[stylist] Flirting with Monday chapter 8

[Shelley J. Alongi]

Chapter 8

 

I lay in my queen bed, existing in that state halfway between unconsciousness and wakefulness where everything is warm and cozy and perfect. Slowly I woke, comforted by my quilt, a blue checkered thing against a white background, something my mother had sent to me just a few months ago. Mary Streicher enjoyed looking after me and my two brothers and two sisters, and her care for us did not end when we all moved away to live our own lives. When I moved to this town to drive for the passenger railway line, she knew she could send me care packages, so she had sent this quilt, something she had obviously put a lot of time and effort into perfecting. Now on the cool chilly morning in February when I was so sick from my sinus infection the quilt lay on top of me, warm, though something like Vincent might have been helping the situation here. Something was nagging me, a whimpering, an electronic buzz, a vague discomfort, it all made me want to put the pillow over my head and go back to sleep. I wasn't sure I wanted to be awake. But I had promised Debbie she could bring Angel by the house today. 

 

The pressure against my side intensified a little, I could feel the chill air lurking just outside, my feet warm, the cozy surrounding of heat held in by the quilt on them, the gentle way the quilt lay against my bare skin. I lay perfectly still hoping all the morning discomforts including my own would go away. I breathed in and coughed, my head ached, pressure coursed through it, my teeth and jaw clamping pain around my face. A silent groan escaped my lips. I would have to get up. The electronic buzzing had stopped, thank God. I slowly sat up, pushing the ball of fir off my legs, the annoyed little ball whimpered, its paws scrambling to give it balance.

 

"Sorry Vincent," I whispered. "Let's go."

I slowly slid my feet onto the floor, they touched the soft carpet, jolting my head into agonizing life. Today, the magnificent train horn with its discordant, majestic clamor demanding attention from those within earshot of it did not appeal to my throbbing, unsettled head. I stood up, sniffling, pushing my feet into my oversized slippers. 

 

"Ok Vincent," I said as he jumped down to join me, "I know. Let's go. You're hungry and you want out and I need to find out where magnet is. Did you ban her from the bedroom again Vincent?"

The dog looked up at me with those puppy eyes, a mixture of guilt and triumph that only I could understand.

 

I walked slowly out of the room, my feet encountering the cool tile of the hallway and the dining room, my head settling to a low level clamor, my eyes watering, the chill in the air even more noticeable out here. The swishing of the sliding glass door greeted us as my fingers curved around the smooth chrome of the handle, the even colder air causing me to take in a breath and let it out in a protesting cough. Vincent went out, reluctantly, the screen door clacked peacefully against its frame as I shut it and closed the glass door. Vincent would scratch on it when he wanted in, though in today's chill he'd probably want to get in earlier than his business required. 

 

I shuffled around the house, wanting to go back to bed, but first, finding the thermostat and increasing the temperature from the cool 58 degrees that permeated the place to a more inviting 65. I felt myself easing as the thump of the unit upstairs responded to the change in demand. Things were starting to improve a little, I could think a bit, my fingers reached for the blue bottle on the medicine cabinet shelf, the welcome rattle and then dispensing of the sinus medicine that would ease my troubles a welcome sound, the blue pills resting quietly in my hand. I set the glass down on the edge of the sink and waited hopefully for relief. 

 

The renewing of the electronic buzz broke the quiet, the sound I finally recognized as my telephone ringing. I looked up at a clock settled on a wall of family pictures, the digital readout said 7:30. Who in the world would be calling me this early? A thought pierced its way through my swollen sinuses, peeking its way into my foggy brain, a brain that would be even more foggy when the medicine kicked in. I ran to my phone and picked it up.

 

"Glenn?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Are you coming to work today?"

 

"Didn't I call in last night?" I asked.

 

"NO."

 

"Kim," I breathed, her secretarial voice professional and barely penetrating my haze. "I am sorry, Kim. It's bad. I'm out of commission again today."

 

"You sound out of it," she said. "We already got someone to do your shift we couldn't wait."

 

"I know," I said, remorseful. "Damn it I'm sorry. The alarm didn't."

 

"Glenn," Kim said. "A mistake is a mistake. You're off the hook. Ted knew you were sick he should have reported it."

 

"I should have," I argued.

 

"yes," she agreed. "But I've had what you've got, sometimes it's more important to sleep than to wake up to call in and don't tell him I said that but I'll cover for you."

 

Kim was my ally. Everyone needed an ally in their corner on occasion. 

 

"It's not like you've been drinking," she said. "have you?" 

 

"No," I said lightly. "No I cant' stand the stuff. If it cured sinus headaches I might consider it."

 

Kim chuckled. "Hey Glenn, just go back to bed. And keep warm it's raining today."

 

As she said this, a scratching came to my ears, my impatient puppy wanted in. I went to the door still holding my phone. 

 

"I'll let you go," said Kim as I opened the door. "Don't forget to call in if you're going to miss Monday I can't do this again."

 

"I'm sorry," I said. "It was an honest mistake."

 

"All mistakes are honest," she said. "Get well Glenn." 

 

The phone rang again in my hand, I looked up at my clock again, it wasn't quite 8:00. I turned the phone this time to see who called so early.

 

"Hello Judy." 

 

"Good morning, Glenn," said the cheerful voice on the other end of the line. It grated on my already irritated nerves. "You're awake!" A hint of regret and a bit of guilt laced her midrange voice. 

 

"Only because I have to be," I protested, letting Vincent into the house, and sitting down on my green recliner in the living room. "I feel like crap."

 

"I'm sorry" she said. "I just wanted to check on you. I'll let you go in a minute I don't want to keep you up."

 

Judy was a comfort most days. Today her well wishes maybe it was my mood she seemed a little discordant in the well wishes she was giving me. It was probably my head I really didn't want to be on the phone and God knew I didn't want company.

 

"I was hoping," she said. "hoping maybe I could drop by later on today and see  you. Just for a little while. Maybe bring you something to eat."

 

I was quiet, even if Judy was getting on my nerves this morning I knew it would be temporary. I should just take a deep breath and get past it, it seemed somehow she was invading my personal space, even if I liked her. Judy waited patiently for my response.

 

"If you like," I finally said, wanting her to come over and see me, even if I said I didn't. I was being an adolescent. I leaned my head back against the chair, disengaging from the call.

 

"Glenn?"

 

"yeah."

 

"I'll come about 3:00 pm. Just for a little while. Everyone misses you. They miss your waving and your greetings and they just miss you, Glenn. Your replacement seems to have eaten a lemon this morning."

 

Now I laughed, I pushed away my discomfort, my anxiety, I wanted to see Judy.

 

"Go back to bed, Glenn," she admonished me. "Get some sleep. Take your medicine, drink lots of tea, all that. Have a good day okay?"

 

"I will," I said. "I will." 

 

I stood at the door, it was 3:30 pm, I felt a little better. The medicine had done its work and my sleeping through the morning seemed to do wonders for my mood. Never mind that the energetic Debbie Stone had wakened me about 11:00  to confirm that she was bringing Angel by the house today. Reluctantly I said yes. It was going to be a long day, hopefully I would get through it. I seemed to be popular when I was sick, or was it that I was just in a bad mood and didn't want company and wanted to be left alone. But now, at 3:30 pm, seeing Judy standing before me with her cheerful smile and her blue and red checkered outfit, holding her red bag and something else, I knew she wasn't here to bother me, she was just here to be my friend, to help. I needed her to be here because God knew I didn't feel like cooking and I didn't know what was in the refrigerator anyway. I mostly ate on the go these days, I wasn't prepared for a long stint of illness confining me to my house. Judy had since to think of that. 

 

Now I stood there, just watching her, the chill moist air finding its way into the house, making my lungs hurt, interrupting my reverie. Judy smiled at me. 

 

"Well," she said gently, "Are you going to let me in? Are you consulting with Vincent about it?" 

 

"Oh," I exhaled, being jolted from my own thoughts, "Good grief, Judy, I'm sorry. It's cold out there come in you'll catch something!" I wondered if she had seen my extra long look. I reached out my hand to her, she came to me and hugged me gently, looking up into my face.

 

"Feeling better than yesterday?"

 

"A little." 

Vincent stood off to the side, eying my visitor. 

"I'm going to have to go lie down," I apologized. "The medicine," I explained, "It's making me sleepy."

 

Judy brought her bags into the house, she looked at me gently and nodded.

 

"Glenn," she said, "If you can't be sick in your own house where can you be sick? I'm not here to make you uncomfortable. Please go lie down and get some rest. I brought in your mail, too it's been sitting for a while it looks like." She handed me a stack of letters. I thanked her with my eyes. "I brought food to cook for you," she continued, "I'll just go into your kitchen and hide. That is if you don't' mind?"

 

"I don't' mind, Judy," I said, suddenly comfortable, maybe I was too ill to be anxious about her finding out what I didn't' want to tell her, even if it really wasn't that bad, or maybe I just didn't care in the afternoon about my personal space being invaded. Certainly I wasn't in the kitchen today. I had been in bed most of it. 

 

Even though I needed to go lie down I didn't want to hide in my room. I went to my closet and pulled out a fleece blanket and pillow. I went into the living room and turned on my TV. Old black and white images of yesteryear filled the screen. I eased myself onto the couch and let Judy do her work. 

 

When I awoke, a fragrant aroma filled the house, I lay quietly, my head eased for the moment. A shadow made its way across the entrance. Judy sat on the floor beside me, curled up into a comfortable ball. She sat with her hands on her knees, working on something in her lap. I lay quietly, just looking at her, I didn't feel like talking quite yet. I watched her moving her fingers, moving the needles in her hands, their clicking quiet in the silent room. The needles stopped clicking. I turned my head on my pillow and saw something that grabbed my heart, that made me afraid and yet made me happy at once. I saw adoration in her face, she looked at me with an affection that she probably didn't want me to see, if she was afraid I wouldn't respond, though certainly I had encouraged her to come to my place the first time after new years day. We had gone to dinner a few times and then now here we were. Her affectionate look filled me with such assurance and comfort I knew I was getting one step closer to falling in love with her. Once again Judy had cracked through one more defense. Realizing this, I didn't return her glance, I wasn't sure I wanted to even if I was comforted by it. Her glance stirred something in me, something that I hadn't felt for a woman since Elizabeth, twenty years ago in Oregon, before I headed out across the rails out of love for trains and just hiding from all of that confusion. Judy looked at me, she saw that I was awake, and cast her glance down, as if caught in some guilty act. Her sudden guilty expression made me cringe a little, I wanted to reach out to her, to tell her it was okay, that I understood, that I was afraid, but that her look meant a lot to me. Instead I settled for just letting her walk away back into the kitchen to finish her work. 

 

The medicine was doing its own work and eventually I got up to go clear my sinuses, finally clearing them became easier and doing that I suddenly felt relief, if still fragile. Standing in my bathroom looking at myself in the mirror I saw the lines the last few days had left on my small, narrow face. I certainly wasn't a site for company. Even if I was a bit unkempt, the smooth skin of my face, and my forehead free from wrinkles assured me I was relatively good-looking for my 43 years. 

 

I went into my bedroom and put on something more presentable, white tee-shirt and loose-fitting jeans, an outfit that would let me move comfortably. I looked up at the caboose clock nestled between some magazines and a tissue box on my dresser, the hands announced that it was 5:00 pm. 

 

I came out into the hall, sniffing the air like one of my dogs, recognizing the smell of chicken soup. I walked quietly into the kitchen and stood off to the side of the entrance watching Judy as she stirred the pot. 

 

"Hi," I said tentatively. 

 

Judy turned, startled, it almost made me laugh.

 

"Glenn, you're as sneaky as one of my cats."

 

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you," I said, coming into the kitchen and getting a glass of water. I went back to the corner where I could watch her discretely.

 

"Are you hungry?" 

 

I nodded, deciding that finally I was hungry. My headache had eased and I felt strong enough to just exist comfortably. I looked at the pile of mail sitting on my kitchen counter and began to sort through it. I concentrated on putting the junk mail into a pile and sorting through my bills. I glanced up to see her still stirring the pot and turning off the stove. 

 

"It's done, Glenn," she said. "Now all I have to do is just let the flavors come together. Give it about fifteen minutes. This will be the best chicken soup you've ever tasted."

 

"I believe it," I said, suddenly wanting to come over and just hug Judy, quietly, gently, out of gratefulness and because I did like her. I still remembered that affectionate glance and I wanted very much to return it. 

 

I picked up the pile of mail and walked over to my dining room table, continuing to sort it. Dishes clattered in the sink as Judy rinsed them and loaded the dishwasher. She came into the dining room and I beckoned her over to me.

 

"Why don't you sit," I said. "You've been busy."

 

Judy looked up at me, a little hesitant. I took her hand and squeezed it, guiding her over to a chair on my left. 

 

"You've had a long day," I said. "I've just been sleeping."

 

"You're sick," she said. "You deserve to be sleeping. Me, I had a presentation to give for work and shopping to do," she explained. "I'll sleep soon enough. I can sit for five minutes."

 

"Judy," I said. "You're such a ball of energy."

 

"And you're not exactly a wall flower Mr. Glenn Streicher."

 

"No. My phone hasn't been ringing off the hook since I've been out of work," I said, smiling perhaps for the first time that day.

 

"No?" she said. "Lori asked about you and Lee meadows and John your conductor. It's as if I'm your secretary. How do I know how you're doing?"

 

"You did call to ask," I reminded her. "I guess they just think we're friends."

 

"I suppose we are," she said. She sat back and looked at the ceiling, then down at her hands, then she relaxed and smiled.  

 

I looked at my hands lying on the table. My fingers touched a newspaper article that advertised some kind of furniture. I pushed the ad away from me, letting it fall into the pile that I had designated as my junk pile. I looked through the pile again, spying something familiar. I pulled it toward me and opened the envelope with a bit of anticipation. The yellow paper looked at me. I exhaled in surprise. Judy looked at me, questioning my sudden startled sigh.



"My renewed license," I said, showing it to her. "It means I can still take you from one train station to the other," I said, suddenly feeling better. "I passed my test." 

 

"Good," she said easily. "Good." 

 

She got up and made her way back into the kitchen. I had been forgotten for a pot of chicken soup. I rubbed my head, partly in thought, and partly because it was starting to hurt again. I got up, determined to nip this headache in the bud, knowing that waiting too long would only make me want to retreat into my room. I went into the kitchen, and found the bottle of medicine, knowing it would knock me out but understanding that it was a necessary evil. I had two choices: I could either spend the next few hours in pain, or I could be asleep. I'd rather be asleep and let the medicine do its work. Standing there with the medicine in my hand I saw Judy contemplating me and then stirring the pot again, adding just a small amount of salt. Suddenly, I wanted to hug her, I swallowed my medicine and set down the glass. I walked toward her, came up to stand beside her. 

 

"Judy," I addressed her head, she turned to look at me, and saw my face, she saw the confusion and the desire. She put down her spoon and walked toward me, brushing herself against me, turning and putting her head on my chest.

 

"Glenn," she whispered my name gently and I slipped my arms about this woman who made me happy and confused all at once. I held her for a moment, putting my head on her shoulder, the pressure a little bit more than it had been, but not unbearable in this position. I rested my hands on her waist, feeling a tingling, a desire creeping into me despite my discomfort, despite my fear, and maybe just because Judy was a woman worth wanting. I held her gently, kissing the top of her head, she leaned against me, responsive, I pulled back and put my hand under her chin, turning her face up to me, looking into her beautiful green eyes.

 

"I saw that look," I whispered. "I saw it."

 

"Glenn," she breathed.

 

"I'm glad you like me so much," I said.

 

"Oh, Glenn." 

 

Magnet's shrill barking and the clanging of the doorbell sliced into the moment, causing both of us to step back, embarrassed, and perhaps a little disappointed. I squeezed Judy's hand, hugged her quickly, and we parted. 

 

"It's Debbie," I said, "with Angel."

 

Shelley J. Alongi 
Home Office: (714)869-3207
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updated September 13, 2009