Cheapskate in Love by Skittle Booth

the author.”
    For a while, she watched Bill sleep. There was a pained look
on his face and in his posture from the accident, but she thought there was
also a stillness , a greater appearance of relaxation
than she had ever seen in him before. Perhaps, it was the effect of the codeine
that he had taken. Perhaps, it was due to her presence. She preferred to think
that the second explanation was the more accurate one. When she had seen him
around other women or in one of his relationships that he told everyone about,
bragging like a teenager, he always seemed to be acting a part. He never seemed
emotionally involved with the woman. Most of the time, it appeared he was
trying to manipulate those women into liking him, without truly liking them in
return. He should feel more relaxed around me, Helen thought, because he’s
certainly not trying to impress me. In fact, he doesn’t do anything for me at
all, unless giving me a faded bouquet counts.
    Such a realization would prompt most people to do nothing
for someone whom they thought was doing nothing for them, but Helen was
magnanimous by nature. She didn’t want a man treating her like a relative of
the queen of England, putting on an elaborate show to please her. She wasn’t
insecure or self-centered, a fussy orchid that would expire without the
perfect, coddling climate. She was more like an oak tree, sturdy and strong.
She wanted to be appreciated for who she was and what she did. Since she was
tired of sitting around being useless, she decided to wash the dirty dishes in
Bill’s apartment. She simply had to do something ,
while she was there.
    That decision of small importance precipitated a sequence of
related actions, and soon she was involved in a full-scale reorganization and
cleaning of the apartment. While collecting the dirty dishes scattered around
the studio, she discovered that the refrigerator contained spoiled food.
Without much hesitation—who else was going to do this, she
thought—she removed everything from the refrigerator and freezer. Then
she cleaned the appliance’s inside surfaces, which
probably had not been done for twenty years, and put back in only what was
fresh. The kitchen cabinets received a similar treatment. All edibles for which
the expiration date had passed were tossed out, and all dining and cooking
wares were sorted and stored in an orderly fashion. The countertop, backsplash,
and floor were thoroughly scoured and mopped. The kitchen was a vastly
different place when she was done. Twenty years of use had been wiped clean.
    Surveying the rest of the apartment, Helen perceived a
greater domain of dirt and disorganization than the kitchen had been. A weaker
person would have picked up the bible, lowered herself or himself onto the
couch and read, especially Psalms and its lamentations, until Bill awoke.
Helen, however, took a deep breath and started to work. She could not sit and
be idle, pretending to read in such an indoor wilderness, when she had just
tamed the kitchen outback and returned it to a civilized form. “There is a time
for everything,” she said wisely, paraphrasing the third chapter of
Ecclesiastes and adding a new twist. “The time has come to clean this sty completely.”
    She collected the dirty clothing scattered around the studio
and piled them near the door to take to the laundry room. Going through the
items on the dining table and chairs, she found a better place for things she
thought worth keeping in closets or kitchen cabinets. The things she thought
were worthless, which was the majority of items, she put in the best place
possible: The trash room in the hallway. She did the same with other objects
that were scattered throughout the apartment. Even the contents in the closets
were picked through. When she had finished sifting through almost everything in
Bill’s apartment, the trash room was overflowing with empty boxes, worn out
shoes, frayed clothing, parts of a bicycle, broken umbrellas, a defunct