by P.D. Workman
CHAPTER 2
URSULA ROLLED OVER IN the bed and reached for her phone, which had vibrated enough times to wake her up. It was on “do not disturb”, so only repeated calls or texts, or calls or texts from her favorites should have disturbed her. Or perhaps an upgrade in the operating system had messed up the "do not disturb" feature. Again. She slid it quickly off of the side table to stop the loud vibration, and held it below the level of the bed before turning it on so that the backlit display would not wake up Abe. There was a list of missed texts. Ursula ran her eye down the messages and then turned over to look at the empty bed beside her. Abe was up, and it looked from the texts like he’d been calling everyone he knew in the middle of the night. Ursula yawned, stretched, and rubbed her eyes, wanting desperately to turn over and go back to sleep. This could wait until morning, couldn’t it? Forcing herself out of bed, she pulled on her housecoat and slippers and dragged herself downstairs.
Abe was in the kitchen. She smelled what he was cooking as soon as she stepped out of the bedroom. Ursula saw, for a moment, what appeared to be absolute chaos, before Abe noticed her and distracted her attention to him.
“Ursa!” he beamed. "I’m so glad you’re up! Did you have a good sleep?”
“No,” Ursula rubbed her eyes and paused to yawn. "It’s the middle of the night. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. In fact, I’m great. I had a great sleep, and I woke up with just so much energy. I had this idea of a pumpkin bread; not sweet, but a savory loaf, you could have it with, say, your turkey and stuffing at Thanksgiving or Christmas. And some nuts. I need to get some nuts in there. Pecans? Maybe toasted hazelnut. Anyway, I’m making that,” he pointed to one bowl, “and I’m playing with a wild rice/quinoa pilaf to go with it, and I thought I could make some awesome sugar cookies.” He peered in the oven. “They’re going to be decorated like gingerbread men, but in pink, and we can use them for cancer society promotions, you know? And I was thinking for breakfast today, I would surprise you with a chocolate souffle. And now you’re up! So I guess it won’t be a secret anymore, but do you think you could run out and get some eggs? We seem to be out.”
“That’s because your daughter is deathly allergic to them,” Ursula said dryly. “No eggs allowed in the house. You only use them at work.”
“Oh right! Juneau! Duh! So scratch the chocolate souffle. Maybe a Spanish omelet? No, no, that’s eggs too. It’s eggs, right, not the chocolate that is the problem?”
“Yeah. Eggs,” Ursula agreed.
Abe suddenly straightened up like he’d received an electric shock, and touched his ear, where Ursula now noticed that he was wearing a Bluetooth receiver.
“Dennis! Right! I forgot you were there! Sorry about that, bud. Ursula just got up. Urs, Dennis says hi. Dennis, what do you want for lunch tomorrow? I’ll make you something! You liked that tagine I made at New Years, you want that? No, no trouble. Of course I’ll be there, we’ve got that meeting with corporate, right, to do that presentation on gourmet in the cabin. What? You’ve got to go? You’re sure? Yeah, Urs says hi. Okay, talk to you later. See you at the presentation.”
He cocked his head and looked at Ursula.
“You look tired, sweetie. Is everything okay? Is Juneau alright? She seemed fine when she went to bed. The hives were fading well, almost all gone. She said she was okay.”
Ursula nodded.
“Juneau’s fine. Shut up for a minute.”
He opened his mouth to speak, looked startled, and stopped.
“Abe. You take your meds today? Yesterday I mean? Before you came to pick up Juneau’s prescription from me?”
“Of course I did. I always take them,” he scoffed.
Ursula went to the drawer and opened it, and pulled out the box labeled Monday. She shook it and it rattled. Ursula held it up, shaking her head.
“You didn’t take them. You rushed out in a panic over Juneau’s autoinjectors, and you forgot to take them.”
Abe looked crestfallen.
“I did? Oh… I did. I’m sorry!”
Ursula motioned to the chaotic kitchen. It looked like he had emptied out every single drawer and cupboard in his quest to create.
“Didn’t it occur to you when this happened that you might be having a manic episode?”
Abe chuckled.
“When I feel like this, it doesn’t matter if I’m manic,” he pointed out. “I just feel so good. I get so much done. I have all of these wonderful ideas! I don’t have the time to spend on little things… like mania.”
“Well,” Ursula yawned hugely and didn’t even try to cover it. “The rest of us, who like to sleep at night, wish that you did. Here, take these now.”
Abe took the handful of pills from her and dry swallowed them. Ursula shook her head.
“I don’t know how you can do that. I would choke.”
“Lots of practice,” Abe said with a shrug. “When I was in hospital-”
“Start cleaning up,” Ursula ordered. “Don’t call anyone else. Everyone is sleeping, alright? I’m going back to bed. This place better be spic and span in the morning.”
“Of course!” Abe agreed. "I’d never leave a mess. At least that’s one thing you can count on with OCD-”
“Abe!”
He shut up and waited meekly.
“Clean up. Don’t call anyone. Don’t go out. You have a meeting in the morning, so you can’t go out anywhere tonight. You have to go to work in the morning. Are you hearing me?”
Abe nodded.
“I hear you, Ursula,” he sighed dolefully. “No more fun. Take your pills, and settle down and be a good boy. I know, I know.”
Ursula nodded. She rubbed her eyes and looked around at the various bowls.
“How long until those cookies are done?” she questioned.
Abe looked at an array of timers lined up along the counter.
“Three more minutes on the cookies. But they have to cool so that I can ice and decorate them-”
“No, no. I just want a cookie fresh out of the oven. Then I’m going back to bed.”
Ursula perched on one of the stools along the island and waited for three more minutes, listening to Abe chatter animatedly on. When the timer dinged he looked around blankly.
“Now what was that alarm for?” he mused.
“The cookies,” Ursula said.
“Ah, the cookies,” Abe agreed cheerfully, and he turned to the oven and carefully removed the tray.
Ursula went around the island to drool over them.
“You have to wait until they cool,” Abe insisted. "They are too fragile right now-”
“Nope. I’m going to eat it now, crumbs and all, and go back to bed.”
She used a flipper to pick one up, and juggled the hot cookie for a few moments over the counter until she could take a couple of bites and it was cool enough to handle comfortably.
“Okay. Now what are you supposed to do?”
“Clean up. Presentation tomorrow.”
“Right. Good night.”
He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. He smelled like butterscotch, and something sharp, a spice she wasn’t sure of.
“You know, I could come back to bed with you,” he suggested, pulling her in close and looking at her with that certain glint in his eye.
Ursula shook her head adamantly.
“No, I need sleep. You’ll keep me up all night. Now let go.”
He reluctantly released her.
“Come on, Urs, just a few minutes.”
“Nope. Sleep for me. Clean up for you.”
Abe nodded and turned back to his work. Ursula headed back up to bed. Before mounting the stairs, she stopped at the burglar alarm pad and armed it so that the alarm would sound if anyone came in or went out. She got back in bed, texted Dennis a brief thanks and apology, and tried to go back to sleep.
“Cookies?” Abe offered, holding out a plate of pink frosted treats to Dennis, his eyes down and face burning, looking sheepish.
; Dennis was an old friend, comfortable and tolerant of Abe’s quirks and occasional sleepless nights. His impish face contrasted with his graying sideburns, but somehow worked together to produce the pleasant, laid back aura that he brought into a room.
“Sure,” Dennis agreed, and lifted the plastic wrap to pull a cookie out to eat at once. He inhaled the sweet scent, sighed, and took a slow, thoughtful bite. “So,” he went on, “how are you doing? Feeling any better?”
“Better? I felt great last night. Coming down off of a mania doesn’t feel better, it feels… like having to put your favorite pet to sleep. You may have to put it out of its misery, but you’re never happy about it. When I’m manic… nothing feels better than that. I can do anything. I’m on the top of the world.”
“Okay, so I mean… are you settled down? Thinking clearly now? Because this is an important presentation.”
“Yeah, I know. Sure, I’m ready. I’m feeling more normal - whatever that is - with just a hint of mania around the edges,” he said tantalizingly. “Just enough to get everybody excited about the project.”
Dennis smiled.
“Sounds good. Should we take them your cookies? These are really good!”
Abe looked down at the plate.
“Sure, why not? Everybody could use a bit of sweetening up on this deal.”
“People are always more agreeable with satisfied tummies and higher blood sugar,” Dennis agreed. “This could be the thing to push them over the edge. Right?”
Abe nodded. He whistled a breath in, struck by a flash of brilliance.
“Maybe I should decorate them with-”
“Abe!” Dennis said sharply, stopping him in his tracks.
“What?” Abe demanded, startled.
“They’re fine the way they are. Let’s go over the presentation one more time.”
“I know the presentation backward and forward,” Abe said with a flap of his hand. “I can’t look at it anymore.”
Dennis sighed.
“Alright,” he agreed. “Why don’t you take a break, and we’ll meet up again at ten to. Okay?”
Abe nodded.
“Sure. I’ve got some calls to make.”
“You hear anything else about your Kingpin?” Dennis questioned curiously. “I saw a thing about him on the TV last night. When I was trying to go back to sleep.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Abe grimaced. “I have to make a few calls about him today. They’re complaining again that the calories in the meal plan aren’t high enough. Or low enough. Depending on who you talk to. If I could convince Banducci that I’ve actually raised them, and the prison staff that I’ve lowered them… Is there some way I could do that? I keep thinking that there must be something that I can do…”
Dennis considered.
“Well… why don’t you take some of the vegetable stuff out, and add a couple of burgers or something in… keep the calories the same. Tell Banducci that you’re given in and added burgers and junk. Tell the prison staff that you’ve taken several items out… And don’t tell anyone how many calories are actually in the plan.”
“Brilliant,” Abe gushed. “And I can still make the burgers as healthy as possible. Extra lean, with some lentil and vegetables ground into the patties, a nice thick low-cal dressing to make it look more decadent…”
Dennis nodded.
“Yeah, you got it. Make him think that he’s getting more. He’s not going to care if you take a few vegetables out. If the prison guys notice that you’ve added burgers, explain that they’re just a vehicle to provide more lentils and vegetables, and to trick Banducci into eating healthier food.”
“Perfect. Only he’s still not going to lose weight.”
“No,” Dennis agreed, “but is anything going to make him lose weight?”
“No. Okay. I’ve got to rework his menu. Talk to you later.”
Sitting at the airport bar late in the day, Abe was trying to regain his equilibrium.
“I think corporate really dug the presentation,” Dennis offered encouragingly.
Abe sipped his drink, frowning.
“It’s not going to work, Dennis,” he said morosely.
“What, why not?” Dennis demanded.
“I just know it. I could see it in their eyes. We shouldn’t have even bothered with the presentation. Not only are they not going to accept the proposal, they’ll likely recognize what an idiot they have doing nutritional analysis for them right now, and I’ll be out on the street!”
Dennis shook his head at this. He slapped Abe encouragingly on the shoulder.
“Come on, Abe. You know that’s not going to happen. They love you. And we all think you’ve done a bang-up job turning the airline’s food services around. No one wants to dump you.”
“If they knew anything, they would.”
“No. They wouldn’t,” Dennis said firmly. “Now Abe. Look at me.”
Abe raised his dark, dull eyes from his drink.
“Listen. You’re tired. You were up half the night. You’ve crashed after your manic episode, so now you’re feeling depressed. This has happened before. Right? Things will look better once you are evened out again. In the morning, or in a few days, you’re going to be feeling fine again. For now, you’re just going to have to trust me. I’m not trying to fool you. What would be the point in that? You do a great job here. And you will do an even greater job when this proposal is accepted. So just hang in there, okay? Keep trucking for a day or two. It will pass.”
“You don’t know how it feels,” Abe muttered.
“I know how it looks like you feel, and that’s like crap. But we both know how it works, right? Maybe you’re not feeling it right now, but you know it is in your brain. It will get better. This is just because you’ve crashed. You keep taking the pills, and you’ll feel better.”
“They don’t do a thing. They don’t help at all.”
Abe took another swallow of his drink.
“Okay, but you’ve gotta keep taking them,” Dennis said, “for Ursula, okay? For the kids. They need you to keep taking them.”
Abe nodded.
“Come on,” Dennis invited, "I’m going to drive you home.”
Abe shook his head.
“No, I’ve got the car. I’ll drive.”
“Leave the car here. I’ll pick you up tomorrow and you can take it home then.”
“I can drive,” Abe said morosely.
“You’re not feeling well. And you’ve had a few drinks. I told Ursula that I would drive you.”
“You told Urs? Why?”
“Because she’s concerned about you. You’ve been drinking, so let me drive you home.”
Dennis expected further argument from Abe, but Abe’s shoulders rose and fell tiredly.
“Fine,” he agreed, “if you really want to.”
“Yeah,” Dennis agreed, "I really do.”