn't even want to think about what might have happened. I knew it wasn't my responsibility to keep watch on the old man, but it was simply the right thing to do.
Sitting in the hospital waiting room gave me time to think. I had come to Tilly to be alone, to find a way to survive on my own. I gave up a life of luxury so I would have no distractions. I needed to find out who I really was. Did I have enough grit to make it without everything being handed to me? Was I truly worthy of anyone's love?
I had vowed not to become involved with anyone while I was away from home. No friendships, no dating. Losing my wife and child had gutted me, and I had nothing left to give anyone. So it was best to stay to myself.
But a cranky old man whom no one could stand had worked his way under my carefully constructed shell. Now I couldn't imagine what living in Tilly would be like without him.
Maybe I'm not so broken, after all.
~*~