The Name of this story is "Bunt." It's very short, but I hope you enjoy it. It used to be posted on my Suspense Horror site, but since it isn't horror at all, I eventually took it down from there.
BUNT
His mother was happy to see him, even though he was late. She wore light-colored clothes, a wide-brimmed straw hat and sandals. She flashed a toothy smile.
“Thought you were gonna stand me up.” She said joking.
“Traffic was heavy.”
“That’s alright, so long as you’re here. I really need this Marvin.”
“I understand. You deserve a break.”
He followed her into the house, through the living room and into the bedroom near the back. The old man was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
His mother went to the window and drew back the curtain. Bright Georgia sunshine filled the room. “Everything you need is right here. I got some gloves in the hall closet and there’s disinfectant under the kitchen sink.”
“I know Mom. I used to live here.”
“Don’t be a smartass.” Then she added: “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“I can handle it. Go enjoy yourself.”
His mother went back to the living room and gathered up her purse, keys, and sunglasses. “There’s some tuna fish in the refrigerator if you get hungry.”
“Okay.”
“Call me on my cell phone if you need anything.”
“I’ll be alright.”
“I know you will honey.” She was heading out the door but she turned to face her son. She placed her hands on his cheeks. He was almost a foot taller than her, so she had to pull him down to kiss his forehead. “You’re a good son, you know.”
He smiled in that irksome way that reminded her of his late father, God rest his soul. “Don’t make a big deal of it, Mom.”
“Don’t tell your mother what to do.” She kissed him again, palming his face as she had done since he was still wet from the womb. Her hands were wrinkled and leathery and veined on one side, and soft and white on the other. “You look so much like your father, God rest his soul.”
“I know, Mom. You’ve told me that before.” Only his smile was like his father’s. Most people thought he favored her more.
“And you’re a smartass like him also.” She was serious for only an instant and then she was gone. Down the stairs, across the lawn and into the red Buick. She honked and waived and drove off.
Marvin returned to the bedroom. “Hey Grandpa.”
“Hey there, son.” The man spoke as if he knew him but Marvin knew better.
“I’m gonna fix you something to eat in a minute, alright?”
“Alright.”
Marvin went into the kitchen, fired up the stove and got a pot of water to boil. He found two packs of instant oatmeal, a bowl and a spoon. He ignored the tuna.
While he waited for the pot to boil, Marvin got Grandpa’s wheelchair and set it near the bed.
“Wanna watch some TV with me Grandpa?”
“Sure.”
“I’m gonna have to take you into the living room.”
“That’s fine.”
Marvin took hold of Grandpa’s hands and tried to pull him into a sitting the position, but the old man’s could not bend his waist. Marvin then took his grandfather by the feet and spun him around so his legs stuck out over the floor. Marvin crouched down, worked his hands around Grandpa’s torso and laced his fingers together. Using his legs, Marvin heaved the old man up into a standing position.
Grandpa yelled: “What’re you doing?”
“Gotta get you into your wheelchair, Grandpa.” Marvin’s voice strained with exertion.
“No, that’s alright. Put me down!”
“I got you Grandpa, just hold still.”
“Put me down, I said!”
They did an odd dance, Marvin holding the old man upright, trying to turn and put him into the wheelchair. Fortunately, Grandpa was short or it would have been much harder.
“Hold still, Grandpa!”
“Put me down! Let me go, you bastard!”
Marvin was now tottering over the wheelchair, trying not to fall and injure them both. “Stop it, Grandpa! I’m not gonna drop you.”
Finally, Marvin was able to seat his grandfather into the wheelchair. Marvin was breathing heavily from the ordeal. Grandpa was grumbling with indignation. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Grandpa did not answer. He just looked past Marvin, a cross expression on his face.
Despite his exhaustion, Marvin wanted to laugh. This was the man who taught him how to bunt and field grounders. This man once played for the Brooklyn Dodgers farm team and claims to have known Jackie Robinson back in Montreal. Now, Grandpa did not even know the name of the grandson he was angry with. “Come on,” said Marvin grabbing the handles. “Let’s go watch some baseball.”
By the middle of the first inning, the water was at full boil. By the beginning of the second, Marvin had a steaming bowl of oatmeal set out in front of Grandpa on a small folding table. By the end of the third inning, the oatmeal was gone and Grandpa was cordial again.
Marvin put the dishes in the sink and considered the tuna. But his mother always used too much onion, so he passed. The cleanup hitter was due up so he hurried back into the living room. Marvin was greeted by a curious smell.
“Grandpa, did you crap yourself?”
“Nope.”
“What’s that I smell?”
“I don’t know.”
“Grandpa, I think you crapped yourself.”
“Don’t you lie on me.”
Marvin walked over to Grandpa and leaned down. Marvin inhaled and immediately recoiled in disgust. “Grandpa! You stink!”
“I said, don’t you lie on me.”
“That ain’t no lie! You do stink!”
Grandpa ignored him and watched the cleanup hitter strike out. Grandpa’s face was cross again.
Remembering his mother’s instructions, Marvin got everything he needed. He found the adult diapers and baby wipes. He filled a small, plastic basin with warm water. He found a pair of disposable latex gloves, a plastic shopping bag, and a facemask. Marvin lifted the old man out of the wheelchair and set him on the floor. Grandpa was cursing and fussing the entire time. Marvin turned Grandpa around so that he was on his knees leaning against the living room sofa.
“I can’t see my game!”
“The game’s gonna have to wait.”
“I wanna see my game!”
“Then you shouldn’t have crapped all over yourself.”
“Lemme see my game, dammit!”
“Not until I clean you.”
Marvin pulled Grandpa’s pants down. Grandpa’s skin was saggy and gelatinous. Like boiled chicken skin. Marvin tore the diaper at the seam, and cringed at the site and smell that lay beneath.
“Oh my God,” Marvin whispered.
Grandpa chuckled.
Marvin took three wipes, doused them in the bucket of water, wrung them out, and began to clean his grandfather’s behind. When those wipes were too filthy to use anymore, he got another three. After twelve wipes Marvin turned to get a clean diaper.
Marvin heard a spraying sound and whipped his head back around. “Grandpa! No!” Marvin scrambled to catch the hot urine shooting out of his grandfather. He cupped the diaper around the man’s penis and held it tight.
Marvin closed his eyes and forced them to stay dry. This was no way for a man to live out his final days. No man should have to pee into a diaper and have his behind wiped by his grandson. This man practiced bunting with Jackie Robinson. This man deserved dignity, not Depends.
When Grandpa was done, Marvin put the diaper in the shopping bag and got a fresh one. He had to take off Grandpa’s pants in order to get the new diaper on. When Grandpa was fully dressed, Marvin lifted him back into the wheelchair. Grandpa did not fuss this time. Probably feeling guilty, Marvin thought.
Marvin cleaned the urine on the floor. He put the pad, crappy diaper, wipes, and gloves into the shopping bag. He tied up the bag, took it out back, dumped the water and returned the basin. He decided the oniony tuna fish might not be so bad after all. He washed his hands, made a sandwich and went back to the game.
By the seventh inning, Grandpa was sound asleep. Marvin thought about his mother. For her, it was always the third inning. She did this everyday. She could not afford a fulltime nurse. Neither Uncle Jake nor Aunt Pym offered to help much.
The phone rang. Marvin knew who it was before he answered it. “Hey Mom.”
“Hi honey. How’s Grandpa doing?”
“He’s fine. He was watching baseball with me but he’s sleeping now.”
“Did he give you any problems?”
Marvin hesitated. “No. He was fine.”
“Tell me the truth Marvin.”
“I am.”
“Why did you hesitate?”
“Because Arod was up.”
“Who?”
“Alex Rodriguez. He’s the cleanup hitter.”
His mother chuckled. “You and that baseball. Did you know your grandfather used to play professional ball?”
“Yeah. He told me about it.”
“He knew Jackie Robinson in Montreal, before he came to Brooklyn. Grandpa swears he taught Jackie how to bunt.”
“He definitely taught me how to bunt.”
“I’ll be home soon. Alright?”
“Alright. You know DeNiro got a new movie out?”
“Really? What’s it called?”
“I forgot. But it’s supposed to be good. Why don’t you go see it?”
“No. I gotta come home and take care of Grandpa.”
“He’s sleeping. Besides, I’ll be here.”
“You sure?”
“Sure.”
“You’re such a good son. Did you see that tuna?”
“Yeah. I ate all of it. I was hungry.”
“I’ll make you some more when I get home. I know how you like those onions in it.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Alright. Love you dear.”
“Love you too.”
Marvin put the phone down and returned to the game. Arod surprised everyone and placed a perfect bunt down the third base line.
