Jim's Love Story

[koshi† 0]

The townsfolk always said Jim was crazy. The children used to make up stories about him, how he would cast spells on anyone who happened to pass by, how he could collect their souls in bottles and trap them in his house, never to be seen or heard from again.

 

He had always been regarded as the harmless sort of crazy, though. People would drop by to visit from time to time, ask him how he was doing, if he needed any help. Jim, being the kind sort of gentleman he was, always declined any offers he received. He could do the work himself, and was rather appalled by the thought of somebody else doing much of anything at all for him. He did have his wife, Ezzell, to take care of, after all. The last thing he wanted was for somebody to have to take care of her as well.

 

Ezzell was the quiet type. She never really said anything at all. What little she did say, in fact, what little she could say, was barely audible, and usually didn't make much sense. But Jim loved her. He'd loved her since he met her, and he'd love her until the day she died, or the day he died, both of which were drawing near.

 

Brother Lawrence came to visit Jim's house one day. Jim hadn't been to church in a while, and Brother Lawrence decided to stop in and see if Jim was alright. Two knocks on the door was all it took to get in.

 

“Hidy Jim.”

“Hey Brother Lawrence.”

“Mind if I come in for a bit?”

“No, no, come on in.”

“Thank'ya.”

 

Brother Lawrence stepped inside the old musty house. This house had belonged to Jim's family since his great great grandfather built it way back when. Jim closed the door behind the pastor and sat down in the sagging recliner next to Ezzell. Brother Lawrence sat on an old dusty couch opposite Jim's recliner.

 

Brother Lawrence looked first at Jim, then at Ezzell, then back at Jim. He seemed a little unnerved by Ezzell's presence, and his eye kept darting back to her. She stared back at him with a cold, silent gaze.

 

“Didn't nobody ever tell you it weren't polite to stare, Lawrence?” Jim fixed a stern look on the pastor.

 

Brother Lawrence was a tiny bit startled by Jim's remark, then loosened up a bit and leaned back. “Sorry 'bout that Jim,” he said, “but it-” “She,” corrected Jim, with a burning glare in his eyes. Brother Lawrence nodded in a doubtful sort of agreement, then continued, “She ain't why you been missin' church, is she?”

 

Jim nearly had his fists clenched with anger now, but calmed himself down enough to speak. “Somebody's gotta look after her, Lawrence. She ain't nowhere near strong enough to take care of herself.” Ezzell just sat there, still coldly staring down Brother Lawrence. Brother Lawrence shifted his weight a little, then continued to try to persuade Jim to come to church.

 

“Well Jim, why don't ya just bring 'er with you tomorra? We're gonna have a good sermon tomorra. I'm sure she'd enjoy it.” Jim couldn't help but notice the odd, sarcastic laugh in the preacher's voice while he was speaking. “Nah,” Jim said, now filled with anger, “I don't think she'd wanna sit through empty words from a hypocrite.”

 

Brother Lawrence was taken aback by this. He stared at Jim for a moment or two, but the silence seemed to last hours.

 

“Well Jim, I'm sorry to make ya think that. I try to follow God's example much as I can.”

“Try harder. You ain't barely tryin' evidently.”

“Now Jim, there's no need for that kinda talk. We all mess up.”

“Some of us more'n others, it seems.”

 

The pastor was now visibly upset, but trying to regain his composure. “Jim,” he said, attempting to sound soothing, “I wantcha to come 'cause I care about ya. I don't want ya to have to spend eternity in hell.” Jim seemed a bit calmed down for a second, but that brief second was only the eye of the storm. After that second was over, Jim's composure turned to a horrible shade of fury. “So what about her,” he half yelled, pointing to Ezzell, “you ain't said one word t' her since you been here. You want her to burn forever, then?” Brother Lawrence now had a victimized look across his face. He struggled to gather his words together. “Well Jim – I mean – Jim, you know, she don't really have-” Jim stood up and pointed at the door.

 

“Get out.”

“Jim, please-”

“Outta my house.”

“Ezzell's-”

“She don't wanna hear you neither.”

 

Brother Lawrence slowly got up off of the couch and followed Jim's order. He walked to the door, opened it, and turned around for one last comment. “I hope I'll see ya in heaven, Jim. I can only hope 'n pray.” Jim just stared at him. The pastor walked out the door and closed it on his way out.

 

Jim slumped back into his recliner. He sighed loudly, then wiped his eyes. As soon as he heard the sound of Brother Lawrence's car exiting the driveway, he turned to Ezzell and said, “I tell ya, the nerve of some people, callin' 'emselves Christians 'n treatin' you 'n me like this. This ain't what God'd do.” He shook his head. “This ain't nothin' like what Jesus woulda done.”

 

Ezzell sat there, still unmoving. Her steely gaze was still rigidly fixed on the couch where the preacher had been sitting just moments earlier.

 

A couple of hours passed by with no words exchanged between Jim and Ezzell. Jim flipped through channels on TV and thumbed through a newspaper for a while, but Ezzell stayed still. Finally Jim spoke up. “Y'know, maybe he was right about one thing, maybe I should see if I can't let you get some fresh air. We could go out 'n get somethin' to eat tonight. That sound good?” He was hopeful for a response, but Ezzell remained locked in her silent staring contest with the couch. Jim sighed, and knelt down in front of her. “You'll be better again one day, darlin'. Don't you worry. You'll be all fixed up in heaven. I just...I just know it.” Jim stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. She made no reply. “But 'til then, I'm gonna give you the best I got. C'mon, let's go get some supper.”

 

Jim helped her walk out to the car. She could barely move; Jim had to guide her ever step. But he did it with a tender, loving hand.

 

Jim's old car wasn't much, but it would get them where they needed to go. He helped Ezzell into the passenger side, then got into the driver's side door. “Anywhere you wanna go, in partic'lar?” he said, with a hopeful glint in his eye. She was still as cold and unmoving as she had been in the house. Jim sighed, and turned the key in the ignition. The car rumble a little, and a few turns of the key later, it growled to life, or to what little life it had left.

 

As Jim drove down the road, he tried to think about where his wife might want to go. He also dreaded having to help her eat in public. It wasn't that he didn't want people to see him helping is wife, it was only that he didn't want people to see she needed help. Yet at the same time, he did – he knew his wife needed all the help she could get.

 

He'd taken her to several doctors. They all said the same thing. Each and every one of them had tried to refer Jim to a mental institution. Jim refused all of them. He would never go to a doctor again. He didn't think doctors had hearts, if they could be so cruel as to declare him insane for trying to help his wife.

 

He drove a little faster, and the more he though about it, the tighter he clenched his fists on the steering wheel. After he realized what he was doing, he exhaled, relaxed a little, and kept driving.

 

“Jack's okay?” he asked. There was no response. He pulled into the parking lot anyway, and helped her walk inside.

 

The cashier saw Jim come inside, and was a little perplexed by what he was doing. Nevertheless, she asked her usual “May I take your order, sir?” with a smile.

 

Jim stared at the menu for a rather long time, then said, “Hmm...I think I'm gonna take my wife's order first. I don't quite know what I want yet,” motioning to Ezzell as he said it. The girl behind the counter let loose a loud laugh, and looked at Ezzell with a hysterical smile on her face. “And what would you like, misses?” she said, then looked back at Jim, laughing raucously. Her laugh died down as it was return by Jim's face turning blood red with rage. There was a terrible silence for a few seconds, then the girl spoke up again, now with a shocked look on her face, “I'm really sorry sir, I just honestly thought you were joking. May I, er, take your wife's order, then?” Jim was still furious.

 

“I'm not so sure she's still hungry after seein' that lil' display.”

“I'm sorry sir, it's just, well, she's-”

“I am so sick 'n tired of people treatin' my wife this way!”

 

Jim had lost control of himself. His face was red as a tomato and his voice was the loudest it had ever been in his life. “Everyone always just acts like she don't exist, or like's she's just some kinda inanimate object! This world don't care for nobody anymore! This-” He had been waving his arms in the air while yelling at the frightened teenager, and had accidentally let go of Ezzell. She fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Jim's shouts of fury quickly turned to sobs of anguish. “I'mm so-sorry... I wasn't lookin'...” He tried to help her stand up. She still couldn't stand much at all. Jim would've yelled louder at the helpless employee if he hadn't already been crying so loudly.

 

As fast as he could without knocking Ezzell down, he rushed her out to the car and drove back home. He barely paid attention to the street signs, and could barely see from all of the tears in his eyes. Ezzell still retained her usual silence.

 

Jim never left his house very much at all after that. He bought very little groceries so he could spend as much time as he could with Ezzell. He would have no visitors after that. He just didn't care about other people anymore. They had forsaken him, and forsaken his wife, so he would return the favor to them.

 

When he died, they buried his bucket with him. They said it was the only thing he cared about.