After work, Myrtle and Winnifred each drove to a little restaurant they’d agreed on near where there were some car dealerships. They enjoyed an early supper, then Winn hopped in with Myrtle to go check out some cars. After stopping at three dealerships and kicking a few tires, Myrtle asked to test drive a little coupe. It was only a year old and was a returned lease. She thought the price was pretty good, though she hoped to make it better. She liked the size and colour and needed to get the feel of it. So off she and Winn went to get a coffee a few blocks away.
It drove like a dream and felt just right. And so Myrtle found her new car that very night. Winn kept more or less drooling over the new cars while Myrtle went into the office to bargain with the salesman. She did talk him down a bit, though the man seemed bound and determined to get hold of Fred’s car for a trade in.
“It’s not my car,” Myrtle said patiently, for the third time. “I can’t trade in a car that isn’t my own.”
“Oh yeah... that’s right... you said,” chuckled the salesman, who couldn’t seem to remember this important fact. Either that, or he thought he could change her mind and get her to also change her story. Myrtle just gave her head a little shake, then made arrangements for him to put plates on the car. She would call Elaine and her insurance company on Tuesday to take care of the payment and make sure the new car was insured. She’d pick up the car as soon as she could, once everything was looked after and the car was ready.
Much relieved that she’d found what she wanted, she drove Winn back to her car in the restaurant parking lot and thanked her for coming with her. The two friends parted then, and Myrtle headed for home.
Fred meanwhile, was spreading peanut butter on his third piece of toast. He decided he’d try to rest after this one. He needed to sleep. He really, really needed to sleep, he thought. He decided on a glass of milk to go with his toast, instead of any more coffee or Coke. He was out of Coke anyway. It was a good thing Myrtle had just shopped for him, but she'd only brought one bottle of Coke. Anyway, he knew it wasn't exactly helping him get to sleep and he just had to get some rest somehow. Fred hadn’t changed his clothes, washed or taken a walk, other than pacing the apartment, since his shower. But he wasn't about to do any of those things until he got some rest. After his milk and toast, he went to lie down on his bed. He pulled the blanket over himself and closed his eyes.
When she got home, Myrtle thought she might call Fred to check on him and wish him good night, but it occurred to her that he might be sleeping and she didn’t want to disturb him. Best to just wait till tomorrow, she thought, when he was expecting her call. She sighed deeply. After all the time spent with Fred, and looking after him, he suddenly didn’t want her around. Her instincts told her that something was very wrong, but she had no way of knowing what. She sighed again, then busied herself with a few household chores that had been neglected. Then she got ready for bed.
Wednesday morning saw Myrtle trying to catch up on her work at the office. She wanted everything caught up before taking Thursday afternoon off. She had a foreboding feeling the whole time, but didn’t know if something was about to go wrong at work again, or in her private life. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.
At the same time, Fred was snoring loudly on his bed. He woke himself up with his own noise. He checked the time and slowly sat up. At least he’d gotten some sleep, he thought. And if he had bad dreams, he didn’t remember them. He stumbled toward the bathroom and got a look at himself in the bathroom mirror. Ick, he thought. He looked horrible. He sighed. Best to get cleaned up, he thought. He had that appointment the next day. At least, he thought it was the next day. He should focus on being ready for it.
But Fred just didn’t have the ambition to take another shower and shave. He had a wash and combed his hair, then put on a fresh shirt. It was an improvement and would have been a lot more impressive if he hadn’t then gone to the kitchen to make more coffee and get himself something to eat. Fred’s culinary abilities didn’t involve a lot of sophisticated food. Both his tastes and his cooking skills were pretty basic. He also wasn’t eating because he was hungry, so much as for something to do. As a result, one might think he was throwing food around pretty liberally in the kitchen to look at his clothing. It would have been better if he’d sat at the table to eat, but he just couldn’t seem to sit still long enough. He wound up pacing around the living room with his food, which did nothing for the carpet, or his clothing.
Myrtle called him again after lunch to check on him. Fred once again did his best to sound stuffed up. Putting things off was still the only thing he could think to do. Yet he knew he’d be seeing Myrtle on Thursday afternoon. He wished he had someone to talk to about it. He wasn’t all that experienced with women and could really have used some advice. Fred sighed deeply. Ordinarily he might have confided in his brother, Bill. But clearly, that was out. Even if he didn’t identify the woman he'd had sex with, he knew it might slip out. He wasn’t going to take that chance. His mother would only give him a rough time. The guys he went out with from time to time would only make fun of him. Dexter might have helped him out, but he was dead. There was no one, he thought, other than Myrtle. He was on his own with this, at least until he saw his doctor. Maybe he would say something reassuring and helpful.
Myrtle just shook her head after her call with Fred. He sounded sick, and yet he also sounded scared. She tried to shrug it off. She’d just have to wait until she saw him tomorrow. She turned back to her work.
No comments:
Post a Comment