I was nodding off when he asked, “What are you wearing?”
“My new work shirt.” For some reason, that set me off again crying, and I pulled up the sweatshirt sleeve from my waist to hide my face.
“Emily, Jesus, it’s all right,” Luke said, reaching over and awkwardly patting my knee.
“I’m ok,” I gasped. “I’m ok. Just a little tired.” I told myself to calm down. I had this.
He made a noise like an angry dog growling. “You shouldn’t be pushing an old bike seven miles home in the dark.”
“Luke, do you remember Loretta?”
“Of course, I remember her.”
“Remember how she didn’t like the dark? Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“I’m just so worried about her.”
His hand came over again and gently patted my knee. “You need some sleep,” he told me.
I leaned my head back again, and it was all too soon when he slowed to turn into Nana’s driveway. “We’re here,” he said softly. “Are you all right to walk in?”
“Yes. I’m fine,” I said, trying to find my bearings. “I’m fine, just a little tired.” First I had to get out of the car. “Thank you. Thank you for coming to get me.”
“No problem,” he said as I opened the door. I turned to him as the interior lights came on. His face looked tired too, and worried. “Goodnight.”
∞
Charlie had been dead asleep on the coach when I came in, and I left him there with a note asking him to please let me sleep in. After getting up two hours later than normal andhaving a nice warmish shower—I had to check on the water heater—I was feeling more human. I made a good breakfast for us all, trying not to think about the fact that I was using the last of the eggs, and I even got Cassie to come and sit on the back porch for a while wrapped up in one of Nana’s old quilts.
Charlie and I played board games and then decided to watch TV. I felt a strong urge to cuddle him. When the TV wouldn’t come on, I managed to only minorly freak out when I realized that the basic cable service we had for $19.99 a month on a poor people special (that afforded us about three channels) had been turned off due to delinquency of payment. Charlie and I had an interesting time fashioning an antenna out of a wire hanger for Nana’s ancient TV to try to get a clear picture of something. Mike had taken the flat screen when he left for the greener pastures downstate.
We still had the DVD player, and DVDs were free at the library. Plus I had left the cable service in Mike’s name, so I hoped this dinged his credit score. From me to you, Mike!
And then I got the best news ever via a call from Martha in the afternoon. Her cousin was still looking at the car, but she talked to her husband Carl, and he was ok with loaning me his brother’s old Ford Bronco while the brother was wintering in Florida (snowbird). They drove it over, and Charlie and I served Martha and Carl some tea while Frankie looked around the moon garden.
All together, it was a good Sunday. The only thing that kept niggling at me was that I owed Luke, big time. I didn’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t come along and driven me home. I had found my bike parked against the back step, with the entire wheel missing. How had that happened?
I didn’t have any way to reach him to say thank you for pickingme up. I didn’t remember if I had said it to him the night before. I had a nebulous memory of talking to him about Loretta, but that couldn’t have been right.
After I got Charlie to go to bed, I made his lunch for the next day, then gave the kitchen and main bathroom a good scrub down. Cleaning was usually pretty much a Zen state for me. Growing up I had helped Loretta clean houses, and I had taught myself to detach from the reality of scrubbing out a toilet and exist entirely in my mind. I had thought through a lot of the problems I mentally brought home from the lab with a sponge in one hand and cleanser in the other.
But this evening my mind was jumping from one thing to the next. Cassie’s appointment with the oncologist. Luke. A swim parka for Charlie. Luke. Fixing the El D. Luke. New plants for the garden. Luke. Luke.
Luke.Luke.Luke.
∞
The next morning I drove Charlie to school in the faded blue Bronco (which started like a charm!) He sat whining in the back seat—mornings were not his thing.
“I’m too tired to go to school.”
“Close your eyes for a while. We have a ways to drive.” I slurped more coffee from my U of M travel mug. Nectar of the gods.
“I hate Mondays.”
That made me laugh. “What’s wrong with Mondays, sweet pea?”
