Fred Goes Home

Although it really wasn’t part of her job description, Myrtle spent much of the rest of Thursday calling around for a substitute instructor to oversee Mr. Pelham’s courses. It wasn’t an easy task. Myrtle suspected it was the Dean’s way of punishing her for whatever role she played in all the fuss. The Dean didn’t like interruptions in his routine and he could be very autocratic that way. So Myrtle accepted the task graciously and kept at it. Most certified instructors were either unavailable due to other commitments or were off on some sort of sabbatical. So she changed her approach and found two graduates of the program who’d taken and passed the courses in question. Both were “between jobs” at the moment. One was a little frank about why, but Myrtle suggested he keep it quiet in the interview that he’d accidentally burned down a set while working on a film. She told him to just not bring even a lighter with him to the interview.

Neither of these former students had training to teach, but one, or even both of them could be hired as teaching assistants to get around that. Myrtle arranged for them to come in and speak with Dick Friday morning. Then she notified the Dean’s assistant of this, in case the Dean wanted to meet with them as well.

Having done her best, Myrtle felt a lot better about asking Dick if it would be all right for her to leave early on Friday. Assured that things were looking up, Dick agreed. Myrtle could only hope that at least one of the replacements would fill the bill and nothing would go wrong, requiring Dick to change his mind. She wondered sort of vaguely how many flammable papers were on Dick’s desk, but then gave her head a shake. By the time she left work, she was in a fairly cheerful mood and looking forward to springing Fred from the hospital the next day and looking after him on the weekend.

For his part, Fred was still more or less recovering from Mr. Grieves’ unexpected visit. For some reason, it made Fred feel worrisome about his job. He just had a nagging feeling there were things going on at work he didn’t know about. He tried to put it out of his mind though, because there really wasn’t any point in dwelling on it he kept telling himself. There wasn’t anything he could do about it at the moment. By the time Myrtle showed up, he was very relieved to see her.

They enjoyed their supper together as had become habit, and they chatted about things unimportant, though it would have been clear to any outsider that both were just a little preoccupied and inattentive of the other, since there was a lot of repetition going on. But neither of them seemed to notice, so they babbled their way through the evening until visiting hours were over.

Myrtle slept only fitfully that night, dreaming on and off about strange creatures showing up to interview for the teaching job. One had the body of a mule and the head of Mr. Pelham. Myrtle woke up laughing from that one, the symbolism being all too obvious.

Fred’s own sleep was punctuated by rubber-soled feet running in the hallway and dreams about Mr. Grieves’ huge face leaning over him, tsking away at how sad it all was. Fred did not wake up laughing from that one.

Friday saw them both groggy but a tad excited too. Both the young men who showed up to interview as Pelham stand-ins seemed very bright and confident, though the one Myrtle silently dubbed the “firebug” seemed a little nervous too. Myrtle had already suggested to Dick that if he couldn’t make up his mind, he consider splitting the classes between the two. “It might,” she reasoned, “give them both an opportunity to see if they like to teach, and give you a back-up if one backs out.”

Dick had nodded in somewhat wide-eyed agreement, then went to his office to wait. Myrtle saw the Dean totter by her office just before the due time for the first interviewee. He didn’t stop in to say good morning to Myrtle, which surprised her, leaving her feeling both a little alarmed and a little relieved at the same time. A couple of hours later, Dick came by Myrtle’s office smiling. He and the Dean had decided to hire both young men as temporary teaching assistants. The Dean’s assistant would draw up the employment agreements and the first of the young men would cover Monday’s classes with a copy of the course plan in hand, and any of his own notes from the class he could find. Myrtle breathed a sigh of relief. It would seem that, for now at least, the Pelham affair was over. And Myrtle was off the hook. At least, she hoped so, as she replayed in her mind a sideways glance from the Dean as he passed her office again.

As all this was going on, Fred was out of his hospital bed, struggling to put on his clothes. His stomach still hurt, so bending over to put on his shoes was impossible. Fortunately a nurse showed up to hurry him along and helped him on with his socks and shoes both. Then he got a wheelchair ride to the patient lounge where he sat watching a talk show on TV, feeling just a little as if he’d been kicked out of his home. One of the nurses showed up with a tray for him at lunch time, as arranged. After that, a nurse brought him his instructions for caring for his incision, and his medication to take home. Then he just waited. When Myrtle showed up, he was very happy to see her and very ready to leave the hospital and go home to his new digs.

The logistics of parking the car and helping Fred into his apartment were a little challenging, but once inside with Fred safely on the couch, both started giggling as if they’d gotten away with something. Fred was too excited to nap, so Myrtle showed him where everything was so he could manage when she wasn’t there. Then they chatted until suppertime, when Myrtle made them a homemade meal of spaghetti and meatballs. Fred thought it was the best thing he’d ever eaten, but he got sleepy shortly after, so Myrtle tucked him into bed and went home early. It really had been a tiring day. She’d considered staying over on the couch just in case Fred needed her, but he knew where everything was, was getting around pretty well, and Myrtle wanted to sleep in her own bed. So she promised to be back early the next day to make breakfast, then she headed for home.

Fred was only too happy to be left alone in his own apartment, with his own, new bed, where he could snore his heart out without bothering anyone. Tired, he snuggled in for the night.

Bye Bye Mr. Pelham

Fred took quite the start on Thursday morning. He was lying in bed after breakfast, resting his eyes, when a large shadow fell across him. He didn’t open his eyes right away, assuming it was a nurse come to take him for a walk. Suddenly the deep voice of his boss boomed above him.

“How are you doing, Fred?” asked the large man.

Fred jumped visibly. “Erch!” he said, grabbing his stomach as a sharp pain paralysed him for a moment. He stared wide-eyed at Mr. Grieves’ smiling face.

“Oh. Sorry young man, did I startle you?”

“Ye..ye..yes,” stammered Fred.

Mr. Grieves only chuckled in response. “How are they treating you?” he asked, once Fred had gotten comfortable again.

“Fine, Mr. Grieves. They’re really very good here,” he said, not quite sure why he felt he needed to give the hospital some sort of recommendation.

“Good, good,” nodded Mr. Grieves. “Do you know when you’re being discharged?” he asked congenially, at the same time glancing around as if assessing Fred’s private room and what it was costing the company.

All the details of the previous evening flooded through Fred’s head, but he mentally edited it before opening his mouth. “Yes, yes, sir. I’m being released tomorrow. My... um... friend is going to pick me up and take me home to my new apartment.”

“And your convalescence can begin,” said Mr. Grieves, sort of finishing Fred’s last sentence.

“Yes,” nodded Fred. “I’ll probably be off a couple of weeks,” he sort of whimpered, smiling sheepishly.

Mr. Grieves’ booming laughter filled the room. “Oh my boy, you’ll likely be off longer than that, but don’t you worry about a thing. You just get well. I just popped in to see if there was anything you need.”

Fred somehow found Mr. Grieves words disquieting. But the large man just smiled and smiled some more at Fred, who felt the need to respond, “um... well, no, I guess I’m all looked after, Mr. Grieves.”

“Well that’s good then!” boomed the man, making Fred jump slightly again, and shrink back just a little as his boss grabbed his shoulder rather gruffly and gave him a little shake. “You take care of yourself then, young man. And if there’s anything you need... anything at all, don’t you hesitate to call Helen and let her know. All right?”

Fred smiled gratefully. “Ok, Mr. Grieves, thank you!”

Grieves only chuckled loudly again, then with a cheerful wave, he turned toward the door.

Fred wasn’t sure what to think. It was awfully nice of Mr. Grieves to drop in and check on him like that. Yet something about the whole thing felt just a little uncomfortable. Just as Fred snuggled back into his pillow, a nurse came striding through the door.

“My, but that man was certainly loud, wasn’t he? Is he related to your mother?” she asked.

Fred laughed until he was shaking with mirth and holding his stomach in pain. “No, no...” he whimpered at last. “He’s my boss,” he explained. And then, “but you know, there are some loud people in my life,” he nodded, as if suddenly wondering why he’d been laughing.

It was the nurse’s turn to laugh, or at least chuckle as she got Fred up and helped him on with the extra robe for his walk.

Between the walk and all the strange merriment, Fred was quite exhausted when he got back into the bed. He thought of grabbing a nap, but could hear the lunch cart down the hallway and decided to eat first.

Myrtle, meanwhile, was having an interesting day as well, punctuated as it was by Mr. Pelham’s students coming in to ask her why there was no instructor for his classes. By the time Dick had caught on there was something afoot and strode into her office, there was a little gathering of students by her desk. He glanced a little nervously at them, then sort of sashayed closer to Myrtle, around her desk.

“Did he not call or anything?” he asked Myrtle.

She shook her head. “Nope. I haven’t heard a thing. Maybe you should check with the Dean.”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the Dean walked through her door too. Myrtle looked at the strange group in front of her and resisted the temptation to say, “I suppose you’re all wondering why I called you here this morning.” She held in a chuckle, but was sure her eyes would betray her amusement, so she looked down at her work folder quickly.

“So what’s all the fuss?” the Dean asked her. “I’ve got students in my office too.”

Myrtle cleared her throat and forced herself to look serious. “Apparently Mr. Pelham hasn’t shown up for his classes today ~ at least, not so far,” she said.

“He didn’t call?”

“No sir,” she said, shaking her head. “At least, he didn’t call my office.”

“Is that not procedure?” asked the Dean, a little haughtily.

“Usually,” answered Myrtle, “although it’s perfectly acceptable for him to call your office as well.”

“Humph,” said the Dean. Then, “would you please call him at home, Myrtle?”

Myrtle gazed at him. “Ok,” she said hesitantly, wondering why he didn’t get his assistant to do it. This, she thought, would have been the more suitable choice under the circumstances. But she dutiful picked up the phone under the Dean’s watchful gaze, the students not budging from their little grouping nearby. Myrtle flipped through her file and found Pelham’s number, then dialed. It rang several times, then a very agitated voice answered, rather loudly.

“Mr. Pelham?” enquired Myrtle softly. Suddenly Myrtle yanked the phone away from her ear and held it up. Everyone in the room could hear Pelham screaming abuse at Myrtle. The students began to giggle, Dick turned red, for what reason Myrtle couldn’t fathom, and the Dean’s nostrils flared, the look on his face all the haughtier, if that was possible.

He took the phone from Myrtle. “MR. PELHAM!” he bellowed into the mouthpiece. “Mr. Pelham, this is the Dean! I assure you I will not keep you! You will be notified of the date of your dismissal hearing by my office before the end of classes tomorrow!” With that, the Dean handed the phone back to Myrtle, turned and strode from her office. As quickly as he was walking away, Myrtle was certain he still must have heard the spontaneous cheer that burst forth from the gaggle of students in her office.

Another Ride on the Midway of Life

The rest of the week was a bit of a roller coaster ride for both Fred and Myrtle. The atmosphere at the college was still very tense as the Dean seemed to be taking his time with any sort of action or decision. Hostility toward Mr. Pelham was at an all new high as students apparently conspired to stare stonily at him during his lectures. It was, of course, his undoing. He tried hard to ignore them and just get through his lectures, but by Wednesday afternoon he simply couldn’t take either the sulky lethargy displayed by some, or the open hostility of others. He slammed a pointer down onto the desk in one classroom and began yelling at his students again, threatening to not even bother showing up to teach them anything if they were going to be so horribly unreceptive. His voice gaining in volume and pitch as he spewed his threats and insults, the students began to glance at one another and smirk. This was the last straw. Red faced and quite plainly furious, Pelham gathered up his notes and books with shaking hands and strode from the classroom. He didn’t turn up for his Thursday classes at all.

Myrtle, meanwhile, was working away at a steady flow of pedagogical-related demands, both usual and unusual, trying all the while to keep her mind off all the fuss, even though the feeling of being watched never really went away. If it wasn’t a student glancing sidelong at her as they passed in a hallway, or Professor Dilby come to stare at her, it was the Dean, who seemed to just pop up where least expected, like the lunch room, the equipment room, outside the ladies washroom, or just in the foyer. Myrtle smiled and nodded at them all, feeling a little as if she must surely develop a sore neck by the end of each day from the strain. She also assumed that the Dean must be gathering quite the dossier on her rather mundane daily activities. But she said nothing. Myrtle was enough of a pragmatist to know that news would come a-knocking just as soon as it was ready for her ~ especially if it was bad.

And Fred? He was getting anxious to get out of the hospital, even though he was still feeling weak, and even though he still spent much of his time sleeping off the pain-killers. He was getting fewer pain-killers each day, but he was sleepy-headed anyway. In fact, on Tuesday Myrtle had to wake him, because he was lying on his back, snoring loudly when she arrived. He was certain some of his sleepiness was due to boredom. Oh, he obediently took his walks, a little farther and a little longer each day. But when those were done, there were only so many magazine articles he could read to keep busy. By the time Myrtle showed up at the end of Wednesday, he was quite desperate for company and a little affection.

For her part, Myrtle was tired and a little stressed out, but glad of the change of pace. She was sure that if she’d just gone home after work each day, she’d likely spend the whole evening preoccupied by what was happening at work, and wind up even more stressed out. Fred was a happy diversion ~ a little bit fun, a little bit pathetic, a little bit goofy ~ he usually kept her from thinking about work at all. Although the hospital food was beginning to pale for her, despite its being good, she was enjoying having supper each evening with Fred.

They were both surprised when Fred’s doctor came in on Wednesday evening to inform Fred that they needed the bed and he was to be discharged the next morning. In fact, Myrtle panicked a little. She stood up and stared wide-eyed at the doctor.

“Something?” he said, noticing her surprise.

“Um... I... I.. work all day. I can’t get off tomorrow to take him home.”

“Is there anyone else...?” the doctor began, but both Fred and Myrtle were shaking their heads vehemently, as if both were picturing Flora clomping into the room to take Fred home.

“Can’t you keep him a bit longer?” asked Myrtle, a little desperately. Fred whimpered and she turned. “I’m sorry, Fred, but I just can’t get off work on that short notice, especially with what’s going on,” she said, immediately regretting those last few words.

Fred nodded sadly, then glanced at her. “What’s happening Myrtle?”

She just shook her head. “I’ll tell you about it later,” she said, waving a hand at him. Then she turned back to the doctor. “I can sneak out early on Friday if you can keep him till after lunch. Then I’ll come get him,” she promised.

The doctor looked at Fred’s chart again, then promised to be right back. Myrtle glanced at Fred again as the doctor disappeared through the doorway. “I’m sorry, Fred.” she said again. “Things are a little hairy at work right now, and I just can’t....”

“It’s ok, Myrtle,” he assured her. “But what’s been going on?” Myrtle moved closer to Fred and took his hand. She was casting around in her mind trying to figure out exactly what to tell him when the doctor came back into the room. They both looked up.

“Ok. I’ve checked with the nurses and they say we can swing it. Fred will be ready to discharge after lunch on Friday, but he won’t be in here. We normally discharge in the morning to get the room ready for the next patient. So Fred will be dressed on Friday morning and wheeled to the patient sitting room for his lunch. You can pick him up there, ok?”

“Oh, thank you doctor,” said Myrtle, as Fred smiled and nodded his agreement.

“No problem,” smiled the doctor. “So I’ll be back tomorrow then with your instructions, Fred.”

“Ok,” squeaked Fred. Then, clearing his throat, “that’ll be great.”

Once the doctor had left, Myrtle settled down beside Fred to tell him about what was going on at work. She glossed over it a bit, and down-played the whole thing, which only made her regret mentioning it all the more, since without the gory details it really wasn’t much at all. She changed the subject as soon as she reasonably could, and they passed the evening pleasantly until the announcement came that visiting hours were over. At home that evening, Myrtle wasted no time hitting the sheets. She just had a feeling the end of the week was going to be a busy time.

Stalkers Abound?

When Myrtle left work that day, the crowd had dispersed, but she noticed throughout the day, there always seemed to be a small gaggle of observers in the foyer outside her office. She realized she was more or less being watched. Part of her felt gratified that the students should be so concerned. Yet another part of her realized it really wasn’t about her so much as about getting Pelham. It also seemed just a little creepy to be watched like this ~ kind of as if she was being stalked, she thought.

When she left for the day, her mind was full of thoughts about her situation at work. She hoped this whole Pelham thing would soon be resolved. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d be all that disappointed if the Dean decided to suspend her for a week or so, although she’d have to grieve through her union if it was without pay. Still, some time off wouldn’t be a bad thing in her life right now, she thought, although she was sure Dick wouldn’t like it at all. In fact, she could picture him being quite agitated if such a thing were to happen. Myrtle smiled to herself at how ridiculous the whole thing really was. She looked up as she climbed into Fred's car to see the Dean watching her from across the parking lot. He glanced at his watch. Talk about being watched, thought Myrtle, feeling uncomfortable.

She settled behind the wheel and started the car. As she drove along, she put such matters out of her head and pondered briefly if she should eat out, or go to Fred’s room first, then excuse herself to get a supper at the hospital cafeteria. Myrtle decided for the latter and was again lost in thought as she parked Fred’s car right next to a full-sized red pickup with all kinds of accessories. She paid for a couple of hours parking and headed into the hospital.

On her way to Fred’s room, she heard a loud voice penetrating the otherwise quiet hallways and wondered sort of distractedly what poor person had such loud complaints. But as she turned through the doorway into Fred’s room, she immediately had her answer. Flora Luckinbill was standing at Fred’s bedside, and she turned to glare at Myrtle. Again, the vague feeling of being followed intruded on her mind. Myrtle gave her head a little shake and wondered what either she or Fred had done to deserve a Flora.

“Oh, it’s you!” exclaimed the large woman, as Myrtle rounded the end of Fred’s bed.

“Yes. Yes, it’s me,” Myrtle confirmed quietly as she accepted a hug from Fred and kissed him on the cheek. He seemed to cling to Myrtle a little awkwardly ~ and desperately.

“He’s been alone all day!” accused Flora.

“Has he?” said Myrtle wearily. “Well why has he then?” she asked, feigning innocence. “I mean, I’ve been at work all day. Was there no one else in the world to look in on him ~ all day?” she sort of demanded.

Flora blushed deeply as Fred shrank back into his pillow, looking a little as if he hoped it would swallow him.

“In fact, I’ve been at work since early this morning,” continued Myrtle, plainly in something of a combative mood. “I’ve only just gotten off. But I wonder why Fred had to be alone.... all day!”

Flora backed away a step and glowered at Myrtle, who apparently wasn’t done. “Why are you always so unpleasant?” she asked, glowering right back at Flora. “Why can’t you just be a civil human being? You act like you think I should quit my job or something to be here every minute. But just how long have you been here if it’s so important for someone to be lurking over Fred all the time?”

Flora’s mouth fell open. She was accustomed to intimidating others, certainly not to anyone speaking to her so plainly. Her confusion showed. If the truth were known, Flora wasn’t really all that concerned about Fred. He was her son and somewhere deep inside she harboured some small affection for him. It mattered to her what happened to him. But mostly she was concerned about Fred’s girl friend. It actually hadn’t occurred to Flora that there might be a genuine romance happening here. She assumed Myrtle was after something Fred had, but she wasn’t sure what that might be. Most people probably wouldn’t have come back after the last thorny visit, but Flora’s curiosity and her own avarice had the better of her. Flora was being quite obviously nosy and what with everything else that was happening in her life, Myrtle didn’t have a lot patience for it.

“Well, I never!” exclaimed Flora.

“Oh, I’ll bet you have too,” retorted Myrtle. Then she turned to Fred. “I was going to get some supper from the cafeteria and bring it back to eat with you,” she explained. “But I think I’ll just go eat. I’ll look in on you again before I leave,” she said, plainly put off by Flora’s presence. She didn’t mean to take it out on Fred, but she’d had enough for one day.

“But Myrtle....” he sort of whimpered. “Please... get something and bring it back. I’m sure my mother will be gone by then,” he offered uncertainly, with a nervous glance at Flora.

“Huuuumph,” declared Flora. “I can see I’m not wanted,” she announced. “I have a home-cooked dinner waiting to be warmed up at home. You two do just as you please,” she said haughtily, as if she thought they ought to feel bad for it.

Fred sighed deeply, but Myrtle only looked up at Flora through narrowed eyes, her expression stony. “Just please yourself,” she said coldly.

With eyes widened, Flora turned and marched away once again. Myrtle sat with Fred awhile in silence, but when she heard the dinner cart approaching from down the hallway, she headed for the cafeteria to get her supper too. She got back in good time this time to just take the lid off her ravioli and a salad as Fred uncovered his meal. It wasn’t exactly like eating out together, but they chatted as they ate and the evening passed pleasantly enough, as long as they avoided the touchy subject of Fred’s mother.

Myrtle hinted around about the excitement at work, but down-played the gnarlier details of the situation so as not to worry Fred. She made it sound as if the whole controversy was between Pelham and his students, and it was just the Dean caught in the middle. So rather than being worried, Fred was grateful for the entertaining story.

Myrtle was feeling better by the time she headed for home. The whole routine was getting a little wearing, but she really enjoyed spending time with Fred and felt things would only get better once he was out of the hospital and well on the mend. She also hoped Tuesday wouldn’t be quite so exciting, either at work, or at Fred’s bedside. She was up for a little ordinary routine. She just doubted somehow that she’d get it.

For his part, Fred was getting quite bored with routine and with being in the hospital. His stomach hurt, but he was getting used to how he had to move to minimize the pain. The nurses were nice enough, but he felt very much as if he was living his life at the whim of people dressed in scrubs. Sure, the disagreeable appearance of his mother punched a loud hole in his boredom, but he didn’t like Myrtle to have to deal with her. He was anxious to get into his new apartment behind a locked door. At least, he thought, he could keep his mother out.

Back to Work?

Monday morning saw Myrtle well-rested and looking forward to going back to work, if only for a change of pace. When she entered the department, there was a crowd milling about in the foyer. As she passed through the throng, Myrtle felt very much as if she was the subject of their interest. But she just smiled, nodded and kept going toward her office. As soon as she opened the door, she saw a man standing there. He turned toward her as she came in. Myrtle recognized Paul Visman, the Dean of Arts. He was evidently waiting for her. She vaguely wondered if she was late, but knew she wasn’t. A feeling of uncomfortable anticipation came over her.

“Good morning, Myrtle,” said the Dean.

"‘Morning Paul,” she responded guardedly as she put her purse into her desk drawer. Then she just waited. He must be standing there for a reason, she thought. So she just stood there too.

“I wonder if we should wait for Dick,” he pondered out loud, clearly feeling awkward.

“If you like,” ventured Myrtle.

At that moment, as if summoned by some unseen hand, Dick sort of blundered through the office door. He seemed very perplexed and somewhat out-of-sorts by the crowd outside the office. He closed the door and stood looking at Myrtle and Paul, quite plainly put out.

The Dean cleared his throat a little loudly. “Myrtle,” he began. “Max Pelham has filed a formal complaint that you were very rude to him, and I have to investigate it.”

Myrtle instantly understood ~ everything. She thought she recognized some faces in the foyer. These were students ready to crucify Pelham. Myrtle felt a certain comfort from this. She couldn’t help smiling, just a little.

The Dean cleared his throat again. “Were you rude to him, Myrtle.”

“I don’t think so,” she said quietly. “I was stern with him, Paul. After all, he came in here yelling about how stupid his students are.”

“He says you yelled at him,” said Paul.

Myrtle’s smile only deepened. “I don’t yell,” she said quite simply. She met his gaze and held it.

They stood that way for several seconds, then the Dean looked away, clearing his throat yet again. “I see,” he said. “And what do you call ‘stern’?” he asked.

“Mr. Pelham was asserting, rather loudly, that all his students are very stupid,” said Myrtle. “I pointed out to him, rather sternly, that these students went through an admissions process and were judged suitable for this program by their faculty interviewer. In many cases, this would have been either you, or Dick.” She paused and looked toward Dick for effect. Both men seemed to be slowly digesting her words. “I thought he ought not question your competence the way he seemed to be doing, and I said so.” Again Myrtle paused and waited.

“He’s a piece o’ work,” muttered Dick.

Myrtle smiled. “I also pointed out to him that his students were no more fond of him than he was of them,” she smiled. “I don’t think he liked that.”

“Mmmmph,” said the Dean. “But you didn’t raise your voice to him?” he pressed.

“Quite the contrary,” smiled Myrtle. “I find people are more likely to listen if you lower your voice.”

“He said you should have just booked him an appointment with Dick,” pushed the Dean.

“And I offered to,” replied Myrtle truthfully. “But he just walked away in a huff.”

The Dean nodded thoughtfully and glanced at Dick, who squared his shoulders rather determinedly, chin out. “There is no way Myrtle did anything wrong here,” said Dick. “Pelham is a jerk! I’ll defend Myrtle as fervently as I must,” he declared.

Myrtle was quite touched. This was a very brave stand for someone like Dick. She offered a particularly warm smile in return, but said nothing more.

“Hmmmmmph,” said the Dean again. “Well, I must take this all into consideration,” he added thoughtfully.

Dick’s hand was on the office door to open it for the Dean, who seemed a little hesitant to leave. The crowd outside the door had milled a little closer. There was a certain threatening air to the gathering. Perhaps it was the concerned and often angry looks on their faces.

“Be careful out there,” said Myrtle, smiling.

The Dean glanced at her, then back at the crowd. “What are they doing here?” he asked, clearly intimidated.

“I think they’re here to defend me,” said Myrtle, a little gleefully. “I mean, they’re Mr. Pelham’s students and they’ve put up with a lot of verbal abuse from him. They aren’t happy about it. Some of them came to me for comfort. They’ve probably heard about the complaints and they’re here to have a say,” she finished, nodding toward the crowd.

The Dean’s mouth had fallen open and the look on his face revealed that some sort of light was dawning. He was apparently only just catching on to the true nature of the situation, and it showed. He quite unconsciously backed up a couple of steps. Dick looked perplexed, as if he didn’t know if he should shut the door again or not. But the Dean suddenly squared his shoulders and strode toward the door, pausing only briefly at the doorjamb. Then he strode into the crowd, which parted just enough for him to squeeze through.

Both Myrtle and Dick watched until the he disappeared, the crowd closing behind him. Then one of the students stepped toward Myrtle. “Is everything ok?” she asked.

“So far,” answered Myrtle, smiling, then she sort of nodded at everyone in general. “He’s ‘investigating’ Mr. Pelham’s complaints,” she said.

“We know,” said the student, rather neatly confirming Myrtle’s thinking. “He better come to the right conclusion,” she said, with more than a hint of threat in her voice.

Myrtle was a bit taken aback, but only smiled gratefully. She wasn’t really into mobs, but as long as they weren’t after her, she was going to just go along. She nodded again and retreated into her office. “Work to do,” she sort of mumbled.

Dick just sort of retreated back into the office too. He didn’t seem to want to venture out the door just yet, and Myrtle was happy for him to stay for the moment. She sat down behind her desk and opened her work drawer. Dick stood beside her, nervously fumbling with his tie and sleeves. They glanced at one another.

“Nothing like a little excitement to start the week off right,” muttered Dick quietly.

Myrtle smiled and opened her work folder.

Glad Sunday is Over!

Myrtle sort of stared at Fred, who was still blushing furiously.

“Don’t blame me, Myrtle,” he said finally, after his lunch had been left on his roll-away table and the lunch lady had left. “Bill always leaves his ring with me when he goes on a trip. At least, ever since he got married... “ finished Fred a little lamely, and rather pointlessly.

“Why would he do that?” asked Myrtle, though she knew the answer perfectly well.

Fred looked sheepishly at her, then motioned toward her tray. “Let’s have lunch, Myrtle,” he sort of whined. “You know, I’m not like Bill. For one thing, I would never be going to a scuba diving course. For another, I would never cheat on my woman.” Fred finished with a determined flourish that made Myrtle smile.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t encourage Bill though,” she suggested softly as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“You’re right, Myrtle. I never liked doing it. It’s just hard to get through to Bill that he shouldn’t be like that. He is who he is.” Fred’s face took on that helpless beagle look as he lifted a large ravioli to his mouth.

Myrtle looked at Fred’s lunch, then at her sandwich, thinking she may have been misguided in her choice. They’d had ravioli in the cafeteria too. She’d just thought it might be a bit messy. Then Fred sort of missed his mouth and dropped a piece, staining his hospital gown. As Myrtle helped him get it off his chest, she once again felt satisfied with her sandwich. It wasn’t exactly a gourmet delight, but at least it was easy to eat.

Myrtle couldn’t stay annoyed about what had just happened, but she made a mental note about this brother Bill and determined to let Fred know in little ways that this would not stand if he wanted to keep her around. So the two enjoyed the rest of their lunch, then Myrtle found a new gown for Fred and went for a little walk to the gift shop while he changed. She returned a while later with a Get Well balloon for him, and found him sitting on the edge of the bed.

Fred smiled when he saw her, and the balloon. “Is that for me?”

Myrtle stopped, smiled and turned her head to one side. “No Fred. It’s for the old man down the hall,” she said, giggling just a little. “Of course it’s for you!” With that, she tied the balloon to the foot of his bed.

“Thank you Myrtle,” he said, smiling. “The nurses are going to make me walk in a little while anyway, so as long as I was out of bed....”

Myrtle understood. “You want me to walk with you, Fred?” she asked. Fred nodded as she moved to his side and took an arm.

And so most of the next hour was passed in the hallway, shuffling slowly back and forth, until Fred was too tired for any more walking. Myrtle was tired too. At that pace, walking seemed more of a chore than a marathon would have been. She helped Fred back into bed and sat reading a magazine while he snoozed. This was boring too, but Myrtle focussed on finding some interesting recipes in the magazine she thought Fred might like.

A little later, after the nurses had bustled in to check on Fred and he was wide awake again, the two talked for a little while. But Myrtle’s mind was starting to drift to having to go back to work the next day. She had been planning to have supper with Fred too, but she really didn’t want to. She didn’t mind the cafeteria food, but she wanted to go home and spend some time in her own kitchen and living room and enjoy food of her own making.

After putting it off for a little while, Myrtle finally stood up, bent over Fred and kissed him on the forehead. He looked at her with a quizzical expression.

“I have to go, Fred,” she said in an apologetic tone. “I have some things to do, some little things to wash out....” she offered. Fred had that puppy dog look. “Have to also pick up a few things,” she continued, sort of wondering how many quick excuses she could come up with to obtain her release. “And I’d like some of my own home cooking for supper,” she finished honestly.

Fred smiled and nodded. “Don’t blame you,” he said. “I’d like some too.”

“Soon, Fred,” Myrtle assured him. “By the look of things, you won’t be in here long. And there’s all kinds of my home cooking in your freezer, just needing to be warmed up,” she pointed out, smiling.

Fred grinned. “Ok, Myrtle. I understand. Thanks for staying with me for so much of the day. I’ll be ok.... I’ll just read a bit and probably nap some more,” he comforted.

“I expect so,” smiled Myrtle, kissing him on the forehead again. “You rest, Honey, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening, ok?”

“Ok Myrtle,” he said, waving as she backed away toward the door.

Once in the hallway, Myrtle hurried to the car, suddenly wondering if she’d paid for enough time in the parking lot. But the car was there. She did indeed pick up a few things on the way home, and once there, she collapsed onto her couch for a little while, feeling quite exhausted. Then she put the few groceries away and considered what to have for supper. It might be her own cooking, she thought, but it sure wasn’t going to be anything grand. Sitting around all day was more energy-sucking than working hard, she realized. She would explore what was in her fridge needing to be used up and get a little creative, but it didn’t want to be complex.

After a satisfying toasted western with home-fried potatoes loaded with veggies, Myrtle made herself some tea, put a load of her frilly knickers into the washer, started a cozy fire in the wood stove and turned on her little TV. There wasn’t much on, on a Sunday evening, but some sort of comedy show would be just fine before going to bed, she thought. Wondering vaguely if she should look into a TV for Fred in his hospital room, she snuggled into her couch, tea at her side.

***

A Quiet Sunday?

Sunday promised to be a more relaxed day. Myrtle knew there were still some things left to do at Fred’s apartment, but they weren’t urgent. Fred could move in anytime and be comfortable, with a couch to sit on, a bed to sleep in and food in the refrigerator and cupboard. His curtains were up and his dishes and cutlery were all there, clean and ready to use. There were towels laid out in the bathroom. There was even a soap sponge on the side of the tub that Myrtle had found at a little bath shop on her way to the grocery store. She figured she’d just visit Fred this day and rest up for work on Monday.

And Fred was feeling more chipper. They were still giving him mild pain-killers, but getting up had actually made him feel more energetic. Even though it made his stomach really hurt, he had to grudgingly admit the nurses knew what they were doing. He had eaten breakfast and was about to ring for the nurses when Myrtle showed up. So she helped him out of bed, helped him put on an extra gown, then walked slowly along the hall with him on his little walk, still pushing his IV stand ahead of him.

Myrtle thought the day might go beyond restful by slowly dragging into boring territory, but it turned out to be a bit of an eventful day. The nurses showed up after Fred’s morning walk to take his vital signs, and they decided he could be unhooked from his IV already. He was doing well, so they would give him his meds in pill form until his release later in the week. This startled Myrtle a little, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to take more time off work to pick Fred up. She was hoping they'd keep Fred till the next Saturday. But she kept quiet and decided to wait and see how things went.

Fred seemed a little surprised as well. “Don’t get rid of me too fast,” he smiled nervously at the nurse. “I’ll be home on my own, you know.” The nurse looked at Fred, then at Myrtle and then smiled and nodded. This was a little tidbit of information Fred hoped would be shared. He knew they’d want the bed, and he was looking forward to going home to his new apartment, but he didn’t want to be released so soon that he’d be a huge burden on Myrtle. She’d already done so much. And he certainly didn’t want to have to ask his mother for help. He actually felt quite content where he was for the moment.

Myrtle thought it would be nice if they could have lunch together, so when she heard the lunch carts far down the hall, she excused herself. “I’m going to go the cafeteria and grab something to eat, Fred,” she explained. “Then I’ll bring it back here and we can have lunch together,” she smiled.

“Ok,” said Fred, his eyes a little wide.

Myrtle thought he looked surprised, so she felt she needed to explain a little more. “Your lunch is on the way... I hear the cart,” she said, pointing to the hallway, as she slowly backed toward the door.

Light dawned on Fred’s face. “Ok,” he said again, only this time smiling and nodding. “Hurry back!”

Myrtle did hurry, though she wasn’t sure why. She had noticed that it often took the food carts a half hour to inch their way up a hospital hallway, room by room. But at least the cafeteria wasn’t crowded yet, so she grabbed a tray and looked over the available foods. She decided a salad and sandwich would be just right for the situation and made her choices, careful to grab a packet of dressing, some plastic cutlery and napkins as well, so she could sit with Fred and comfortably enjoy her lunch. An apple juice finished things off. She paid and hurried back to Fred’s room with her small tray in hand.

She was expecting Fred to have his lunch on his roll-away table by the time she got back, but the lunch cart hadn’t reached his room yet, and when she walked in, there was a buff young man standing there beside the bed, and a blushing Fred looking up at him. Myrtle set her tray on the end of Fred’s roll-away table, and nodded at the young man.

Fred blushed even deeper. “Um... Myrtle, this is my brother, Bill. Bill this is my girlfriend, Myrtle.” He cleared his throat and gave his head a shake, as if he wasn’t quite sure he was awake.

Bill grinned and nodded at Myrtle. “How ya doin’,” he said.

“Fine,” said Myrtle, tentatively. “Glad to meet you,” she said politely.

Bill nodded again, then turned back to Fred. “So yeah, sorry to turn up early. And glad you’re doin’ ok,” he said to Fred. He glanced a little nervously at Myrtle. “I took an early flight. Seems I upset a lady just a little while I was there. Was time to leave,” he finished with a nervous giggle and a smirk.

Myrtle turned to check where the food cart was. Bill’s visit was certainly ill-timed and she couldn’t help wondering how long he was planning to stay. Fred didn’t exactly seem excited to see him.

Bill glanced at Myrtle’s tray, then turned back to Fred. “So... um... do you have it?” he asked, scratching his head. “I mean... I’d like it before I go home....” he explained, his voice trailing off.

Fred blushed again. Then he motioned to Myrtle. “Would you get my shaving kit for me?” he asked.

Myrtle opened the side table drawer, pulled out Fred’s shaving kit and handed it to him. Fred opened it and fumbled around in it for a bit, then he pulled out a ring and handed it to Bill.

Bill glanced nervously at Myrtle, then slipped the ring onto his ring finger. Myrtle felt herself begin to blush too, as she slowly caught on to what was transpiring.

Bill cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he sort of squeaked. “I... ah... I appreciate it. Hope you’re doin’ real well. I’ll drop by again some other time.....” His voice trailed off again as he slowly backed away from Fred, gave Myrtle another nod, then retreated out the door.

Myrtle turned back to Fred with her eyes wide and her mouth agape, just as the lunch worker came through the door with Fred’s lunch.

Things Are Looking Up

At least Fred was easy to distract, thought Myrtle, as she laid the packages of curtains side-by-side on the bed. They were wrapped in clear plastic, so the designs were quite visible. The problem was, it was quite impossible to imagine what they’d look like when they were unfolded and so much bigger over the windows. Myrtle didn’t want to choose herself, but she didn’t want to unfold them in the hospital either.

“I know it’s difficult to tell, Fred, but is there one that speaks to you more than the other?”

Fred obediently looked first at one, then the other, then back at the first one. He slumped back on his pillows. “Oh Myrtle, it really doesn’t matter, just as long as they aren’t too loud. You choose. I trust you completely,” he finished, flapping one hand toward the curtains.

Myrtle could see she was going to get nowhere, but at least she’d tried to involve him. It was like an investment for the future, if it ever occurred to Fred to complain about the curtains. She stacked the packages at the bottom of the bed.

“Poor Fred,” she comforted. “Operations are no fun,” she said, quite aware that this was merely obvious. It was difficult to think of things to say at a time like this and she was once again glad she had other things to do. She decided to stay a little while longer though, to encourage Fred to rest, though he had closed his eyes and didn’t really seem to need any. In fact, it wasn’t long after she sat down to keep Fred company, that she heard him snoring softly. She decided to slip away.

Myrtle stopped at a doughnut and sandwich shop and bought soup and a sandwich for her lunch. She took it back to Fred’s apartment and quite enjoyed it before hanging the curtains. It was a bit of a struggle, but she persevered and got the least patterned of the two hung up, after due consideration of both.

She repacked the others and put them by the door to go back. Then she made the bed and did a host of other little chores to make Fred’s new digs look and feel comfortable for him. She was torn ~ part of her wanted to hurry and get it done, another part of her wanted to take her time, so she wouldn’t feel obligated to spend so much time sitting in Fred’s hospital room. It was an awkward romance, to say the least, she thought. She’d be glad when Fred was on the mend and able to do things for himself again.

Meanwhile, Fred was awakened for lunch, and after he’d eaten the nurse bustled in and told him he’d have to go for another little walk, but this time, he was to ring if he was ready. At any rate, they’d be back. A red-faced Fred just nodded obediently as the nurse left the room smiling.

By the time Myrtle had done everything she was sure she must at Fred’s apartment and had arrived back at the hospital, Fred was just shuffling down the hall toward her, leaning on his IV stand as he walked. He looked up and saw Myrtle. “Oh Myrtle,” he said, a little pathetically, as he sort of reached his other hand toward her.

Myrtle went right to his side. “Are you ok, Fred?” she asked, concerned. It felt as if he was about to fall over.

“I think the nurses forgot about me,” he complained. “I’ve been walking and walking....” his voice trailed off.

“Well I think it would be all right for you to go back to your room, Fred,” declared Myrtle, a little aghast that Fred would just keep walking around in the hallway.

Fred looked at her, as if a light was dawning. “Oh yeah...” he said. “I never thought of that.”

As Myrtle guided Fred back to his bed, she wondered if the doctor had accidentally done a little brainechtomy on Fred as well. Then she wondered if it was the drugs. Maybe that little bit of pain-killer was keeping him all bumfuzzled, she reasoned. Once she had Fred all tucked in, she took off her jacket and settled into the chair beside him.

“Oh Myrtle,” he moaned. “I’m so tired. I went up and down... up and down...”

“There, there, Fred,” she comforted. “You can rest now.” But it was a kind of pointless statement since Fred’s eyes were already closed, he whimpered, and was quite obviously dozing off.

Great, thought Myrtle. She had wanted to return his credit card and chat about a few things, like where he wanted the phone in his apartment. But once again, there she was, sitting beside Fred as he snoozed. She sighed deeply. Myrtle wasn’t sure which was more trying ~ all the work she was doing for Fred, or sitting around listening to his incision heal. It was all quite the investment for what seemed like a promising relationship, she told herself. She couldn’t help thinking, rather sardonically, that it better pay off.

Myrtle would have rather been at home, but she sat for awhile longer with Fred, then went and got a magazine. After reading that for awhile, she went to the hospital cafeteria again for supper. Fred was awake and having his own supper when she got back.

“Oh Myrtle,” he said, smiling. “I was afraid you’d left!”

“Just taking some nourishment,” she smiled.

“Me too,” he nodded.

After supper, Fred was feeling much better and the two chatted much of the evening away. Myrtle returned Fred’s card, tried to describe the new curtains, asked him about his phone, and so much more. She went home at the end of visiting hours smiling and feeling much better.

A Revealing Walk

Fred rested for a bit, but he woke up before long and was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling long enough to get really bored and wish he had a magazine or something. He was even beginning to think a visit from his mother would at least punch a hole in his boredom and wake him up more. He gave his head a shake and wondered if another shot of something in his IV wouldn’t be preferable.

Once again, as if on cue, a nurse bustled into his room with a little cart. She did indeed have a needle for his IV, and she took his vital signs and recorded them. But then she smiled sweetly and told Fred he had to get up. He stared.

“Mr. Luckinbill, you have to take a little walk before lunch today. The medication I just gave you is very mild. You can have more after lunch, but only if you get up.” The nurse once again smiled sweetly. “You can let me know when you’re ready,” she said. Then she bustled away with her cart.

Fred stared at the door. It was like blackmail or something. He’d just had his stomach cut open. He had to get up?

Myrtle meanwhile, was debating the merits of two different sets of curtains. Both were a brown and cream design ~ quite plain really, but the patterns were enough to break up the monotony of a solid colour, without being loud. And both were relatively inexpensive, which was part of Myrtle’s criteria. It was difficult to choose for somebody else. In the end, she decided to see if Fred’s card would buy both and let him make up his mind. She figured if his card wouldn’t do it, she could buy one on hers.

At the checkout the cashier looked at Myrtle when she handed her Fred’s credit card. Myrtle smiled, the cashier shrugged, the sale went through. Myrtle signed the slip with her own name and departed happily.

At the hospital, she was carrying both parcels down the hall toward Fred’s room when she saw a man up ahead with his butt crack showing as he pushed his IV stand along beside him. Myrtle almost dropped her packages as a nurse rushed by her with a gown in her hands.

“Mr. Luckinbill!” called the nurse. Myrtle almost dropped her parcels again. Fred started to turn, ever so slowly, so that he pretty effectively mooned a patient in the room across from him. In fact, Myrtle heard an audible, feminine gasp. But then the nurse caught up to Fred and wrapped another gown around his back. Myrtle decided to slip into Fred’s nearby room if she could, before he saw her.

She was waiting there, the curtains sitting on Fred’s bed, when he made his way back to the room. He was still blushing furiously and the nurse was helping him along. Myrtle grabbed the parcels out of the way as the nurse got Fred settled back into bed.

“All tucked in,” said the nurse, with a sigh of relief. “Now Mr. Luckinbill, it was great that you did get up, but you were supposed to ring for a nurse. We’ll get you up again after lunch. Call us when you’re ready,” she said with emphasis. Then she smiled, her eyes still a little wide, nodded toward Myrtle, and bustled out.

Fred was pouting. He looked at Myrtle and once again put her mind of a beagle hound. She couldn’t help chuckling.

“They told me to get up and walk,” he whimpered. “I didn’t know my ass was showing. Why don’t they make these gowns wrap all the way around?” he whined. “How much did you see, Myrtle,” he asked, sniffing.

“You have a cute ass, Fred,” smiled Myrtle. She patted him on the hands. “It’s ok,” she assured him. “Anyone who’s ever had a plumber in to fix pipes has probably seen as much,” she chuckled again.

Fred smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t wanna even get up in the first place. It hurt,” he whined. “They said I had to,” he said accusingly toward the door.

“It’s ok, Fred,” Myrtle said again. “I have some curtains for you to look at,” she said enthusiastically, trying to change the subject and somehow make curtains sound exciting.

Eggs, Curtains and Pain

Fred was eating his breakfast when Myrtle arrived at the hospital the next day. They’d brought him a hard boiled egg, some toast, a bran muffin, juice and tea. He was struggling, trying to eat the egg with a knife and fork. It kept shooting away across the plate.

“Pick it up, Fred,” said Myrtle, before even saying hello.

Fred smiled up at her. “Hi Myrtle. Really?”

“Yes, it’ll be a lot easier to eat if you just take a bite out of it,” she nodded.

“I’m not used to having my eggs this way,” he whined. “The girl who brought it told me to enjoy my rubber ball,” he said, taking a bite out of the egg.

Myrtle chuckled. The girl probably knew what she was talking about. “How are you feeling, Fred?” Fred looked at her helplessly, his mouth full of egg. “Chew first,” said Myrtle, smiling. “I’ll wait.”

Fred tried to smile, still chewing egg. It didn’t make a pretty picture, but Myrtle just sat back in the chair and got comfortable. “Muffin looks good,” she commented.

While Fred ate, Myrtle explained her plan for buying his curtains. She also explained that she couldn’t sit with him for much of the day, because there was still a lot to do at his apartment to get it ready for him. She got up and buttered his muffin for him, and set his tea a bit closer.

“Don’t mind tea, but would have preferred coffee,” complained Fred.

“Make sure you order coffee for tomorrow then, Fred,” said Myrtle, just a shade impatiently.

“I can order?” squeaked Fred.

“Oh yes. Someone will probably come by later with a menu and let you fill in requests. I guess they didn’t do that yesterday ‘cause you were in surgery,” she speculated.

“Oh,” said Fred.

Myrtle could see he was tired and a bit confused. He was probably also still medicated, she thought. She was kind of relieved that she had so much to do and didn’t have to just hang around the hospital all day. She sympathized with Fred, but no one is great company when they’re dozing off all the time, she thought.

“Can you afford the curtains, Myrtle?” Fred asked suddenly, once he’d pushed his tray away.

“Um... I guess,” said Myrtle. She hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. “I’ll just put them on my credit card and you can pay me back?”

“Why don’t you take my credit card with you?” asked Fred. He gestured toward the little side table drawer. Myrtle opened it. There was his wallet, beside his shaving kit. She was a little surprised. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea for Fred to have the wallet there.

As if reading her mind, Fred opened the wallet and said, “I didn’t bring any cash, but my I.D. and one credit card is in here, just in case I needed it. There’s not much on it, but it should do curtains ok,” he said, handing it to Myrtle.

“I don’t know if they’ll let me use it,” she hesitated.

“Worth a try,” said Fred, smiling. "Just don't sign it 'Fred Luckinbill,'" he giggled. "You don't look like a Fred." Then he moaned. “I’m not sure my stomach likes food,” he said, grimacing. “Take it, Myrtle,” he insisted, pushing his head into his pillow and giving a dismissive little wave.

“Ok, Fred,” she shrugged, tucking the card into her purse. She supposed it was indeed worth a try. In fact, as much as she wanted to comfort Fred in his evident pain, there was really nothing she could do and no reason to dawdle around. She tucked the card into a pocket in her purse, gave Fred a little kiss on the forehead, and told him she’d better get on it.

Fred grimaced and gave her a little wave. He seemed content for her to leave, as if he didn't want her to see him in such pain.

“Try to rest, Fred,” she said, returning his wave as she backed out of the room.

Myrtle headed out to the mall where there were a couple of department stores. She had the measurements, Fred’s credit card and determination. Most of Fred’s new furnishings were predominantly brown, so she was sure it shouldn’t be all that challenging to find curtains that would look nice, without being loud, she thought.

Meanwhile, once his discomfort had subsided a bit, Fred did indeed get some more rest after his breakfast. But later in the morning, the nurses had other plans for him.

Wassamadder?

Myrtle was jerked awake by a deep chuckle nearby. She opened her eyes groggily and sat up, looking around. Giving her head a shake, she realized she’d fallen asleep, her head on the edge of Fred’s hospital bed, her hand still holding his. Fred was snoring softly beside her. She sniffed and looked up the two people smiling widely at the scene.

“I’m Dr. Wadkins,” said the man amiably. “I’m sorry to wake you, but visiting hours are over and we have to wake Fred,” he explained.

“Oh,” said Myrtle numbly, giving her head another shake and taking a deep breath. She never fell asleep like that. Ever. She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or amazed. She let go of Fred’s hand and stood up.

Meanwhile, the nurse who’d come in with the doctor had moved to Fred’s side. Standing over him she gently tapped his cheek, saying “Mr. Luckinbill.... wake up now.”

Fred jerked awake, his eyes wide, his mouth open. “Wassamadder?” he enquired. Myrtle couldn’t help chuckling along with the doctor.

“Hey Fred,” said Dr. Wadkins, taking the nurse’s place over him. “How are you feeling?” Myrtle couldn’t help thinking it was kind of a stupid question, but she saw where it needed to be asked. The doctor smiled down at a still groggy Fred. “Are you awake, Fred?”

Fred snorted, then nodded his head. “What’s happening?” he squeaked.

“Everything went text book,” the doctor said, smiling. “Now we just really need you to get a good nights sleep, and hopefully tomorrow we can get you up for a bit.”

Fred blinked. “You woke me up to tell me to go to sleep,” he asked, quite plainly perplexed.

“Well I thought you’d want to know that the operation went well,” smiled Dr. Wadkins, as the nurse chuckled behind him. “Don’t worry, the nurses will see to it that you rest. I’ll be back tomorrow evening to see how you’ve done,” he finished, standing upright again.

The doctor turned and smiled at Myrtle, who sort of gathered her wits. “Oh.... yes... “ she said. “I’m going to go now, Fred,” she offered, patting Fred on the hand. “I’ve stayed past visiting hours, so I have to go. You rest. I’ll be back in the morning, ok?”

“Ok Myrtle,” sniffed Fred, looking at her, then back at the doctor, then at Myrtle again.

With that, Myrtle nodded at the doctor and the nurse and backed away, giving Fred a little wave as she did. Then she left the room and headed for the parking lot, hoping the car hadn’t been ticketed since she’d been there longer than intended. She was still marvelling at having fallen asleep the way she did. “Must be tired,” she said aloud to herself as she opened the car door. There was no ticket, so she started the car and headed for home.

Meanwhile, the doctor had departed Fred’s room, leaving the nurse to once again insert a needle into Fred’s IV. She smiled down at Fred, fluffed his pillow, then walked away too, leaving Fred staring at the ceiling, still wondering why they’d wakened him.

By the time Myrtle got home she was wide awake, so she started a fire in the stove to warm the damp cottage, then made sure everything of Fred’s that was still at her house was by the door. There was a backpack and a cardboard box. She knew Fred didn’t have much because everything had perished when his apartment burned down. But she also knew he’d been at his mom’s for awhile, so she hoped he’d packed up everything he really wanted from there before he went into the hospital. Myrtle didn’t know Flora very well, or how likely she was to hold a grudge, but she knew she didn’t want to have to go knock on her door to pick up anything of Fred’s that he might want. If he still had things he wanted at his mother’s, he’d have to get it himself, she thought.

That decided, she fixed herself a snack and considered where to go for Fred’s curtains. They never did get around to shopping for any and he was going to need them if he didn’t want his neighbours watching his every move at night. Myrtle didn’t really like picking out something like that for someone else, but she decided she’d see what she could find, then take her purchase to the hospital to check with Fred before taking them to his apartment to hang.

She sighed. No wonder she’d fallen asleep on his bed, she thought. Throwing another log on the fire, Myrtle chose a book from her collection and curled up on the couch beside the woodstove. Whatever tomorrow brought, it brought, she thought, opening the book.

Off on the Wrong Foot

Fred moaned again and his little smile disappeared. Then he glanced again at Myrtle with a grimace on his face. Suddenly she wasn’t sure that Flora was the only source of his discomfort.

“My stomach hurts,” he said.

Just then, as if on cue, a nurse bustled into the room, glanced at Flora guardedly, then seeing Myrtle, smiled. She approached Myrtle, who yielded her spot at Fred’s side.

“How are you, Mr. Luckinbill?” the nurse asked pleasantly.

“Humph!” exclaimed Flora. “How dya think he is?” she demanded.

The nurse looked up at Flora. “It’s so nice that you have so much time to stand over Mr. Luckinbill like this... for so much of the day... as you have,” she said, just a little sarcastically.

Flora glared and looked as if she had something else to say, but the nurse had quickly turned her attention back to Fred, who looked at her, then at his mother, then at the nurse again with pleading eyes. “My stomach hurts,” he complained again. “And my ears hurt too,” he whimpered, glancing at Flora, who looked as if she was still puffing herself up to belt out more insights.

“Yes, apparently your mother is convinced you have a hearing problem, Mr. Luckinbill,” the nurse sympathized, chuckling softly. As Flora turned a deeper shade of red and sputtered a bit, the nurse smiled disarmingly and deftly inserted a needle into Fred’s IV. Myrtle held the line steady as she did so and the nurse gave her an approving nod. “You’ll feel better in a short while,” she assured Fred. “I expect you’ll get some more rest, if your visitors let you,” she added, looking directly at Flora.

The whole exchange had been an “aha” moment for Myrtle who realized Flora plainly didn’t know any better than to get on the wrong side of the nurses. Why, even if you didn’t like them or were unimpressed with them, you never tick off the nurses, thought Myrtle. She would have thought everyone knew that. She moved closer to Fred again as the nurse bustled away. She met Flora’s glare with a little smirk, then turned her attention to Fred, who was whimpering still.

“There, there, Fred,” she comforted him. “You’ve been through a lot. You should rest,” she said softly.

“Is my mother gone?” he asked quietly, but in a loud enough whimper for Flora to hear.

“Humph!” declared Flora. “Well that’s the thanks I get for standing over you in your time of need!” With that, she turned so quickly she almost lost her balance. Steadying herself on a chair, she recovered at the last moment, then trudged out of the room, glaring back only once.

“Ohhh,” said Fred, vaguely aware that he may have said something wrong.

But Myrtle only stroked his cheek. “There, there, Fred... you rest now,” she said.

Indeed, it didn’t take Fred long to drift off. Myrtle kissed him on the forehead, put the side back up on the bed, and tiptoed out of the room. She glanced around the hallway for any sign of Flora, in case she was lurking for some reason. But seeing no sign of her, Myrtle decided to grab some early supper in the hospital cafeteria, then check on Fred again before going home.

Having discovered that the hospital cafeteria served good food, Myrtle shouldn’t have been all that surprised to see Flora there, sitting at a large table, alone, with a tray full of food. Myrtle found it difficult to ignore her. She thought she should probably go sit with her and try to make peace, but she was really tired and just didn’t want to deal with the woman. She had also hoped to make a short evening of her visiting with Fred because she was so tired, but she couldn’t help wondering if Flora was just fuelling up for an evening of standing over her son again.

Sighing deeply, Mrytle got in line with a tray and picked out some supper. After paying, she made a point of ‘not noticing’ Flora and chose a small table at the other end of the cafeteria. Again she was wondering how exactly she got into all this. She began to ponder what she’d be doing right now if she hadn’t literally bumped into Fred on that fateful rainy day. She'd probably be freshly arrived home from work and contemplating getting a homemade supper ready, she thought wistfully, picturing a fresh, crackling fire in her wood stove and the gentle evening twilight of her wee cottage.

She sighed again as she lifted a fork full of chicken pot pie to her mouth, then toyed with her potatoes and peas, accidentally knocking a couple of peas onto the table. She glanced around quickly, then shooshed them under the edge of her plate. Must be tired, she thought, though part of her was wondering if she was having a sympathetic moment of sloppiness for Fred.

After supper, she returned to Fred’s room. She didn’t know where Flora was. She’d felt as if she was being watched the whole time she ate and didn’t want to make eye contact with the large woman, so she just deposited her tray where it was supposed to go and left the cafeteria. But because she didn’t look back, she had no way of knowing if Flora was really still in there. Moreover, she’d rather stupidly, she now thought, chosen to sit with her back to the door so she couldn’t see if Flora had left or not. So now she was treading the hospital corridors carefully, peeping around corners before turning them, just in case Flora was out there somewhere. She crept into Fred’s room quietly, hoping that Flora wasn’t already in there. She wasn’t. So Myrtle grabbed a chair and sat down next to Fred as he dozed.

Myrtle very nearly dozed off herself as she sat there. She wasn’t at all sure how long she should stay. She wanted to go home and relax a little before bed, but she didn’t want Fred to wake up in pain and alone. She wondered vaguely if he’d had any nourishment. Then she figured the hospital must know what they were doing in that regard. So she patted Fred’s hand and sighed. She knew tomorrow would be another busy day, so once again she passed the time mentally going over her planned itinerary, thankful that visiting hours would soon be over anyway.

The Classic Struggle

Myrtle plotted her actions carefully to make the best use of her time once she left the hospital. She’d go the grocery store that was open late, and take the groceries directly to Fred’s apartment before going home. And she’d pack the car with Fred’s things that were still at her place before going to bed. She wanted to get back to Fred’s place early to make sure she didn’t miss any deliveries, although, as she well knew, even though these stores always said deliveries could arrive anytime after 8 a.m., chances were she wouldn’t see anyone till the afternoon.

But that was all right, she thought. She’d count on spending the morning making things like tuna casserole and lasagna, which she’d then divide into freezer containers and put either in the freezer or the fridge for Fred. Freezer containers, she thought. She must remember to buy some of those too.

Her mind so occupied, she sat with Fred while he slurped his broth and ate his jello. Then she gently reminded him that she wouldn’t be able to visit right after his surgery, because of waiting at his apartment for his furnishings to be delivered.

“As soon as everything is there though, Fred, I’ll come right over to see how you are,” she assured him.

“Ok,” said Fred. It seemed the sedative was wearing off. He looked at Myrtle with a quizzical expression. Just as Myrtle had never seen Fred before with no collar, this was the first time he’d noticed that Myrtle had two eyes. She looked funny.

“What is it?” asked Myrtle.

Fred sort of pointed, then let his hand drop on the bed. “You have two eyes,” he smiled.

Myrtle giggled. “The other one has been there the whole time, Fred,” she smiled. “I still cover it sometimes, but I’m supposed to get used to using it again, and it is much easier to drive without the patch.”

Fred was torn. Myrtle was kind of prettier without the eye patch, yet he’d found the patch kind of a turn-on. Just then another nurse came in, inserted a needle into his IV, then smiling, retreated. After that, Fred began to sort of drift, his mood very happy indeed. And he began to get sleepy.

Myrtle decided that was her cue to leave. She had a lot to do, she had a plan, and she very much wanted to get started. She gave Fred’s hand a squeeze, which roused him just a little. Then she leaned over and gave him a kiss, fluffing his pillow again. “I’m going to go, Fred,” she said softly.

“Hmmmm..” he replied.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening, if not sooner,” she assured him.

“Hmmmm,” he said again.

Myrtle just chuckled softly, kissed him on the cheek again, and tiptoed out of the room.

Once out of the hospital, she switched into high gear, driving to the grocery store to pick up everything she needed to get Fred’s meals ready and feed herself while she waited for the delivery people. It was after midnight by the time she was home and ready for bed. But the groceries were in Fred’s fridge, the linens and other things were in his car just outside, she was showered and her clothes were even laid out for the morning. Myrtle set her alarm and finally relaxed in her bed.

Friday morning went pretty much as planned for them both. A groggy Fred was wheeled into the OR, and an almost equally groggy Myrtle, take-out coffee in hand, got to Fred’s apartment before 8, went back to the car for parcels, then got to work. She would have liked to relax a bit with her coffee, but she forgot to bring a chair, so she just went right to the kitchen and pondered what to work on first.

Of course, before she could cook, the dishes, pots, pans and cutlery had to be put away, most of them needing to be washed first. Then she got cooking. A casserole in the oven, she went to work unpacking some of Fred’s linens, at least the ones that went into the linen cupboard in the bathroom. She’d have to wait to unpack some other things until the furniture arrived, but happily, the table and chairs arrived at around 11 a.m., just about when Myrtle was thinking that sitting on a cushion on the floor wasn’t really so bad.

In fact, by 3:30 Friday afternoon, food was made and put away, canned goods, such as beans, tuna and salmon, soups, ravioli and stews were in a kitchen cupboard, dishes and most kitchen utensils had a home, the bed was set up, along with the dresser, bedside table and lamp, and the living room furniture was all in place. The delivery men had been a little surly about placing the couch, but Myrtle was firm about where it was to go and they had put it there. And the first thing to arrive, the dining set, was deemed comfortable by Myrtle. So she was satisfied with the day and also quite exhausted. But she knew Fred would be looking for her. Everything else, such as making up the bed, buying and hanging curtains, and placing things like books, some utensils and such, would have to wait for the weekend.

When Myrtle entered Fred’s hospital room, she saw a large woman bending over him. She must have been tired, because she should have recognized Flora from behind, she thought, as Flora looked up toward her.

“How is he?” asked Myrtle.

Flora face went red again. “A lot you care!” she said. “He’s been in and out and quite distressed!”

“Of course I care,” said Myrtle testily. “Why would you even say such a thing?”

“WELL, YOU HAVEN’T BEEN HERE!” declared Flora.

“Of course I haven’t,” said Myrtle evenly, going to the other side of Fred’s bed to check on him for herself. Fred glanced quickly at her, then closed his eyes again. She got it. Fred was playing possum and the source of his distress was obvious. She wondered how long Flora had been there, lurking over him this way. “I’ve been at Fred’s apartment waiting for his furnishings. Fred knew this.” She gave Flora a scathing look, lowered the side rail of the hospital bed, and placed her hand gently on his forehead. Then she leaned over and gave him a peck on his cheekbone. Fred moaned. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze and a little smile appeared on his face.

Myrtle couldn't help wondering why the food in the hospital cafeteria was so much better than the food they generally brought to the patients. After what was actually a lovely lunch, Myrtle went and found Fred’s room. He was all tucked into bed, already hooked up to an IV in his left hand and his electric shaver, which he seemed to need near him, was sitting on the little roll-away table nearby. She smiled, went over to him, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Fred smiled hugely, his head wobbling a little as he did. Myrtle realized he was no longer wearing his collar. His neck certainly looked kind of scrawny without it, she thought. But she just smiled wider at him. It was probably just an illusion. After all, it was the first time she’d seen him without something around his neck.

She reached over and fluffed Fred’s pillow. “Have you had some lunch, Fred?” she asked.

“Not allowed,” he said, almost mechanically, yet he was smiling vacuously.

Myrtle looked closer, wondering if it was just his nerves. Just then a nurse bustled into the room and fluffed his pillow again. “How are you, Mr. Luckinbill?”

“Fine,” he smiled happily.

Myrtle looked at him yet again. “Have you given him something?” she asked the nurse.

“Oh yes, just a mild sedative. I’ve never seen anyone as nervous as that before,” she added.

“I don’t think he had any lunch,” said Myrtle with concern.

“He had a piece of toast and some tea,” said the nurse. But he isn’t allowed to have much. He’s in surgery first thing in the morning.” she smiled. “We’ll bring him some broth and some jello later, and he can have some water, but that’s all.”

Myrtle glanced at Fred. He certainly didn’t seem to care, so maybe the sedative really was a good idea.

The nurse seemed to notice her glance. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure he’s comfortable and gets a good nights sleep,” she smiled. “He’ll be very relaxed by the time he goes to the OR.”

Myrtle sort of smiled back at the nurse. She understood. Fred would be getting some very good mood-altering drugs from here on, probably until a few days after his surgery. She wondered if there was any point in sticking around. Just then Fred took her hand and grinned happily up at her, as if he’d read her thoughts. She smiled back and decided to stick around for awhile. She had a lot to do, including some grocery shopping for Fred. She wanted to get him some foods to have in while he was convalescing. Meals that he could just stick in the microwave. But she didn’t want to just get him junky convenience foods. As she sat with Fred, she decided she’d buy foods she could prepare for him while she waited for his furniture the next day.

And so Fred gazed happily at the ceiling and Myrtle sat next to him, holding his hand, and organizing her thoughts on how to tackle all that had to be done. A few hours passed like this, with Myrtle getting up a few times to stretch her legs and use the washroom, and Fred dozing off from time to time.

Then the gentle stillness of the room was suddenly shattered by the loud voice of Flora Luckinbill.

“SO, THEY’VE GOT YOU ALL TUCKED IN COMFY COZY, DO THEY?” she bellowed.

Fred, suddenly jerked awake, sat straight up in his bed and Myrtle quite visibly jumped, raising one arm as if to protect her head from the onslaught. She turned and looked at the red-faced Flora who was glaring back at her.

“SO, you must be the girlfriend!” she surmised.

“And you must be the mother,” returned Myrtle gently, yet without flinching. She returned Flora’s glare with a steady gaze.

“And I suppose you’re going to take time off work to take care of the poor boy when they kick him out of here?” demanded Flora.

“No,” replied Myrtle. “I’m going to look in on Fred morning and evening to make sure he’s ok.”

“WELL THEN,” responded Flora almost angrily, “what if he needs help during the day?” she demanded.

“He’ll have a telephone,” answered Myrtle evenly. “And if I have to take a few hours off, then I will.”

“Hmmmph!” replied Flora.

How clever, thought Myrtle. But she said, “he’ll have my number at work,” and turning to Fred, who was still regarding his mother wide-eyed, she said, “and what’s the number for 911, Fred?” she asked.

“9-1-1" squeaked Fred, as if by carefully tutored rote.

“Very good,” smiled Myrtle. Then turning to look at Flora she added, “he’ll be fine,” careful to avoid an assuring tone that might sound mocking. She smiled at the large woman still glaring down at her. “In case you’re interested, his surgery is first thing in the morning.”

Flora glanced at Fred, then back at Myrtle, then at Fred again. “Well.... well... I hope he comes out of it fine then,” she offered, as if not quite sure what to say. “Maybe I’ll drop back to see him after,” she said uncertainly. With that, she turned abruptly and left. Myrtle could feel Fred’s hand relax as his mother departed. She looked at him just as his eyes closed and his head settled comfortably back into his pillow. So that was Fred’s mother, she thought.

Fred Goes to Hospital

By the time Thursday came around, Fred was a mess. Myrtle really didn’t understand why he even went to work that morning. She wasn’t really surprised that Fred didn’t notice she had her eye-patch off for the drive. She also thought he should have been removing the soft collar from time to time now, but she hadn’t said anything about it because he already had enough on his mind, and now she suspected the collar was really all that was holding him upright. In fact, his knees threatened to buckle on him a couple times after he climbed out of the car when they got there. She was just glad he’d been able to get out on his own. He’d been sitting so frozen and stiff in the passenger seat, she wondered if he was having some sort of seizure.

"Fred... Fred... are you okay?" she’d asked softly.

"Oh... sure," he sort of whimpered.

"Fred, I’m not sure you should go to work like this," she’d suggested gently.

But Fred had only turned a pathetic gaze on her and pointed out the windshield as if to say “go.”

Once they were there and Fred was out of the car, she asked, "would you like me to go in with you?"

"Oh no," he said instantly, his eyes getting a little wild.

Myrtle understood. That would probably just be embarrassing for him. More so than if he fell down on his way to his office. So she just reminded him that she’d be back there just after noon, watched him go through the door, then drove herself to work.

She was glad she went in that morning. Not only did it give her a few more hours to catch up with her work, it was a bit enlightening too. Along about 11 a.m. one of the students who’d come to see her about Mr. Pelham walked into her office. Myrtle looked up from her work.

“Is it true that Pelham complained to the Dean about you?” she asked.

The question took Myrtle by surprise. She knew there was an active rumour mill amongst the students at Upton, but it seemed odd to think she was a subject of it. “Yes” she said. Then she smiled. “I told him he couldn’t afford to make any more enemies, but apparently he thinks he can afford to make one of me.”

“You could be in trouble though, couldn’t you?” asked the student.

“Yes,” answered Myrtle honestly. “But I don’t really see it being a huge problem,” she continued. “Depends entirely on how the Dean chooses to see it.”

With that, the student nodded. “Well then, don’t you worry,” and with a little wave, she disappeared back out the door.

Myrtle sat staring. She was torn. Part of her had that warm and fuzzy feeling one gets when someone is being supportive, but part of her felt just a little more worried than she’d been before. She sighed, hoping that whatever happened, it wouldn’t happen until she returned to work on Monday.

Myrtle tried to put it out of her mind and get the last few chores finished up that couldn’t wait. She certainly didn’t want to be late picking up Fred. He might be nothing but a puddle of sweat on the walkway as it was.

Sure enough, when she got there, it was a very ragged-looking Fred waiting for her. The way he stood rumpled and slumped with his electric shaver in his hand put Myrtle in mind of a homeless person. It suddenly occurred to her that he must not have shaved that morning. She hadn’t noticed, but now saw a slight shadow on his face that did nothing for this image. It also occurred to her to wonder what Fred had been doing inside. Though she hadn’t known Fred for very long, she’d noticed a certain knack for error that sort of followed him around. She hoped he hadn’t done any actual damage while “working.”

She needn’t have worried. Unbeknownst to either her or Fred, Helen had rerouted all of Fred’s routing work for that week to a junior shipping clerk. She did so on Mr. Grieve’s orders, of course, but knowing Fred as well as she did at this point, she might have done it on her own anyway. Andy Dieter, the junior clerk who got Fred's work, saw it as an opportunity to shine, and both Helen and Mr. Grieves saw it as necessary to keep things going without incident. Fred would be off for awhile after his surgery anyway, despite what he thought. They just did the switch early. Fred hadn’t really been doing much of anything. He just didn’t seem to notice.

Anyway, Myrtle's worry about it was fleeting. She had her hands full just getting Fred safely into the hospital. Once she got him into the chair at the Admissions desk, she excused herself to go park the car properly. She’d left it in a temporary spot close to the entrance so Fred didn’t have to walk very far. It was a strange parking lot, part of the hospitals’ fund-raising strategy. It took Myrtle a while to figure out how the parking tickets worked. By the time she got back, Fred was already gone. The Admissions nurse told her he was being taken to his room and it might be a while before Myrtle could see him. So she got the room number from the nurse, then went to the hospital cafeteria for some lunch.

What a Week!

Myrtle spent much of this and other evenings that week washing and drying Fred’s new sheets and towels. There was no way Myrtle would use things right out of a new package. They simply had to be washed first. So she tried to get into a new book while doing a couple of loads of Fred’s new linens each evening. She knew Fred was blissfully unaware of all this, but was sure he’d come to appreciate it once he was out of hospital and tucked into his own new bed with clean, fresh sheets and had fresh towels waiting for him in his bathroom. After each load was done, she folded it as best she could and packed it into a large shopping bag ready to go to Fred’s apartment.

For his part, Fred appeared each morning of that week with something of his own from his mother’s place. At first Myrtle thought he was being rather organized in removing his things from his mother’s house, but on Wednesday, when he emerged with his electric shaver in hand instead of his lunch, Myrtle realized that what he was doing had more to do with his state of mind than any careful planning. It was a rough week.

Later, Fred would scarcely remember the week leading up to his surgery. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was something of a moving mass of quivering anticipation on some sort of auto-pilot. One moment he’d be distracted and rather limp, the next he’d seem stiffened and catatonic. Since Myrtle had usurped the role of driver the first time, she wasn’t shy about assuming the responsibility on a more permanent basis. She knew she probably shouldn’t be driving with one eye covered with the patch as it severely limited her peripheral vision. But she also knew it had to be safer than letting Fred drive in his present state of mind. By the time Thursday came around, she tried driving without the patch, since it was a very overcast day. Alas, Fred didn’t even notice ~ either Myrtle’s extra eye, or the weather.

Myrtle wondered a few times during the week what she was doing. Her budding relationship with Fred was obviously on hold until he was in better health, but there were several times, in the car and late at night trying to sleep, that she wondered if she was doing the right thing to be so helpful. She was still recovering too, and between Fred and work, she was finding it all a bit trying. But Myrtle had always taken pride in being stoic about such things, a trait she was sure she inherited from the two aunts who raised her. Myrtle chuckled as she remembered how they usually handled things. She decided they would do just what she was doing for Fred. And so she struggled on, reminding herself that she must call her aunts on the weekend, if she had time.

And Mr. Grieves did indeed drop in on Fred in his office on Wednesday, scaring the bejaziz out of Fred into the bargain. Fred had been dreamily regarding Bill’s gleaming ring in the paperclip section of his drawer, wondering vaguely if he should take it with him to the hospital, and if he should put his electric razor into the drawer, rather than leaving it in the middle of his desk. Myrtle had suggested he just leave it in the car, but he just hung onto it anyway. He didn’t know why. As he pondered this, Mr. Grieves entered, leaned over Fred’s desk and boomed, “hello Fred!”

Fred jumped so badly he thought that was it for him. A sharp pain shot up his neck, his heart was pounding and he was sure it would stop all together. He actually did stop breathing for several moments, his eyes wide, face pale, mouth open as he peered over his collar at the huge, smiling face looming in front of him.

“How are things going, Fred,” asked the large man.

“F...f...fine,” stammered Fred as soon as he found his voice.

“Just wanted to wish you luck on your upcoming surgery,” said Mr. Grieves. “I’m sure everything will work out well for you, Fred.”

“Thank you... Mr. Grieves,” replied Fred, trying to sound grateful, or cheerful, or something besides as terrified as he actually felt. He hated that people kept wishing him luck as if he needed it to survive the operation. Fred had never really been all that lucky, so if he had to rely on luck to survive, he thought...

But his thoughts drifted away as Mr. Grieves kept talking. “Be sure to keep in touch with Helen throughout your recovery so we know how you’re coming along, will you Fred?”

Since those last words were voiced as a question, Fred glanced at Mr. Grieves and nodded agreeably, as well as he could with the collar. In his head he was trying to digest the meaning of his boss’s words ~ call Helen, call Helen... keep in touch...

Myrtle, meanwhile, was coping with little problems of her own. Mr. Pelham had gone to the Dean to complain about her. She knew this, because Dick had been called to the Dean’s office to confer in the matter. Dick said he had defended her stoutly and told the Dean what a damned nuisance Pelham was with his attitude toward his students. He assured Myrtle there would be nothing to worry about.

Myrtle wasn’t really worried anyway. She would do nothing until asked for her input. She suspected that someone like Pelham probably had a knack for doing himself in. Give him enough rope, she thought, and he will eventually hang himself. Besides, she had more important things to think about. She was having difficulty finding a comfortable routine with her eye patch. She didn’t want to strain her still healing eye, but she didn’t want to over-protect it either. She also wanted to make sure her work was caught up because she was taking Thursday afternoon and Friday off work to see to Fred’s needs. He was to be admitted on Thursday for an early morning surgery Friday. And Friday was also the day Fred’s furniture would arrive at his new apartment.

Yes, Myrtle too had a lot on her mind. She couldn’t help wondering if a relationship with any man was worth all this fuss. But she just kept shrugging it off, thinking that the circumstances of her budding romance were certainly unique. There was really only one way to find out what the future held, and that was to keep going.

An-ti-ci-pa-tion

When Helen gently touched Fred’s shoulder he sat bolt upright, a pain shooting through his neck and his eyes moving about wildly, trying to see who’d done that. Helen had leapt back a bit when Fred jumped and was behind him.

“Are you all right, Fred?” she asked.

Recognizing her voice, Fred relaxed a little. “Yeah,” he squeaked. Then he cleared his throat, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said, “yeah... yeah, I’m fine,” in deeper tones.

Helen, her hand resting on her chest and her own eyes a bit wide said, “Oh that’s good.” She was clearly much relieved.

“I... I didn’t sleep very well last night,” offered Fred, realizing that an explanation might be in order.

“That’s ok, Fred,” comforted Helen. “I just didn’t see you in the lunch room and had heard that you were here, so thought I’d check on you. Mr. Grieves has been going around to talk to employees again, so it just seemed like .... well... a good idea.”

Helen had moved to where Fred could see her as she talked. He smiled his appreciation. “Thank you, Helen. I don’t know what happened.....” his voice trailed off.

Helen just nodded and slowly backed out of Fred’s little office. “Maybe get refreshed and get something to eat, Fred,” she suggested maternally. “You’ll feel better.” And with a little wave and another nod of her head, she was gone.

Fred got up slowly from his desk. He had to go to the washroom anyway. Eat? A machine again, he guessed.

When Myrtle pulled up outside his building, Fred was waiting there, looking just a tad rumpled. He had eaten only a bag of chips and a hot rod pepperette one of the girls in the outer office offered him when he was having trouble with the chip machine. After downing a bottle of water in response to the heat of the pepperette, he’d wiled away the rest if the afternoon on a few non-rush shipping orders. Luckily there was nothing urgent he had to attend to, so he just focussed on surviving the day. Mr. Grieves never did darken his door, but Fred had a feeling he needn’t relax too much on that score.

When he bent to climb into his car, Myrtle was smiling back at him, her injured eye now covered with a rather rakish, blue patch. Fred smiled. “Aaaarrr...” he offered, doing his best pirate imitation and smiling more deeply.

Myrtle giggled. “My eye is coming along,” she said happily. “I just have to expose it to daylight slowly... bit at a time,” she explained.

Fred realized he was staring. “It looks great, Myrtle,” he said. “And I’m glad your eye will be ok.” Myrtle looked just a little different with this kind of eye patch in place of the bandage patch. Fred was intrigued. And aroused. He actually blushed as Myrtle started the car and put it in gear. She felt his eyes on her and glanced at him as she headed for the exit. But then she had to concentrate on driving.

Fred's stomach growled. “I’m awfully hungry, Myrtle,” he said, once they were on the highway. “I forgot my lunch today. Haven’t had much.”

“Oh, poor Fred,” she sympathized. She hadn’t even noticed that morning that Fred was without his usual brown bag. “What do you want to do, Fred? Fast food?”

“If you don’t mind, Myrtle. Just anywhere would be fine. I don’t know if I can last till we get to your place even.”

Myrtle didn’t want to just stop at a hamburger joint. She knew of a Chinese food place in a strip mall nearby. “Chinese?” she asked.

“Sure,” enthused Fred. “Haven’t had that in a long time!”

So the two enjoyed another meal out. They chose a suitable table in the little place and Fred, making it into a sitting position safely, focussed on the food possibilities. It was one of those places where you could order a dinner choice, rather than just choosing different dishes off the larger menu, so they decided to each order a number 5: mushroom fried rice with chicken balls and Chinese vegetables, then they compared birth signs and animals from the place mats in the restaurant as they waited for their meals.

The only mishap this time was some sweet and sour sauce dribbled onto Fred’s soft collar. Myrtle wasn’t sure that stain would come out, but patted Fred on the hand and assured him that she’d try. After dinner, there was a little dance outside as both headed for the driver’s door of the car.

“You’re tired, Fred,” said Myrtle. “I’ll drive home.”

Fred wasn’t sure what he felt about that, but he was still undeniably tired, so he climbed once again into the passenger seat. He only got his car back once they got to Myrtle’s place where he went in for a glass of milk while Myrtle took his collar to the kitchen sink and tried to get out the stain as best she could without soaking it through. At least she was able to reduce the brightness of the stain for him. Then, after a little snuggle on the couch, Fred said he’d better go home. Despite his interest in Myrtle’s new look, he knew he couldn't do anything about it, and when he thought about why he couldn't, his mind automatically drifted to what was coming at the end of the week. So he really just wanted to be in his room, alone.
.
Myrtle understood completely and after kissing him goodnight, she listened to make sure he made it back to his car safely. Then she went about tidying her wee house before settling down with a book. As darkness deepened, she dimmed the light, put the book down and took off her eye patch. She would try to sleep without it on.

Fred was so tired when he got home that even his mother’s taunting didn’t get a rise out of him. He just waved a dismissive had in her direction as she gave him the business for forgetting his lunch. “So you won’t have to make me one tonight,” he shrugged. “I’ll take that one tomorrow. Stop complaining, Mother.”

Flora was shocked into silence. Fred had never spoken to her like that before. But he didn’t really notice her reaction as he disappeared into his room. Though his sleep was fitful and filled with stress dreams, he slept through the night.