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.