Pin

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Time, Leon, time,” Pin said.

  “Right. Stan,” I said, “from now on, we’ll call you Jerry Leshner.” Pin was hysterical. I went out to the kitchen and brought back the tray. Stan had difficulty focusing on all of it. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked. I stood by and watched as he took hold of the side of the easy chair and tried to pull himself up on it. The chair turned over on him and he fell back. “Very weak and sickly,” I said. Pin nodded.

  “No question.”

  “I say, doctor, do you concur with my diagnosis?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  “Diabetes?”

  “Severe. Diabetic acidosis.”

  “Exactly. Shall we begin treatment?”

  “Immediately. It may be too late,” he said, laughing. Stan, fighting hard now for consciousness, stared up at me with glassy eyes. I filled the syringe and rolled up the pants on his right leg again until I reached his thigh. Then I did a remarkable thing. I sterilized the spot with alcohol. I didn’t even think about it, or realize what I was doing at the time. Pin told me about it later on. We laughed over it. It seemed to take a long time to give him four injections. I felt sure that was enough. When I was finished, I sat back with Pin and watched.

  “Get your father’s manual,” Pin said.

  “Good idea.” I ran out to the dining room, where some books were kept on shelves, and brought back the Merck Manual, eighth edition. I turned quickly to the chapter on “Hypoglycemia (Insulin Shock), Symptoms and Signs.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Pin said. Stan’s reactions were already starting.

  “At onset, symptoms include sweating, flushing or pallor, numbness, chillness, hunger, trembling, headache, dizziness, weakness, changes in the pulse rate …”

  “Check it.”

  “Right,” I said and got on my hands and knees. I took his pulse. “Rapid.”

  “Go on.”

  “Increases in blood pressure, cardiac palpitation …”

  “Oh, get the old stethoscope,” Pin said. He was really excited.

  “Right,” I said and ran into his room and brought it out. Then I got on my hands and knees again and opened Stan’s shirt. He was sweating like crazy. The heart was palpitating, all right. “Check,” I said.

  “Go on.”

  “If the hypoglycemia is not relieved, signs of CNS involvement appear. There may be restlessness, incoordination, thick speech, emotional instability, negativism, disorientation … subsequently in severe cases by coma and even … death.”

  We watched. He was salivating madly now and moving like an epileptic. We waited. Pin had even forgotten that he still held Stan’s wooden leg in his lap. The time went by slowly. The convulsions slowly ceased as he moved into a coma.

  “It won’t be long now,” Pin said, “before he expires. You’d better carry him into my room and get rid of his car.”

  I hesitated for a moment before lifting him. Suddenly the sight of him there on the floor had a sobering effect on me. When I went to lift his body, his pants leg went shapeless below the right knee. It revolted me. I closed my eyes and stood up with him in my arms. I could smell the sweat on his body. His head turned in toward my chest. I tried turning it away, but it stayed there.

  “Move quickly, Leon,” Pin said. I struggled with the door for a moment, and then, using his body, pushed it open. When I got inside, I dropped his body on the bed. He was heavy and I knew it would be quite a strain to carry his body out back to the pond. I took a blanket out of the closet and placed it over him. Then I went back out and brought Pin in. He wanted to sit in the chair by the bed and watch. “Pull the blanket off his face,” he said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Hurry up. Get that car out of here.”

  “Right,” I said. I did as he wished and left the room, locking the door with my key. Then I went outside to Stan’s car. I had forgotten to get the ignition key from him, so I had to go back inside, open the door to Pin’s room and pull back the blanket. “I forgot the key,” I said to the surprised Pin. I found the key in his shirt pocket. Then I went back out and drove the car up the hill to the ski lodge parking lot. It was crowded up there, being a good snow week. I put the car at the far end, inconspicuous, I thought. I expected it would be a long time before anyone noticed it. As I walked back from the parking lot, I threw the ignition key into the woods. I can’t have any evidence on me, I thought.

  Getting a ride back down the hill wasn’t difficult. I must have looked underdressed because three young women in a car picked me up almost immediately and chastised me for coming out in such light dress. They asked me a lot of questions about myself, but I was deliberately evasive. About three houses before mine, I asked them to stop and let me out. I thought that was a brilliant piece of work. Pin would certainly be proud of my clever thinking. Even if they were somehow questioned about a hitchhiker, they would trace me back to the wrong house. I waited for their car to disappear and then I ran all the way home. It was nearly six o’clock.

  When I got inside, I nearly had heart failure. Stan’s wooden leg had slipped off Pin’s lap when I lifted him to take him into his room. In my excitement I forgot to pick it up. Ursula was due home any moment. She could have walked in and found the leg there on the floor. I quickly scooped it up, unlocked Pin’s door, and threw it into a corner of the room.

  “Everything go all right?” Pin asked. That’s when I told him about my clever decision concerning where I got off. He was impressed.

  “Is he …?”

  “Not yet. Just close the door and forget about him. It’s done.”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s done.” Then I heard Ursula come in the front door, so I quickly closed and locked Pin’s. I turned around and immediately panicked. I had completely forgotten about the syringe and empty insulin vial. Everything was still there on the tray on the floor.

  Chapter 16

  INCREDIBLY, URSULA DID NOT SEE THE STUFF ON THE floor. She rushed into the house, stuck her head into the living room and shouted hello. I was standing in the middle of the living room, frozen to the spot. Then she ran up the stairs, shouting about how she had to get ready quickly to go out to dinner with Stan. I exhaled relief and picked up the tray, taking it out to the garbage pail in the kitchen. I placed it all in a paper bag and shoved it down deep into the other garbage. Then I sat down in the living room for a few moments and tried to catch my breath. On the other side of Pin’s locked door, Stan was either dead or dying. Upstairs, Ursula was rushing around to get ready to go out to dinner with him. This struck me funny and I couldn’t help laughing aloud.

  I got up and slowly walked up the stairs, subduing giggles as I went along. I went into my room and got undressed to take a shower. Ursula was already out and getting dressed. Everything I did, I did slowly, calmly, with a great sense of self-assurance. I felt as though I were God, in control of everything—how Ursula would be feeling after a while, and what her future would be like. It gave me a feeling of power and strength. I took a slow, warm shower, and then, after drying, I went back to my room and lay down to wait. A half hour passed. Finally I heard Ursula coming back up the stairs. Her steps were slow and heavy. I could see the expression on her face and I knew just how she was feeling. It gave me a terrific kick, a great sensation.

  “What’s the matter?” I said. She was standing in my doorway, leaning on the right side.

  “Stan’s over twenty minutes late and there’s no answer at his aunt’s.”

  “Maybe he’s on his way over.”

  “This is the first time he’s been late.”

  “So what. He’s probably reached the point where he’s beginning to take you for granted.”

  “Not Stan. He’s not ever going to be like that.”

  “Sure.”

  “What’d you do all day?” she said, making an effort to put her disappointment and frustration out of her mind.

  “A little shopping in the afternoon, like I told you.”

  “Oh, yes.
Let’s see your new shoes.”

  “Over there,” I said pointing. She picked them up and examined them. “Like them?”

  “They’re very nice. Where’d you get them?”

  “Middletown.”

  She put the shoes down and walked to the window. After standing there for a few moments and looking out, she turned and walked to my dresser and fiddled with my hairbrush. I watched her work her fingers nervously. Then she turned around.

  “What could be keeping him?” She looked at my clock and then started to pace again. I watched her carefully.

  “How was your day?”

  “Not bad. Miss Spartacus is still very sick, though. She could hardly talk on the telephone.”

  “She should be careful. Old people can’t afford to get the flu.”

  “She didn’t even go to the doctor. She’s one of those health nuts, you know, believes she can cure anything with vitamins or fasting.”

  “The doctor never believed in vitamin therapy much.”

  “I know. He never cared whether or not we took our supplements.”

  “Mother believed in us taking them.”

  “But he made fun of her.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Jesus, he’s really late now.”

  “Are you sure you got the right time?”

  “Yes. I’ll try calling his place again,” she said. I watched her dial. It gave me a funny feeling to watch. It was like observing a character in a movie after you’ve already seen the first part and you know more than the character does. Wouldn’t it be funny, I thought, if he answered. I laughed aloud, forgetting myself for a moment.

  “What’s the joke?”

  “I just remembered something the doctor told mother about vitamins once,” I said, thinking quickly.

  “Where is he, damnit?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, getting up and putting on my bathrobe. “I’m going down to throw a steak on. You want me to throw one on for you too?”

  “No. We’re going out.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said and left her there, sitting on my bed.

  She came down twenty minutes later. I had the table set and the vegetables cooking. I put out a plate for her too. I suppose I shouldn’t have. It was really flaunting too much. She saw it, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she went into the living room and sat on the couch. I watched her from the doorway. She waited a few minutes and then got up and paced. Then she sat on the couch again. I took out my steak. When I sat down at the table, I heard her dialing again. After she hung up, I called out to her.

  “There’s plenty here. Want to join me?”

  “I really should,” she said, coming in. “It would serve him right for being so damn late.”

  “Here,” I said, cutting off a piece and scooping some vegetables onto her plate, “sit down and eat something. If he comes, you can go out for a drink or something. You’ve got to eat.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said, and she sat down with me just the way she used to before Stan had interrupted things.

  “How is it?”

  “I’m too mad to taste anything,” she said but she ate. She looked up from the plate suddenly and looked around the room.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Isn’t … where’s Pin? Isn’t he hungry tonight?”

  “Oh, he ate earlier,” I said, pleased that she was concerned about him. Things were returning to normal quickly. I felt like the doctor looking at his recuperating patient. “He had skipped lunch. He’s in his room, reading.”

  “Oh. Jesus,” she said slapping her fork down on the plate. “You don’t think something happened to him, do you?”

  “There’s no way of knowing for sure,” I said, shrugging. “You tried his aunt’s again?”

  “No one answered.”

  “So he must be somewhere with her,” I said. She liked that possibility and went back to eating again. “You want some coffee?” I asked after we both had finished.

  “I’ll make it. It’ll help keep my mind off of him.”

  “Fine.” I got up and went into the living room to watch the news. Things were just the way they used to be—Ursula was clearing the table, getting ready to make coffee, and I was sitting in the living room relaxing. Oh, Pin, I thought, how right you were. We did what was necessary.

  Ursula and I had our coffee in the living room together. Time passed. It was eight, then nine, then nine-thirty. Every twenty minutes, Ursula called Stan’s aunt’s place. At ten o’clock, his aunt answered.

  “No,” Ursula said with great disappointment, “he’s not here. I thought you’d know where he was. I see. Yes. I’ll call you the moment he contacts me. Yes.” She hung up and turned to me slowly. Her eyes were big. I did all I could to look serious and concerned. It was an incredible strain.

  “What’s the story?”

  “She says he’s not there. She just returned from her daughter’s.”

  “Oh.”

  “When she came in, she found a note from him. All it said was he was coming over here.” She brought her hand to her mouth and looked away for a moment. I didn’t say anything, but what I thought was he probably wrote that note before he came over to see me. How lucky we were that he didn’t write he was coming over to see me especially. “I think I should call the police,” she added, turning back to me.

  “Don’t be stupid. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? Maybe he didn’t want to come over here, Ursula. Maybe he got cold feet about you and the marriage.”

  “Never.”

  “OK, never, never. Meanwhile, if you go and call the police and they find him with someone else, what will you look like, huh?”

  “Well, what can we do?”

  “Nothing. Wait, that’s all. You can call him in the morning.”

  “You expect me to go to sleep tonight, wondering?”

  “What else can you do?” I shrugged and looked so innocent that if Pin were sitting out there with us, I’m sure he would have broken out in hysterics.

  “Will you take me out for a ride, just so we can look around for his car, check a few places?”

  “Oh, Ursula, come on, will you? Where would we look? And besides, suppose he tried to call you here and we were out?”

  “I can’t stand this waiting.” She was close to tears. “I can’t.”

  “Let’s have a drink. It’s good for the nerves at this point.”

  “I don’t want one.”

  “Just a little drink,” I said. “You’ll feel better.” She didn’t refuse again, so I made her a nice strong highball. She sat drinking in the easy chair while I watched television. We both had two more drinks before I got up and shut off the set. “I’m tired.”

  “You go on up,” she said. “I don’t feel like sleeping yet.”

  “You’re being stupid.”

  “Please, Leon. Leave me alone. I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said. I hesitated for a moment, looking at Pin’s door. It was safely locked. I was the only one with the key, but the thought of her sitting out there by herself, and him in there on Pin’s bed, was a thought that worried me. I don’t know why. Nevertheless, I we$$$$$$$stairs. I stopped by the intercom and pressed the talk button.

  “Pin. She’s sitting outside of your room, waiting. She won’t come up. I suppose he’s …”

  “He’s dead, Leon,” I heard him say. His voice was raspy, low, strained. “He has truly expired.”

  “Then tomorrow, maybe, we’ll get him out to the pond.”

  “It’s all right. I don’t mind. Go to sleep.”

  “Right,” I said, and I went into my room.

  A little while later, Ursula came up. I could hear her sobbing. She went into her room and sprawled out on her bed and continued to cry. I ignored her. I knew what she was after now. She wanted my sympathy and attention. It was her way. I let her go on that way for the longest time. Then she grew quiet. I waited. Sure enough, she started in again. Finally, I got up and w
alked to the door to look in on her.

  Still dressed, she lay there curled up, clutching her pillow. It was pathetic, but all I could do was smile. It reminded me of the time I smashed in the face of one of her dolls and she had a tantrum that lasted an entire afternoon. My mother ignored her and my father was at the office. Finally, it was I who went in to calm her down. Naturally, I apologized and promised to get her a new doll. She was only eight years old at the time.

  I walked over and put my hand right on the back of her exposed thigh. She turned over and looked up at me without saying anything. Her crying subsided. She wiped her face and took some deep breaths. I stood there looking down at her and waited.

  “Now,” I said slowly, “is there really any sense in your spending the whole night crying like this?”

  “He didn’t call. He just never came.”

  “So that’s that.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I can’t believe he would do such a thing. Leon, something’s happened to him. We’ve got to call the police.”

  “We’ve been through all that, Ursula.”

  “Please,” she said, sitting up and taking my hand. She pressed the back of it to her cheek. “Please, Leon.”

  “So do it,” I said. I knew what she wanted.

  “Won’t you do it for me? Good Leon, you’ve always been my strength,” she said, still caressing the back of my hand. She even kissed my fingers. It was too much. I had to turn away or I would have broken out laughing.

  “Want me to look the fool, huh?”

  “Please.”

  “OK, OK, I’ll call. I can see I won’t get any sleep around here until I do, anyway.”

  “Thank you, Leon. Thank you,” she said. I pulled my hand away from her and walked out. First I thought I should perhaps confer with Pin before doing anything else. But then I figured there was really no need to bother him. I’d make the call just to hurry along the process of getting her to forget Stan. We figured the police would be called in at some time. The sooner we got that part over with, the better. As I walked down the stairs, I heard Ursula coming behind me.