Dottie drifted into sleepiness here and there. The bed was comfortable enough. The nurse could have used a little sweetening up, though. A glass of water wasn’t too much to ask. No matter how many times she pressed that silly button, no help arrived.
“Excuse me, nurse? I need a glass of water, please. Are you out there? Make sure it doesn’t have any ice. Makes me shiver.”
The nurse dropped the powdered donut she had been trying to eat for the last two hours, shook the residue from her hands and presented herself in the old woman’s room.
“Mrs. Murchison, your water is right here. Just the way you like it. See. No ice,” the nurse said, patting on the cup’s rim. “Why don’t you let me help you?” The nurse raised the cream-colored plastic to the old woman’s mouth.
Dottie’s gaze turned from the cup of water toward the television. A sullen, perplexed dread seeped into her heart the way an unstable beverage crashes and spreads over new carpet. She knew she had to do something. Just focus, she thought, but why? What was she grasping for? The room’s various objects swirled into one blank page, unnamed, unknown. She fidgeted with the remote control, trying to recall its use. Then it all came back. The room had awakened, and its contents appeared normal once again. What was that nagging thought bouncing in her head? A pocket of air exhaled from her lips in relief. That’s what it was. She pressed the button for help. The nurse she didn’t care for came in. She wondered what took her so long.
Dottie sat up in bed and proclaimed louder than necessary. “Excuse me, nurse? I need a glass of water, please. Make sure it doesn’t have any ice. Makes me shiver.”
“Sure, Mrs. Murchison.”
~~~
Dottie woke up to the blaring of the television. Who left it on so loud? Must have been that nurse she didn’t care for. She struggled with the small buttons until the screen displayed something tolerable. A local station appeared on the screen. The peach faced news anchor tossed her blond hair as she reported on the festivities behind her.
“Hello, John. As you can see, there is a big turnout here at the 150th Annual Corn and Squash Festival.”
The pretty lady adjusted her earpiece to communicate with her colleague, who was sitting in an air-conditioned office while she walked in the steaming sun.
“It looks like everyone is having a great time, Karen. I can see a crowd behind you, and they look like they are having too much fun. Look at the size of those beers!”
The anchor lady smiled a flirty smile. “Yeah. They sure are, John. How about I bring you a few back to the office?” John chuckled like a pubescent girl, pawing at Karen’s image. Dottie continued her attention on the news program. Karen began interviewing a young woman who was trying to balance two beers in her hands.
“Are you having fun?”
“Oh, yeah! How could you not?”
“Looks like you’re having a hard time carrying all that beer, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”
“My colleague would love one.”
The two women bantered back and forth in senseless conversation, but Dottie didn’t hear all of it. Her attention was on the interviewee with the beers. The resemblance was remarkable. Flowing red hair on top of a steady, but slender build. The girl’s face pulled her back to the one day her mind had not disposed of. She and Mother were living in Racine, Wisconsin, and dancing around the living room, a young Dottie clenching the headline in her trembling hand: JAPAN SURRENDERS.
“How I wish your father had lived to see this day,” sobbed her mother. Dottie embraced her maternal parent with skinny arms and a big kiss on her red mouth. “We should celebrate. Let’s get the peach cobbler and…” Her mother smirked at her sheepish visage. “What?”
“Oh, hell, Mom. Let’s get out the bourbon!” Her mother threw back her curled head and laughed louder than Dottie had ever heard. That night, they drank, talked, danced and thanked the good Lord.
It was early the next day when Dottie had to go to work at the library. Her head swam with an aching euphoria that was neither regretted nor all that painful. She had awoken to a new world with new hope. Riding her bike had been so much more exhilarating on this particular morning. She pondered talking to the head librarian, Mrs. McCourt. They would have so much to discuss and celebrate. Maybe she would even let her go home early today. Maybe she would even surprise her and pull out her own bottle of booze and toast to American victory. Just as Dottie rounded the corner of Walnut Street, her skirt got caught in her pedal, and she came crashing onto the pavement, knees first. The stumble jolted the hangover awake and shot a pounding throb into her temples. She rolled onto her side as the bike skidded across a driveway and slammed into a pine tree. The tree spat needles onto the grass and shook angrily like the one in The Wizard of Oz. Dottie sat upright, examining her torn flesh. Her left knee wasn’t so bad, but her right looked like red velvet cake sprinkled with gravel. She looked around the neighborhood. Mr. Henderson wasn’t sitting on his porch saving his coffee as usual. The Klines were never home, and Mrs. Laurence was too old to be of any use. Dottie placed a hand on the ground and lifted herself to her feet. The blood trickled like sweat, soaking into her socks. Without realizing she wasn’t alone, Dottie heard her speak for the first time.
“Hey, love? What did you go and do to yourself there? Looks like you fought and won the war all by yourself from the shape of you.” Dottie turned and was faced with a tall, slender woman of about 20 or so. “Come on. Let me help you. I’m sure Uncle Pat has some bandages in there somewhere.” The woman reached for Dottie’s hand, though Dottie had already gotten herself up off the ground, but she took the gesture as polite and clasped hands with the stranger.
“So, where do you live, doll?” Dottie was taken aback. There was something strange about this girl. Her choice of dialect and her firm handle on the situation was as alluring as it was unnerving. “I live just up the street there. I was on my way to the library and I… well, you know.”
The girl laughed and squeezed Dottie’s hand tighter. “I’m Midge Kline. I’m Pat Kline’s niece. I’m visiting for a while. My parents thought he and his wife would be a good influence on me.”
Dottie shifted her eyes over the woman’s features. She was pretty. She wasn’t too thin, but the extra weight must have been muscle. Her red hair was tucked neatly in a barrette as her cherry print dress flowed over a pair of boots.
“I’m Dottie.”
“Glad to meet you.”
“I appreciate your help. I really took a fall, didn’t I?”
Midge didn’t comment, only smiled. The pair reached the house, and before Dottie knew it, she was propped on the edge of the bathtub, stretching out her bad leg.
“This is going to sting a bit, but you look tough,” said Midge with a wink. Dottie winced at the pain, but didn’t want to appear weak in front of her new friend. “There. Now that it’s clean, we need to dab it with a towel. Hold still.”
About Ann Lamparski
