Curing the Uncommon Man-Cold

by J. L. Salter

  “I don’t have words.” That was rare for Christine. “I think half a packet of that stuff will sweeten a full quart of tea. What on earth did it taste like?”

  Jason closed his eyes and licked his lips trying to remember. “It’s a rush. You can’t see anything for a few seconds and your mouth puckers up.”

  “This is interesting.” Christine looked around like she wanted something to write on. “How many packets of sweetener did you eat? Science may need to know.”

  Jason thought for a second. “Oh, not more than half a dozen, I guess. One pink, two yellow, and three blue. Awful rich. Plus they’ve made my pee turn a funny color.”

  “What color?” Amanda didn’t want to be surprised when she ran a brush inside the toilet rim.

  “Well, it’s nothing like you’d expect from the color of the packets. You know, I figured blue and yellow would make green.” He shook his head. “Nope.”

  Again Christine held up her vertical palm. “Too much information again. Ab-so-lute-ly too much. You can discuss his urine after I’m gone.” She pulled the remaining items from her canvas bag and arrayed them neatly on the small dining table.

  Jason surveyed his unorthodox diet: Dairy-free cheese, made from soy. Flourless and sugar-free brownie mix made with black beans. A jar of sprouts, a block of tofu, and a container of bean curds. He probably figured the hummus was looking better and better. “Hold on! Where’d you get all this junk? Didn’t they have any real groceries in that store?”

  “These groceries are real.” Christine seemed offended. “Everything’s natural, organic, and without carbs, fats, sugars, et cetera.”

  “Without any taste, either! This is the stuff those militant vegan freaks eat!”

  Christine nodded. “Correct, Jason. I can see you’re already on board with this diet. The vegans are among the healthiest humans on our planet.”

  “They only weigh 86 pounds a piece. And that’s their largest men! A stiff wind will blow them away. Their skin’s made of tissue paper and their blood’s green from malnutrition. I can’t eat this vegan junk for four days! It’ll kill me!” Jason slumped down in the dining chair nearest him. He was clearly exhausted from the effort of his impassioned speech.

  Christine spoke earnestly, in the stiffest face she could apparently muster. “This early stage of your illness is the most crucial for your nutrition baseline to be established. If you were eating all that junk food you ordinarily consume, your system would have to work three or four times as hard to beat this disease. But with the purity of this diet, your body can focus all its energy on defeating those defiant cold germs.” She covered her smile, but Jason wasn’t looking at her anyway.

  He stared at the alternative grocery items on the table. “If this is health food, I’d be better off dead.” He grabbed a celery stalk, turned, and trudged toward the cluttered guest bedroom. On the way down the hall, he paused at the bathroom and probably wondered if a dab of toothpaste would give celery any discernable flavor.

  Both watched closely as Jason retreated down the hall. His pajama bottoms slid the final stretch just as he reached the guestroom door. Jason was able to catch the waistband right before it reached the bottom curve of his buttocks.

  “Pretty good reflexes, for such a sick puppy.” Christine likely wondered if she should research the issue of bodily reflexes in the scientific part of her illness therapy protocol.

  After the guestroom door closed with a soft click, Amanda turned. “Wow! I’ve never before seen a grown man so close to tears… over food.”

  “You know, I never noticed before.” Christine sighed. “He’s got pretty nice buns for a man his age.”

  Amanda nodded her head slowly. “But what is it with men and PJ waistbands? Does elastic automatically disintegrate when it’s worn near a testosterone factory?”

  “Not sure about that. But you’re lucky Jason even wears PJs at all. My Daniel,” she turned her head and spit, “just schlepped around the house in his boxers. No button on the fly, either.”

  Amanda made an exaggerated grimace. “Tell me about the elastic on his boxers. Did all his waistbands look like they’d been used to tie down a load in his pickup truck?”

  Christine mulled that image. “Well, men’s underwear is probably the longest-used, rattiest article of clothing in the wide array of humankind’s effort to conceal nakedness. Consider this example: on the very same day, a man buys a pair of briefs and a woman buys a pair of panties. The woman tosses the panties in about one year, if not sooner, because the elastic is shot and they’ve probably gotten stained or lost their color. Seven years later the man still wears his briefs, even though they’ve given their all — way above and beyond the call of duty. But if his wife, sometime in the ninth or tenth year, happens to discard those same briefs — with busted seams, sprung elastic, and multiple holes in the fabric — the man will scream like his best friend was murdered. It’s insane. For Christmas, you give him a brand new three-pack of briefs — about five bucks at Discount World — and a man just puts the new package in his dresser drawer. Won’t even open them. You ask him why and he says, ‘I already got some skivvies.’ Insane.” The length and intensity of Christine’s monologue was surprising. “Uh, why do you ask?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Guess I’m just thinking ahead to when — well, if — Jason and I ever get married. I wonder if I’m always going to see his crack when he walks the other direction.”

  “Good point. I think every man ought to be given two mirrors that line up exactly so he can see how truly awful that view is. They probably think it’s sexy.” Christine rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t have the words. But definitely not sexy.”

  “Just buy a safety pin and take up a couple of inches in the waistband. Think low-tech occasionally. That’s how we used to handle elastic emergencies in the olden days.”

  “Don’t give me that olden days B.S. You grew up on Sesame Street, not listening to Edward R. Murrow. Olden days… ha!” Amanda eyed her friend narrowly. “Do you really have a nephew at Johns Hopkins?”

  Christine nodded. “Sure. He works in the maintenance department.”

  That’s about what Amanda had figured. “Does he actually eat any of this stuff?”

  Christine laughed. “Are you kidding? He eats cheeseburgers and pizza, like every other guy… you know, ice cream and beer.”

  “So you made all this up?”

  “No, people really do eat this.”

  Amanda shook her head. “You don’t actually know any people who eat like this, do you?”

  “I’m not personally acquainted with any Eskimos, either.” Christine seemed indignant. “But I know they exist… somewhere.”

  There was movement behind her.

  “What the heck is that?” Christine pointed as she jumped partway behind her friend.

  Amanda turned as the creature entered from the utility room. “I think they’re called housecats.” Blasé.

  “You don’t have an enormous black cat!”

  “True. But the neighbors down the street do.” Amanda rolled her eyes.

  “What’s it doing in here?”

  “I thought I told you about the big cat that can’t get over its relocation.”

  “Huh?”

  “The couple who used to live in this apartment own a cat. That cat. They relocated to a house two or three streets over, right before I moved in here.”

  “I understand real estate. Explain the cat.”

  “I’ve been here about three years and I’d never even seen her. But about two months ago, out of the blue, this cat started popping up. In my garage at first, but later she’d show up inside the apartment.”

  “How does it get inside?”

  “Beats me.” Amanda shook her head. “I’ve never let her in. Every time I see that cat inside, I shoo her back out. But she keeps returning. I think she’s even stayed here overnight a few times. Seems to like the guest bedroom best.”

  “Oh, my.” Christine�
�s brain wheels were clacking almost audibly. “This could be useful. You say this cat likes your guestroom?”

  Amanda nodded. “Must’ve been where she slept when this was her actual residence.”

  “What’s its gender again?”

  “Female. Neutered, I believe.”

  “Perfect! I’ve just had another brainstorm.” Christine smiled. “What’s this giant pussy’s name?”

  “You’ll think I’m making this up.”

  “Try me.”

  “Diabla.”

  Christine squealed with delight. “Ohh. That’s lovely! Now we have a large neutered puss named Diabla on our team.”

  Amanda was worried. “Now, you cannot skin this cat or boil it… nothing like that.”

  “Oh, no. No harm for the cat.” Christine waved her hand. “But Jason might have second thoughts about staying here.” She went to her purse for a small notepad. “Tell me what else you know about this giant puss.”

  As Amanda recalled everything the former occupants had told her about Diabla, Christine scribbled and cackled. Amanda had never heard her friend cackle like that before.

  Then Christine explained her half-baked plan for enlisting the cat.

  * * * *

  Jason’s supper that evening was celery smeared with toothpaste. No time for anything more elaborate, had he been willing to consume it. There were barely five minutes between Christine’s departure and the crop party’s beginning.

  Scrupulously holding up his pajama bottoms, Jason ventured into the hallway. He knew Maria Perry from a few double dates with her and Roger the fireman. Maria was pushing thirty. Shorter than Amanda and not quite as curvy. She had a gorgeous face with a dusky tone — as lovely as her mother, who’d been a movie star in Mexico City. Beautiful, lush black hair.

  Jason also recognized Sunny Cannon, who’d been tasked to bring different cereal and more toothpaste. The nickname “Sunny” was short for “Sunshine” — her parents had been devout hippies, more than a decade after it had already become mostly passé. Sunny was about twenty-six, hardly over five feet tall, and wore long blonde hair, very straight, with no facial makeup. She typically wore long peasant skirts, didn’t shave her legs, and never had been seen in heels.

  There was also another woman he’d never seen before.

  Jason stayed as near the small gathering as he could without being seen. There was a lot of chatter, noise, and movement. All four women seemed completely oblivious that he was even in the apartment. He could smell several snacks and could hear them being eaten.

  His mind raced with visions of the leftovers they might leave behind. Even if some had a bite out of them, he could live with that flaw. He drooled for nearly two hours while they cropped and laughed and snacked.

  Maria, Sunny, and the other woman finally left about 9:30 p.m. Jason heard Amanda go to the bathroom inside her bedroom suite. He hustled to the kitchen to survey the prizes he was sure they’d left behind.

  Nothing on the plates. In fact, no plates. He knew they’d used dishes — he’d heard the forks clinking. But those three devious women had rinsed every dish, swept up every crumb, and even taken the trash bag outside to the curb before they departed.

  Witches!

  The single consolation on the counter: Sunny had left a new tube of toothpaste, the brand with three stripes.

  He opened it immediately and sucked down about two inches.

  Chapter 7

  August 14 (Friday)

  Amanda was up slightly earlier than normal and already busy in the kitchen.

  As was his new habit, Jason trudged in, yawning and scratching. Those two activities consumed nearly fifteen minutes each morning. “Might as well skip the acorn allshitz brew. Don’t want any.”

  “Ersatz.”

  “Whatever. I spent yesterday belching like a squirrel.”

  “I didn’t know squirrels belched.” Amanda suppressed a smile. “And I didn’t realize you’d even tasted yesterday’s coffee cousin.”

  “I tasted it, all right. A complete teaspoonful. It was a bit like dishwater, but not nearly as agreeable. Plus, those acorns are way too salty.”

  “Okay, I’ll skip the coffee and put on some herbal tea instead.”

  “Don’t bother. Herbs make my windpipe quake.”

  That image puzzled Amanda, but she didn’t inquire. “New breakfast offering. Last evening, Sunny brought some generic shredded wheat for you. Along with that toothpaste which I notice is already nearly a quarter gone.”

  “Yeah, tell her thanks for the toothpaste. Those stripes really help with the cavities and stuff.”

  Amanda busied herself with minor meal preparation.

  “Haven’t had shredded wheat in a good while. Is this the frosted kind with loads of sugar? I like those little mini-squares.”

  “No, these are the large pieces.” They were actually huge, with nearly the weight and dimensions of small rectangular paving stones. The texture was a bit like highly compressed straw. “And no sugar — Christine’s orders.”

  “Aw, man!” Jason slumped almost completely over while standing. Tricky maneuver.

  “You might want to let them soak a while, to loosen up those fibers some.”

  He peered closely. “You got a chisel around here?”

  “I believe most people use a sturdy spoon.”

  “What about milk? You can’t expect me to eat that gigantic Brillo Pad without milk.”

  “Sorry, no milk. No dairy of any kind. Congestion, remember?”

  “I can’t handle any more unsweetened prune juice. I’ve been spending too much time on the john as it is, just for Number One. With all this prune toxin, my intestines keep telling me it’s time for Number Two. But since I haven’t eaten anything but toothpaste, there’s nothing to empty out. I’m dying here!”

  “Well, you could try water, I suppose. But it’s bound to taste a little thin.” Then she looked at him pointedly. “And, of course, you could find other lodgings where they serve less healthy food.” She made ready to leave.

  ———

  Jason ignored both comments and waved silently as Amanda left for work.

  He carried his new tube of toothpaste almost all day long. An inch every hour. The stripes were delicious. Every half hour, he cheated.

  By late morning Jason had noticed the warming inside air and called Amanda at work. “I think your thermostat’s busted. It’s really hot in here. Apparently set for 72. But it’s about 80 degrees inside and not even noon yet.”

  “Well, I meant to tell you a repairman was coming out today.”

  “When’s he coming?”

  “He’s already left.” Amanda probably checked her office clock. “He called me half an hour ago.”

  “I didn’t see anybody.” Jason looked around the room. “Are you sure?”

  “He said he ran the diagnostic outside at the compressor. Didn’t need to come inside.”

  “Never heard of that. I thought they always came inside.”

  “These are the new systems with that advanced refrigerant, R-700. You just plug in a gizmo like they do for vehicles.”

  He’d heard of R-Something. “So what did he say the problem was?”

  “A broken controller thingy.”

  That diagnosis seemed pretty general but he knew Amanda was no HVAC specialist. Neither was Jason. “When did that break? It was running okay this morning.”

  Amanda paused. “It broke while you were griping about breakfast. I’d noticed before I left the apartment, but didn’t have time to call right then. So I called when I got to work. The tech happened to be three duplexes over. So he was able to get there quick.”

  “Uh, I think it’s still broken, Amanda. Don’t believe he fixed it.” Jason fanned his face.

  “Couldn’t. The part he needed is on back order.” Her voice sounded funny.

  “You’re kidding! This is the middle of August! I can’t survive oppressive summer heat with no air conditioning.”

  “Y
ou should check the unit at your own apartment. Maybe the controller thingy works just fine on yours.”

  If that was a hint, it went over Jason’s head. He just groused a bit more.

  “When it gets really hot, just open a few windows.”

  “It’s real hot already.” Jason switched back to whining. “And if I open the windows, that lets even hotter air come inside. Plus, I have to listen to constant yodeling from next door. Creepin’ crud!”

  “Look, Jason, I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “Wait. One more thing. Do you have a cat?”

  “You know I don’t own a cat.”

  “I’ve been hearing something meowing off and on today.” He paused to check again. Nothing at the moment. “Earlier, it sounded like a giant cat.”

  “It’s probably your imagination. Or maybe Missus Yodel is practicing some different nuance in her competition routine.”

  “Never heard anybody meow while yodeling. Not sure it’s even possible, Amanda. Different throat muscles, I think.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re becoming such an expert. It’ll broaden your horizons. Now I’m resuming my work. Bye.”

  * * * *

  Amanda ate lunch with Christine near Amanda’s office downtown.

  “You should have told me the A/C guy was coming today. Jason called and squalled and I had to make up some convincing lies out of thin air.”

  Christine did not look the least bit apologetic. “Did he accept your explanation?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. He bought it completely.”

  “Good lying just takes a lot of practice.” Christine nodded. “Before you know it, you’ll be running for political office.”

  “So who deactivated my air conditioner this morning?”

  “I did.” Christine looked distinctly proud. “Drove over about 10:00.”

  “What did you do to it?”

  Christine tore a page from her small notepad. “Here’s a diagram. It shows what to do and where it is on the unit. Oh, when you get home tonight, be sure to close the A/C vent in the guestroom.”