A Delicious Stew

As soon as they were inside Myrtle’s house, she asked Fred what he’d like to drink while she finished preparing supper. Fred politely informed her that he always had a glass of milk after work and Myrtle happily supplied it. Then she handed him the catalogues they’d been going through the previous evening and disappeared into the kitchen. Fred sat back and leafed through one of them, turning to the section on bedroom furnishings to review the various sizes and prices of beds.

"That one’s nice," said Myrtle, having quietly slipped up behind Fred. She pointed over his shoulder at a picture of a double bed with exquisitely carved wooden head and foot boards.

Fred gasped. "Yeah… but Myrtle, I can’t afford a bed like that!"

Myrtle patted him on the shoulder. "Oh, I know Fred. But isn’t it nice just to look at them sometimes? What size bed did you have in mind?" she probed casually.

"Oh… I thought maybe a double bed… a little extra room would be nice… you know, not so cramped… if I can afford it," he stammered as he conscientiously avoided turning toward Myrtle.

"I think it’s a good idea," she encouraged. "What kind of bed did you have in your old apartment?"

"Bunk beds," he replied quietly.

"Bunk beds?" she repeated.

"Yeah. Well, I got rid of my pull-out couch when I moved to the larger apartment and I found the bunk beds on sale in the kids’ furniture section at Price Mart. I thought it would be kind of nice to have the extra bed… in case I had a guest… and you don’t have to use them stacked one over the other… you can set them side by side. Of course, there wasn’t room in my apartment to do that, but that’s what I had in mind when I bought them," he finished feebly.

Myrtle smiled and patted him on the shoulder again. "Dinner will be ready soon," she assured him, turning back to the kitchen.

When she called Fred to dinner, he entered the kitchen realizing it was the one room he actually hadn’t been in before. To his left was the kitchen sink and counter, then the refrigerator, with the front entrance hall at the far end, which Myrtle used as a laundry room and pantry. On his right was a counter and the stove. At the far end of this was the kitchen window, under which sat a small, drop leaf table and two chairs. Myrtle was just setting their plates on the table.

Once he was seated, Fred peered over his collar at his plate. "It looks and smells delicious," he observed, smiling. Indeed, he was well pleased with the food on the plate before him: chunks of beef swimming in a thick tomato sauce with mashed potatoes and peas. It was sort of a stew, but with a difference, he thought cheerfully. He was accustomed to eating stew of some sort quite often at his mother’s. But her stews were always brown and Myrtle’s was red. As an added bonus, there were mashed potatoes instead of just the boiled chunks his mother usually served.

"I hope you like it," said Myrtle quietly.

"Which is the salt, Myrtle, the hen or the rooster?" asked Fred.

"Oh… please Fred, taste it first if you don’t mind. I put quite a bit of seasoning in it… you may not want any more," she suggested.

Fred blushed. "Oh, of course… sorry Myrtle. Just a habit I picked up at my mother’s."

Myrtle just chuckled and watched with a sort of morbid fascination as Fred lifted a forkful of food past his collar and into his mouth. That was the one problem with the soft collar, thought Fred. Its fabric exterior couldn’t be as easily wiped off as the plastic exterior of the neck brace. The front of the soft collar was beginning to look a little soiled despite his best efforts to avoid spillage. "This is delicious," he proclaimed as he chewed one mouthful, then smushed some of the tomato sauce and some peas into his mashed potatoes.

As they ate, Myrtle prattled on about sales on linens and towels that were coming up. "The reason I asked about the size of the bed," she explained as Fred chewed, "is so we know what size sheets we’re looking for."

Fred nodded his understanding as she spoke. Then put down his fork and reached for his glass of milk. He took several gulps, then with practiced savoir-faire, tucked his upper lip beneath the lower, neatly and quickly removing all trace of the white residue. Sighing with satisfaction, he raised his eyebrows at Myrtle. "I was going to ask my mother if I could borrow more sheets from her, but I wasn’t looking forward to it. I mean, I still had some of her sheets when my apartment burned down," he explained. "I also had four pillow cases, two washcloths, three hand towels, two bowls, a saucepan and a cheese grater of hers. Y’know Myrtle, I thought she’d given me some of those things… you know… to keep… but she won’t let me forget they were all lost in the fire... as if it was my fault. I’m not sure she’d be willing to loan me anything else."

Myrtle shook her head and offered a sympathetic smile. "Well, hopefully we’ll be able to decide what size bed you can have tonight… after we’ve seen the apartments," she comforted. Then she offered him the choice of dessert now, or dessert later with coffee when they returned from viewing apartments. Fred eagerly opted for the latter and as soon as Myrtle had piled the dishes in the sink, the two took off for town.