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.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
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.
"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.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
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.
“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.
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