Leaving what he’d been told was the freeway, Mead looked around taking in everything until Witt turned and pulled into a drive beneath two huge yellow arches. Driving slowly he pulled up to a big board and spoke into a metal box, ordering for the both of them.
“I need two quarter pounders with cheese, two large fries, and two chocolate shakes,” he said clearly.
A voice answered him, told him the price and to pull forward. Within a very short time he’d handed over a plastic card, took it back and in moments a woman was passing things out of a window to him, a big brown bag and two tall cups. Pulling away he moved into another area to stop his vehicle and turn it off. Then he was passing Mead a warm, paper-wrapped circle and a red box with golden sticks sticking out of it.
“These are the fries,” Witt explained. “They are potato sticks fried in hot grease. The wrapped thing is a sandwich. It’s got beef, cheese, ketchup, mustard, pickles and onions. Go ahead, try it,” he encouraged.
Cautiously, Mead peeled back the paper and took a bite.
“Oh,” he cried out around the food in his mouth. “This is delicious! No wonder there are so many people coming and going.” Then he picked up a fry and tried that. “I wonder if Ma could make some of these,” he said, taking another one and sighing.
“I’m sure she could,” Witt replied after swallowing a big bite of his ‘burger’. “One thing though, let’s not mention this to Cara,” he suggested with a grin. “As I said, I don’t typically eat this kind of food. I know it’s not exactly healthy with all the fat. If she learns I brought you here, she’ll never let me forget it. Not when I insist we eat wholesome, nutritious meals at home.”
“I understand,” Mead replied as he chewed his own juicy burger. “What she doesn’t know…”
“Exactly.”
Back at thehome Witt shared with Cara, Mead spent the afternoon in awe as Witt showed him things like the cell phone, something called a laptop and how he could explore something called the internet. Mead’s mouth dropped open when a round disc appeared and began to move around the floor. Quickly he scooted his wheelchair away from the oddity.
Witt grinned.
“Don’t worry; it’s just cleaning the floors. It will work around whatever is in its way.”
Shaking his head, Mead watched suspiciously before deciding Witt was telling the truth. It was harmless and it quickly whisked its way around the furniture before heading out of the room, apparently in search of more dust. He found it hard to concentrate and Witt noticed, suggesting he take a nap. This sounded like a good idea to Mead, and he nodded and wheeled away toward his rooms. After using the bathroom, he transferred to the bed, adjusted the angle to a position comfortable for his injured leg and was asleep in minutes.
It wasdark when he awoke, and he found Witt in the kitchen making supper. Soft music played from hidden speakers as the man who might or might not be his descendent chopped brightly colored vegetables and tossed them into a strange, rounded skillet he referred to as a Wok. Instantly steam arose and the sound of sizzling. Cara sailed in the door.
“Oh,” she said eyeing the pan appreciatively. “Stir fry, my favorite,” she continued, going to her tiptoes to kiss Witt’s cheek as he leaned down. “I’ll change and be right back to cook the rice. I want to hear all the details from today.”
“Have you heard any results?” Mead asked as she left the kitchen.
“Yes. I got a call this afternoon while you were resting. We’ll discuss your options while we have dinner. I’d like Cara’s input. She’s a highly intelligent woman.”
“Agreed,” Mead said as he settled in at the table to eat.
CHAPTER7
Cara and Witt used skinny wooden sticks to eat the stir-fry while Mead managed with a fork. It was very good, and he suspected it was another thing he would miss when he went home.
“So, tell me; what is the chance of me being able to walk again?” he finally asked.
“I would say you have an excellent chance, and I’m feeling hopeful,” Witt replied pouring them each a glass of wine. “We can get you into a hospital in New York for a total knee replacement within the week. However, there will be a period of rehabilitation. You entering a rehab center puts us all at risk for there is always a chance you could slip up; especially as they will be giving you pain medication periodically.”
“I see,” Mead replied thoughtfully.
“There is another option. We could make sure you’re well enough to travel, get you back here, have a private physical therapist teach you the proper exercises, and send you on your way, but many things could go wrong.”
“Such as?”
“There’s always the chance of infection, as there is with any surgery. We can make sure you have a good supply of antibiotics, but the risk of serious disease is still there. An infection that spreads to the blood can be fatal,” he warned darkly.
“I’ve always been pretty healthy, other than my injuries,” Mead responded.
“That’s true too. I guess this is going to be your call, Mead,” Witt finally said. “You’re welcome to stay here until you’re completely healed, of course.”
“Thank you. You and Cara have been very kind and I appreciate that, but I’d like to get home as soon as you feel it’s reasonably safe. I’ll do whatever they tell me to do and I’m sure Morgan will help me. I hate having my Ma worry any more than she has to.”
“I understand,” Witt replied with a nod.
