tried the knob again.
Thank you, Jesus, I thought as the doorknob turned and the door opened. Calvin looked like a shell of a man, curled into himself against the bathtub. He stared at me with a familiar look in his eyes.
Shame.
I kneeled beside him. Calvin was by no means a small man, but he looked so small. I had no doubt that he’d been a lady-killer back in his day, the type of man who could nab any woman he wanted. With his strong jawline and piercing blue eyes, even in his seventies, he was handsome. But as long as I’d known him, he’d never mentioned an ex-wife or any ex-girlfriends. He didn’t date. He didn’t even seem interested in the idea. Which was fine, except it also meant he had a very lonely existence. His family was long gone - his only brother had been killed in the very war that left Calvin broken and damaged. His parents died many years ago, and except for one photograph on the nightstand next to his bed, there were no photos.
I was the only one who came and went, the only one who looked after this man. Before I met him, prior to the flooding, he’d been on his own.
“What’s going on, Cal?” I asked him, my voice flat. I knew better than to show an ounce of pity. Calvin was a strong-willed soldier; he didn’t take kindly to pity.
He unfurled his body, stretching his remaining long leg out. I noticed his prosthetic was sitting in the bathtub, as if he’d taken it off to get more comfortable in the bathroom. He was opening up, coming around now. I had broken the trance.
He sighed. “There was a noise. Some explosions. It sent me back to ‘Nam and I…well, I ended up here, like this,” he confided miserably. He placed a hand on the side of the bathtub to push himself up. I stood and reached for his other hand. He scowled back at me, but eventually, he had no choice but to take the help offered to him.
“Fireworks. I heard them when I came inside,” I said softly. “Just some bored kids down the street.”
Calvin didn’t say anything.
“Here, let’s sit you down here,” I said, helping him onto the closed toilet seat. “And put this back on.”
I reached for the prosthetic, and while I could tell Calvin hated me helping him, he didn’t utter a word to argue with me. I helped put his leg back on him and patted it gently. “Good as new.”
He scoffed and rubbed the stubble on his face. “It’ll never be as good as the leg I lost, but it’s a good fake. The best I’ve ever had. Thanks to you.”
I smiled, remembering. I had helped Calvin apply for a new prosthetic to replace his old one, which often caused him mobility issues and sores where it connected with his thigh.
“Nah, I didn’t do anything. It was the charity that helped, not me.”
“I wouldn’t have known about them without you,” he countered.
With both legs attached, I helped the old man to a standing position. He walked slowly into the hallway, and I remained by his side in case he needed to lean against me. Just as we walked into the living room, a firecracker went off outside - this one closer than the others. It was a good thing I was beside Calvin when this happened, as his knees seemed to give out on him.
“Here, grab on to me,” I said, holding my arm out. “And listen to me, Cal. It’s just kids with stupid fireworks outside. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
I spoke to him in a reassuring voice, walking him through the episode. He stopped wobbling long enough that we made it to the couch, and I helped him to sit down.
“I’ll be right back,” I told him.
“Where are you going?” Panic clouded his eyes, even though it was clear he was trying to hide it.
“I’m just gonna go talk to the kids,” I told him. “Ask them to take their fireworks somewhere else.”
I headed for the door, looking back at him and worried that even being gone five minutes might be too much. Then I reminded myself he was alone ninety-nine percent of the time. Five minutes. It would only take five minutes, and perhaps we could prevent a future episode.
I stepped onto the porch and remembered the groceries. I’d carry those in when I went back inside. I walked down the steps, and just as