Day 37
(Helen’s perspective)
I reluctantly answered the phone, “Hello?”
“Hey, It’s William. What’s new?”
“What’s new? There’s this thing - caller ID. It actually lets me know who is calling before I answer.”
“Oh! You’ve got that? And you still picked up?”
A slight smile…”Okay, what do you want, goofball?”
“Well, I know you’re going to think I did this on purpose, and maybe I did, but it wasn’t conscious on purpose, but subconscious on purpose, so totally not my fault. I realized this morning on the way home from class, that I pass right by Krav Maga class. Would you be interested in me maybe picking you up after class and sharing a ride to Adventures in Acting? I just made that up, by the way - cause I’m a goofball in that lovable sort of way.”
“Eh - that’s something I’m going to have to think about and get back to you. I’ll let you know. Thanks.” I responded and hung up - with a furrowed brow, I thought to myself, “Did he call me Helen?”
(William’s Perspective)
I stared at Helen’s picture - my finger almost touching the screen. It had been several days since I introduced her Krav Maga, but the tension hadn’t eased. I don’t know if she didn’t trust me or if things were just uncomfortable from all that had happened. Harold’s presence had become a little less ominous, and his two friends avoided me outright, but she had been more Helen than Verity lately. I don’t know what she’s thinking. Torn - I pressed the green icon.
“Hey, Helen - how are you? It’s me, William. Oh - you know? I guess - yeah. You still picked up?” This seemed like a good sign, a sigh of relief escaping.
“What do you want?”
“Oh, um… this is probably dumb, but I pass Krav Maga on the way to class. Do you think you’d be interested in my picking you up after your morning class and riding to Adventures in Acting, together?”
“I’ll have to think about it,” was her terse response, ending the conversation.
(Helen’s perspective)
The coffee sloshed into my cup as I poured - still half asleep. I tried to put forth the effort for this class, but it was becoming more and more difficult. A bump, and “Excuse me. I apologize. I was just trying to get some coffee.”
“No worries,” I replied turning. Curious - I’ve never seen her in class before. “I’m Helen.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Helene. Here, I brought you something.”
“Brought me something? I’m sorry? Me?”
“Yeah. Here.” She pulled something from a bag near her feet and handed it to me - a fur coat.
“I don’t…why are you giving me a coat?”
“Aren’t you cold?”
“No - why would I be…”
“Well, Harold said you were cold. So I brought you a coat.”
Heart sinking, blood running cold - dizzy. I stumbled to a chair. She followed.
(William’s Perspective)
Solitaire - it’s good for those moments when, well, when you’re alone. I moved the 8 of spades on my tablet screen. Supposed to be writing a play for some presentation in a week or two - who remembers days at this point. Helen and I hadn’t talked much since the phone call. There was a friendly but distant “hi” when we sat for class, but as everyone else worked in pairs on preparing their play - we’re playing solitaire and getting coffee. I glanced over at the coffee bar and noticed someone I hadn’t seen before handing Helen a coat. “What’s that all about?” Did she leave her coat somewhere, or…
“Hello, Billy.” I spun around - Harold, hands in his pockets face oozing confidence.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, doing everything I could to keep my cool.
I looked over at Helen as she seemed to lose her footing and head to a chair. One foot forward - but I hesitated. Would she want me to? I was torn, and I didn’t want Harold following me over there causing her more grief. Better to deal with him here.
“Me? I’m in this class. What are you doing here? By the way, you’ll have to meet Helene. She’s wonderful. If you’re nice, I’ll introduce you,” a triumphant chuckle as he pointed in her direction. “She’s a real delight.”
In that moment I promised myself that Harold would not win one interaction with me not physically, mentally, or emotionally. No fighting this time. Today’s foil was mental and emotional, but Harold’s a lightweight in all those fields.
“Yeah, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me and my new partner.”
I chuckled, “Looking forward to it!”
“Looking forward to what?”
“Spending more time with you. So far it’s been a blast! Break down your bike, your face, very interested in what’s next.”
“What’s next is I’m going to wreck what you’ve got going with Helen to start.”
“That’s your mistake, Harold. You think you’re a giant of a man, when really you’re just an incident. It’s true that Helen is in a rough place right now, but that happens to people. Sometimes people are in motorcycle accidents, or maybe their head gets stuck between a rock and a hard place. What some people don’t understand - and clearly you’re one of them - is that these things that cause trauma are just incidents. Sure, you punched Helen, but she could have just as easily stepped on a rake, or had a tree fall on her. You just happened to be the thing that happened. Fair enough, but it still makes you just an incident. No one cares about incidents - they care about the people they affect. Your problem Harold is that you’re an incident, and nothing more. You strut around here like you belong, or like people should bow as you walk by, when you are literally the poster boy for “Shit happens.”
The scowl on his face and his balled up hands told me I’d achieved my goal. I walked to the far side of the room away from Harold — and from Helen.
(Helen’s perspective)
My jello legs were draped over the side of the chair as Helene approached again. She jabbered on, but I couldn’t hear her. I was scanning the room for him - and there he was. Talking to William. I don’t know what was said, but William had obviously said something to make him angry. William started walking toward me - relief. Wait! He turned and went the other way. Why did he…? William, I need you.