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.