Curing the Uncommon Man-Cold

by J. L. Salter

  “Yeah, that’d be wonderful. Supper.”

  “Anything in particular?”

  “Surprise me. Only don’t make it healthy stuff.” Amanda tried to smile, but it turned into a choked sob.

  Christine hugged her for a moment and then departed. It was nearly 2:00 p.m. and she probably hadn’t had a chance to eat lunch yet.

  On short crutches, Amanda hobbled around her empty apartment and wished she had someone taking care of her. She swallowed a pain pill with slightly less water than it needed. Kahh! Then she phoned her auto insurance agent and answered as many questions as she could, despite possessing no information on either of the other two drivers. Those details would have to come from the police report.

  After watching the end of one movie on the Lifetime Channel, she snoozed through the beginning of another film. Amanda saw the rest of that movie and a portion of the one which followed. Each story made her weepy.

  Mainly, after the pill kicked in, she snoozed.

  When she woke again a couple hours later, Amanda was hungry but there was nothing available to eat besides rice cake crackers and a small can of tomato paste. She briefly considered sampling her own dental product.

  Her toes throbbed horribly.

  About 4:50 p.m., she phoned her office and left a detailed message for Louis. She knew he’d be gone by then.

  When Christine reappeared around 7:00 with supper soup from the grocery deli, Amanda was on the couch sniffling at a movie with the volume very low.

  “Have you been crying all afternoon?” Christine looked into her eyes.

  “On and off. I was going to check my e-mail and Facebook, but I remembered my laptop’s still in my Jeep.”

  “Well, you might as well write that off. Part of your vehicle looked like a mangled accordion.” Christine paused. “Well, your computer might’ve survived, depending on where it was. I can drive by the impound yard in the morning and check.”

  “Thanks. In the meantime, could I borrow your laptop?”

  “Don’t have it with me, but I can run it by tomorrow, if yours is definitely busted.”

  Amanda muted the TV volume completely and put down the remote. “Thanks for helping me today.”

  “You’re welcome.” Christine cleared her throat softly. “Uh, you know, I feel really bad about all that stuff we did to Jason. In hindsight, I guess we should have pulled the plug on about the third or fourth day.”

  “Yeah, hindsight.” Amanda’s eyes clouded again.

  “Should I stick around a bit?”

  “No. Go.” Amanda’s hand made a sweeping motion toward the door, but her tear-stained face didn’t turn.

  Christine set the front door so it would lock behind her and left quietly.

  By the time Amanda got to her deli soup, it was cold. She nuked it for a minute and then ate. She tried dunking a rice cake cracker, but it soaked up so much liquid that it simply collapsed under its own weight.

  About 10:00 p.m. Amanda finally checked her phone messages: one from Maria and one from Sunny. Three other messages were from Louis at work, but she’d have to wait until morning to listen to them. It would upset her too much to hear King Louie’s New York accent that late at night.

  Chapter 18

  August 20 (Thursday)

  Jason was up before 8:00 so he could phone in sick.

  His supervisor asked if he was feeling any better at all, since he’d already missed eight workdays. He made his voice sound a bit huskier and coughed a few times. “How much sick leave do I have left, Mizz Grunion?”

  “You will have used nine if you can’t work today. You earn fifteen days a year, but ten days were taken in January, so you’d already be in the hole. Lucky you were able to carry forward five days from last year. Five plus fifteen, minus ten… and minus another nine. You’ve got one day left for the rest of this year.”

  “Well, I might have to use that one tomorrow—” cough, cough “—’cause I don’t think I’ve got this thing licked yet.”

  “Yeah, I understand those man-colds are pure hell.” Ms. Grunion probably rolled her eyes at the phone. “While you’ve been off, the new girl has had to handle all your calls plus her own. A person can process only so many billing complaints, you know.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I got sick and everything. Maybe I’ll bring the new girl some M&Ms when I come back on Monday.”

  “Well, you should bring her more than a 75¢ bag of candy. And you’d better be here Monday morning, because I’ll have to dock you otherwise.”

  “Okay.” cough “Thanks, Mizz Grunion.” Dang, what a grouch!

  Over the past 22 hours, Jason had refueled his belly and carefully collected ten newspapers from the prickly holly bush near his front door. Several were soaked from the apartment complex’s automatic sprinkler system.

  He toasted some frozen waffles and drowned them in syrup. Then he ate Cocoa Puffs out of the box for a couple of hours while he clicked through his 98 channels and licked his wounds of the past ten days.

  It felt good to again have cable TV and a remote that functioned properly. Jason was especially pleased to note that his neighborhood was keeping digital cable, instead of retrofitting to analog.

  Later, Jason logged on to Christine’s blog, where he read a few more entries. He licked the cereal residue off his fingers and posted his first and only blog comment. Then he logged off that site, intending never to view it again.

  * * * *

  Amanda heard a foot kick at the bottom of her apartment door and guessed it was Christine with both arms full. Since it would take her a while to reach the entrance, she called out, “I’m coming.” Amanda’s eyes were red from tears and lack of sleep; she’d been up most of the night watching sad movies. It was a bit after 9:00 a.m.

  “I didn’t know if you’d eaten yet, so I brought some breakfast. Egg and cheese biscuits — one with sausage and one with bacon.”

  “I might take both. Only thing to eat here is a can of tomato paste. Last week, when I cleared the pantry — which was already very slim — I really cleaned it out.”

  “Well, these biscuit things will fill you up. Got any coffee brewing?”

  “All the coffee left with you over a week ago. Where’s that black bag?”

  “Oh yeah, in my trunk. I’ll go get it. In the meantime, here’s a laptop you can borrow. It’s Daniel’s. I didn’t get to the wrecking yard yet to check on yours.” Christine handed over the computer. “I’ll get that food bag while you’re logging on.” She hustled back out the door.

  Amanda winced when her right wrist tried to support half the weight of the laptop. Once on the couch, she managed to open the computer and quickly logged on with the built-in wireless connection.

  E-mail first, because she hadn’t read hers since Tuesday night. It was the usual spam, plus two messages from Louis and one from Maria. Another from Amanda’s sister Kaye. Also one from her mother in Arizona… which brought to mind that she really ought to tell Mom about the wreck. Something from Sunny with a subject line “cushaw guts”. And a message from Jason! She opened it. Scarcely a dozen words. Amanda began crying again.

  Christine came in huffing slightly with the weight of the food-filled trash bag. “What’s wrong now?” She put the sack down with a thud.

  Amanda pointed to the screen. “Jason broke up with me… by e-mail!”

  “He couldn’t even man-up enough to call it quits in person?” Christine sat on the couch and put an arm over her friend’s shoulder. From that position, she could likely also read Jason’s short message but she properly remained silent.

  Shortly, Amanda closed that message and lowered the lid until the laptop clicked softly, and then she stared at the device on her lap.

  Christine broke the silence. “He wants you to send his pants and keys over to his mother’s house. You want me to take them to Margaret?”

  When Amanda nodded, a few tears dropped onto the computer’s lid.

  Christine didn’t appear to notice. “
So, where did you hide those britches, anyway?”

  Amanda sucked up significant nasal drainage and dabbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Where he’d never look — in plain sight.”

  “Not plain enough.” Christine scanned as far as her head could turn in both directions of the living space. “Where?”

  Tears usually dampened her appetite, but Amanda realized she was quite hungry so she opened one of the breakfast sandwiches. “The whole time Jason stayed in my guestroom, they were hanging on the left rail of the treadmill.”

  “Good place. It’s a lot more level since you added those bricks.” Christine scurried down the hall, retrieved the slacks, and hurriedly returned to the couch.

  Amanda’s face was blank. “I can’t believe I got dumped by e-mail.” A biscuit crumb fell to her lap.

  “Well, you’re probably better off, Amanda. I don’t think Jason was the right match for you anyway.”

  “He seemed pretty right, until he decided to invade my apartment despite my protests.” She took another small bite.

  “A man’s true colors are revealed during a crisis, no matter what type or size of crisis.” Christine pointed toward the former site of Amanda’s tablecloth. “And you can wrap a man up in bright floral colors, but underneath… he’s just brown burlap.”

  Though Christine apparently liked the sound of her metaphor, it didn’t make much sense to Amanda, who paid little attention to the brief philosophy lesson. “Uh, I don’t think I can read any of your blog right now.” She took another small bite of egg, but her heart wasn’t in the nutrition. “But I was curious about the buzz.”

  “No more buzz… it’s dead. Took it down this morning, right before I came over here. Wrote my final post. Told everybody I’d unintentionally turned a minor illness into a major catastrophe, and explained about your wreck. Announced I was donating the money we’d collected to the local displaced women’s center. Somebody else had already posted something about the breakup.”

  “Even our breakup is on the Internet now? Blistered butt-rash! I guess that was probably Jason’s post.”

  “Yeah. But I wasn’t going to say.” Christine sat next to her friend on the couch. “I didn’t post anything on Wednesday, because of your wreck and hospital and everything. So the bloggers were buzzing, asking if anybody knew anything about Missy and Marty.” Christine sighed. “Since you last saw it — Tuesday, I guess — there’d been a new undercurrent. We’d already seen several bloggers urging us to drop the entire project. But this new thread was encouraging Marty and Missy to reconcile. It’s ironic — I guess they saw the break coming before Jason made up his mind on…”

  “He sent the e-mail yesterday afternoon.” Amanda’s eyes filled again.

  “In the last comment I read this morning, somebody wanted to pitch in on some flowers to be sent to Missy.”

  Tears resumed.

  Christine let her cry on the couch and then briefly shoulder-hugged her friend. “I guess we ought to get moving. Your doctor’s appointment is for 10:30, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, glad you remembered.” She sucked up the drainage. “Let me take a spit bath and wash my hair in the sink. Give me fifteen minutes.”

  * * * *

  Amanda’s regular doctor — plus several new X-rays — confirmed everything the E.R. doctors and nurse had said. Possibly a mild concussion, likely with no bad effects. Right wrist was strained but not sprained. Ribs bruised but not fractured. Three toes on right foot were fractured, but not broken. The doctor examined each toe — excruciatingly — and had her nurse re-splint them.

  Amanda struggled to put on her ugly blue canvas boot with the wooden plank sole. “I still don’t understand how these three toes got injured from a rear-end — or right rear corner — collision.”

  “I’m guessing you really stood on that brake pedal — a natural reaction when the vehicle stopped in front of you. When the other car hit you, it put even more pressure on your braking foot than those toes could withstand. So they cracked.” The doctor’s chin jutted out slightly. “I see lots of broken feet in car crashes.”

  “Didn’t know that.”

  “It gets worse as women age, of course. Bones lose density and strength. But you’ve got plenty of time before you need to worry about osteoporosis. Not too early to take calcium supplements, though.” The doctor waggled a forefinger as she handed Amanda a prescription for a week’s worth of pain pills.

  “How long do I wear this boot?”

  “Hard to say. Maybe a week or so. Take off the boot for your shower, but wrap a freezer bag or something around your foot so the splint bindings don’t get wet.”

  That sounded awkward. Maybe she’d have to skip showers for a few days. Ha.

  “Come back here in a week… next Thursday. The nurse will take off the splints. You can show us then how much movement you can stand. Pain isn’t visible, but those toes won’t let you walk on them until they’re ready. No need to rush things. Take care of your toes — you’ll need them in good shape when you’re an old lady.”

  This doctor is obsessed with old age.

  On their way from the doctor’s office, Christine drove to the pharmacy again to fill the new prescription. She also stopped at a fast-food place and got a bag of roast beef sandwiches, plus curly fries and two gigantic diet drinks. “This ought to keep you going until supper.”

  “All that?” Amanda pointed.

  “As if. Half is yours.”

  “Not sure I can eat that many little sandwiches. Let me have two and you take the other four.” Amanda sorted. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you: what about your book?”

  “On hold. Maybe we should proceed more slowly. I shouldn’t have expected to fix several generations of man-cold problems in two weeks.”

  Now she becomes cautious!

  Getting from the car into the apartment was still quite awkward. People say you don’t get accustomed to temporary crutches until you don’t need them any more. Christine helped as much as possible, but she was mostly in the way.

  “If you wrap that wrist, it’ll be easier to grip the crutch handle.” Christine pointed. “Do you have an Ace bandage?”

  Amanda nodded and then got misty again. It was the bandage she’d used for Jason’s alleged injuries. He’d left it wadded up on the bathroom counter.

  After Amanda calmed down again, Christine hugged her briefly. “I’ve got to abandon you this afternoon. I have another face-to-face with my delicious lawyer downtown.”

  “Be careful entering the parking lots.” Amanda smiled slightly, despite the drying tears.

  “Ha, yeah. Well, Bruce works for a firm with its own private parking area, thank you very much.” Christine started to leave. “Are you going to be okay for supper? I mean, with the stuff in that big bag?”

  “I don’t remember what’s in there, but, yeah, I’ll be fine. You go ahead. And thanks, Christine, for helping me yesterday and today.”

  Christine just waved… then left.

  Amanda spent a few moments thinking about Christine’s several kindnesses these past two days. In contrast, she reflected on how horribly she had treated Jason when he came to her for help. The injured patient turned on the television and cried through part of another movie.

  The doctor had said Amanda should stay home for at least three days… during her crunch weeks! The grant cycle process couldn’t survive with her missing any days. She figured everything was ruined: her job, her relationship, and her car. She blamed Louis for sending her to a meeting that he should have attended.

  Amanda also blamed Jason, who’d made her late and indirectly caused the wreck. But mostly it was his fault for moving in despite her protests.

  She additionally had every right to be furious at Christine, for too many reasons to mention, but mostly for escalating everything. The entire matter could have been settled quicker and with significantly less collateral damage if she’d never asked her older friend for help. Curiously, however, though she felt wounded
by Christine, Amanda was not actually angry at her. At least Christine had tried to help. Her methods were far afield, but her motives were unselfish… more or less.

  Amanda brooded, limped to the bathroom and kitchen a few times, and cried at the television some more.

  ———

  In early afternoon, her phone rang… a work number. Louis! She knew she had to answer.

  “Didn’t you get my voicemails and e-mails?” He couldn’t be bothered to ask how she was feeling after her wreck. Dang Yankees.

  “Sorry, I got tied up with hospital, insurance, drug stores, and doctor visits. But my laptop was in my wrecked car, so I couldn’t read any e-mails you sent.” That was a truth variant — no way could Louis know she’d had access to a borrowed computer.

  “When are you coming in?”

  “Doctor told me to stay prone for at least three days.”

  “When did those three days start? Yesterday morning when you collided with that other vehicle?”

  “I didn’t collide with anybody. Some old lady ran me down!”

  “Whatever.”

  “Louis, I’ll be back on Monday. Okay?”

  There was a short pause on his end. “How about I send over the rest of these apps, so you can read while you’re relaxing?”

  “I’m not relaxing! I was in a car wreck!” She was just about to scream.

  “Well, I could send some over tomorrow, then. That’d give you the weekend to catch up.”

  “Louis! I already worked my entire Saturday and Sunday last weekend, with no extra pay and no hint of appreciation. Plus, I’m allowed paid sick leave like everybody else on the county payroll. Nobody else works while they’re sick.”

  “But you’re not sick. It’s just your foot.”

  “And concussion and wrist. Look up injury in the county manual, if you want. But I’m not reading any dreary grant apps until I get past this pain medicine. I’ll be in the office early Monday.”

  “But who’s going to prepare the recommendations?”

  Amanda sighed heavily. “I’ve left notes and evaluation forms on each app as I’ve read them. All they need is to be typed up.”