A Revealing Walk

Fred rested for a bit, but he woke up before long and was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling long enough to get really bored and wish he had a magazine or something. He was even beginning to think a visit from his mother would at least punch a hole in his boredom and wake him up more. He gave his head a shake and wondered if another shot of something in his IV wouldn’t be preferable.

Once again, as if on cue, a nurse bustled into his room with a little cart. She did indeed have a needle for his IV, and she took his vital signs and recorded them. But then she smiled sweetly and told Fred he had to get up. He stared.

“Mr. Luckinbill, you have to take a little walk before lunch today. The medication I just gave you is very mild. You can have more after lunch, but only if you get up.” The nurse once again smiled sweetly. “You can let me know when you’re ready,” she said. Then she bustled away with her cart.

Fred stared at the door. It was like blackmail or something. He’d just had his stomach cut open. He had to get up?

Myrtle meanwhile, was debating the merits of two different sets of curtains. Both were a brown and cream design ~ quite plain really, but the patterns were enough to break up the monotony of a solid colour, without being loud. And both were relatively inexpensive, which was part of Myrtle’s criteria. It was difficult to choose for somebody else. In the end, she decided to see if Fred’s card would buy both and let him make up his mind. She figured if his card wouldn’t do it, she could buy one on hers.

At the checkout the cashier looked at Myrtle when she handed her Fred’s credit card. Myrtle smiled, the cashier shrugged, the sale went through. Myrtle signed the slip with her own name and departed happily.

At the hospital, she was carrying both parcels down the hall toward Fred’s room when she saw a man up ahead with his butt crack showing as he pushed his IV stand along beside him. Myrtle almost dropped her packages as a nurse rushed by her with a gown in her hands.

“Mr. Luckinbill!” called the nurse. Myrtle almost dropped her parcels again. Fred started to turn, ever so slowly, so that he pretty effectively mooned a patient in the room across from him. In fact, Myrtle heard an audible, feminine gasp. But then the nurse caught up to Fred and wrapped another gown around his back. Myrtle decided to slip into Fred’s nearby room if she could, before he saw her.

She was waiting there, the curtains sitting on Fred’s bed, when he made his way back to the room. He was still blushing furiously and the nurse was helping him along. Myrtle grabbed the parcels out of the way as the nurse got Fred settled back into bed.

“All tucked in,” said the nurse, with a sigh of relief. “Now Mr. Luckinbill, it was great that you did get up, but you were supposed to ring for a nurse. We’ll get you up again after lunch. Call us when you’re ready,” she said with emphasis. Then she smiled, her eyes still a little wide, nodded toward Myrtle, and bustled out.

Fred was pouting. He looked at Myrtle and once again put her mind of a beagle hound. She couldn’t help chuckling.

“They told me to get up and walk,” he whimpered. “I didn’t know my ass was showing. Why don’t they make these gowns wrap all the way around?” he whined. “How much did you see, Myrtle,” he asked, sniffing.

“You have a cute ass, Fred,” smiled Myrtle. She patted him on the hands. “It’s ok,” she assured him. “Anyone who’s ever had a plumber in to fix pipes has probably seen as much,” she chuckled again.

Fred smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t wanna even get up in the first place. It hurt,” he whined. “They said I had to,” he said accusingly toward the door.

“It’s ok, Fred,” Myrtle said again. “I have some curtains for you to look at,” she said enthusiastically, trying to change the subject and somehow make curtains sound exciting.

Eggs, Curtains and Pain

Fred was eating his breakfast when Myrtle arrived at the hospital the next day. They’d brought him a hard boiled egg, some toast, a bran muffin, juice and tea. He was struggling, trying to eat the egg with a knife and fork. It kept shooting away across the plate.

“Pick it up, Fred,” said Myrtle, before even saying hello.

Fred smiled up at her. “Hi Myrtle. Really?”

“Yes, it’ll be a lot easier to eat if you just take a bite out of it,” she nodded.

“I’m not used to having my eggs this way,” he whined. “The girl who brought it told me to enjoy my rubber ball,” he said, taking a bite out of the egg.

Myrtle chuckled. The girl probably knew what she was talking about. “How are you feeling, Fred?” Fred looked at her helplessly, his mouth full of egg. “Chew first,” said Myrtle, smiling. “I’ll wait.”

Fred tried to smile, still chewing egg. It didn’t make a pretty picture, but Myrtle just sat back in the chair and got comfortable. “Muffin looks good,” she commented.

While Fred ate, Myrtle explained her plan for buying his curtains. She also explained that she couldn’t sit with him for much of the day, because there was still a lot to do at his apartment to get it ready for him. She got up and buttered his muffin for him, and set his tea a bit closer.

“Don’t mind tea, but would have preferred coffee,” complained Fred.

“Make sure you order coffee for tomorrow then, Fred,” said Myrtle, just a shade impatiently.

“I can order?” squeaked Fred.

“Oh yes. Someone will probably come by later with a menu and let you fill in requests. I guess they didn’t do that yesterday ‘cause you were in surgery,” she speculated.

“Oh,” said Fred.

Myrtle could see he was tired and a bit confused. He was probably also still medicated, she thought. She was kind of relieved that she had so much to do and didn’t have to just hang around the hospital all day. She sympathized with Fred, but no one is great company when they’re dozing off all the time, she thought.

“Can you afford the curtains, Myrtle?” Fred asked suddenly, once he’d pushed his tray away.

“Um... I guess,” said Myrtle. She hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. “I’ll just put them on my credit card and you can pay me back?”

“Why don’t you take my credit card with you?” asked Fred. He gestured toward the little side table drawer. Myrtle opened it. There was his wallet, beside his shaving kit. She was a little surprised. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea for Fred to have the wallet there.

As if reading her mind, Fred opened the wallet and said, “I didn’t bring any cash, but my I.D. and one credit card is in here, just in case I needed it. There’s not much on it, but it should do curtains ok,” he said, handing it to Myrtle.

“I don’t know if they’ll let me use it,” she hesitated.

“Worth a try,” said Fred, smiling. "Just don't sign it 'Fred Luckinbill,'" he giggled. "You don't look like a Fred." Then he moaned. “I’m not sure my stomach likes food,” he said, grimacing. “Take it, Myrtle,” he insisted, pushing his head into his pillow and giving a dismissive little wave.

“Ok, Fred,” she shrugged, tucking the card into her purse. She supposed it was indeed worth a try. In fact, as much as she wanted to comfort Fred in his evident pain, there was really nothing she could do and no reason to dawdle around. She tucked the card into a pocket in her purse, gave Fred a little kiss on the forehead, and told him she’d better get on it.

Fred grimaced and gave her a little wave. He seemed content for her to leave, as if he didn't want her to see him in such pain.

“Try to rest, Fred,” she said, returning his wave as she backed out of the room.

Myrtle headed out to the mall where there were a couple of department stores. She had the measurements, Fred’s credit card and determination. Most of Fred’s new furnishings were predominantly brown, so she was sure it shouldn’t be all that challenging to find curtains that would look nice, without being loud, she thought.

Meanwhile, once his discomfort had subsided a bit, Fred did indeed get some more rest after his breakfast. But later in the morning, the nurses had other plans for him.

Wassamadder?

Myrtle was jerked awake by a deep chuckle nearby. She opened her eyes groggily and sat up, looking around. Giving her head a shake, she realized she’d fallen asleep, her head on the edge of Fred’s hospital bed, her hand still holding his. Fred was snoring softly beside her. She sniffed and looked up the two people smiling widely at the scene.

“I’m Dr. Wadkins,” said the man amiably. “I’m sorry to wake you, but visiting hours are over and we have to wake Fred,” he explained.

“Oh,” said Myrtle numbly, giving her head another shake and taking a deep breath. She never fell asleep like that. Ever. She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or amazed. She let go of Fred’s hand and stood up.

Meanwhile, the nurse who’d come in with the doctor had moved to Fred’s side. Standing over him she gently tapped his cheek, saying “Mr. Luckinbill.... wake up now.”

Fred jerked awake, his eyes wide, his mouth open. “Wassamadder?” he enquired. Myrtle couldn’t help chuckling along with the doctor.

“Hey Fred,” said Dr. Wadkins, taking the nurse’s place over him. “How are you feeling?” Myrtle couldn’t help thinking it was kind of a stupid question, but she saw where it needed to be asked. The doctor smiled down at a still groggy Fred. “Are you awake, Fred?”

Fred snorted, then nodded his head. “What’s happening?” he squeaked.

“Everything went text book,” the doctor said, smiling. “Now we just really need you to get a good nights sleep, and hopefully tomorrow we can get you up for a bit.”

Fred blinked. “You woke me up to tell me to go to sleep,” he asked, quite plainly perplexed.

“Well I thought you’d want to know that the operation went well,” smiled Dr. Wadkins, as the nurse chuckled behind him. “Don’t worry, the nurses will see to it that you rest. I’ll be back tomorrow evening to see how you’ve done,” he finished, standing upright again.

The doctor turned and smiled at Myrtle, who sort of gathered her wits. “Oh.... yes... “ she said. “I’m going to go now, Fred,” she offered, patting Fred on the hand. “I’ve stayed past visiting hours, so I have to go. You rest. I’ll be back in the morning, ok?”

“Ok Myrtle,” sniffed Fred, looking at her, then back at the doctor, then at Myrtle again.

With that, Myrtle nodded at the doctor and the nurse and backed away, giving Fred a little wave as she did. Then she left the room and headed for the parking lot, hoping the car hadn’t been ticketed since she’d been there longer than intended. She was still marvelling at having fallen asleep the way she did. “Must be tired,” she said aloud to herself as she opened the car door. There was no ticket, so she started the car and headed for home.

Meanwhile, the doctor had departed Fred’s room, leaving the nurse to once again insert a needle into Fred’s IV. She smiled down at Fred, fluffed his pillow, then walked away too, leaving Fred staring at the ceiling, still wondering why they’d wakened him.

By the time Myrtle got home she was wide awake, so she started a fire in the stove to warm the damp cottage, then made sure everything of Fred’s that was still at her house was by the door. There was a backpack and a cardboard box. She knew Fred didn’t have much because everything had perished when his apartment burned down. But she also knew he’d been at his mom’s for awhile, so she hoped he’d packed up everything he really wanted from there before he went into the hospital. Myrtle didn’t know Flora very well, or how likely she was to hold a grudge, but she knew she didn’t want to have to go knock on her door to pick up anything of Fred’s that he might want. If he still had things he wanted at his mother’s, he’d have to get it himself, she thought.

That decided, she fixed herself a snack and considered where to go for Fred’s curtains. They never did get around to shopping for any and he was going to need them if he didn’t want his neighbours watching his every move at night. Myrtle didn’t really like picking out something like that for someone else, but she decided she’d see what she could find, then take her purchase to the hospital to check with Fred before taking them to his apartment to hang.

She sighed. No wonder she’d fallen asleep on his bed, she thought. Throwing another log on the fire, Myrtle chose a book from her collection and curled up on the couch beside the woodstove. Whatever tomorrow brought, it brought, she thought, opening the book.

So Much Catching Up

Myrtle stood waiting on the path the next morning still feeling a bit tired despite a good nights sleep, but also feeling quite satisfied with her breakfast of a toasted English muffin with peanut butter and jam. She had been getting tired of homemade flat breads. They’re something you don’t always think to make, she thought, and they come in handy when you can’t get out to buy bread. But a change had been in order. And as she breakfasted, she also jotted down a rather lengthy shopping list while sipping her coffee. She didn’t know how much she’d be able to pick up, but since she’d just used the last of it, coffee was right there on top.

When Fred pulled up, Myrtle climbed into the car and noticed right away that Fred was also in a rather cheerful mood. She could just feel it somehow. She had no sooner clicked her seatbelt into place when Fred gleefully bubbled that his insurance cheque had finally arrived and had been waiting for him when he got home yesterday.

"Of course, it won’t cover the total replacement cost of new furniture... insurance never does. But with the bit of rent money I’ve saved living with Mother the past three months, I ought to be able to outfit a new apartment pretty well," he enthused.

"Have you been looking for an apartment, Fred?"

"Just from the outside," he replied. "I’ve got my eye on a couple of fairly new buildings near the town limits with apartments still available in them. Would you go and look at them with me, Myrtle? You see, I’d really appreciate your help picking out my new furniture. Women are so practical about such things... and you should know what the apartment is like.. if you wouldn’t mind helping me out."

Myrtle could scarcely believe her ears. "I’d love to, Fred," she enthused. "Now, you’ll have to tell me your favourite colour and the basic kinds of things you’re looking for... oh and I think Price-Mart is having a sale on curtains and blinds next week...."

Myrtle loved to shop. It was only the realistic boundaries of her limited needs, her natural practicality, and the restrictions of her insignificant income which combined to prevent this happy pastime from blossoming into a consuming hobby. She was every bit as thrilled as Fred at the prospect of finding an apartment and furnishing it all fresh and new from scratch. By the time they entered the college grounds Myrtle had conducted a reasonably thorough investigation of Fred’s colour and taste preferences.

Fred’s favourite colour was brown, with which almost anything goes, except maybe the purples and reds... ah, but orange and yellow, thought Myrtle gleefully. And he was undecided on any of the details of just what furniture he wanted, which left the possibilities wide open. Myrtle was all aglow with the possibilities when Fred pulled to a stop in front of the Commercial Art Department.

"Anyway Myrtle, I’ve got the numbers of the building management and I’ll call today and see if I can get us an appointment for later in the week. But tonight I promised to take you grocery shopping, so I told my mother I wouldn’t be home for dinner and I thought we’d eat out, then go to the grocery store. You know, you shouldn’t shop for food on an empty stomach."

Being wrenched back into the present so abruptly like that made Myrtle feel vaguely irritable. But she stoically offered Fred a grateful smile. "I’d forgotten all about that," she confessed. "I really do need to do some grocery shopping though. Are you sure you don’t mind, Fred?"

"Positive," he grinned. "I’ll be here at about quarter of five to pick you up," he reminded her.

Once again Myrtle turned to wave after closing the car door and Fred waited until she was inside the building before continuing on his way. Pulling her work from her desk drawer she began rummaging through the top papers to remind herself what she’d wanted to tackle first.

Two hours later, having made pretty good headway on the stack of work, Myrtle was casting her eye back and forth between two memoranda. One was dated September 12 from the Records Department responding to her own earlier concern about the new computer system. The other memo was dated September 18 from the Dean’s office to Dick requesting that he deliver a critique of the computer system to one of the Dean’s committees on October 2. It was rather short notice for such a request and Myrtle wondered if there was a connection between the two memos. It wouldn’t be the first time the administration had discouraged enquiry by creating work as a sort of punishment. It was also very short notice for Myrtle to prepare the report for Dick to present, but before she did so, she wanted to know more.

She was concentrating so intensely on this problem that she failed to hear the approach of Professor Horace Dilby and was quite unaware of his presence in her office until he spoke.

"G’morning, Myrtle. Glad to see you back. Can I have an envelope?"

At the first crack of his lecturer’s voice in her ear, Myrtle started straight up in her chair. By the time he’d finished speaking, she was sitting mouth agape with a protective hand over her heart, her one eye locked into a shocked stare. Once she was reasonably certain her heart wasn’t going to stop, she slowly sagged into a normal posture. Then she reached into her drawer for the requested item and held it out to the professor. She said nothing, but offered a friendly, helpful smile as she waggled the envelope in front of him.. He seemed rather confused at the sight of it, but finally took it and, returning her smile, tottered slowly out the door as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was or where he ought to go next.

Myrtle chuckled knowingly. When she first came to Upton College she found it most disconcerting that so many of the faculty thought nothing of interrupting her concentration to ask her for some small item. So she had conscientiously supplied each of the eighteen tenured faculty members with all the little things they might conceivably need in the performance of their duties. Still, they came to her. And so Myrtle learned that there was an element of employer care in the world of academia reminiscent of babysitting. It was never the students who were the problem. All 370 of them in her department tried hard to be grown up and were no trouble at all. But the faculty had apparently abandoned this charming, youthful pretense and had reverted to behaviour similar to that exhibited at their mother’s knee at the approximate age of eight. And so Myrtle did her best to look after them.

Still smiling, she shook her head and glanced down once again at the Dean’s memorandum. What she’d been seeking jumped instantly from the page in the two words "clerical complaint." She realized suddenly that it wasn’t her own minor complaint which had prompted the Dean to demand a report from Dick. It was that secretary who’d been so nasty. The administrative decision she’d wanted from Dick must have had something to do with the computer system and she must have complained to the Dean when it wasn’t forthcoming. Myrtle was livid. "Bless Professor Dilby," she murmured, vaguely wondering if the poor man had remembered yet why he’d wanted the envelope.

Actually, Horace Dilby hadn’t needed an envelope at all. He was a teacher of many years tenure who had simply come to dread his own classes in Drawing the Human Figure. While he’d explored different methods over the years, the basic principles of drawing never changed. The human figure never changed. The endless sea of youthful faces yawning and munching snack food throughout his lectures and demonstrations never changed. Sometimes the poor man just needed to gaze upon a smiling human face which had nothing whatever to do with his actual classes, and though no one had ever accused Myrtle of being pretty, he had decided that she possessed the very face he was craving. Over the past two and a half years it became routine for Professor Dilby to wander into the administrative office at regular intervals. He only wanted a glimpse of Myrtle’s smiling face. But right from the beginning he had recognized that it just wasn’t dignified for a man in his position to loiter in the administrative office with no apparent purpose. Hence, his habit of requesting some small item Myrtle was sure to have handy. And since Myrtle generally proffered the requested item in concert with a friendly smile, his strategy worked to perfection.

This day found Professor Dilby wandering distractedly down the hallway debating with himself whether it was Tuesday or Wednesday. It made a notable difference in the time and location of the class he was reasonably certain was imminent and for which he was responsible. Spying a set of washrooms to his right as he toddled along, he abandoned his debate with himself for the moment and entered the door marked "men." Only when he was inside did he discover the envelope still in his hand, and as it had no practical value to his immediate needs, he simply deposited it in the washroom waste can.

Meanwhile, satisfied that she now had the clue she’d been searching for, Myrtle was prepared to begin Dick’s report, but it was going to have to wait till after lunch. During the morning, Winnifred Rodwell, the Resource Librarian in the department, had invited Myrtle to lunch with her and Myrtle was looking forward to the chance to catch up with her friend.