I reached for a
biscuit. “How is she apart from her fall?”
“Hanging in
there,” Jerry said. “She’s a tough lady.”
“Do you have any
idea how much time she has left?”
“Hard to say.
These things can drag on.” He took a sip of his coffee.
“Jerry, can I
ask you a question, man-to-man?”
“Sure, fire
away.”
“If you had been
deprived of shall we say female company for as long as I have, would you wait
for your wife to die before you did something about it?”
Jerry’s reply
was unequivocal: “If I were in your position, I would have found myself female
company long since. You have a life to lead as well. I’m surprised you haven’t.”
“This might seem
like a naive question, Jerry, but how do you go about finding female company? I’m
certainly not going to start frequenting bars and nightclubs.”
“That’s easy,”
Jerry said. “You use the internet.”
“Does it work?”
“From what I
hear it’s the best way to do it.”
“How would I go
about it?”
“I’ve got a
friend who’s Internet dating. I’ll get the address of the website he’s using.”
He got to his
feet. “I have to go. I have things to do.”
I had another
biscuit, finished my coffee and took the lift to the third floor. The door to
Liz’s room was closed, which usually meant there was a member of the nursing
staff, or her doctor, in there with her. I knocked before entering. The
curtains were drawn and the room was in semi-darkness. Liz was in bed facing
away from me. She was sleeping peacefully. I didn’t want to disturb her, so I
crept out and went home.
When I went back
that evening, Liz was sitting up in bed so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed that a
casual observer could have been excused for thinking there was nothing wrong
with her.
Kristen was with
her. She was brushing her mother’s hair.
Liz’s eyes lit
up when she saw me. “Yes,” she said, raising her face to be kissed.
“Hi,
sweetheart.” I bent down and kissed her. “You were asleep when I came this
morning. Hello, Chrissie.”
“Hello,” Kristen
said coolly. She pulled away when I tried to peck her on the cheek.
Liz noticed. She
looked at Kristen, then at me. “Yes?” she said, puzzled.
“Yes what?” I
said, hoping she wouldn’t pursue it further.
Liz pointed at
me, then at Kristen. “Yes?”
I shook my head.
“No, there’s no problem. Is there, Chrissie?”
Kristen
continued brushing her mother’s hair. “No, there’s no problem.” She wouldn’t
look at me.
I needed to
lighten the atmosphere. “So where’s this enormous bump I’ve been hearing
about?” I said. “Falling off your commode indeed.”
Liz pointed to a
hand-mirror lying on the foot of the bed. “Yes.”
I picked it up
and handed it to her.
She peered into
the mirror and tapped a large bruise on her left temple. “Yes.” The bruise was
the size of a small egg. She seemed unconcerned by it.
“You’ll live,” I
said, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “It’ll take more than a little
bruise to put you down.”
Extract from my
book WILL YOU TELL HER, OR SHALL I? A true story. My story. The story of how I
lived with the ten-year terminal illness of my wife. Available on Amazon Kindle.
www.amazon.com
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Maximillian19
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