Getting Better Acquainted

After arranging the time and place to pick up Myrtle on Monday morning, Fred made his way back up the road. Once inside his mother’s comfortable frame house he removed his raincoat and boots, placing the left boot carefully by the register to dry. In his haste to escape any inquiry from his mother, he had forgotten that the furnace wasn’t on and that his mother wouldn’t have it on until Thanksgiving, regardless of the weather. Nevertheless, his wet boot dismissed from his mind, he went merrily to his room and changed his socks, hanging the clean but once again wet one over his desk chair to dry. Then he laid back on his bed and thought about his new and happy acquaintanceship with Myrtle until his mother called him to supper.

The meal was no surprise. The strong odour of lamb stew had been evident even before he’d entered the house. Yet as his mother leaned over him to set his plate down she hesitated and sniffed at his head.

“What’s that in your hair? Perfume?” she demanded.

"Ah... it’s a special treatment... to prevent baldness," he lied.

"Ach, it’ll do you no good. You’re just like your dear, dead father and you’ll be as bald as he was too. No avoidin’ it," she encouraged.

Fred reached for the salt shaker and sprinkled a liberal amount of the stuff on his food before even tasting it. Then he set the salt shaker in front of his mother’s plate and glanced up into her glowering face. "Salt?" he enquired.

She pushed the shaker away and took a fork full of food. "Now it’s too bad you’re not more like your brother," she offered as she chewed. "It’s a fine head of hair Bill has. He’ll never go bald."

Superman Bill again, thought Fred resignedly. He had long since grown accustomed to his younger brother being his mother’s darling, but he still got tired of hearing about him. He was sure he knew why his mother felt that way. He was just a younger version of his dear, dead father, as his mother referred to his dad ever since the latter’s untimely death, and she had long ago ceased to hold Fred senior in high esteem. Bill, on the other hand, apparently took after his mother’s side of the family. At least his mother said so time and again, though Fred had never encountered a maternal relative who put him in mind of Bill. In fact, the only one who came close to Bill for sheer size was Mother herself, who had grown larger and larger over the past many years, even as his father had seemed to shrink. However, Fred suspected her size had more to do with her baking than with heredity.

Anyway, he was just as happy to hold no special place in his mother’s heart. The huge woman was demonstrably affectionate with the people she cared about and Fred had at one time feared an early and unpleasant demise in an unanticipated display of motherly love. He was certain his father had harbored a similar fear. In fact, for a while after his father’s unexpected death, Fred had wondered if the poor man hadn’t actually perished in an unusual moment of wifely affection. But Fred had since abandoned this idea. His father had passed away peacefully, with a smile on his face.

Having consumed half his meal, Fred mashed the rest of his boiled potatoes with his fork, then pushed the rest of his stew on top of them and mushed it all around. His mother watched in morbid fascination as he lifted a fork full of the sloppy mixture past his neck brace and into his mouth.

When he’d finished his meal and cleaned off his plate with a piece of buttered bread, he carefully wiped off his neck brace with his napkin, placed his dishes in the sink and disappeared into his room. He would have gladly helped with the dishes, but ever since his mother remarked that she couldn’t really afford the breakage associated with his help, he’d felt it best not to offer. So he spent the remainder of Saturday evening and most of Sunday in his room concentrating on his hobby. He was currently working on a model of an eighteenth century frigate. It wasn’t easy to handle the delicate rigging and glue the tiny pieces into place while peering over the stiff neck brace, but he patiently persevered.

Myrtle spent the remainder of the weekend getting ready to return to work. She’d lost a bit of weight while off, so she went through her closet to pick out what had been her tightest slacks, then chose a sweater to match. She didn’t actually care if it was a bit baggy, just so she didn’t look like a bag lady when Fred came to pick her up.

At twenty to eight Monday morning, Myrtle stood waiting at the base of the path to her house when a pale green Toyota scooted by across the road, did a U-turn at the end and pulled up in front of her. She peeped through the windshield to make sure it was indeed Fred, returned his cheerful wave, and climbed into the passenger seat.

"I just realized why I thought this lot was vacant before," smiled Fred, instantly wondering if he mightn’t have presented this observation more tactfully. Myrtle only returned his smile.

“You don’t have a driveway,” he announced with inspiration.

"No," she agreed. “It’s a dead end road.” Fred’s smile slowly faded, his expression betraying his confusion. She came to his rescue. "Actually, to build on the lot, I really should have had a driveway, but the county hasn’t called me on it, so for now, I just park to the side of the road. The plow can get by in winter, and digging my car out is so far no worse than having to shovel a driveway,” Myrtle explained.

“Oh,” said Fred, comprehension slowly dawning.

"A lot of people here just put in parking pads instead of driveways," explained Myrtle further. Fred only nodded. "I just cleared some bushes on the side there," she continued. "No need for a lot of fuss until I have to."

"How are you feeling this morning," asked Fred, adroitly changing the subject as he drove back up the road.

"Oh, I’m not regretting my decision to go back to work yet," she replied cheerfully. "It’ll be nice to be out of the house for awhile anyway."

"Bruises from Saturdays collision?" he asked contritely.

"Just a few... nothing to be concerned about," she chirped. "You?"

"Fine," he grinned as he turned the car onto paved road and sat up straighter to obtain the clearest possible view over his neck brace.

The two rode along in silence for a awhile as Fred guided the car slowly along Forbes Road toward the highway, mentally groping all the while for something conversational to say to his companion. Myrtle seemed so chipper and he was never at his most alert in the morning.

"Looks like the sun might peep out today," he offered at last.

"After such a drab weekend," she added.

"Not such a bad weekend at that though," he smiled shyly.

Myrtle glanced at him and chuckled softly. "No," she agreed. "Still, it will be nice to see the sun again."

"Yes it will," he confirmed. "I suppose you’ll be glad to be back at work," he ventured.

"Eventually... when things settle down again," she shrugged.. "But right now I just know there’s a mess waiting for me. But I suppose it won’t take long to sort things out."

"Oh," he said, suddenly stricken with concern. "Well, I’ll give you my number at work Myrtle, and if you find it’s too much your first day back, you call me. I can make some excuse at work and come get you."

"Oh no, Fred," she said. "It’ll be all right... honestly," she assured him. "It’s just that I’ve been away so long and certain things probably weren’t done while I was away. But it’s nothing to worry about... really."

"Well," he nodded adamantly, "I’ll give you my work number anyway.. just in case."

"Well, I suppose it is a good idea," she agreed. "I’ll give you mine too. After all, we should be able to contact one another."

As the possibilities slowly sank in, Fred smiled bashfully. "I suppose we should exchange home numbers as well," he suggested.

"Yes we should," agreed Myrtle, immediately foraging in her purse for a pen and a scrap of paper. By the time she had jotted down all four numbers, placed his in her purse and tucked hers in the breast pocket of Fred’s suit jacket, Fred had turned off the highway into the college grounds. Myrtle guided him through the maze of buildings to the front door of the Commercial Art Department.

"Pick you up here at about quarter of five," he confirmed, beaming up at her as she climbed from the car.

"Okay, and thank you Fred. I really do appreciate this." She closed the car door and waved cheerfully. Fred returned the wave, then waited until she was safely inside the building before continuing on his way.

Fred smiled all the rest of the way to work. He’d just met a girl, he had her phone numbers, and he was helping her out. He couldn’t help thinking this situation held some promise and he was very pleased.