Charlie's Story, by Sheri

Charlie's Story

by Sheri Grutz

Charlie's wife would tell him, pretty soon, the house is going to cave in. He took her whims that there were stains on the ceiling, cracks, and pressure lines, but he saw the same in her face, and accpeted it. Charlie was retired only 3 months from Alcoa, and had to get used to waking so early to nothing but the news, the weather, and the farm report. He even ate breakfast now at 9 a.m., and would only wait for the mail, the next door neighbor teacher pulling out, the text from his sister about baby pictures and craft projects. Still, they went to shows, even late night comedy, and some concerts. He would drink anything they put in front of him, and he let his wife order everything.

His wife was working for VNA doing scheduling and hiring of new workers. She was gone from 9 to 4 p.m. Every work day, and so Charlie would walk the dogs, take care of the lawn, clean out the garage, ah yes, the garage, where he could escape for a few beers just after noon, listening to his kind of music, if it was coming in, which many days, it wasn't, and he'd have to resort to his daughter's music, and think of her, married now and working with other people's kids.

When his wife, Barb, would come home, she'd want to talk, and it was sometimes endless.

“Honey, we need to make an incentive for the weekend, we're not getting it covered.”

“Time and a half maybe.”

“Like how, they're not making 40 hours.”

“Maybe one day, instead of two.”

“I'm already doing one day, but the clients don't want different people all the time, they're very particular.”

“What happened with the woman with her disabled daughter?”

“She took time off, and I can't hire anymore, we're in a freeze. Two people this week went into prenatal, and one went into ER.”

“Were they the young ones?”

“Always the young ones, they don't have the time in.”

“I'm going to grill tonight, how does that sound.”

“Yes, and you promised we'd go walk.”

“Yes of course. We'll do that first.”

“Thank you, honey.”

After two months of retirement, Charlie heard Barb tell him often, now's the time to get healthy. You can't wait any longer. I'm going to make you walk the trails at Westbrook. He wanted to, but felt his lower back sink into his recliner, after years of strain, felt his hamstrings not be pulled tight from standing all day, just didn't want to do it.

The next week, Charlie got a text from her from work, saying she had to host an open house, and would be late getting home, she'd hope he would walk the trails, and feel good about it. Charlie had about 3 beers in him, and thought maybe he could handle the extra workout, instead of hand to mouth, foot to mouth. He got up there at about 3 p.m. On a Tuesday. The weather was gorgeous. There were very few people on the trail. He knew from experience they would come later, after work, with their dogs. Charlie left the dog at home this time. He took in the surroundings, and walked at a quicker pace than usual.

He was winding around the bend in the road, when all of a sudden, a man appeared, walking at him. Charlie froze.

“I need money.”

“What? I don't have any money.”

“Bastard, I need money.”

“I'm just out walking.”

Charlie tried walking away. The man quickly came up from behind, and he hammered him over the back of the head with his fist and forearm. Charlie fell. The man continued to hit him with his fists. The man struggled to pull Charlie's wallet from his pocket, but Charlie scrambled, pulled out his phone, and got a a picture of him. Then he called 911. The man feld into the brush of the park.

Charlie couldn't find the police, and it took over a half an hour to make contact, he was deep in the wooded area. His head was throbbing. He might need medical attention. He found the police once he staggered to the exit, they had called him and told him they were on the south gate.

“I've got his picture here.”

“Did he get anything from you?”

“No.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“We want you to come down to the station with us and file a report.”

“Sure.”

Charlie felt the most pain in his shoulders, some kind of resistance, like buckling up under the pressure. He was released from the cop's shop, and told to go directly to the ER. Oh no, he'd have to call his wife. They kept him for hours, doing scans, and eye exams and reflexes. He went home with pain pills.

“Honey, don't overract, but I was mugged in the park today.”

“What?!” Her hair was undone, her face was like wood.

“I know it sounds bad, he had no weapon, he just wanted money.”

“Well, we've got to press charges, what in the hell, Charlie?”

“I'm under observation, took a pretty good hit to the head. I'm scared to go to sleep. But that's all I want right now.”

“I'll get an ice pack, and make a late dinner. What is this world coming to?”

Barb nursed Charlie all night, and even massaged his temples, and she made sure he ate lots of fruit. In the coming weeks, she bought a treadmill, and forced him to call someone about the ceilings. Charlie watched talk shows while walking on the treadmill, paid extra for the patchwork in the house, and learned to count his blessings.