Once outside, Myrtle stopped briefly to stretch and inhale the cool, evening air. When she opened her eye again, she saw that Fred was holding the car door for her and quickly climbed in, smiling her thanks as she did so. Then snuggling comfortably into the bucket seat, she put her head back and sighed. Fred was right, she was tired. But she was also satisfied with what she’d accomplished despite the well-meant greetings and minor panics which had interrupted her work at regular intervals throughout the day. She was in pretty good shape for tomorrow, she thought. Right now she just wanted to get home to a hot meal, a hot shower and a warm bed.
Then, just as Fred turned the car onto the highway, Myrtle’s eye popped open and she groaned.
"What is it?" asked a startled Fred.
"I just remembered," she began hesitantly. "Oh Fred, I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness, but I have very little food left at home. You see, I haven’t been able to get out shopping," she sighed miserably. "I’m afraid I’m just too tired to shop tonight anyhow. If you wouldn’t mind, Fred, could we just stop at a convenience store on the way home? I mean, I could just grab something handy... some wieners and buns maybe.. and some fresh milk and orange juice. Would that be all right?"
"Sure, Myrtle. But why don’t we just stop and get dinner out? That way you wouldn’t have to worry about it when you get home... you could just rest ... and we could get some doughnuts or something for the morning for you.. and I could take you shopping tomorrow," he offered.
"Oh no, Fred," she protested. "I couldn’t inconvenience you that way. I really don’t want to take advantage... just any old corner store would be fine.. honestly."
"But I don’t mind, Myrtle. Really, it’s no bother," he insisted.
Myrtle was prepared to debate the matter further when Fred suddenly turned off the highway into a parking lot and coasted to a stop. She gazed up in surprise at the golden arches as Fred eagerly climbed from the car and went around to her side. Her argument died on her lips as she slowly realized his intentions. It wasn’t exactly what she’d pictured when he said "dinner out," but then again, it was probably quite appropriate for the situation.
Inside, he selected a table for two and suggested she make herself comfortable as he swung out one of the plastic chairs for her.
"Now," he said with delighted satisfaction as she swung her knees under the table. "What would you like?"
The mental image of a roast beef dinner passed across her mind... but she shook it away. "I don’t know," she said. "Maybe a chicken burger?" she ventured.
"Right," he agreed. "You wait here.. I’ll go get it. Hafta call my mother," he confided just before rushing off.
While he was gone, Myrtle sat chin in hands and discreetly cast her eye around the restaurant. Some people were eagerly wolfing down a burger of some sort as if there was someplace else they really ought to be. Others nibbled tentatively at a little bag of tiny fries as if they didn’t have anywhere else to go at all. And there was an old fellow in the corner sipping coffee and writing things down on napkins.
Myrtle had only eaten here once before, when she was out shopping one Saturday and had become ravenous long before she was through taking advantage of a sidewalk sale. She hadn’t really taken notice of what she had ordered and didn’t remember if she’d enjoyed it, but she was quite sure it had been fast and filling. Fred was right, she thought, it would be nice just to go home and rest without worrying about supper.
Fred returned to the table with a tray of food and placed the tray in front of Myrtle. He opened a small carton of milk, poured it into the paper cup and offered it to Myrtle.
“I forgot to ask what you wanted to drink... you like milk?" he asked tentatively. He pushed the chicken burger and a small fries toward Myrtle, then he picked up the last remaining item on the tray.. a small envelope of fries and started nibbling on them.
"Oh Fred, is that all you’re having?" asked Myrtle.
Fred nodded and squirmed uncomfortably. "Just to keep you company," he smiled. "My mother already has dinner on, so I’ll get my main meal later," he explained.
"Oh Fred, you should have come back and told me," she reproved. "You shouldn’t have bought this." Fred’s face instantly fell, putting Myrtle in mind of a beagle puppy who’d just been scolded.
Sighing, she reached over and gently patted his arm. "Well, it was sweet of you to do this for me," she said, with an understanding smile. After all, he meant well and was just trying to be helpful, she thought.
Fred returned a conciliatory little smile as Myrtle took a huge bite of her burger. Then she noticed for the first time that he was wearing a different collar. Her mouth too full to speak, she waggled a french fry at his throat and raised her eye brow.
Fred patted the collar affectionately. "Changed it today. Don’t have to wear the stiff one anymore. Myrtle’s shining eye and enthusiastic nod spoke her approval as she swallowed, then took another generous bite of her burger. "And I get my hernia fixed in...." He stopped suddenly in wide-eyed dismay and sagged visibly into his soft collar. When he’d told Myrtle he couldn’t lift anything he presumed she might guess the nature of his injury. He certainly hadn’t intended to announce it to her, much less blurt it out while she was eating.
Myrtle’s eye twinkling, she offered an amused look and swallowed hard. "Yes Fred, when is your operation?"
"A week from Friday," he replied, red-faced.
She patted him on the arm again. "I hope everything goes all right," she consoled.
He blinked. "Thank you," he mumbled, once again wondering if he shouldn’t have a word with his doctor.
Myrtle consumed her food quickly and gulped down her milk, then swivelled to her feet and piled her refuse on the tray. Fred got up, picked up the tray and led the way past the garbage container to the exit. As soon as they were in the car, Myrtle dug into her purse and extracted a ten dollar bill which she then tucked into the breast pocket of Fred’s suit jacket.
"What’s that?" he enquired.
"Ten dollars for my supper," she replied.
"But Myrtle...."
"Now Fred," she said sternly. "It was very thoughtful of you to take me there and get me my dinner, but I certainly can’t let you pay for it when you couldn’t even have dinner with me."
Fred sighed. "But Myrtle," he moaned, "your dinner didn’t cost that much. It was on special."
"Oh," she said. "Well, what can the difference be? And I owe you for all this inconvenience anyway, Fred," she insisted, waving a dismissive hand. "Would you stop at that store up there? I’ll pick up some milk, juice and english muffins," she said, sounding a little inspired. Fred complied and Myrtle was in and out of the store in a jiffy.
They rode along in silence for some time, until Myrtle wondered if perhaps Fred was sulking because she’d insisted on paying for her own supper. She stretched hugely and yawned. "Oh, thank you for everything tonight, Fred. I’m afraid I’m so tired I haven’t been fit company. It’s very kind of you to look after me the way you have."
"That’s okay, Myrtle. I’m just sorry I couldn’t eat with you. But my mother is... well... rather temperamental." He shrugged, "actually, it’s not a good idea to upset her, really."
"You’re a very considerate man," she commended him. "I’m sure if you explain that you were just being kind to me, she won’t be upset with you."
Fred very nearly exclaimed that she didn’t know his mother at all, but thought better of it before any words escaped.
"And now I can just curl up with a good book until I fall asleep," sighed Myrtle.
"What kind of books do you read?" asked Fred conversationally.
"Lots of kinds, but historical fiction is my favourite," she answered lazily. Actually Myrtle was in the habit of devouring approximately half a dozen romance novels in the course of an average week. But she had long ago learned it wasn’t a good idea to reveal this, unless she was prepared to defend her choice of reading material. By now the words "historical fiction" sprang from her lips quite automatically. She chose to say that because she did have a preference for the romances set in historical times.
"My hobby is building model ships," Fred offered. "I had quite a collection of them, but of course, they were lost in the fire."
"All that hard work," sympathized Myrtle.
"Oh, that’s all right," he shrugged. "The joy is in building them. Once they’re done, there’s only so much you can do with them," he explained. "There was only enough room in my apartment to display a few at a time. I changed them around occasionally, still most of them sat in boxes in my bedroom. The new models are a lot more sophisticated than the first ones I did, so I’m just as happy to build a new collection."
"It’s nice that you have such a healthy outlook like that," she commented.
Fred grinned at the compliment. "Do you like ships, Myrtle?"
"Oh yes. I like most anything nautical... it’s so... so romantic somehow... especially those tall ships."
He grinned again as he pulled up beside the path to her house. "Well, g’night, Myrtle. See you in the morning."
She picked up her purse and the bag from the convenience store and smiled as she climbed from the car. "See you tomorrow, Fred, and thanks again for everything. You’re very understanding." She returned Fred’s cheerful wave before disappearing up the path.
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