Myrtle was a little taken aback by Fred’s question, but in a way, she understood that shopping wasn’t something Fred was really into. In fact, in that moment, she sort of realized that she might be expecting too much of Fred. She liked that he wasn’t a big, dumb, scruffy kind of man, but at the same time, she realized, rather suddenly, that he probably wasn’t going to jump at that chance to go to the mall with her either, like one of her girlfriends.
She smiled. "Yes… well pretty much done, Fred. Done enough for now anyway. I called the superintendent of your new building while you were resting," she informed him happily. "The apartment is officially yours and he says we can pick up the key tomorrow."
Fred smiled in surprise. He’d kind of wanted to hear the news himself, but he was more glad that they hadn’t done all that shopping for nothing. "Pick up the key... on a Sunday?" he asked.
"Well, I asked him if the apartment was already cleaned in readiness for the new tenant on the first of the month," she smiled. "That’s when he said we could get the key tomorrow if we wanted."
Fred put down his empty plate and picked up his mug of tea as the significance of her words slowly sank in. He glanced at her. "You mean.... you want to clean my new apartment tomorrow?"
"Well, if it’s all right with you, Fred, I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get a start on it. I’d like to clean the fridge and stove anyway. Of course, if you’re too tired…."
"But Myrtle, I don’t expect you to clean for me," he protested.
"Oh I don’t mind, Fred," she chirped. "I don’t mind helping out at all."
He wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t scrubbed any of his other apartments before moving in and he didn’t feel any the worse off for it. He glanced again at Myrtle, who waited with an expectant smile. Realizing it was probably inescapable, he sighed. Then he nodded and smiled stoically.
Myrtle gleefully pulled him to her and planted a kiss on his cheek. "It won’t be so bad, Fred. You’ll see," she promised.
He was simply too tired to argue. He sighed deeply and put his head back on the couch. He was pleased that Myrtle was so eager to look after him this way, but he also couldn’t help wondering if he possessed sufficient strength and energy to be looked after by Myrtle.
The two snuggled together on the couch, lapsing occasionally into talk of matters inconsequential and before very long, the combination of fatigue, the satisfaction of a full stomach and the comfort of his surroundings caused Fred to nod off again. He was only distantly aware of Myrtle’s arms around him, settling him back into the pillows she fluffed up under his head and her soft lips on his forehead. He drifted off into a deep, contented sleep.
Sleep seemed to be Fred’s refuge whenever he felt overwhelmed. Myrtle couldn’t help thinking that he was certainly catching up on his rest. She puttered about tidying up, made a call, then turned in herself with a good book.
Unfortunately, Fred’s sleep didn’t last the night. He opened his eyes to a darkness broken only by a barely discernable and somewhat spooky glow from the wood stove and wondered where he was. He sat up, still trying to see into the blackness and slowly realized he was still at Myrtle’s. Remembering there was a lamp at his side, he groped for it, switched it on and gazed at his watch. Three o’clock. He looked around again. Unless there was a total eclipse of the sun or the end of the world was at hand, he was forced to conclude it was three o’clock in the morning. He jumped up and ran out to the hallway, switched on the hall light, went back to living room to switch off the lamp, returned to the hall, grabbed his jacket, remembering to check his pocket for his car keys, and made a hasty exit, snapping off the hall light as he went.
He was a little surprised to see the porch light wasn’t on at his mother’s. He had rather suspected she might actually be waiting up for him, if only for the singular delight of scolding and teasing him for being out half the night. Remembering his near fatal encounter with a damp jock strap the last time he tried to enter through the back, he fumbled his way up the front porch steps in the darkness, banging his shin and dropping his house keys twice as he did so. The screen door was locked. Though it was something Fred rarely did, he cursed. Then he tripped and fumbled his way around to the back door anyway, only to find that screen door locked as well. He cursed again and made his way back to the front stoop where he sat pondering the situation.
His mother’s house was locked up tight and he couldn’t get in. There was no point in going back to Myrtle’s because he’d very carefully locked the door behind him when he left. That didn’t require a key at Myrtle’s. He sighed, wondering if he mightn’t have at least thought to use Myrtle’s bathroom before rushing out into the night. Resignedly, he got up and wandered in the general direction of a bush he knew of behind his mother’s truck.
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