Bill Huggins
A Desperate Prequel
by
Nicholas Antinozzi
PUBLISHED BY:
Nicholas Antinozzi
Copyright (c) 2010 by Nicholas Antinozzi
Edited by Coleta Wright
Cover Design by Steve Peterson
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
They say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, but what they don’t say is that the apple seldom realizes that. Bill Huggins was no exception. Bill was a product of his environment; raised by a narcisstic mother on his grandfather’s farm, Bill grew up listening to a squeaky wheel and the sound of farm machinery.
Grandpa Ben never made much money as a farmer, but it was the only life he’d ever known and he always seemed to find a way to make things work. The workshop in the barn was his refuge and Bill spent a great deal of time out there with him. Bill watched with fascination as his grandfather resurrected hopelessly broken machines out of sheer necessity. By the time Bill was ten, the youngster was working side-by-side with his grandfather, turning wrenches and troubleshooting complicated electrical problems. Grandpa Ben passed away just before Bill turned eighteen, but not before teaching his grandson everything he knew about being a mechanic.
Lois Huggins did her best raising her only son. She helped him with his homework, limited his hours in front of the television, fed him balanced meals, and encouraged him to spend as much time as possible with his grandfather. On her bad days, she taught her son how to complain. Lois Huggins thought the world owed her an apology and viewed the glass of life as half empty. Bill’s father, a rodeo clown, had been killed by a raging bull in front of hundreds of people, one of which had been his mother. They’d been married for just three months and he died without ever knowing they’d been expecting. Lois fell into a deep depression and rarely escaped it for very long.
Bill was a good son and he stayed close to his mother until she died of one of her many ailments. She was just fifty-three years old.
Bill met Tina Monroe on a blind date and the two were married six months later. They had one daughter, Cindy, and while their marriage was far from perfect, they shared a common belief that life would get better if they just kept working at it. There dream was shattered the day Bill suffered a devastating spinal injury and was told that he would never work again.
Bill was prescribed painkillers and muscle relaxers and spent his days in front of the television. The past, never far away, crept into their lives and slowly began to take over. Bill, hobbled by his injury and doped up on prescription drugs, began to change into the person he swore he’d never become: his ever-complaining mother.
Life wasn’t fair; his back hurt and nobody cared. There was so much wrong in the world. Bill fell into that black hole known as self pity and he languished there for years. By this time they were living in a trailer home in a small town just north of Minneapolis. What Bill didn’t know was that the worst of his pain was yet to come.
Blinded by his own pain and oblivious to the wants and needs of those closest to him, Bill slowly alienated himself from his family and friends. The last day of his married life, Bill mistakenly believed that he had an afternoon doctor’s appointment down in the cities. Bill crawled out of bed at eleven, showered, shaved, and got behind the wheel of his Honda and drove away. With Cindy in school and believing that her husband was gone for the entire afternoon, Tina made a quick call to her new friend, Larry. She mixed up a pitcher of cocktails and Larry listened as Tina tried to make sense of what her life had become. One pitcher led to another, which led to the sofa.
As fate would have it, Bill would stop for gas and call the clinic to explain that he was running a little late. After a quick check on her computer, the young receptionist informed Bill that he was an entire day early. Bill thanked her and stopped off for a quick beer and a burger at the local VFW; he then got into his car and returned home.
After a bitter confrontation, Tina packed up and moved into Larry’s, across the trailer court. A month later, unable to live another day with her disgruntled father, Cindy moved in with her mother and her new boyfriend.
Months passed, with Bill reliving each day as the one before, drowning out his pain with prescription drugs and canned beer. He was fat, bald, annoying, and now he was so depressed that he could barely find the strength to get out of bed in the morning.
As so often happens, a brush with death steered him away from what was certainly a slow suicide. Cindy found him unconscious and unresponsive and called 911. After a ten day stint in the hospital, Bill emerged with a strong anti-depressant, feeling like a new man and determined to turn his life around.
Bill began to attend church and he slowly began to involve himself in the community. He quickly gained a reputation as a miracle worker with his uncanny ability to repair anything with a motor. Bill exchanged his services for casseroles, conversation, and occasionally cash. He watched what he ate, curtailed his drinking, took long walks, and did his best to keep a positive attitude, no matter what life dealt him.
There are few places on God’s green earth that can match Minnesota’s Jeckyll & Hyde climate swings, especially during the month of May. The entire week had been gray and cold, with a stiff wind blowing down from Canada. Saturday morning arrived gift-wrapped, with temperatures in the mid-sixties before the sun appeared in a cloudless sky. By noon, the thermometers read eighty degrees and the televisions were unplugged as people enjoyed the glorious weather.
Bill got out of bed at just after seven and took his medication with his morning coffee. He flipped on the news and watched it briefly. Discouraged by the news anchors that predicted an all-out collapse of the dollar; he shut off the television and turned on his stereo. The music made him forget about the news and Bill boogied about, finishing his morning chores with a spring in his step. Life was good, better than it’d been in a long time.
The first knock on Bill’s door came at just after ten. Mark Miller, who lived three trailers down, was having trouble with his lawnmower and he wheeled it over. Bill emerged from his trailer with a smile, wearing a soiled pair of Wranglers and a sleeveless shirt. He’d been prepared to work on John Lessman’s weed trimmer and he had Miller’s Toro up and running in less than half an hour. Miller slipped him a ten and the two shook hands.
Jimmy Logan lived in the trailer next door and the two had been friends for as long as they’d been neighbors. Jimmy was in his early thirties, a full decade younger than himself, but he was wise in a way that was beyond his years. Jimmy lived with his girlfriend, Paula, who seemed nice enough, but she kept her distance from Bill and nearly everyone else in town. Paula came from big money and she never let people forget it. Bill watched Paula drive away in her Mustang and it wasn’t long before Jimmy wandered over with two cans of soda.
“How’s it goin’, Bill? I see you’ve been busy this morning,” said Jimmy, handing Bill one of the ice-cold cans of root beer.
“I’m doing okay, I’m up a cheesecake and half a ham and it’s still before noon. What are you doing for lunch?”
Jimmy chuckled. “I guess I’ll be eating it with you, if that was an invitation?”
“It sure was; I can’t eat too much ham, it makes me gassy.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Jimmy. He took a long pull on his root beer and stared up into the blue sky. “Nice weather, huh?”
“I’ll say, I heard it’s supposed to stick around all week,” replied Bill, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. He smiled at Jimmy, happy that somebody had come over to visit witho
ut needing a reason to do so. Inevitably, that person was always Jimmy Logan.
Jimmy and Paula had been struggling to get along for months and Bill didn’t think the couple would last the summer. Bill wondered about that, Jimmy was young, handsome, and always seemed to be doing something nice for somebody. Paula Peterson was attractive, there was no doubting that, but she was cold and aloof. She tended to make people feel bad about themselves and had even done so to Bill many times over the past two years. She didn’t work, but always complained about not having enough money. Bill wished he could work and he felt no sympathy for her.
Bill prepared two ham sandwiches and he brought them out to his deck where Jimmy sat at the picnic table enjoying the