Myrtle in Gear

Myrtle’s first call was to her personal banker. She frankly couldn’t remember if she’d told Elaine about her accident. She’d made a few calls after she was released from hospital, but couldn’t recall talking to Elaine. She guessed she hadn’t had any reason to talk to her banker. So when she got through to Elaine, Myrtle filled her in. When Elaine started to sympathize, she assured her that everything was all right now, but she had no car.

“The insurance company wanted to settle,” said Myrtle, “but I wouldn’t until I knew if my eye was going to be all right. They haven’t called back,” she said.

“I know a good personal injury lawyer you could contact,” said Elaine. “I wouldn’t accept a settlement without one these days. I'll give you his number,” she offered.

Myrtle was very relieved. She’d thought she might need a lawyer, but didn’t know where to begin with that. She was just as worried about getting ripped off by a lawyer as by the insurance company, so she was grateful for Elaine’s help.

“That’s great, thanks,” she said. “Thing is though, I still need a car in the meantime. I was thinking just to buy one and insist on a cash settlement from the insurance company,” she said hopefully. “That’s where you come in.”

As soon as Elaine was assured that Myrtle was still working at the same place, there was no problem. Elaine suggested that Myrtle not buy anything too big or fancy, but she was certainly good for a car loan with no problem.

“If the dealership you choose has some sort of financing deal on, don’t sign on until you call me first, ok?” said Elaine.

Myrtle agreed. Elaine had always been very helpful when Myrtle needed financial guidance, so she’d certainly prefer to deal with her anyway. Assured that a car loan was no problem, Myrtle looked forward to car shopping. She called Winnifred and asked her if she wanted to come with her. So it was settled, the two would grab a bite out after work and then do the rounds of the local car dealerships to see what they had to offer. Myrtle wondered briefly why she’d put this off so long, and then she remembered Fred. Yeah, she thought, she’d been a little busy. This was a good chance to get some stuff done, she thought, with a bit of a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

After checking again to see if anyone was headed her way in need of anything, Myrtle picked up the phone again and called the office of the lawyer Elaine had suggested. She filled the receptionist in on what it was about and was given a time to call back. Dan Milburn was with a client at that moment, but he preferred to chat with potential clients on the phone before having them come to see him. That was fine with Myrtle, so she made a note of the time and decided to get some actual work done while waiting.

She was well into some typing when Dick strolled in. He seemed a little fitful.

“Those two fellas we hired,” he began. He had Myrtle’s instant attention. “They both showed up to do the same class,” he fretted.

“Did they get mixed up?” asked Myrtle.

“I don’t think so,” said Dick. “I think they decided to cover it together. But we don’t have to pay them more to do that, do we?”

Myrtle sighed in relief. “No, Dick. You have a contract with them to each take half the teaching responsibilities. It doesn’t matter how they do it. If they’re both there, then they’re sort of each taking half the class.”

Dick looked confused and uncertain. “But.... but...”

“Honestly Dick,” Myrtle assured him. “It doesn’t matter which way they take half the classes. If it helps them to both be there, it doesn’t cost you anything more. You just pay them according to the contract they signed.”

Dick seemed relieved, although somehow still uncertain at the same time. Before he could wander away, Myrtle asked him for Thursday afternoon off.

“Ok,” he said. “How long will you be gone?”

“All afternoon, Dick,” said Myrtle, patiently.

“Oh. Well, yeah... that’s ok,” he nodded, then he sort of wandered away.

At least, thought Myrtle, her asking for an afternoon off may have distracted him from worrying about the two young fellows teaching Pelham’s course. She hoped nothing was going to go wrong there. If it did, she could only hope that she wasn’t blamed for it again.

When he was gone, Myrtle checked the clock. It was almost time to make her call.

Dan Milburn listened as Myrtle told him about the accident, about the offer the insurance company made, about her eye, and that she seemed to be fine now. At least, her injuries had healed and she had good vision in the injured eye. He got the pertinent facts from her, like the name of the other driver, the name of his insurance company, and hers, and her doctor’s name. Then he made an appointment with her for 6:30 Wednesday evening.

“Most of my clients have jobs,” he explained. “I work funny hours,” he chuckled.

It sounded great to Myrtle, who really didn’t want to ask for more time off. Somehow, making that appointment with the lawyer lifted a huge weight from Myrtle. She guessed she’d been worrying about all this somewhere in the back of her mind, even though she’d been too preoccupied to really give it a lot of conscious thought. She was looking forward to getting everything looked after, and putting the accident and everything associated with it behind her.

Wired!

Fred, meanwhile, turned on the coffee and ate his sandwich, then paced the apartment nervously, trying to figure out what to do. He blamed this all on Cynthia. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she was thinking of when she did this. At the same time, he knew Myrtle wouldn’t hold him blameless. Even in his foggy state, he could have pushed Cynthia away, he chided himself.

He tried to reason with himself that he and Myrtle weren’t attached yet, that they had no formal “arrangement” like an engagement. But then he’d just stop pacing and give his head a shake. Fred was no playboy. Myrtle was his girl friend. She’d done a lot for him already and she deserved better than this. Both of them knew where things were headed. Fred just couldn’t be more ashamed of himself.

At least he got his exercise, pacing the apartment constantly the way he was. The coffee he’d poured got cold, and he guzzled it back that way when he tried to distract himself with the TV. But Sunday afternoon television wasn’t enough to keep him off his feet. Hundreds of channels and it was a choice between The Littlest Hobo and Super Dave, he thought. Or a chick flick. He moaned out loud.

He opened a can of beans when he felt hungry again, eating them right out of the can and slopping some on his sweatshirt. He just kept drinking coffee until it was gone, then he opened a large bottle of Coke and started in on that. As the day progressed, he slowly got wired on caffeine and stress. By bed time, he was sitting on the other end of the couch watching a very bad old movie in an effort to “get sleepy,” but it wasn’t working. In fact, Fred didn’t sleep at all till about four in the morning, and then he had a bad dream about Myrtle being washed away in a fast stream even as he was reaching for her. This snapped him awake in a cold sweat. He went back to the TV to see what was on.

At 7 a.m., he made another pot of coffee and stuck his head in the fridge to see what there was to eat. He decided to make himself a fried egg sandwich, only this time, he thought, he’d put more oil in the pan, in case he had to wash it himself. What with eating it as he paced, this added more greasy stains to the sweatshirt he was still wearing.

He called his doctor’s office later in the morning to make an appointment. He wanted those tests as soon as possible. He asked to be squeezed in for an urgent appointment and was told the earliest the doctor could see him was Thursday afternoon. Thursday seemed a long time to wait, but then it occurred to Fred that Myrtle had his car and he wasn’t sure how else he’d get downtown to his doctor’s office. He didn’t know the transit routes. He figured he might have to take a cab. Whatever it took, he decided. So he booked the appointment.

Then he went back to pacing, trying to figure out what he was going to tell Myrtle. When she called up after lunch to see how he was doing, Fred did his level best to sound ill.

“Don’d cub, Myrdle,” he moaned. “I’b too sig,” he said, trying to sound really stuffed up. “You’ll catch it,” he added.

“Oh Fred, you sound really awful,” she sympathized. “Honestly dear, I don’t mind coming over to make sure you have everything you need. I’ve been taking my vitamins,” she assured him.

“Id’s ok,” he said. “I’ll just rest, Myrdle.”

“Do you have cough medicine?” she asked. “I could bring you some,” she offered.

“No, no,” insisted Fred, feeling a little panicky. “I hab tea... and honey. I’ll be fide, honest. I hab a doctor appointment on Thursday,” he said, instantly wishing he hadn’t mentioned that.

“What time?” asked Myrtle.

“Oh... 2 p.m. But I can just take a cab, Myrdle,” he said quickly.

“Oh no, now I won’t hear of that, Fred,” she admonished him. “I’m sure I can get the afternoon off. I’ll come get you and take you to your appointment for sure. You just be ready,” she instructed. Before Fred could argue, she added, “and I’ll call tomorrow and Wednesday to check on you, just in case there’s anything you need, or if, hopefully, you’re feeling a bit better and you’ll let me come over and check on you,” she said sweetly, but with just a hint of annoyance.

“Oh...... ok... sure,” mumbled Fred. “Ok then, talk to you tomorrow,” he said quickly, thinking he’d best just get off the phone with her.

“Till tomorrow, sweety,” she said.

Fred hung up quickly. Myrtle noticed, and sat staring at the receiver in her hand for a few seconds. Then she shrugged and hung up the phone. But the call had left her with a most disquieting feeling. She decided it was time to take care of a little bit of her own business. She glanced around to make sure there was no one headed her way that she could see. Then, with her work folder open in front of her, she pulled a little book of business cards out of her purse.

What To Do, What To Do?

Fred had a loose pair of sweat pants that he could wear without hurting his incision. He wore these for their walks and he put them on again after his shower. He was feeling as if hanging around his apartment in just his shorts and a robe wasn’t a good idea. He also put on a clean sweat shirt that didn’t exactly go with the pants. When Myrtle arrived a while later, she noticed Fred’s choice of clothing right away, and that he’d washed his hair. She wasn’t all that sure the outfit was an improvement on the robe, but it looked as if he was trying to get better. Still, she wondered if he was rushing it.

“You took a shower?” she asked, in a bit of an admonishing tone. She carried two bags of groceries into the kitchen and began putting things away.

Fred just shrugged. “Really wanted one,” he said quietly. “My hair... my hair ... I really wanted to wash it. Scalp was itchy.”

That’s when Myrtle also noticed that something was wrong. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, Fred just seemed subdued somehow. When she glanced at him, he seemed intent on staring at his toes. Fred wasn’t sure what to do. Part of him wanted to tell her what had happened, and most of him didn’t.

The thing was, before marrying his brother, Cynthia was probably the loosest woman in town. He had no way of knowing what STDs she was carrying around. Added to that, she had married Bill, who was possibly the loosest man in town. Fred had no idea if either of them took precautions or had ever been tested. Up until this moment, it just wasn’t something it would have occurred to Fred to worry about. And it wasn’t as if he could just suddenly ask Bill out of the blue. Even if he could have, Fred wasn't at all sure he could rely on him to be truthful about such a thing. And Fred didn’t ever want to hear from Cynthia again. He had thought about this all through his shower. He was going to have to be medically tested for STDs before anything could happen with Myrtle. And he just felt so guilty.

“Are you ok, Fred? asked Myrtle.

“Oh, I’m just not feeling real well today, Myrtle,” he smiled, a little sheepishly. Perhaps if he feigned illness, it would buy him some time, he thought.

Myrtle approached him and held up her hand as if to touch his forehead, but he sort of ducked away.

“Don’t.... don’t come too close, Myrtle. I think I’m coming down with something. I don’t want you to get sick too,” he said, again smiling sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s too bad, Fred,” she said sympathetically. And yet, something didn’t seem right. Fred looked guilty. People don’t usually look guilty just for catching a virus, she thought. But she let it go. Maybe he just felt bad about it.

“Well, I brought us some lunch,” she pointed to a couple of deli sandwiches on the counter, a bottle of iced tea and some salads and gave Fred a questioning look.

The food looked good and Fred was famished. He never had gotten to his breakfast. But it just wasn’t going to work, to gobble down food after saying he didn’t feel well, he thought. “Yeah.... I don’t feel much like eating right now, Myrtle,” he lied, wondering if she’d at least leave some of the food behind for him.

“All right Fred,” she said, nodding. “I’ll just leave a sandwich here in case you feel more like it later. I’ll take the rest with me and head back home,” she said, in a slightly disappointed voice, as she put one of the sandwiches and the iced tea in his fridge, then packed the rest of the food back into a bag.

“I’m sorry, Myrtle,” said Fred in a very quiet, but sincere voice.

“Oh... it’s ok, sweety,” she comforted him, wanting to get closer to give him a little squeeze, but again, he sort of backed away. “I’ve been meaning to call my aunts and just don’t get to it,” she said. “I’ll just head for home and do that. Would you like me to make up your coffee ready to turn on first?” she asked

Fred sort of gasped. He hadn’t actually gotten as far as turning on what was already there. But he recovered quickly. “I... I didn’t use what was there, so I’m fine,” he shrugged, trying to be casual. “I didn’t feel like coffee this morning,” he lied again, feeling calmer. At least it made his story about not feeling well look more convincing, he thought.

It felt to Myrtle as if he just wanted her to go. “Ok, I’ll get going then. I’ll call you from work tomorrow to see how you are before I come over, ok?”

“Ok,” he nodded.

With that, Myrtle opened the door, gave him a little smile, and left. Something sure didn’t feel right, she thought. Fred was more the kind of guy who’d want her to baby and fuss over him if he was sick. Something just wasn’t right, she thought again. Nevertheless, she really wanted to believe he just wasn’t feeling well and wanted to sleep or something. So she headed for home.

Once there, Myrtle set her lunch out on her little table and sat down to enjoy it, making her own iced tea. It was awfully quiet, so she put on the radio while she ate. It seemed kind of strange to be eating alone, but at least the sandwich and salads were really good. She wondered if she should have left some of the salads for Fred too, but since he wasn’t feeling well.... Her thoughts drifted away with the soft rock music.

After her lunch, Myrtle did indeed call her aunts and spent longer than usual chatting with them both. She chatted for a bit about Fred, but she also wanted to talk to someone about what was happening at her job. She meant to call her aunts more often, and felt a little guilty about not keeping in touch more. After all, they had raised her from a young age, after her parents died, and her Aunt Millie had been kind enough to stay with her for a couple of days after her accident. Once Millie was satisfied that Myrtle was able to look after herself and that she was fairly well supplied with food, she had to get back to the farm. She had wanted to take Myrtle with her, but Myrtle insisted she’d be fine in her little house. She didn’t want to be a bother and she was comfy here. Millie and her sister, Mabel, no longer planted on the land. They rented it out to an organic grower. But Millie ran a greenhouse business there which supplied some nurseries in the area with young plants, as well as some restaurants with fresh herbs, so she just couldn’t be away for very long at once. Mabel had stayed home to look after the animals, and would look in on the greenhouse, but she couldn’t look after everything for any length of time.

After a lovely chat with her aunts, Myrtle curled up on the couch with her book, and tried to pick up where she left off. She didn’t bother with a fire this day, because the weather had turned much milder. In fact, it was a beautiful day out. It would have been a great day for an enjoyable walk with Fred, she thought sadly. Then she put her book down and got up. No reason she couldn’t go for a nice walk herself, she decided. Her book would be there when she got back.

Oh Fred ~ Oh No!

Fred was surprised to hear the little tap at the door the next morning. It was early and Myrtle had said she was going to shop. Anyway, he thought, she had a key. Maybe she forgot it, he thought, as he went to the door. He was caught completely off guard when he saw Cynthia standing there.

“Hi Freddy,” she said, sort of whispering, as she gave him a little wave. Before he could say anything, “oh honey, I just heard about your operation,” she said, sort of pushing her way in. She reached up and gently ran her fingers down Fred’s cheek. “You poor thing. Are you all right now, Freddy?”

Fred stepped back, completely shocked to see his brother’s wife. They scarcely knew each other. He couldn’t imagine what she wanted. “Um... yeah... sure... I’m ok, I guess,” he stammered.

“Oh that’s good, hun,” she breathed as she sort of steered Fred backwards farther into the living room. In what appeared to be fancy, high-heeled slippers, Cynthia was easily as tall as Fred, and much more buxom of course, so when she sort of pushed him, he felt he had little choice but to yield and back up.

“Um.... I’m actually supposed to be getting my breakfast,” he mumbled, hoping Cynthia would take the hint and go away. But she didn’t.

“Poor Freddy,” she sort of half whispered and half moaned. “I bet your tummy still hurts.” With that she undid the tie of Fred’s robe with one flip of her hand and gently, yet firmly pushed his robe back over his shoulders till it fell to the floor. Fred just wasn’t quite quick enough to catch it and hang onto it. Then he very nearly tripped over it trying to get away from Cynthia. But she had kicked off her shoes and pulled her dress off over her head, and stood quite naked in front of Fred. He stood, mouth open, frozen in shock and awe.

Cynthia knelt down in front of Fred, her face at about the same level as his incision. A hand on each side of his shorts, she leaned in and placed a few gentle kisses near the incision, moaning, “poor, poor Freddy.” Quite suddenly she pulled his shorts down. “Oh Freddy,” she breathed. “I have to have you,” she moaned, her cheek brushing against him.

Fred couldn’t believe what was happening. It couldn’t be real. But despite his panic, he couldn’t help his arousal. He was surprised, but strangely thrilled when her luscious, eager lips surrounded his budding erection, and her tongue played with it. Then he felt Cynthia’s fingers sort of climbing up his ribs with a feathery touch, then her lips retracing the same path with moist, little kisses, her hot breath playing across his skin as she slowly rose, her one hand holding him firmly so he couldn’t back away.

“You know Freddy, you’re better endowed than Billy. Such a surprise,” she giggled gleefully.

As Fred slowly digested this tidbit of information through his very foggy brain, he was certain he was having a dream. A wet dream, obviously. He wanted to move, but he couldn’t. Cynthia was standing with her ample breasts pressing against his chest, her face close to his as her other hand softly encouraged his now pulsing erection. Then her lips were on his and her tongue was in his mouth, pushing against his. Fred responded despite himself, but he jumped as Cynthia’s tongue found a tender tooth he hadn’t had fixed yet. He groaned and pulled away.

“Oh poor Freddy,” Cynthia sympathized in ardent tones, mistaking the reason for his groan. “You should sit down, baby. C’mon.” With that she sort of danced Fred over to the couch with shuffling steps, his shorts still around his ankles. She pushed him down onto the couch and Fred watched in confused fascination as Cynthia mounted him. He couldn’t help responding as she settled over him and guided his erection into the soft, moist folds between her legs.

“Oh Freddy,” she said again as she moved rhythmically against him, her firm breasts with their huge, hardened nipples undulating almost right in front of his face. He began to breathe heavily, getting into the moment even as he contemplated being smothered by Cynthia’s breasts. Really not a bad way to go, he thought vacantly.

Fred’s hands somehow found Cynthia’s smooth, round bottom as she leaned in and planted moist, hot kisses on his forehead. He was vaguely aware of pain. He was sure his incision would explode and the skin on his buttocks was being rubbed away on the scratchy new material of the couch. He just somehow didn’t care at that moment. He couldn’t help himself... it was too late. He moved in sync with Cynthia, pulling her against him with a fervour almost equal to her own.

“Oh Freddy,” she moaned. “Oh Freddy,” she moaned more loudly, the long fingernails of one hand digging into his shoulder. “Oh God.....”

Strangely, Fred didn’t mind all the pain at all. It was really rather exquisite and he figured, almost cheerfully at this point, that he was going to die anyway. As his breathing became heavier, he pulled her toward him and thrust himself upward against her with newfound strength. Then the whole world fell away and nothing at all mattered anymore. His head fell back onto the back of the couch as he held himself hard against Cynthia for a moment more, then collapsed and just went quite limp.

Cynthia’s deep chuckle seemed a world away as she kissed him lightly on the chin and stood up. She disappeared for a few minutes, while Fred became vaguely aware that he was still alive. Then she strolled back into the living room, picked up her dress and put it on, and slipped into her shoes. Fred just stared.

“Oh Freddy,” she said, waving at him again, “that was great. But I gotta run, ok? I sure hope you feel better soon, honey.” With that, she sort of tiptoed to the door and let herself out.

Fred sat on his couch numb with shock. Had Cynthia really just seduced him? Or was he in a fever-induced delirium or something? It must have been a dream, he thought. Why, he wondered, would she do such a thing? Must be a dream, he thought again. He hoped Myrtle would get there soon and wake him up. Then his eyes widened. Myrtle! If this really had happened, what was he going to tell Myrtle?! He looked down, quite expecting to see his incision burst and his guts spilled out all over everywhere. But, except for the pain, he was apparently fine. He struggled to get up. He wanted to wash. He decided to have his first shower since getting out of the hospital. He wasn’t really supposed to yet, but he really, really wanted one.

Stresses, Heros and Monotones

Myrtle was exhausted by the time she arrived at Fred’s that evening. There was food there she had planned to cook for them, but she stopped at the Chicken Hut instead and brought in chicken, fries and coleslaw for their supper. She was a little torn between eating supper or just going straight to a nervous breakdown.

Fred, of course, had no real appreciation of what she was going through at work and Myrtle wasn't ready to talk about it. And Fred was just as happy with Chicken Hut chicken as with a home-cooked meal anyway. It really didn’t matter to Fred, as long as he had supper. Although, after eating waffles for breakfast and peanut butter and banana sandwiches for lunch, he was in no danger of starving. Once again, he’d only just finished his wash when Myrtle arrived with the supper. They ate in silence, except for lip-smacking and other foody noises from Fred intended to demonstrate his appreciation. Myrtle was careful to just have a Brio with her supper. She wanted very much to sleep in her own bed that night.

After supper she encouraged Fred to come with her for a little walk again. It was exercise for Fred, but did Myrtle a world of good as well, just strolling slowly arm-in-arm with Fred in the crisp autumn air, relaxing and breathing slowly as they walked. It was probably the quietest evening the two had spent together. Myrtle just didn’t feel like talking, and Fred seemed quite content to just go with whatever Myrtle wanted. And yet there was no discomfort or awkwardness. They just strolled along together to the corner, then turned and strolled back to Fred’s apartment.

When they got back, Myrtle told Fred she’d had a rather exhausting day at the office and really needed to have an early night. He had a queasy moment of uncertainty, but then she smiled so sweetly at him that it went right away. He leaned toward her and kissed her most ardently and she returned it. But then she pulled away, just a little ahead of him. She was tired; he still wasn’t ready to follow through. They smiled at each other.

“Will you be all right, Fred?” she asked.

“I’ll manage, Myrtle. I know where everything is now,” he assured her. “You go home and get some rest. See you tomorrow?”

“Right after work,” she assured him.

The two exchanged one more hug, then Myrtle left. Fred made himself comfortable on his couch and picked up the TV remote. Myrtle drove home, rehashing her day on the way. At least, she thought, that would keep her awake till she got home. Once there, she lit a fire in the stove, grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch for what was to be just a little while. She fell asleep there. Sometime during the night, Myrtle awoke and realized she wasn’t in her bed, so she put another log on the fire and went to snuggle in properly.

In the morning Myrtle awoke feeling more refreshed than she had in a long time. She adjusted the electric heat again, as usual, since she would not be home to keep the fire going, and she got ready for work at a more relaxed pace and wondered what to have for breakfast. Over a poached egg with toast and a fresh coffee, she fervently hoped that this day would be a quieter one at work.

She was in luck. It seemed, for the moment anyway, that all the drama had quieted and she could just get on with her work. Her perspective on only one thing had drastically changed: Professor Dilby could come into her office any time and ask her for almost anything, and she would simply do her level best to see that he got it. She hoped that pretty much everyone else would just stay away from her door... for the rest of week if possible.

Thursday was also a quiet day at work, giving Myrtle ample time to reflect on the lingering kisses she’d shared with Fred before leaving his apartment the previous day. She left work early on this day to take Fred to the hospital to have his staples removed. It went fairly well, at least, from her perspective. She had sort of entertained the idea of just stopping at a fast food restaurant for supper on the way back to Fred’s. But he exited the hospital examination room moaning in pain and squirming so, Myrtle felt it best just to take him home. There was no walk that evening. Myrtle just made supper and gave Fred some pain-killers for dessert. He apologized profusely for being such a big baby about it, but insisted that the doctor was less than gentle and his belly really hurt. Myrtle told him just as repeatedly that it was ok. She needed another good night of rest anyway. She encouraged Fred to just turn in early and she would leave and do the same.

Friday passed quietly, in almost monotonous sameness, except it was raining out, so Myrtle couldn’t convince Fred to go for his walk that day either, not even by reminding him that they met whilst walking in the rain. She suggested that they do some stretching exercises instead, but Fred made the excuse that his stomach still hurt and he just wanted to play some cards together. And so they did, until Myrtle left for home, parting, as had become their custom, with hugs and kisses at Fred’s door.

Myrtle showed up Saturday morning with donuts and they had breakfast together, then ventured outside finally for a walk in the cool, grey day. They got farther than the corner this time, but not much. When they got back, Myrtle busied herself cleaning Fred’s apartment and making lunch, while Fred snoozed on the couch. But on this day, Myrtle was not planning to stay all day. She pointed out the leftovers in the fridge just to make supper easy for Fred, but he’d have to have it alone.

“I have to get some cleaning done at home while there’s still some daylight,” she explained. “There’s quite a gaggle of dust bunnies partying under my couch,” she said with a little laugh. “I want to at least scatter them before beginning another week of being away from home.”

Fred understood. After all, Myrtle had been spending most of her time at his place. Later, in retrospect, Myrtle wished she’d invited Fred to come home with her and spend that night at her place. But she wasn’t sure he was ready for that and didn’t want to scare him or seem demanding. She thought they were building toward something very meaningful and was willing to be patient. So she told Fred she’d be back in the morning, but would be a bit late for breakfast, since she wanted to pick up a few groceries for them both. She paused, wondering if Fred would want to come shopping with her, but he didn’t ask to, so she just assured him she’d be there in plenty of time for lunch. She thought they could spend the afternoon together and maybe, if the weather wasn’t too bad, they might try to get a little farther on their walk. After an ardent kiss and a lingering hug, she left him standing there, in his robe, and went home.

The OK Corral?

Fred, meanwhile, had decided on toast and eggs for breakfast, and though he burned himself twice ~ once on the frying pan, and once again on the coffee pot, and had a terrible time getting the eggs out of pan, mostly because he hadn’t oiled it enough, his breakfast was quite good. He decided that real butter melted into hot toast was so much better than whatever they put on the toast at the hospital, no matter what was served with it. After eating, he left the pan soaking in the sink, rather hoping Myrtle would get the thing clean when she came to make supper.

He spent much of the day watching daytime television and wound up getting rather passionate about the shortage of homes for stray cats, not only in the city, but also in more rural towns such as his. He comforted himself with peanut butter and jam sandwiches for lunch, with a big glass of milk, then took solace in an afternoon nap that pretty much consumed his day. He had only just had his wash when he heard Myrtle’s key in the door.

As luck would have it, after a rather harrowing and surprising day at the office, Myrtle went at that pan with something of vengeance when she got there. Then she cooked them a lovely spaghetti dinner as she pondered whether or not to tell Fred about what happened with Mr. Pelham and Professor Dilby in her office. They enjoyed a lovely supper, and after a couple of glasses of red wine, Myrtle divulged all. Whereupon, lips loosened by a combination of light pain-killers and red wine, Fred confided his continued worry over the visit in his hospital room from Mr. Grieves.

“Did he say anything about your job to worry you?” asked Myrtle in concern.

“No, nothing direct,” he answered slowly. “It... it’s just that he was being so darned nice,” explained Fred. “It just seemed so odd somehow.”

Myrtle wasn’t sure what to say, except to be reassuring. “I’m sure it’ll all be fine,” she said. “Why don’t we go for a little walk?” she suggested.

And so they did, getting just to the corner again, to get Fred his exercise. Myrtle knew she should go home early because she was really tired, but after the wine, she wasn’t sure she should drive. So when they came in from their walk, Myrtle made tea and they talked some more. When they looked up at the clock on the stove, it was really late and Myrtle decided that fatigue and wine was a bad combination to drive on, so she helped Fred get ready for bed, then made herself a temporary bed on his new couch. She borrowed Fred’s clock radio and set it to get up very early so she could go home to shower and change before work. It was really nice to have someone to talk to and spend time with, but this was getting a bit awkward, she thought. However, she was really tired and just wanted to sleep, so she decided to think about it tomorrow.

If getting ready for work on Monday was hectic and rushed for Myrtle, it was more so on Tuesday. She left the coffee maker ready to just turn on for Fred, and rushed out the door to her little home in the woods. There she showered, dressed and grabbed another protein bar. Myrtle knew that breakfast is the most important meal of the day and wasn’t exactly happy with the way things were working out. She hoped for a relaxing day at the office so she could give things more thought and figure out a better way to manage this relationship and its demands, in concert with her other responsibilities.

Alas, when she arrived at her office, a few scant minutes late, there was Mr. Pelham again, in her office, quite caught up in a heated argument with Dick. It actually turned out to be a good thing Myrtle was late, because Pelham had returned to berate her some more for his misfortune. Dick just got there first. After a long, drawn out hearing the previous day, he had been dismissed from the teaching staff of the college for verbally abusing his students and shirking his responsibilities. Several students had gone there to have their say, yet Pelham was still apparently determined to blame Myrtle for everything. He was now yelling threats at Dick that he would sue for wrongful dismissal.

Myrtle was just plain fed up with being blamed for the whole thing by both the Dean and Pelham. All she’d done was offer comfort to some upset students and a few words of advice and warning to Mr. Pelham. So much for being the voice of reason, she huffed at herself. Dick was standing up for her, arguing to Pelham that he was the author of his own undoing. As the whole scene played out, there were several students gathering around the door of the office, listening to the argument with interest, and amusement.

Myrtle really just wanted to drink her coffee and do her work, but here she was, first thing, on nothing but a protein bar, having to deal with this Gunfight at the OK Corral. Beyond annoying, she thought. Why didn't this crazy man just go away? Both Dick and Pelham glanced her way a couple of times, and the students behind her edged closer, watching. Pelham, red faced from arguing with Dick, turned a scathing glare on Myrtle, while Dick only sighed, a little pathetically. Myrtle wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. She looked around at the little gathering of mostly grinning students and wanted to laugh, once more, a little hysterically. Finally she put her coffee down on her desk, took a deep breath, put her hands on her hips and glared back at Pelham.

“I have had enough of you!” she declared. “You have insulted your students and blamed anyone but yourself for your own foolishness. You and you alone are to blame for what has happened to you. You get out of my office now, and you never, ever come back, or I’ll call the police,” she yelled. Then she cleared her throat and lowered her voice to an angry growl. “I’m not talking college security either, mister. I’m talking the cops. If you think you have troubles now, you don’t have much imagination!”

As she finished there was a smattering of applause amongst the students, and the look on Pelham’s face turned to surprise, then indignation. Then his eyes suddenly widened in fear, which surprised Myrtle, until she turned and saw that Professor Dilby had entered her office again. In fact, he stood very near her, his gaze obviously directed at Pelham. Even Dick backed away as Professor Dilby approached the unfortunate man. In fact, because Dick was behind him, there was nowhere for Pelham to back up. Professor Dilby walked right up to him and leaned into his face.

“I thought I told you to get out,” he said quietly.

Again Myrtle could not see Professor Dilby’s face, but she could see Pelham’s, and he looked quite terrified. In fact, Dick’s eyes were very wide as well. Once again Pelham squirmed around the venerable professor, then made his way through the gaggle of students, which they did not make easy, jostling him back and forth and laughing the while. Professor Dilby followed Pelham’s retreat, and only then did Myrtle get a glimpse of the deep darkness in the professor's eyes. If she was impressed by his saving her before, she was all the more so now. She had thought him a harmless, addled old man, but clearly this was someone it wouldn’t pay to cross. Myrtle was tempted to back off herself, but once Pelham had exited her office, Professor Dilby stood up tall, took a deep breath, and turned a most kindly gaze upon her. She frankly could have fainted. But she only smiled at the professor and made her way to her office chair.

By now her coffee had gotten a little cold, but she pulled the lid off it and took a deep drink. When she looked up, the professor had turned a funny little smile on the students that had them nodding and departing her office. Even Dick just sort of nodded in their general direction and toddled off. She had wanted to thank him, but the only one left in her office besides herself, was the kindly professor, smiling down at her.

“Myrtle, would you have a pencil I could have?” he asked.

Knight in Shining.... Tweed?

Monday didn’t begin well. Myrtle slept in a little bit, hitting the snooze button more often than she should have. By the time she became conscious of how late it was, she had to really hurry to get ready for work. Myrtle hated being rushed. She just grabbed a protein bar for breakfast and decided to get a coffee from the cafeteria at work and have it at her desk. She wondered briefly how Fred was managing, and then sort of decided that he probably wasn’t even up yet. She figured he didn’t have to be, so why would he be? She hoped he'd be able to get his breakfast all right on his own, then turned her mind to the demands of her own morning.

In fact, Fred was up and around, wondering what to have for breakfast. There was bread, a new toaster, butter, jam and peanut butter, but there were also bananas, eggs, and a couple of different kinds of cereal and milk. There were also waffles in the freezer and syrup. Too many choices, he thought. It was enough to bumfuzzle a sleepy-headed fellow. He noticed that there was coffee and water already in the coffee maker, so he hit the button and decided to give the matter of breakfast a little more thought.

The atmosphere seemed somehow tense at work when Myrtle got there. She looked around and couldn’t really see any reason why it should. She thought maybe it was just her and her rushed morning. Setting her coffee on her desk, she put her purse away in the desk drawer and sat down. Pulling out her work file, she was glancing through it and sipping coffee when a shadow darkened her door. She glanced up into the angry glare of Mr. Pelham.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” he hissed.

Myrtle shrugged. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, quite surprised by his presence.

“Bah!!” he yelled. “You lost me my job because I made some precious students cry... the babies!”

Myrtle just stared at him for a moment. The man was clearly quite mad and he sort of had Myrtle cornered in her office. “That’s ridiculous,” she stated firmly, deciding the bold approach was really her only recourse. “You lost your job when you didn’t show up for work and didn’t call. Moreover you screamed at both me and the Dean over the phone. You made your own trouble with your behaviour!”

“Only after you had those students stare at me during my classes!” he accused, hunching his shoulders and taking a step closer.

Myrtle chuckled deeply and glared right back at the man. “You flatter me,” she said. “You make it sound as if I’m running the students by remote control. Well here’s a newsflash: those students were unresponsive to you because they dislike you. I had nothing to do with it. If you want respect from people, you have to show them some. And you didn’t,” she finished in a low voice.

Pelham took another step toward her, then suddenly yelped as a large hand fell upon his arm, squeezed hard and yanked him backwards. Pelham grabbed onto the doorway to regain his balance as a large man stepped between him and Myrtle.

“What business have you here, Pelham?” asked Professor Dilby in a deep, resonating, yet quiet voice that somehow seemed to convey menace.

But Pelham only leaned toward the larger but older man, as if he thought he could intimidate him. “I’ve been called in for a dismissal hearing,” he hissed in his face.

Far from retreating, Professor Dilby leaned even closer to the younger man’s face. “Is this hearing taking place in Myrtle’s office this morning?” he asked in a low and deliberate tone, so much so, it was a little frightening.

“N..n..no,” responded Pelham uncertainly.

“Then . get . out,” said Professor Dilby, slowly and succinctly.

Myrtle’s own heart was pounding. She certainly hadn’t expected the dismissal hearing to take place so soon. The replacements hadn’t even been given a trial run yet. Nor would she have expected to be cornered in her office by Pelham this way. Moreover, she certainly wouldn’t have expected the benign Professor Dilby, in his tweed jacket with suede patches at the elbows, to be her hero. She gave her head a shake, just in case it was all a dream.

The two men seemed frozen in time for a few seconds. Myrtle couldn’t see the look in Professor Dilby’s eyes from where she was, but Pelham’s own eyes had widened and he actually looked quite fearful of the older man. He sort of squirmed away from him in a manner that put Myrtle in mind of a garden snake getting out of the way of a hoe. Professor Dilby followed Pelham’s every move, leaning closer as the younger man squirmed away, until Pelham reached the hallway and walked quickly away. Then Professor Dilby squared his shoulders, cleared his throat and turned slowly back toward Myrtle. He took a deep breath, and smiled.

“Are you all right, Myrtle?” he enquired softly.

“Yes... yes I am,” she smiled, still not sure if it wasn’t all a dream. “Thank you, Professor. I ... I don’t know what he would have done. He clearly isn’t a well man,” she sort of trailed off.

“Delighted to be of service,” said the professor, bowing deeply. Then he chuckled and stood upright. “Could I possibly get an envelope?” he asked softly.

Myrtle could have laughed out loud... possibly a little hysterically. But she held it in and smiled gratefully at the professor, then gave him an envelope.

Home, Sweet Home

Fred actually had a terrible time getting to sleep, even though he was very tired. In the short time he’d been in the hospital, he’d grown accustomed to sleeping in the adjustable bed, in a slightly reclined position. He tried to get comfortable in his new bed, but it felt hard and flat. He piled all the pillows he could find under his head, but that made his neck hurt a little. It still wasn’t healed completely and he had to be careful how he joggled his head about.

After finally falling asleep, he woke himself up again not long after with his own loud snoring. His head had slipped off the pillows and he’d wound up flat on his back, sprawled across his new bed. Funny, he thought. He’d managed to bother someone with his snoring after all. Himself. He rolled over and groaned loudly. His stomach hurt. He wanted to get up and take some pain killers, and yet he was too tired to move. He wondered vaguely what was on TV at this time of night. Maybe an old National Geographic special, he thought. Maybe a Jacques Cousteau voyage, or a program about whales, he thought. He pictured this in his mind, wondering what it would be like to be aboard the Calypso. It wasn’t long before he drifted back to sleep.

The next morning, Myrtle was there bright and early, bringing coffee and donuts with her for a treat. Fred was still in bed when she got there, but he was wakeful and when he heard the door, he got up, put on his robe and peeped out to make sure it was Myrtle. She was the only other one with a key, but Fred had a landlady walk in on him once when he was having a bath. He’d scrambled out of the tub to see who was invading his apartment. It was hard to say who was more frightened ~ Fred seeing his landlady in his living room, or the landlady seeing Fred in a wet robe with little blobs of suds clinging to his legs. Anyway, he no longer took things like that for granted. He breathed a satisfied sigh when he glimpsed Myrtle setting something down on the dining table, then he turned and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door a bit loudly so she’d know where he was. He didn’t want to startle her the way he had the landlady.

He was very glad to see the coffee and donuts when he came out, and of course, glad to see a smiling Myrtle waiting at the table for him. They enjoyed a nice, relaxed, prolonged breakfast together, then Fred, a creature of habit and training, wondered if he shouldn’t walk around for awhile. Chuckling to herself, Myrtle suggested he go and have a nice, refreshing wash while she took something out of the freezer for their supper later. Obediently, Fred headed for the washroom.

And so Saturday passed in almost boring, yet strangely comfortable domesticity. Fred enjoyed Myrtle’s attention and Myrtle enjoyed looking after him. She reminded Fred that she had to go to work on Monday, so he’d be on his own all day. She’d come by to have supper with him, but he’d have to get his own breakfast and lunch. So she went over with him what foods were in the kitchen so he wouldn’t starve while she was away. After lunch she encouraged Fred to get dressed and go for a very short walk with her down the street outside his apartment building. They didn’t go far. Fred still tired easily, so even though he was eager to be able to walk to where there were shops and that nice little restaurant, there was no way he was going that far yet. They settled for walking to the corner and back again, then rode the elevator back up to Fred’s apartment. With all the challenges of being in his new digs, it was enough.

Myrtle had brought some cards and and a couple of board games with her and she gave Fred the choice of what to play. So until it was time for Myrtle to make their supper, they played cribbage. Then Fred grabbed a nap on the couch while Myrtle worked away in the kitchen. Fred complimented her so much on the supper of chicken pieces, potatoes and broccoli, and how much better it was than hospital food, that Myrtle wondered if he actually hadn’t liked it. But another look at his guileless face and his empty plate convinced her that he was just glad to be out of the hospital.

Sunday passed in much the same way. Myrtle went home for the night a couple of hours after supper on Saturday evening, and showed up again Sunday morning with treats for breakfast. Fred couldn’t help thinking that he could get used to this. He got a slightly better nights’ sleep in his new bed and was up to greet Myrtle on Sunday morning. All and all, it wasn’t a very exciting weekend, but they enjoyed each other’s company, passing the occasional shy but twinkling glance at one another as they learned more about the things they had in common and talked about everything from work, to food, to politics. Fred was very pleased to learn that Myrtle leaned a little to the left politically. His mother was a dyed-in-the-wool Conservative, so he had shied away from the political right his whole adult life. He would have been very disappointed if it turned out that Myrtle shared his mother’s political views. That could have even been a deal-breaker, he thought. By the time Sunday evening rolled around, they were actually both a little weary of the rather intense “sharing.” Myrtle headed for home after a rather ardent kiss from Fred, followed by a rather huge, proud grin from him. She almost couldn’t help laughing, but she only giggled happily, waved and headed out the door.

Once home, Myrtle tidied up and picked out her work clothes for the next day. She was happy with how things were going with Fred, but she also felt a little stressed about it all. What if they got together, she wondered. She liked her little house. Would Fred be willing to move again? Or would he expect her to move into town with him. Luckinbill, she thought. She wondered kind of vaguely if Fred would mind if she didn’t change her name if they got married. She gave her head a shake, then began to wonder if the new teaching assistants for Pelham’s class were going to work out. She felt vaguely panicky about that, certain that the Dean was still somehow holding her responsible for the whole affair. She wondered if it would be acceptable to let the two new young men carry the course through to its conclusion, or if the search for a new instructor would have to continue. She sighed deeply. There was so much going on in her life right now. She felt just a little overwhelmed.

Myrtle decided she needed to relax before trying to sleep, so she made herself a hot cocoa and poured in a liberal shot of brandy, then settled on the couch with a book. She would read until her eyelids grew heavy, then she’d try to get some sleep. A work morning comes early, she thought. And after work, she’d be making Fred another supper. This, she thought, could all get a little exhausting. Yet she smiled happily as she snuggled in and scanned the book for the place she’d left off.