Dead Pansies

Sixty? Sixty. Sixty! No! It can’t be. It is. It isn’t. It is! How did I get here? Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago I learned to drive? And sneak out of the house to meet friends? When did I become an adult? Or have I? I opened my eyes, threw back the blanket, and sat up. I winced once, well maybe twice as I stood up. I may only be sixteen in my head, but my aching back was certainly a reality check.

Bob was already in the shower. It was just another school day for him. I didn’t have to work today. I took the day off. Better to wallow in self-pity alone, than burst into tears in front of customers and co-workers.

I pulled on my robe and made my way to the kitchen. Coffee! I need coffee, lots and lots of coffee. I picked the largest mug in the cabinet and filled it to the brim. I considered adding a little Kahlua, but decided against it. The twilight years didn’t seem like the right time to start an addiction. I might break something, like a hip. I remembered watching a show on TV about broken hips shortening the lives of old people. No need to risk it, I decided.

Finished with his shower, Bob moved from the bathroom to the bedroom. I decided to brush my teeth. I looked in the mirror. Was it my imagination, or were there more lines than normal around my eyes? Turning my head to the right and then to the left, I decided there were. The dark circles seemed a bit more pronounced than usual, too. Gray roots reminded me it was time to make a hair appointment. And what was that odd thing beneath my right eye? I looked closer while picking at it with my finger. Horrified, I realized it was one of those skin flaps like I had removed from my underarm. The one the dermatologist told me was due to carbohydrate intolerance or something like that. Fearful of what else I might find, I discontinued the inspection and picked up my toothbrush.

Liar that he is, Bob told me I looked beautiful, gave me a quick kiss, and wished me happy birthday, all while hurrying out the back door. I closed the door behind him, turned around, and leaned against it. I listened to the quiet. It was way too quiet. Willie was still sleeping and he wasn’t even snoring. I went to check on him. I watched to make sure he was still breathing. He is, after all, over ten years old, which is even older than me in dog years. Thankfully, he was still alive. I thought about giving him a pet and a pat, but then he would be awake and want to play fetch with his toys. I tiptoed out of the room.

I walked back into the kitchen and flipped on the TV. A reporter was interviewing someone about the oil spill coming closer to the Louisiana Wetlands. I was already depressed, so I turned the channel. Obama’s face appeared. I quickly hit the off button. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to anything that man had to say.

The whole day lay before me. I could do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, but what would that be? I took a drink of my now cold coffee and put the cup in the microwave. I watched the cup twirl around for thirty seconds, and then cautiously removed it and took another sip, much better. In the dining room, I noticed those ugly spots on the carpet. I intended to clean the carpet two weeks ago, but Hubby decided we needed to go to the nursery to look at plants instead. I could clean it today, if this wasn’t a vacation day. I should be doing fun things, not work. I decided to see if there was a chick flick on pay-per-view, something I wanted to watch, but Bob didn’t. I bent down to turn on the TV and saw another spot on the carpet. I glanced around and noticed yet another spot over by the door. I ignored the spots and sat down in the cushy TV watching chair and flipped through a few channels, finally settling on The Food Network. Paula Deen was cooking up some southern fried chicken. I tried to concentrate, but those spots seemed to be growing larger by the minute. I turned off the TV and put on my work clothes.

After vacuuming and cleaning the carpets, a glass of iced tea and a rest seemed in order. I sat down to cool off and called Tami. When she heard my voice, she asked her usual question, “So, now what are you doing?”

“I just finished cleaning the carpet,” I replied. My response was followed by silence, complete and total silence. So, I asked, “What are you doing?”

After a long pause, I heard, “Nothing much. What are you doing home?”

“I took the day off. Remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” More silence followed by, “Have you had any deliveries today?”

“Deliveries? Oh, yes. I got that book I ordered last week.”

“What book?”

“It’s called The Thirteenth Tale. Sounds good, like one of those ghostly tales I like so much.”

“Is that all?” Tami asked.

“Yes, why?”

“Crap! I planned to surprise you at work with flowers, but I forgot you wouldn’t be there. I better call them to let them know where to send them. I’ll talk to you later. Bye!”

“Bye,” I said to an already dead phone.

I put the vacuum and carpet cleaner away, picked up my new book, and tip-toed across the damp carpet to the front porch. I sat down, adjusted the cushion until it was just right, and opened the book. The telephone rang. “Oh H…! Why hadn’t I thought to bring the phone out with me?” I asked out loud. Willie, being the only live being in the area, didn’t reply, merely looked at me, sympathetically, with those big brown eyes. Reluctantly, I got up, tippy-toed back across the still damp carpet, and answered the phone.

“Did they come yet?” Tami asked without even so much as a hi, how ya doin’.

“No, not yet,” I replied.

“They were ready to bring them when I called.”

“Well, they haven’t come yet.” I saw Bytha’s car turn into the Life Center across the street, make a u-turn, and pull into my drive. “Wait, she’s here. I’ll call you back.”

I saw Willie prick up his ears. I envisioned Bytha having a heart attack when Willie barked his mean bark, so grabbed Willie by the collar and practically dragged him into the bedroom and shut the door. Bytha wasn’t young.

By the time Willie was contained and I had slipped my feet into a pair of sandals, I heard, “Yoo Hoo!”

I walked across the wet carpet to the front porch and unlocked the door.

“I think it’s somebody’s birthday. Happy birthday,” Bytha said as she thrust forward a gorgeous multi-floral arrangement.

I smiled and took the flowers, “Thank you. I’m not sure it’s a happy birthday, but it’s a birthday. They seem to show up even when you don’t want them to.

Bytha nodded knowingly, started to turn as if to leave, and then pointed behind her, “Your pansies need watered.”

I looked down at the pansies Bob planned to plant along the sidewalk. They were limp, slumped over, more dead than alive. “Oh, dear. I think they’re already dead.”

“If you water them, they’ll come back. The ones at the store looked like that this morning, but they are fine now. It’s the hot sun.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. Thanks for the tip.”

“Enjoy your birthday.”

“I will. Thanks again,” I called, as Bytha climbed into her car.

I looked down at the pansies and decided Bytha didn’t know what she was talking about. I made sure the bouquet had plenty of water, placed them in the center of the dining room table, admired them, and read the card. I smiled. Pleased my children were so thoughtful. Remembering the dead pansies, I located a pitcher and filled it with water. After unceremoniously dumping water over the flowers, I returned to my comfy seat on the porch and opened my new book. I read the first line, It was November—and then the telephone rang.

“Happy Birthday,” Bob said. “Are you having a good day?”

“Of course,” I lied.

“I twisted my knee this morning. It popped and now it hurts like the dickens. Do you think we could go out to dinner some other night?”

My heart fell. I was looking forward to having something fun to do that evening, now it sounded like I would be cooking dinner instead. However, knowing he would only cancel if he was in excruciating pain I said, “Sure. No problem.”

I looked at that new book I wanted to read, picked it up, set it back down, and turned toward the kitchen. By now it was well past lunchtime and my tummy was growling. I opened the cabinet door, stared inside, closed it and opened the refrigerator, stared inside, closed it, and returned to the cabinet. I pulled out a can of tomato soup, poured the contents into a bowl, put it in the microwave, and then fed Willie.

Willie wolfed down his food and was standing at the door, wagging his tale, by the time the microwave beeped. I let him out, and crumbled crackers into the soup. Just as the first bite was ready to pass between my lips, Willie barked his ‘let me in’ bark. I dropped the spoon and opened the door. Willie came bounding in. As he passed by I saw something on the floor. I bent down to get a closer look. Mud! I ran after him, grabbing his collar mere moments before he touched down onto freshly cleaned carpet. I pulled a raggedy towel off the stack kept for just this reason, cleaned his paws, and ordered him to lie down on the rug in front of the back door. He gave me his most pitiful look, which I ignored. I picked up my spoon and took a bite of soup. Cold!

I paced back and forth between the kitchen and front porch, bored. What to do. I decided to walk down to get the mail. I opened the mailbox. The neighbor’s dog, which is out more than in, jumped up on the gate. I snatched the mail out of the box and hurried back to the house.

As I turned up the front walk, I thumbed through the ads, a couple of bills, and pulled out 2 birthday cards from my kids. I stopped and opened Brian’s first. It had a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge. Teresa and Brian vacationed in San Francisco several months earlier. I opened the card and read what he wrote. He said he bought the card while in San Francisco, saving it all this time to send to me on my birthday. He’s always apologizing for not being a better son, but he is the best son any mother could want. Well, he could visit more often, but after this card he was forgiven.

I started up the steps, missed the first one, and fell up the rest, banging the screen door open with my head, and landed sprawled out on the porch floor. I felt both hips to make sure they were still in place, and looked behind me. Fortunately, no one was around to witness my lack of grace.

By the time 4:30 arrived, dinner was ready to serve. Bob rarely ate food during the day, which means he is always starving when he walks in the door, thus the early dinner hour. I heard Willie bark and head for the back door. He stood there with his nose in the crack until Bob came inside. Willie backed up just enough to allow Bob to squeeze by on his way to the freezer with the box of dog biscuits on top. Bob took out two. He gave Willie one and stuck the other in his shirt pocket for later.

Once Willie was in the dining room, getting crumbs all over the clean carpet, Bob gave me a hug and wished me happy birthday again. With a proud smile, Bob took a card out of his pocket and handed it to me. He likes making his own cards, and this was obviously a Bob original. It wasn’t in an envelope, so there wasn’t anything to open, so I merely looked at the front. It said Happy Birthday in bold letters. Beneath the caption was a picture. It was of an old woman, well endowed, with a figure more like Miss Piggy than a woman. She was dancing around, twirling long beads, while wearing a party hat. Now, I knew Bob was trying to be funny, because he isn’t the type to be mean. Still, I was immediately offended. I opened the card. He wrote some very nice words inside, and added a section about owing me one Mexican dinner in the near future. I gave him a quick hug, tossed the card on the table, and whispered a quick, less than thankful, “Thank you.”

As soon as dinner was over, I got out the scissors, cut off the front of the card, and left it on the table where Bob was sure to see it. I don’t like confrontation, but I was mad. My reaction even confused me. All evening, Bob kept giving me a now-what-did-I-do look, and was exceptionally nice. He even went outside to plant the beautiful tea rose he bought for my birthday. Still, my lips remained in a tight, straight line.

Bob tried to find something on TV I would like to watch. I turned on the computer, pulled up Facebook, and farmed.

When it was time to go to bed, I brushed my teeth while ignoring the mirror. No need to count any new lines that may have cropped up during the day. Bob gave me a hug, and said he hoped I had a nice birthday. I said I did, and crawled under the covers. All in all, it was a fairly good day. At least I didn’t break a hip. Still, I kept wondering how such a silly thing as a humorous card could make me so angry. I closed my eyes. They popped open again. I’m 60! That’s why! I quickly apologized.

Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day. Hubby hopes so, too. And for those of you who were worried, the pansies actually lived.