How Bad Does It Have to Be?

“Godblessit!” exclaimed Harvey.

Janet looked out and saw him by the birdfeeder, where he stood rubbing his shin, a puddle of seed at his feet.

“What happened this time?” she called to him.

“This crappy piece of shit just….” He kept talking, but Janet quit listening.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No, I’m not hurt,” he replied grimly.

“Well then, it really wasn’t worth such a fuss as all that was it? What do you say when something really bad happens?”

He glared at her. She met his gaze and stared back.

They had not known each other long, maybe a year now. They liked each other, usually. They had good laughs, good sex, and generally felt very lucky that they’d met at this advanced age in their lives. But Janet had a no-tolerance-policy for swearing.

Harvey, despite his size and years, was a good dancer, light on his feet. He played golf and tennis with strength and agility. How is it that in his ordinary life he could be such a klutz? It there was coffee to spill, he spilled it; a table leg to trip on, he ran into it. Even the simplest task of filling the bird feeder, which he did religiously every day, sometimes got the better of him.

At first he tried to excuse himself, feeling so afraid of her dark look. He said he was simply angry with himself, not her, and it was his own business but he was sorry it had offended her.

That was bad enough, to have to grovel that way, but that wasn’t the worst of it. When he got really mad, like when he spilled hot coffee all over his leg, he’d curse and shout and pound things. He’d go on about it for so long that it had had a terrible affect on Janet, until she got used to it, that is. She could hardly believe her eyes and ears, to hear him going on so. She’d stare at him open mouthed, and finally burst into laughter. It was as if he was doing a comedy routine, sort of a Yosemite Sam, throwing down his hat and stomping on it and cussing.

She realized right away that it was a dangerous reaction. She didn’t know him well enough to predict how he’d respond to her laughter. Of course it made him angry, and hurt and puzzled. How could she laugh at him when he was in such agony?

So she quit laughing. It wasn’t funny any more; it was pathetic. For a while she felt sorry for him, to be so out of control. He’d come and beg her forgiveness and need to be held. She wondered if she was being manipulated, but decided not. Each time it occurred though, she found herself feeling sour and unhappy. She didn’t like the way he acted or the way she responded either. His anger was a no-win situation.

On a sunny day in the spring, the kind of day that should bring only good, it happened. Janet was perched on the side of the raised garden plot pulling out the leftover tomato plants that should have been cleaned out last fall. It was a satisfying job, she thought, or at least it should be. When it’s all done, and the plot is raked clean, she could begin planting new seeds. That was the part she looked forward to, watching new plants pop up daily, their tiny stalks supporting two large leaves like elephant ears. Or wings. This year she would be sure to rake up all the old zucchini leavings, and attack the stray seeds with a hoe as they sprouted. She would not put up with that jungle she’d had last year. Why, there had been so much foliage that the squash had hidden beneath and grown into monsters. No more of that. Absolutely no more!

Up on her knees now in a crawling position, she reached out to grab some foxtail she saw growing and overextended herself. She collapsed in a heap of pain. Something was sharp under he left knee, and a muscle in her back was in a tight knot. “Honey,” she cried, “honey, come help me.”

She called again, but there was no response. “Harvey, I know you’re out there. Come help me. I can’t get up.”

Still no sign of Harvey. She tried to pull her knees up under her again, but she gasped with the pain. She tried rolling over on her side, but it was no use. She moaned and began to cry. Darn him anyway. Where was he when she needed him?

Instantly she knew where he was, when a stream of water hit her full in the face. He was in the front yard, testing out the sprinklers. The stream of water stopped quickly, so she had hope. He was checking each cycle to look for broken sprinkler heads. He’d be back here in a little bit, when this cycle came back around. She felt relief. There were no neighbors on this side of her house, nothing but a long stretch of creek—an irrigation ditch, really, with its right-of-way. If she had to depend on someone along there hearing her cries for help, she might have to wait till the blackberries that grew along the bank were ripe for picking. What a dismal thought! Thank goodness Harvey would be back here soon.

But Harvey didn’t appear. In fact, after running through all the sprinkler cycles briefly, he made certain there were no gushers in the front yard and let them run. As dry as this ground was, he’d give all three areas a good hour each. In the meantime, he’d drain the fish ponds.

This was not a job he liked, but it had to be done. The heater block had been defective, and the fish had frozen during the second cold spell. Harvey had ranted a little, truly angry at himself for letting it happen, and Janet had shoveled out the lifeless frozen bodies without saying a word. He’d helped her get the waterlogged sacks into the dumpster, quiet and remorseful.

When the ponds were empty you could see the four separate holes that had been dug and carefully lined with a heavy waterproof fabric. The three on the left made one long pond when filled, with interesting places in the bottom for fish to hide. The one on the right was a foot lower, and water trickled into it from the higher pond. All this fabric needed to be washed clean with a strong blast from the hose to get rid of algae and mud that had built up over the year.

Harvey approached this task with caution. First, he removed the bridge to get better access. Then, with the electric pump that circulated the water, he emptied each hole as far down as he could, pumping the water out into the flower beds. That was the easy part. Then he got out his shop vacuum and sucked out the rest, emptying the container of nasty, sludge-y water several times. It was so noisy, he couldn’t hear a thing. In fact, he got out his ear protectors and put them on. He was deaf enough as it was.

The last part was the worst. He climbed down into the slippery hole with a hose and a brush and began to work. He had maintained a good, solid footing, and was congratulating himself when suddenly he saw a snake in the next pond. “Goddamnsonofabitch!” he hollered, and struggled to get back on land. But that was not to be. He slipped sideways and plunged headlong into the second hole, his feet flailing in the air. The fall knocked the wind out of him, but as soon as he got his breath back he yelled, “Christ! Somebody get me out of this motherfucking hole!”

Where the hell was Janet when he needed her?

Timmy Parsons was playing in his backyard when he heard the crash and the shouting. He ran to his mother and said, “Mommy, Mr. Bottomer is cussing up a storm again!”

“Then you just come inside, dear. You don’t need to listen to that kind of talk.” Mrs. Parsons was outraged. She would certainly mention it to her husband when he came home. He would go tell Mr. Bottomer a thing or two.

Although Harvey didn’t hear a word of this exchange, he had a sudden, disagreeable thought. What if Janet isn’t coming to help because I’m swearing? That hit him a heavy blow.

“Gosh darn it, Janet, come help me!” he pleaded. “Doggone it, I’m stuck and I need help. Please, won’t somebody help me?” But there was no one in earshot, not even Janet.

About two hours later, by the time the sprinklers had changed cycles twice, Harvey heard a welcome sound. His neighbor’s truck was coming up the gravel driveway on its way home. “Frank!” he yelled, as soon as he heard the door slam closed. “Frank, can you hear me? Help! Help!”

Voices sounded in the distance, excited and maybe angry; but they were indistinct and Harvey could not make out a single word. Then there was silence. Harvey thought he heard Janet’s voice, coming from the other side of the house; and he called out, but nothing happened. How could she treat him this way? He needed her.

The sprinkler finished its third hour and started into the untested fourth cycle. Lo, and behold, a geyser sprung up! Harvey detected the sound at once, the rush of water, the spatter on the leaves of the bushes above. The evening breeze showered him in a fine mist. He didn’t care. It would be his salvation, so he shouted “Halelluia!”

The breeze also brought to his nose, above the smell of funky pond scum, the delightful odor of barbecued beef. Hurray! Frank was cooking! He’d be sure to spot this waterspout and come to investigate.

And that he did. Frank rapped on the door, then, getting no answer, came round through the gate to the back yard.

“My land, Harvey! What the hell happened to you?” but he couldn’t understand Harvey’s muffled words and didn’t wait to find out. “I’ll get help, ” he yelled over his shoulder as he ran off.

In a few minutes the sirens sounded, and help was indeed at hand. Two strong firemen appraised Harvey’s predicament, and, with the help of a belt and a block and tackle attached to a limb of the mammoth ponderosa pine, they had him righted and sitting on the ground. For a moment he was stunned. Blood rushed from his head, and he felt weak. Then he collected himself and asked, “Where is my wife? Why isn’t she here?”

Frank called out that her car was there, and began to search. Having checked every room of the house and all of the basement, he strode around the perimeter of the yard. Only then did he find her, sprawled in the garden, by this time taking a nap.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Janet, what happened to you?”

“Frank!” she said, her eyes jerking open. “There’s no need to swear! I’m all right. Just help me up.” But when she tried to reach out her hand to him, she cried out in pain.

“I’ll be right back,” Frank said, and hastened to the other side of the house to summon the firemen. They came running, with Harvey dragging slowly along behind.

“What in the name of all that’s…” Harvey began, then stopped himself. He rushed to Janet’s side and stroked her cheek as the firemen brought the gurney from the ambulance. “My poor dear,” he said, over and over. “I thought you’d abandoned me.”

“Never!” she said. “But I thought you had abandoned me.”

In unison they said, “Where the hell were you when I needed you?”