A Surprise and A Wedding

Fred kept his apartment in town for a couple of months, just in case. But Myrtle wanted no part of it and after a while it seemed silly to be paying for an empty apartment. Despite the proximity of the cottage to Fred’s mother, Myrtle reasoned, “just because you’re living close to her, doesn’t mean you have to see her any more often. If you see her as we pass her place, just wave. If you meet her at the mail boxes, which I never have by the way, just say ‘hello,’” she instructed.

The bug-eyed building superintendent would have been pretty annoyed when Fred gave his notice and might have tried to hold him to the lease, except he wanted Fred’s apartment for a buddy of his anyway. Fred rewarded the man’s largess by offering to leave the couch behind for his buddy. The Super was agreeable. The rest of Fred’s relatively new belongings either replaced something older and worn at Myrtle’s, like the bed and the television, or went into storage at the farm, with a few unwanted things given to charity. And so Fred settled into Myrtle’s little cottage with her.

They were together for the holidays, when they paid an obligatory visit to Fred’s mother with gift in hand. This is when they learned that Cynthia was pregnant. Flora was bragging mightily that Bill was giving her a grandchild to spoil. Fred blanched at the news. They didn’t stay long, especially when they heard that Bill and Cynthia were on their way over too.

Fred and Myrtle celebrated the New Year alone together. In fact, they kept pretty much to themselves much of the time, getting used to each other and sharing their lives so completely. They even went back to driving to work together most days. Myrtle finally had a driveway put in for the extra car, which they only needed on occasion. They did visit the farm regularly and when they told Myrtle’s aunts they wanted to get married, the matter was pretty much taken out of their hands.

Fred and Myrtle were married the following August, at the very height of the growing season, at the farm. Myrtle’s aunts put on a feast of fresh produce, including fresh, garden veggies and dips, potato salad, green salad, pickles, corn on the cob, along with buffalo burgers and platters of barbecued chicken, with Horace Dilby gleefully volunteering to man the barbecue. And there were also baked goods ~ pies, quick breads and cupcakes, besides the wedding cake Mabel made for them. The feast was to die for. They rented a huge tent in case of inclement weather and put the feast in there. But the weather was beautiful, so the ceremony was held outdoors and the tent was welcome shade for enjoying the food and company.

Some of the guests arrived a couple of days early, especially those in the wedding party. Bill was to be Fred’s best man, and so they couldn’t avoid having Cynthia there too, with her new baby. The little one looked like sort of a miniature Fred, and after he saw him, Fred just kind of wandered away, muttering softly to himself, with Myrtle right behind him to comfort him. Bill didn’t seem to notice or at least care what the baby looked like. He was a proud, doting and very hands-on father, in rather stark contrast to Cynthia, who clearly wasn’t taking to motherhood with as much enthusiasm as she had to being a housewife.

The most disconcerting intrusion on the event was Flora, who kept staring at the baby, glaring at Cynthia, and scowling at Fred, repeatedly. Even Myrtle’s aunts noticed the frequency with which she did this. The day before the wedding, they stood with Flora admiring her mighty truck, then invited her to take them for a ride in it to town. They all returned a few hours later with Millie at the wheel and Myrtle guessed that they’d taken Flora to Rainy Tavern. It took both Millie and Mabel to help Flora to a spare bedroom for a nap. Then Millie found Myrtle for a chat.

“It’s interesting the number of people who cheat on their partners,” Millie began. She had Myrtle’s immediate interest, and went on. “Seems Fred’s mother had a little affair with a travelling salesman, and Bill was the result.”

Myrtle’s mouth fell open, despite herself. “So Fred and Bill.....”

“...don’t have the same father,” finished Millie. “So there is no way in hell that Bill’s baby could look even remotely like Fred, unless....”

“Oh no,” groaned Myrtle. “So she’s figured it out. What are we to do?” she fussed. “What if she pipes up at that part where the Justice says, ‘if there is anyone here who knows any reason.....’”

“It’ll be ok,” Millie assured her. “We told her what happened.” Myrtle looked surprised. “We had to, Myrtle! She’d already guessed anyway. But we assured her it was Cynthia who was the aggressor, and not Fred, and that it would spoil a lot of lives if she blabbed, which it turns out she doesn’t want to anyway, because Bill doesn’t know, either about his parentage, or....”

“Oh geez,” said Myrtle, sighing. “So now everyone knows.... except....”

“...yeah... Bill,” finished Millie again. “And Flora would be crushed if her Billy ever found out, so.....”

Myrtle could only chuckle. “Great,” she said sarcastically, “so we all have something on each other. Now, will Flora quit glaring and scowling?” she asked.

“She’s going to try, Myrtle. She wasn’t even aware she was doing it in the first place,” chuckled Millie.

Myrtle sighed again, shaking her head. She thanked her aunt for helping, then they took off in different directions to continue what they’d been doing. Flora was a little hung over at the rehearsal, but at least she was quiet and well-behaved, thought Myrtle. In fact, there was no other craziness that day, except for when Fred thought the chickens were chasing him across the barn yard. He was, however, holding a tin of chicken feed at the time, and that’s really all they wanted. Mabel rescued him. Later, they all had a little laugh at his expense, including Fred.

And so, on a lovely, sunny day in August, Fred and Myrtle became husband and wife. It was a beautiful, casual ceremony with the usual nervous groom and beaming bride. Myrtle’s Aunt Millie gave her away. Mabel didn’t want to be in the wedding party, the better to keep an eye on things, so she sat across the aisle from Flora in the parental seats where Millie soon joined her. Winn was Myrtle’s maid of honour. Bill waited in front of the gathering with Fred, seeming almost as nervous as the groom. During the beautiful and brief ceremony, it looked for a moment as if Fred might faint, but with Bill on one side and Myrtle on the other, he took a few deep breaths and was able to finish the ceremony.

Later, Myrtle ate a little too much of her aunts’ scrumptious summer feast and Fred drank just a little too much and started giggling as Mr. Grieves was holding forth to Myrtle’s aunts about what a great job Fred was doing. Bill spent only the actual ceremony without his new son in tow, clucking over him like a well-muscled mother hen. Helen and Winn were both a huge help to Myrtle’s aunts, especially carrying foods out to the tent and helping with the clean up. Dick looked a little lost, but Horace Dilby seemed to be right in his element, enjoying the food, drink, company, barbecuing, and Millie’s greenhouses all in gleeful moderation. All and all, it was a great day.

Back Together?

Myrtle was getting everything ready to just throw the Fettuccine Alfredo together once Fred got there. The table was set, the salads were made, the white wine was breathing. It got dark so early at this time of year, she could see the shadow and headlights of a car stop on her side of road across from her cottage. The front light was on, nevertheless she heard an “oof” and a thud interrupt the footsteps coming around the cottage. It was almost a minute before she heard the tap at the back door. Myrtle opened the porch door and there stood Fred, with a dirt smudge on one cheek and some dried leaves in his hair, the rest of him a little askew.

“Oh, are you all right, Fred?” she asked in alarm.

“Yeah... yeah, I guess. That root really needs to be taken out,” he observed. “I’d forgotten about it,” he sighed, almost tripping through the door. He stood inside the door, just looking at Myrtle. Slowly a smile crept across his face. “I’ve missed you, Myrtle,” he said.

Myrtle returned the smile. “I missed you too, Fred,” she said. “C’mon in,” she motioned, and turned toward the kitchen. “Brush yourself off, sit and we’ll talk while I make supper,” she said.

Fred wanted to grab Myrtle and hold her close, but he sat down at the table as he was told. All in good time, he thought.

“So, what is your news at work, Fred?” asked Myrtle, as she put some noodles into a large saucepan of boiling water and began cutting up some ham.

As Fred sipped a little wine, he told Myrtle all about how Helen put him in the conference room with a bunch of statistics and he wound up with a whole new job and a whole new long, narrow office with a “picture window” on the wall that he found at the thrift shop.

They were both chuckling along merrily when Myrtle set their supper on the table. She poured herself some wine and sat down across from Fred.

“So you’re all healed up then?” asked Myrtle as she twirled her noodles on her fork.

“Almost,” said Fred. “I mean, I’m fine, Myrtle. I really am.” He looked up as he chewed. Myrtle made a motion at her mouth, and Fred, catching on, used his napkin to wipe cream sauce off his mouth. He looked at her and smiled a funny little smile. “This is really good,” he said happily. Then he cleared his throat. “Um, those blood tests,” he continued awkwardly, “I was worried..... I mean, I thought maybe when she did that, she might have given me something.” Myrtle stopped eating and looked at him. “Anyway, all the tests came back negative. Just so you know,” he sort of muttered.

“I’m so glad you told the truth, Fred,” said Myrtle.

“So am I,” he said instantly, wondering almost immediately if that was the right thing to say. “I mean, I’m not very good at lying anyway.”

“I noticed,” smiled Myrtle. “Although, you pretend to be sick rather well.”

Fred blushed and chuckled self-consciously. “I just didn’t know what to do, Myrtle. I kinda wished I was dead for awhile there.”

This statement had Myrtle putting her utensils down and looking at him intently. “Oh Fred, that’s awful,” she sympathized. “You should know, I guess, that I told Cynthia to never, ever go near you again.”

Fred looked at her in something like amazement. “You really did that?”

Myrtle nodded and chuckled, “I told her you’re my boyfriend and to stay away.”

Fred smiled in surprise. “You did? Well, thank you,” he said, smiling even more.

The two were silent a few moments, then began talking about the freakishly mild weather as they finished their meal, and then switched to flowers when Fred noticed one carnation blossom sitting in a brandy snifter on the table between them. Myrtle put the kettle on for tea and the two finished their wine at the table.

When the tea was ready, Myrtle poured them each a mug and they moved to the living room where Myrtle put a small log in the wood stove against the descending chill. As they sipped and chatted, Fred moved closer to Myrtle. After a few minutes, he put his arm around her. She smiled up at him and moved a little closer too.

“I’m sorry, Myrtle,” he said again, apropos of nothing in particular.

“I know you are, Fred,” she said, snuggling even closer.

Fred Makes Headway

Fred’s new office was kind of a long, narrow, windowless room, but he made it work. He brought in a model ship and placed it on a shelf on the end wall to make the room seem more his own. On the same Saturday that Myrtle encountered Cynthia, Fred was walking by the thrift shop up the road from his apartment and saw a picture that was just exactly right for his new office. It was a picture of a window. He laughed out loud when he found it. He wished he could tell Myrtle that he had a “picture window” in his new office. He felt sad and frustrated that he hadn’t heard from her. He wondered if she liked the flowers and cards. At least she hadn’t called him up to tell him to stop, so he held out hope. Still, he wondered what more he should do.

The following Tuesday, Fred decided to call his doctor’s office to check on that last test result. He was getting quite anxious. He wasn’t really expecting the result to be back yet, but called on the pretext of giving them his new office extension number. To his surprise, the result was back. It was negative. Fred felt relieved, but also more anxious than ever to do something more to get Myrtle back.

That evening he picked up his phone about four times and put it back down again. He wanted to call her, but he was afraid she’d just hang up on him. Finally he guessed there was really only one way to find out, so he picked up the phone again. Myrtle answered after only one ring.

“Hi,” said Fred softly. “I... I hope it’s all right that I’m calling,” he began, not quite sure what to say.

“I guess so,” said Myrtle, sounding a little uncertain herself.

Still, she hadn’t hung up and this gave Fred courage. “Myrtle, I’m so sorry I let you down. I’m really more the one-woman man type... I really am.” Myrtle said nothing. “I don’t know why Cynthia did what she did...” he continued.

“I do,” interrupted Myrtle.

“What?” said Fred, completely taken by surprise.

“Oh, I ran into your sister-in-law. Turns out she’s trying to get pregnant and your brother is shooting blanks,” she said a little angrily.

“But.... but... I don’t wanna have a baby with her!” protested Fred.

“No, I’m sure you don't,” she said more calmly. “If it works, I think she’s planning to let Bill think he did it himself,” she said. “This Cynthia is nuts,” she added.

“Then you know...” he stuttered. “You know it wasn’t my idea. I don’t care about her, Myrtle. I only care about you,” he sort of whined.

“Thank you for the cards and flowers,” said Myrtle softly.

“Did you like them?”

“Oh yes. They’re very beautiful, Fred.”

Things were going well, so Fred took a deep breath. “When can I see you Myrtle?” he asked. Before she could answer, he went on, “I sort of got a promotion at work, and a new office, and I haven’t been able to tell anyone about it.”

“I guess you can tell me,” offered Myrtle. Then, “you’re already back at work?” she asked with evident concern. “How’s your incision healing?”

“It’s fine, Myrtle. No problems at all,” he assured her. “I’d like to see you.... talk to you in person,” he ventured.

“Ok,” she said cautiously. “Fred, why don’t you come here.... say, Friday evening? Come for supper, and we’ll talk,” she offered.

“Oh yes,” said Fred enthusiastically. “I’d love that, Myrtle. I’ll be there. Thank you,” he added softly.

Then they said goodnight, just a little awkwardly. Fred felt like whooping when he put down the phone. He was getting to see his girl again!

The rest of the week seemed to pass a little slowly for Fred who was having a hard time keeping his mind on statistics. For Myrtle, time seemed to go too fast as she debated with herself what to serve Fred for supper. She didn’t want to serve anything too plain, or anything too complex either. By Thursday she’d decided to make him Fettuccine Alfredo. It was simple, yet kind of elegant. She would serve it with salad and a little white wine, and shop for the ingredients on her way home that evening so she wouldn’t have to stop on Friday. She wasn’t sure how things were going to go between them, but at the very least, she decided she just wasn’t going to hate Fred for what had happened. Cynthia was quite clearly the aggressor and had victimized him. Maybe it just wasn’t smart to let that crazy woman ruin their relationship, she thought.

Myrtle Meets Cynthia

Thursday was also the day Myrtle got Fred’s card in the mail. She read the obviously heart-felt message with mixed feelings, then placed the card, open, on her kitchen table. She was still a little incredulous about it all, but for the first time she considered the possibility that Fred was too. She would have to give this more thought for sure, she thought.

On Saturday, Myrtle saw a florist truck drive by. A few minutes later, she saw it drive by again, only this time the driver backed up and peered through the trees at her cottage. She went out to the pathway to help him out and met him there.

“You Myrtle Waters?” he asked.

Myrtle nodded and took the large flower box from the man. She had brought two dollars with her, for a tip, just in case. She put it in the delivery man’s hand and thanked him. Inside, she opened the box to find a dozen beautiful, red roses and a card that said, “Myrtle, I really didn’t know what was happening. Please forgive me. Fred.”

She pulled a large vase out from under the sink and arranged the roses, then put them on the table next to the card. Myrtle was still uncertain about it all, yet she was sort of enjoying this. At least, she felt gratified that Fred hadn’t just given up. It was getting more and more difficult to stay angry with him. On Friday evening, Fred mailed a second card, writing in it, simply, “Please forgive me, Myrtle. Love Fred”

The next week was awfully busy for them both. Fred was settling into his new job almost full time now. His recovery time had been short, even for a man not doing a physical job, but except for the occasional twinge, he felt much better physically than he had in a long time. He had suffered through so much pain with his injury that the healing process paled by comparison, except for when the staples were removed and then that other time, with Cynthia.

He really just wanted to focus on doing this new work well, so he immersed himself in it. Helen was scrambling to find him an actual office big enough for the flip chart, a white board, a large desk, etc. In the meantime, Fred was working in the conference room where he started. It turned out that there was a back-log of data analysis waiting for him. Since Mr. Grieve’s had more or less dumped this problem on Helen, she would supervise Fred’s work. She finally had a large storage room near her office cleared out and made into an office for Fred. When Fred was moved into it, he was told it was his, and he could decorate as he wished. He realized he didn’t even have a picture of Myrtle to put up. He had pictures of his mother, but decided against that.

There was a buzz of excitement at the college as well. Students and staff alike were asked to submit depositions about Pelham’s behaviour, just in case they were needed. So there was a flurry of activity about the place all week, but it wasn’t anything negative or difficult for Myrtle. It was just sort of an air of determination and expectation in the place that kind of kept everyone on their toes. So Myrtle went through the week alternately busy with her work, thinking about Fred, and wondering what would happen next with Pelham.

Fred’s second card was in Myrtle’s mail box on the Tuesday. She opened it. Noticing that Fred had signed it “Love Fred,” she smiled and placed it on the table with the other one. The roses needed some care, so she trimmed the stems, rearranged them and changed the water, putting a little sugar in it to help keep the roses nice. Fred was definitely on her mind. She kept thinking about what her Aunt Mabel had said about losing the one man she really loved because he made a mistake. She had never asked what the mistake was. Must have been something pretty profound, she thought.

The following Saturday, a dozen carnations arrived. She arranged those as well, with the card that said simply, “Please forgive me. Love Fred.” Myrtle took care of them rather quickly though, finding a place for them in the living room. She had a little art show to attend as well as some shopping to do and was heading into town for both. The florist delivery guy had just caught her still at home. She grabbed a jacket and was headed out her road when she saw a pink convertible parked in Flora’s driveway, with a rather voluptuously done up woman next to it. She chuckled, thinking that Mary Kaye was visiting Flora of all people. But at the stop sign, she stopped longer than usual. She turned to look back, then she backed up and turned into Flora’s driveway behind the pink car.

When Myrtle climbed out the woman beside the pink car sort of moved toward her and said, “oh, honey, I’m just going out. Could you move your car?”

But Myrtle just walked right up to her. “Are you Cynthia?” she asked.

Cynthia, apparently mistaking Myrtle for a fan, giggled and said, “Oh yes, I am. But I’m on my way out, honey.”

Myrtle stared. “Did you go to Fred’s apartment and seduce him?” she demanded.

Cynthia’s eyes widened. “Shhhh... not so loud, honey. Don’t want Flo to hear,” she said, looking over her shoulder at the window facing the driveway.

“Well did you?” asked Myrtle again, even louder.

“Well yeah,” said Cynthia, in sort of a stage whisper. “Sure I did. Billy’s sperm count is low and we’re trying to have a kid. It wasn’t anything personal... just wanted to keep it in the family. I’m not much into turkey basters,” she giggled.

Myrtle just stared. “Not personal?! You seduced my boyfriend and you say it isn’t PERSONAL?!”

It was Cynthia’s turn to stare. “Oh my, shhhh,” she said, a little helplessly. “Honestly honey, I didn’t know he had a girlfriend,” she offered, shrugging.

Myrtle dared to get even closer, standing on her tiptoes to get right into Cynthia’s face. “Don’t you EVER go near my man again! NOT. EVER.!!” With that, and shaking from her own nerve, Myrtle turned and got into her car, then actually burned rubber backing down Flora’s driveway.

Myrtle was most of the way to town before she recovered enough from the encounter to fully realize what she’d done. She had laid claim to Fred in no uncertain terms. Moreover, she’d discovered that Fred was telling the truth. That woman is nuts, she thought. Not personal, indeed! She really had done what Fred claimed she had. Suddenly she felt a little sorry for Fred, being bulldozed by such as woman as Cynthia. It was getting tougher and tougher to stay angry with him. But not tough at all to be furious with Cynthia.

The Curse

Myrtle squirmed in her seat, wishing she hadn’t mentioned the curse. Her aunts may not find it at all amusing. She glanced from one to the other, then took another sip of her drink. “Well... I mean... you’re both such beautiful women, but you never married. Sometimes I think I never will either,” she explained.

Both Myrtle’s aunts started to chuckle. “A curse, is it?” asked Mabel with a smile. Myrtle again just looked from one to the other. “Maybe you’re right,” continued Mabel, shrugging. “I had a love when I was younger. My, but he was a lovely fellow, or so I thought. We went along so well for a bit, but then he made a mistake and I tossed him aside. I’ve never found a man to love like that since,” she said, sadly. “But Myrtle, that was my own choice. I’ve had plenty of chances.... even Jim here,” she jerked her head toward the bar, then rolled her eyes.

Myrtle smiled thoughtfully, took another sip of her drink, then glanced briefly toward the bar, then back at her Aunt Mabel. She took another sip and turned to look at her Aunt Millie. Millie glanced at Mabel, who nodded in response.

“I had a great love too,” said Millie quietly, turning back to Myrtle. “It just wasn’t as accepted in those days as it is now.” Myrtle looked at her younger aunt with a questioning look. “Do you remember Alison Tinney?” asked Millie.

“Yes,” said Myrtle right away. “She came every Sunday on horseback, with a saddled horse behind her for you, and the two of you went riding...... Oh my.” Myrtle’s eyes widened. “You and Alison....”

Millie smiled and nodded. “It wasn’t easy to love someone your own gender in those days,” she said. “But we spent many evenings together, and went riding every Sunday.”

“I don’t remember the evenings,” pondered Myrtle.

“Of course you don’t,” laughed Millie. “We didn’t spend them with you. Do you remember that cabin in the back woods you liked to have picnics in?”

Myrtle’s eyes widened again. “You mean....”

“Yes,” said Millie softly.

“That was a cozy little place. I so loved to picnic there,” said Myrtle, who was starting to feel a little bit muddled-minded with the rum. “Where did that cabin even come from?”

“Your grandpa built it, for Alison and me,” said Millie. “He understood,” she smiled.

“What ever happened to Alison?” asked Myrtle.

“She died of breast cancer,” said Millie sadly. “She fought hard. I know what it’s like to spend a lot of time at the hospital with someone you care about.”

There was just silence for awhile, everyone sipping on their drinks. Then, “those horses...” began Myrtle.

“Her dad sold them,” said Millie. “In fact, he sold the whole farm. His wife died of breast cancer, and then so did Alison. He couldn’t care for the horses himself and really, he had no heart for their farm anymore. He moved to a retirement community in Upton.” Myrtle found herself staring a little at her Aunt Millie, who met her gaze and just smiled sadly. “I enjoyed riding,” said Millie thoughtfully. “I could have bought the horse I usually rode, but without Alison.....” She shrugged.

“Life has a knack of doing its own thing,” Mabel piped up. “But we also make some pretty important choices. I’ve wondered many times how different my life would have been if I’d had the patience and courage to accept my man for who he was, instead of being disappointed that he wasn’t the man I wanted him to be.”

Again the place seemed so silent for several moments. Myrtle was feeling a little tipsy on her third rum and Coke. She looked at her Aunt Mabel. “Sometimes, I guess we want them to be the knight in shining armour,” said Myrtle thoughtfully. “But they really aren’t, are they?”

Both aunts shook their heads. “Men are really the weaker sex,” said Mabel. “They’re really simple creatures, whose needs are pretty basic. If you lay claim to one of them, you have to look after him.”

Myrtle nodded, knocking back the rest of her drink. “I think I need a nap,” she said finally.

Rainy Tavern

“Where are we going?” asked Myrtle.

“We’re taking you to town to get you blotto,” answered Millie with a deep chuckle. Myrtle glanced at first one, then the other aunt. They were both smiling, so Myrtle thought they must be joking.

When they stopped at a seed and feed store, Myrtle thought maybe it was just a shopping excursion. But then Millie went in with a few flats of eggs and dropped them off. Then they all got back into the truck and drove a scant two blocks, parking in front of the Rainy Tavern. The two aunts just kept smiling as Millie parked the truck. They ushered Myrtle into the tap room and chose a booth.

Myrtle looked at her two aunts. “Is this where you two hang out?” she asked, a little doubtfully.

“Oh sure,” said Mabel. “We come here all the time.” She glanced at Millie, who motioned for service. An older fellow with a grey mustache, greased back hair and an ample belly sidled up to the booth and smiled, winking at Mabel.

Millie chuckled softly as Mabel gave her a warning look. Then Mabel looked up and said, “my turn to drive, so I’ll have bottled water on ice with a twist of lemon,” she said firmly. “My sister will have a shandy, and my niece will have.....” She looked at Myrtle expectantly.

“Oh, just a coke,” muttered Myrtle.

“So that’ll be a rum and Coke,” said Mabel firmly, nodding at the old gent. He smiled and turned toward the bar.

“Jim has been sweet on Mabel lo these last 15 years or so,” said Millie in sort of a stage whisper, still chuckling, distracting Myrtle from protesting the added rum to her Coke, as Mabel glared at Millie.

“I’ll go out with him when he crawls out from behind that bar and comes out to the farm to help with the chores,” said Mabel in mock annoyance.

“Won’t do him any good,” said Millie a little sternly. “No matter what work he did, the farm will go to Myrtle, not to some foolish old bartender.”

Myrtle was instantly taken aback. She hadn’t actually given any thought to what would become of the farm when her aunts could no longer keep it up, or, Heaven forbid, were gone. After she left home and moved to Upton, both her grandparents had passed, one after the other. She’d thought of the farm as her aunt’s home now. For the first time, she wondered how they were, really. “How are you two anyway?” she asked suddenly.

Mabel chuckled. “We’re fine Myrtle,” she said reassuringly. “We’re busier than ever, what with one thing and another, and we’re both in good health.”

Jim had come back and set the drinks down, then stood waiting. Mabel pulled a ten out of her purse and handed it to him. “Keep the change,” she said, a little sardonically. Jim only smiled and winked at her again, then made his way back to the bar, the tray under his arm. Millie chuckled again, as Mabel rolled her eyes.

“Anyway,” said Millie, we’re doing great. More to the point, Ms. Myrtle, how are things going with you?”

Well, Myrtle wasn’t even a little titillated yet by the rum in her Coke. She'd scarcely had a sip. But she knew when she was cornered, so she told all she was sure she hadn’t yet, and a few things she already had. She told them about how she and Fred met in a mud puddle. She told them about riding back and forth to work with him and getting to know him; about fixing up his new apartment and visiting him in the hospital.

“So then what’s the problem?” asked Mabel, gesturing for more drinks.

“Cynthia raped him,” said Myrtle, looking from one of her aunts to other.

“What?!” said Millie.

“Well, that’s what Fred told me when he got all strange and mysterious on me and didn’t seem to want me around. He said Cynthia burst into his apartment Sunday morning and had her way with him.”

"Who's Cynthia?" asked Mabel.

"His sister-in-law, a former exotic dancer who married his libidinous brother." She looked from aunt to aunt, then groaned softly. “I should have taken him home with me on Saturday,” she said sadly in self-reproach. “I wouldn’t have gotten as much done, but he wouldn’t have been alone.” Myrtle looked again at her aunts, who both still had a look of surprise on their faces. “But then,” continued Myrtle, “I shouldn’t have to watch over him every minute without worrying about who he’s banging!”

Mabel and Millie glanced at each other. Their afternoon out was having the desired effect, but even they were a little shocked by what had happened. But before they could comment or offer advice, Myrtle had more to say.

“It’s the curse!”

“What curse is that?” asked Mabel gently, looking just a little worried.

A New Car

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.

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.

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.

Things Are Looking Up

At least Fred was easy to distract, thought Myrtle, as she laid the packages of curtains side-by-side on the bed. They were wrapped in clear plastic, so the designs were quite visible. The problem was, it was quite impossible to imagine what they’d look like when they were unfolded and so much bigger over the windows. Myrtle didn’t want to choose herself, but she didn’t want to unfold them in the hospital either.

“I know it’s difficult to tell, Fred, but is there one that speaks to you more than the other?”

Fred obediently looked first at one, then the other, then back at the first one. He slumped back on his pillows. “Oh Myrtle, it really doesn’t matter, just as long as they aren’t too loud. You choose. I trust you completely,” he finished, flapping one hand toward the curtains.

Myrtle could see she was going to get nowhere, but at least she’d tried to involve him. It was like an investment for the future, if it ever occurred to Fred to complain about the curtains. She stacked the packages at the bottom of the bed.

“Poor Fred,” she comforted. “Operations are no fun,” she said, quite aware that this was merely obvious. It was difficult to think of things to say at a time like this and she was once again glad she had other things to do. She decided to stay a little while longer though, to encourage Fred to rest, though he had closed his eyes and didn’t really seem to need any. In fact, it wasn’t long after she sat down to keep Fred company, that she heard him snoring softly. She decided to slip away.

Myrtle stopped at a doughnut and sandwich shop and bought soup and a sandwich for her lunch. She took it back to Fred’s apartment and quite enjoyed it before hanging the curtains. It was a bit of a struggle, but she persevered and got the least patterned of the two hung up, after due consideration of both.

She repacked the others and put them by the door to go back. Then she made the bed and did a host of other little chores to make Fred’s new digs look and feel comfortable for him. She was torn ~ part of her wanted to hurry and get it done, another part of her wanted to take her time, so she wouldn’t feel obligated to spend so much time sitting in Fred’s hospital room. It was an awkward romance, to say the least, she thought. She’d be glad when Fred was on the mend and able to do things for himself again.

Meanwhile, Fred was awakened for lunch, and after he’d eaten the nurse bustled in and told him he’d have to go for another little walk, but this time, he was to ring if he was ready. At any rate, they’d be back. A red-faced Fred just nodded obediently as the nurse left the room smiling.

By the time Myrtle had done everything she was sure she must at Fred’s apartment and had arrived back at the hospital, Fred was just shuffling down the hall toward her, leaning on his IV stand as he walked. He looked up and saw Myrtle. “Oh Myrtle,” he said, a little pathetically, as he sort of reached his other hand toward her.

Myrtle went right to his side. “Are you ok, Fred?” she asked, concerned. It felt as if he was about to fall over.

“I think the nurses forgot about me,” he complained. “I’ve been walking and walking....” his voice trailed off.

“Well I think it would be all right for you to go back to your room, Fred,” declared Myrtle, a little aghast that Fred would just keep walking around in the hallway.

Fred looked at her, as if a light was dawning. “Oh yeah...” he said. “I never thought of that.”

As Myrtle guided Fred back to his bed, she wondered if the doctor had accidentally done a little brainechtomy on Fred as well. Then she wondered if it was the drugs. Maybe that little bit of pain-killer was keeping him all bumfuzzled, she reasoned. Once she had Fred all tucked in, she took off her jacket and settled into the chair beside him.

“Oh Myrtle,” he moaned. “I’m so tired. I went up and down... up and down...”

“There, there, Fred,” she comforted. “You can rest now.” But it was a kind of pointless statement since Fred’s eyes were already closed, he whimpered, and was quite obviously dozing off.

Great, thought Myrtle. She had wanted to return his credit card and chat about a few things, like where he wanted the phone in his apartment. But once again, there she was, sitting beside Fred as he snoozed. She sighed deeply. Myrtle wasn’t sure which was more trying ~ all the work she was doing for Fred, or sitting around listening to his incision heal. It was all quite the investment for what seemed like a promising relationship, she told herself. She couldn’t help thinking, rather sardonically, that it better pay off.

Myrtle would have rather been at home, but she sat for awhile longer with Fred, then went and got a magazine. After reading that for awhile, she went to the hospital cafeteria again for supper. Fred was awake and having his own supper when she got back.

“Oh Myrtle,” he said, smiling. “I was afraid you’d left!”

“Just taking some nourishment,” she smiled.

“Me too,” he nodded.

After supper, Fred was feeling much better and the two chatted much of the evening away. Myrtle returned Fred’s card, tried to describe the new curtains, asked him about his phone, and so much more. She went home at the end of visiting hours smiling and feeling much better.

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.

Shopping? What?

Myrtle was waiting outside by the time Fred pulled up and she noticed immediately that he looked quite pallid and rather gloomy. As soon as she was inside the car she laid one tiny hand against his cheek and gazed sympathetically into his mournful eyes. "What’s wrong, Fred?"

He looked away and sighed. Part of him wanted to keep all the sordid, embarrassing details from Myrtle, and part of him wanted to confide all. The latter part was winning. "I had kind of a bad day," he confessed.

"Pull the car over there and tell me about it," she instructed firmly, pointing to an open area at the side of the building.

Fred obediently parked the car and shut it off, then turned to look into Myrtle’s one good eye. "Yesterday my boss told me to send out a truck to exchange two shipments and I sent out two trucks instead… ‘cause I thought it would be quicker… and today they got into accident," he explained quietly.

"Both of them?"

Fred nodded. "With each other," he clarified.

Myrtle stared. "But… but… that’s incredible!":

Fred sniffed and nodded resignedly. "The boss was pretty upset with me for sending two trucks. I don’t understand why these things always happen to me," he groaned.

"But surely he can’t blame you for such a thing," she comforted. "Oh Fred, it wasn’t your fault," she insisted. Moving as close as she could without inadvertently leaving her bucket seat, she slid an arm across his shoulders and gently stroked his temple with the other hand.

Fred moved a bit closer to her. "That’s what I told him and he didn’t fire me. I thought for minute there I’d lost my job."

"Oh you poor thing," she sympathized, kissing his cheek.

"I fainted," he confessed, shamefaced.

"I shouldn’t wonder," said Myrtle. Then she gazed at him curiously. "When?"

"Right in Mr. Grieves’ office… when they told me what had happened… I couldn’t believe it and I… I passed out."

"It must have been quite a shock." she surmised.

He nodded, then with head bowed as much as possible with the collar, he toyed with a bit of fluff on his pant leg and glanced only furtively at Myrtle. "Luckily I was sitting down at the time… but I guess it wasn’t a very game reaction," he mumbled guiltily.

Myrtle couldn’t help smiling. "There now, Fred," she comforted. "It’s not as bad as that. It was terrible news… and you might have done worse."

"How?" he challenged.

"Well… if you were the hysterical type, you might have burst into a fit of giggling or something." She patted his arm. "Now Fred, if you’d done that, you would have been fired," she smiled. "Just as well you quietly fainted instead." Fred looked into her twinkling eye and couldn’t help smiling himself. Myrtle planted another kiss on his cheek. "Now, if you don’t feel like shopping, I quite understand. We could go to my place and I could whip up a quick dinner…"

He shook his head. "I don’t mind shopping, Myrtle. I feel better now… and I don’t want to put you to the extra trouble."

"It wouldn’t be any trouble, Fred," she admonished. "But, if you think you wouldn’t mind shopping, perhaps it would take your mind off your awful day for awhile."

"Yeah. Let’s go to Tim Horton’s," he replied. "I’d like some of their chili."

Myrtle gave him an encouraging little squeeze, then slid back into her seat properly as Fred started the car.

Myrtle had soup and a sandwich as Fred slurped down his hot chili. It was a dubious choice with the soft collar on, but he made it through the quick meal with only a few fresh stains. Then they began their search for Fred’s new bed at the Western Furniture, which happened to be next to the Pricemart.

The rest of the evening was pretty much a blur for Fred. He just wasn’t used to the rigours of shopping, the thrust and parry with salespeople, the rifling through bins of sale items and searching... searching the aisles for just the right shade of the right colour or the right size of throw cushions. As Myrtle happily shopped and variously asked him questions about what he liked, which he couldn’t really answer, and prattled on happily about the merchandise, Fred just tried to keep up to her so he wouldn’t get lost in a store.

When they finally left the last store, a dazed Fred looked up and down the rows of cars in the parking lot, vacuously wondering where his might be. Unaware that Fred was having difficulty finding a car that looked familiar, Myrtle strolled along beside him chatting merrily. "I think we did very well tonight, Fred," she announced.

Fred stopped and looked at her. "Myrtle, I just spent well over a thousand dollars in there… all at one time," he said with obvious awe, and in a rather shaky voice.

"And money well-spent too, Fred," she assured him. "The car is over here, dear," she said helpfully, pointing.

He made his way to the car and unlocked it as Myrtle went on happily. "Now, except for two small lamps and two bedside rugs, you’ve got your entire bedroom furnished and you’ve got a 20-inch colour television besides," she recounted joyfully and after putting the parcels in the trunk, they both climbed into the car.

He only nodded and somehow got the key into the ignition. After starting the car he looked around, sort of wondering what to do next, then fumbled to put the car in gear. He’d just never experienced anything like this before. Refusing to pay $4.95 for the bed legs, Myrtle instead ordered him a bed frame with wheels that cost $29.99. Fred wasn’t sure why he needed wheels on his bed. For just a brief moment he visualized driving to work in his bed. He gave his head a shake. Apparently he needed the frame in order to attach the headboard to the bed and he had to have the headboard because it went with the bedside tables and chest of drawers she picked out for him. He was well enough pleased with the dark pseudo wood grain furniture and it was available at substantial savings because of being slightly damaged, but it had all seemed to happen so fast.

"Myrtle, why did you pick the chest of drawers with the scratches on top, instead of the one with the gouges on the side?" he asked.

"Because the gouges were on the side facing out in your new bedroom," she explained. "If they’d been on the side against the wall it would have been different. Anyway, we can cover up the scratches on top by setting something over them… like a jewelry box," she suggested.

"I don’t have a jewelry box," said Fred quietly.

"We could always get you one," she said.

"I don’t have any jewelry," he countered.

Myrtle chuckled. "Oh Fred, I’m sure those scratches will wind up covered with something. Dresser tops always wind up covered with things."

Fred sniffed. She was right of course. He could always put his brush and comb set on the chest of drawers and he was sure a great many miscellaneous items from model ships to loose change would eventually accumulate there. He sniffed again, pondering the delivery arrangements for the furnishings. It was all a lot for Fred to absorb at once. He was confused, but he just couldn’t let it go. "Are you sure you don’t mind waiting at the new apartment for the furniture," he asked, concerned. The sales people hadn’t been very flexible about the delivery date, and the one they’d been given coincided with Fred’s hospital visit, so Myrtle had volunteered to wait for the delivery instead.

"Not at all, Fred," she assured him. "I know you wanted to be there yourself, but I’ll make sure they put everything where it belongs, Fred. And I’ll even make the bed for you. Think of it, Fred… when you get out of the hospital, you’ll be coming home to your own apartment and a freshly furnished bedroom."

Fred smiled gratefully. It would be nice to be able to climb into his own, freshly made bed after his operation. "Thanks Myrtle. I appreciate your help."

Then he grinned again at the thought of being picked up and taken home by Myrtle, who would have his car anyway. And then tucked into his freshly made bed by her. It was a lot nicer than the prospect of having to go home to his mother’s and rely on her for his care while he convalesced. When he pulled up outside Myrtle’s house, he turned off the engine in anticipation of an invitation inside, and of course, Myrtle obliged.

Oh Fred

Fred was still basking in the warm glow of his new relationship when he got home. Unfortunately his mother was standing in the kitchen when he entered.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," she observed.

"I found an apartment tonight," he informed her. "Available October first."

"Well I’m not returning any of your board money for the next two weeks," she stated firmly. "Even though you’ve scarcely eaten here in the last week, I still had to shop for you. I’ve got a pound of stew beef in the freezer I don’t know what to do with."

Fred gazed at her askance and cleared his throat, biting his tongue at the same time. "Fall Fair coming up," he said finally. "You could make up a bunch of meat pies for the Ladies’ Auxiliary table," he suggested helpfully.

His mother only snorted in response, but Fred knew from experience she’d give the matter some thought and probably do just that. The Ladies’ Auxiliary would be pestering her for something and his mother, he well knew, could stretch a pound of stew beef to a lot of little pies.

"You want anything before bed?" she demanded, obviously reluctant to leave the kitchen until he was gone from it.

"No thanks. Had dessert and coffee at Myrtle’s."

"And just who is this Myrtle person? And when will I meet her?" she demanded again.

Fred shuddered slightly at the thought. "She’s just a friend," he replied. "And we’re a little busy just now… she’s helping me get stuff for my new apartment," he explained. "G’night Mom," he added quickly, just as she’d opened her mouth to speak. He retreated hastily down the hallway to his room.

After getting ready for bed, Fred snuggled in and lay thinking about Myrtle. He hummed happily to himself as he recalled the events of the evening, then his mother’s words to him about meeting Myrtle intruded upon his reverie. He wondered how Myrtle would react to his mother, and vice versa. He had no way of knowing for sure since the situation had never come up before. His mother did usually assume a reasonably civil manner for Cynthia’s benefit, despite disliking her intensely. But Fred suspected this was a special effort for Bill and didn’t think the same consideration would be extended to him.

Then again, Myrtle wasn’t at all like Cynthia. Was it possible his mother would like her? He snorted and immediately dismissed the notion. His mother didn’t like anybody ~ except Bill. He was quite sure of that.

He jabbed absently at his pillow as he lay ruminating on the matter. His mother’s attitude toward Cynthia might have been entirely different had they met prior to the marriage ceremony. It must have been somewhat surprising, even for his mother, to be called suddenly to Bill’s penthouse apartment by an unfamiliar female voice and rush into town dreading injury or worse to her fair-haired boy, only to find him fine, though somewhat whoozy for the consumption of spirits, and waiting for her in the company of a buxom blonde and Judge Bickford Waldo.

Fred had certainly been surprised. But Bill had requested that his mother and brother witness the ceremony and Cynthia had simply called them to hurry right over. Fred thought it rather curious that his mother hadn’t raised an unseemly fuss the moment she’d arrived, especially given Bill’s condition at the time. But to the contrary, Flora Luckinbill had seemed flustered and somewhat intimidated by the presence of Judge Waldo, particularly with Cynthia being so chummy with the venerable widower, calling him "Bicky" as she did. It was the only occasion Fred could recall his mother actually rendered speechless by another human being. The judge had seemed to sense a certain disquieting aura in the small gathering and attempted to relax everyone by joking that with Bill married, his principal competition for Upton’s pretty girls was effectively removed. Unfortunately, his well-meant light-heartedness had fallen flat on everyone but Cynthia and only heightened Flora’s tension.

Fred yawned. He was sleepily pondering just how he and Myrtle might get married some day when he drifted off.

On their way to work the next morning, Fred and Myrtle discussed their shopping ideas and decided to get started that evening after work. They would eat first at a fast food restaurant, then do the rounds of the local department stores. When Fred pulled up outside her building, Myrtle leaned across and kissed him gently on the cheek before climbing out. He grinned happily and waved as she disappeared into the building, then drove on.

Myrtle endured a rather dull day at the office. Dick was in a state of disgruntlement when he returned from delivering his report to the Dean’s Committee and, at Myrtle’s suggestion, he departed before noon. There was only one student needing her help throughout the day and even the faculty didn’t bother her that much. Not even Horace Dilby.

Fred would have given anything for a dull day. Oh, he breezed through the morning all right, taking just enough notice of what he was doing to feel reasonably confident he’d done it properly. And he fairly floated to the lunch room and back, consuming his bologna sandwich in the interim without even observing that it was the same old thing. It even appeared for awhile that his afternoon might pass as agreeably as his morning, until precisely 2:50 when Mr. Grieve’s secretary, Helen, entered Fred’s office in an obvious state of panic. She stood just inside his door in something of a crouch, staring wide-eyed at him, her hands flapping up and down beside her head and before Fred could enquire about the nature of her affliction, the words "Oh Fred!" escaped her lips, then she turned and departed his office as suddenly as she’d appeared.

Curious, Fred followed her. This was obviously what she’d expected him to do, for as soon as they reached the threshold of Mr. Grieves’ office, she stepped aside and allowed Fred to enter first, offering a look of unqualified pity as he passed. He stopped just inside the door and gazed in wonder at the scene before him. There sat Mr. Grieves at his desk, staring straight ahead, his face a pasty, frozen mask betraying only the likelihood of some calamitous occurrence. Gathered protectively around him were the Safety Supervisor, the Personnel Director and the Assistant Transport Manager. They all glanced at Fred as soon as he entered, then looked away and began a conspicuous cacophony of coughing and throat clearing. This seemed to break the spell Mr. Grieves’ was under and, as Fred stood there wondering who’d died and what he had to do with it, Mr. Grieves’ slowly raised his eyes to gaze at him.

It was a badly shaken Fred who exited Mr. Grieves’ office several minutes later. Doubting he would make it back to his own office without assistance, Helen accompanied him and left him sitting at his desk silently contemplating the ceiling. He moaned and placed a clammy palm across his face. Here he’d been expecting accolades from his boss for having dealt with the problem of the misplaced ovens so handily. What had happened could only happen to him, he thought miserably. Only for him could such a simple operation turn into such an unlikely disaster. Tucking his chin into his collar, he tried to be philosophical about the whole thing. At least he wasn’t fired. After all, Mr. Grieves couldn’t really blame him for what happened - it was just one of those things. Fred only wished he’d told Myrtle he worked at Soames without mentioning his position with the company. That way he might have survived the embarrassment of the demotion he feared Mr. Grieves had in store for him, without the added humiliation of having to explain it to Myrtle. He groaned and laid his upper body across his desk and was still in that position when Helen, concerned that he might not be conscious of the hour, or conscious at all, came by to inform him it was quitting time.