Chapter 67

 

 

Sandy walked into Room 328 and looked at the prone figure on the bed. From a side chair Gracie stood and walked over to her.

“Kind of looks like a badly put-together version of Frankenstein’s monster, don’t you think?” she commented.

Ron’s damaged foot was encased in something reminiscent of a medieval torture device, a metal cage-like thing with screws and bars, all suspended in a sling on pulleys above the bed. The blood had been washed off his face, but the swelling was still extensive, the bruises very much purple, and a track of stitches ran across his forehead near the hairline.

“Ha-ha,” said the man in bed. “If you’re here to cheer me up, that’s not the way to do it.”

“You don’t remember us, do you?” asked Sandy.

His forehead wrinkled in concentration and he winced from the movement. “It’s kind of a blur.”

“I volunteer at Heaven Sent,” Sandy told him. “Trini’s the one who most likely saved your life by calling the ambulance.”

“I don’t remember any ambulance.”

“You were in bad shape. Even in the ER yesterday, you weren’t exactly up and chatting.”

He tried to nod but apparently even that motion brought pain. “So, the homeless shelter sends people now to visit the sick and downtrodden in the hospitals?”

Gracie reached out, as if to pat his shoulder, and he winced. “Well, at least he hasn’t lost his sense of humor.”

“We found the things you stole from the homeless people at the shelter,” Sandy said. “I took it all back to them. Really created some smiles when they saw their things again. Ron, why would you do such a thing?”

He turned his palms upward. “Cause I can?”

“Seriously? That’s your answer. We know you bring in a lot of money panhandling on the streets. Why take a little girl’s necklace? Or a man’s watch from his grandfather?”

“I like stuff, okay? Ever since I was a kid—if something catches my eye, my hand just reaches out and takes it.”

“There has to be help for kleptomaniacs,” Gracie said. “Get to a therapist. Maybe the hospital even has counselors you can talk to while you’re here.”

“Butt out. It ain’t a problem. That stuff I took, it wasn’t even worth a few bucks.”

“It’s a problem to those you steal from. They feel violated when you take their things. These are people who have almost nothing, and it breaks their hearts when a keepsake goes missing. Family memories are the only things most of them have.”

“Bull. It’s just junk.”

Gracie spun on her heel and walked away from the bed.

Sandy was still curious. “I’m trying to figure out the panhandling part and your life in homeless shelters. You have a perfectly good house and a car.”

Something registered in his eyes. He obviously remembered her now.

“So, why dress in shabby clothes and sit on street corners?” she asked.

“It’s easier than having a job.” He eased himself to sit a little straighter. “See, with a job you gotta show up every day and put in certain hours and wait ’til Friday for your pay. The way I do it, I come and go as I please. If it’s raining on Tuesday, hell, I just take the day off if I want. Although I gotta tell you, people are a lot more generous when they see a guy sitting out in the rain. Those are some of my best days.”

“So, panhandling is your job?”

“Yeah. Hey, I make a damn good living this way. I pay the rent and I got savings.”

Sandy thought of the stash of money they’d found in his closet.

“But … you’re not embarrassed—what do you tell your family, your friends?”

Another palm-shrug. “Ain’t got many, but the few who ask me … well, to them I’ve got a good job that involves travel. When I say I’m off on a business trip is when I stay a few nights at the shelters. Food’s not bad and it’s free. When I get back, I tell the neighbor about whatever place he thinks I’ve been. Once I said I was in Paris—hell, how would he know? He’s never been there, so I just made up all kinds of story.”

“You could afford to stay in decent hotels, to actually travel some. So, I still don’t get it.”

“It’s a game. It’s fun to watch the money come in. I grew up in a family without much. I watched my mom clip coupons and shop the bargain stores. She scrimped and saved and died of heart problems in her forties. I know how to live cheap, but I’m sure not stressing myself to death by reporting to some stupid corporate job.”

No, you’ll get beaten to a pulp by somebody who’s either out to rob you or somebody you’ve cheated. Sandy kept the thoughts to herself.

“Well, good luck with your life, Ron. I hope irresponsibility and thievery sit well with you when you try to sleep at night.”

She joined Gracie at the door and they left.

“Is he a whack-job or what?” Gracie asked as they rode the elevator down to the parking level.

“I’m going to call the hospital when I get home and suggest they send a counselor around. With a little background, maybe a professional can ask the right questions and get Ron to reflect on his behavior. Some little thing the counselor says might be the trigger that changes him.”

“Yeah, and pigs might actually learn how to fly,” Gracie said. “I think he likes the lifestyle and shows no remorse for any of it.”

Sandy had to admit her friend was right.