Hot Summer

by Judy Powell

  Soon it was Edna Jones’s turn to go in to see the doctor. Summer wheeled her in and sat quietly as the doctor shone lights into her mother’s eyes and had her read letters from a chart. Dr. Akpabio was one of the most respected ophthalmologists in Chicago. He’d been with the Chicago City Hospital for over ten years and had made a name for himself with what was dubbed as ‘Miracle Surgery’. He had actually returned sight to four patients who had each been blind for years. Summer had the confidence that if anyone could help her mother’s failing eyesight it was Dr. Akpabio.

  “Ms. Jones,” the doctor’s heavily accented voice cut through her thoughts,

  “your mother has a condition called ocular degeneration which is often seen in severe cases of Multiple Sclerosis. What this means is that if surgery is not done the optic nerves will deteriorate until she loses her sight.”

  The doctor was blunt and matter of fact and, as Summer gripped the back of her mother’s chair, she wondered if she had made the right choice for her mother. Then she realized what the doctor was doing. He was giving her all the facts, painful as they may be, so that she could make the best decision for the sick woman. In not softening the blow he was forcing her to be practical.

  “How much time do we have, doctor?” she asked weakly, as her hand rested gently on her mother’s shoulder.

  “Without surgery, anywhere from six to twelve months.” The doctor looked at her gravely. “I would recommend that you have your mother evaluated for surgery and then make arrangements for the procedure.”

  “But are there any risks?” Summer tried to keep her voice steady, not wanting to upset her mother, but the words came out with a slight tremble.

  “With surgery, there are always risks,” the doctor replied. “In your mother’s case the risks are even greater because of her weakened condition. Outside of the risk to her life there’s also the danger of the surgery failing and her losing sight completely.”

  Summer drew in her breath sharply but remained silent.

  The doctor continued, “But without the surgery she’ll probably lose her sight anyway, maybe as early as six months from now.”

  “Excuse me.”

  Both Dr. Akpabio and Summer turned when Edna spoke.

  “If you both are finished talking about me as if I’m not here I’d like to say something, please.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jones.” The doctor’s smile was apologetic. “Please, go ahead.”

  Thank you.” Edna’s voice was quiet but firm. “I realize how risky it is for me to do surgery in my condition but it’s either that or live the rest of my life in darkness.” She looked up at her daughter. “Right now I’m more concerned about the quality of my life than the length of it. With my condition, life is uncertain anyway. I want to do the surgery.”

  Without a word Summer nodded. She was afraid of putting her mother’s life at risk but she would never deny her this only hope. “We’ll do it, doctor.” She now spoke firmly, decisively.

  Doctor Akpabio nodded then sat down to take them through the details of the procedure.

  By the time Summer returned to work two days later she was an emotional wreck. She was trying to come to terms with the fact that, even with surgery, there were no guarantees for the preservation of her mother’s eyesight. What made it worse, surgery was actually going to put her mother’s life at risk. Then she found out that Medicaid only covered half the cost of the procedure.

  On top of all that, things were getting desperate for Summer. A week had passed since her landlord had given her notice and, even with a real estate agent helping her, she hadn’t been able to find a reasonably priced apartment. As for her tuition fee, the first installment was due in three weeks and she still had no clue where she was going to get the money.

  She’d waited anxiously for the past three days but Lance never returned her call. She threw her purse into the locker and slammed the door shut. Regardless of her desperation she was so angry that she felt that if she saw him right this minute she’d let him have it.

  But he never came. Summer was on edge all night, seething because he’d totally ignored her call but desperately anxious for him to show. The combination of her distracted state coupled with her own naturally saucy temperament proved to be a volatile combination that night.

  “Waitress!” The shrill voice pulled her from her thoughts and brought her back to the reality of the restaurant and her duties at hand. She hurried over to a table where two elderly women sat.

  She addressed the one who had spoken. “Yes, Ma’am, may I help you?”

  “This soup is cold.” The gray-haired woman pushed the bowl towards her. “I’m not paying for cold soup.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I realize it’s now cold, but when I brought it to you over half an hour ago it was piping hot.” Summer turned to her with a well-practiced smile and waited patiently for her response.

  It came quickly. The woman was abrupt. “Don’t give me any backchat. The soup is cold and I don’t want it. Take it away.”

  The other woman, obviously embarrassed, kept her eyes on her own bowl which was empty.

  “And did you enjoy your soup, ma’am?”

  The woman jumped as Summer directed the question to her.

  “Yes, thank you. Very much.” She spoke with obvious sincerity.

  “And yet you didn’t touch yours, ma’am?” She turned her attention back to the frowning woman. “Was there a problem with it?”

  The woman straightened her back and pursed her lips. “That is of no importance. It is sufficient to say that it does not suit me and I wish to have it removed.”

  “And why doesn’t it suit you, ma’am? You ordered it.” The bright smile that was plastered across Summer’s face masked her irritation.

  “What insolence.” The woman’s voice rose sharply. “I said take it away and that is what you should do. I owe you no explanation.”

  “Very well, ma’am.” Summer picked up both bowls and was about to head back to the kitchen when the woman stopped her.

  “Aren’t you going to take my order for a replacement?”

  “A replacement?” Summer echoed as if confused. “But there was nothing wrong with the soup. I imagine what happened was you were so busy talking that you allowed your soup to get cold. You do realize that if you order a second serving you will be charged for both orders?” Her voice remained pleasant but there was an underlying tone of steel in her voice. If this woman thought she was going to bully her she’d better think again.

  “How dare you?” The woman’s voice rose and the people at the neighboring table turned to stare at the scene. “I’ve been eating at this restaurant for years and never have I been treated so disrespectfully. I have a great mind to speak to the manager about this.”

  Summer’s voice was low but firm. “It’s your right to do that, ma’am. His office is the second door on the left.” She indicated the direction with a nod then continued on her way to the kitchen.

  “Now I’ve done it,” she muttered under her breath. But in the end she realized she didn’t care. Everything had gone wrong for her and she was at the end of her rope. Could things get worse?

  Apparently, they could. Summer was heading back through the door with another tray when she heard Mr. Williams calling her name. With a heavy sigh she set the tray back down and headed for the office.

  She pushed the door and entered. Mr. Williams was standing by his desk with his back to the window and a dark scowl on his face. “I’ve just received a complaint about you, Ms. Jones.” His voice was cold and unusually quiet.

  “What sort of complaint?”

  “I think you know. Unless you’ve had more than one altercation this evening?”

  Summer stared at him, unwavering, and said, “I don’t know what you were told, sir, but I was just doing my job.”

  “I was told by a patron that you were rude to her, that you refused to replace her soup.”

  “And did she tell you why she wanted that soup replaced?”
Summer’s voice was strong in her own defense. “I think not. She sat talking until her soup got cold then she demanded that I replace it - for free. I simply advised the lady that she would be charged for both orders of soup.”

  “She said you were rude to her,” he repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her explanation at all.

  “If providing a customer with information about her bill is being rude, then I was. But that’s all I did. And anyway,” Summer frowned at her employer, “I would have thought that you’d appreciate my trying to prevent a customer from taking advantage of your restaurant. Suppose everybody did that? All the profits would be eaten up in free meals.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Miss Jones, but that’s what I’m here for. There are certain things that you should refer to the manager and this was one of them.”

  “But I simply told her…”

  “I know what you told her. Now what I am saying is that, in future, I want you to refer all such situations to me. Let me be the one to make such decisions.” His tone softened slightly. “You never know - I may very well have decided to let this one slide just to maintain good customer relations. Mrs. Armstrong has been a regular customer for almost ten years. I can hardly afford to lose her over a bowl of soup. Do you understand?”

  Summer did not speak but only nodded.

  The man continued. “I was ready to dismiss you but after hearing your side of the story I realize that you had good intentions. However, this is the second time in two weeks that you’ve had run-ins with customers. I can’t afford for my business to suffer because of your temperament.” He paused as if waiting for his words to sink in then said sternly, “You’ll be placed on probation with immediate effect. Any further incident will result in your dismissal. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Very,” was all Summer said. She felt as if the strength had been knocked out of her and she had no fight left.

  That night she went to bed by nine o’clock, which was very early for her. She lay still in the darkness. She’d been through so much that day that she was exhausted but, somehow, she just couldn’t fall asleep. She had too much on her mind. It had been a terrible day. Her only consolation was that she hadn’t lost her job.

  It was clear, though, that her current job would never sustain her. She needed to find more work. She decided that first thing in the morning she would head down to the employment agency and submit an application for another part-time position. Her study time would be reduced even further but she had no choice. It was either work or sleep on the street.

  With a sigh she rolled on to her side and lay facing the wall. The darkness was like a soft blanket, caressing her. Somehow, instead of making her feel better, she suddenly felt vulnerable and alone. A fat tear drop slipped from the corner of her eye and slid across her cheek to dampen the pillow beneath. A second tear drop followed, then another. Before she knew what was happening she had her face buried in the pillow and her body was shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

  She cried for several minutes. Finally, she drew in a trembling breath and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. She had surprised herself with the sudden outburst. This was not like her - she couldn’t even remember the last time she had shed tears like that. She guessed that she’d been so overwhelmed with her problems that she had just lost control.

  Well, she had broken down for a moment, but that was all over now. She had no time for tears. She needed to get her thoughts together and prepare a plan of action.

  Against her wishes her thoughts went back to her last encounter with Lance Munroe. Then she thought of the offer he had made and her brow wrinkled in a frown. She thought of how she had anxiously checked her voicemail when she got home, inwardly praying that there would be a message from him. But still, there was nothing.

  The disappointment was like a bitter taste on her tongue but then it turned to anger. She was angry at the man who had thrown her a lifeline then pulled it away by totally ignoring her cry for help. But she was even angrier at herself for being so stupid as to believe that he’d had any interest at all in her well being. After all, who was she to him? Nothing but a struggling waitress he was trying to impress. He’d had no intention of giving her a job. For him it was probably just a way of getting her into his bed.

  Her nostrils flared as she thought of him – a typical man with only one thing on his mind. God, the arrogance of him, she fumed silently. He was a man she could find it very easy to hate.

  Suddenly she couldn’t lie down any longer. She felt the anger tightening in her chest and she got up off the bed and went to stand by the window. At that moment the phone rang.

  Summer jumped. She wasn’t expecting a call. It was probably someone from college calling for last minute help with a paper. They always did that to her.

  She reached for the phone and put the receiver to her cheek. “Hello”, she said brusquely, trying to convey her annoyance in the tone of her voice.

  “Summer. Were you sleeping? It’s Lance.”

  Her heart jerked with shock and pleasure when she heard the deep bass of the now familiar voice.

  “Lance, is that you?” Even to her own ears she sounded inane. She sat down heavily on the sofa.

  “Yes. I just got in from the airport and got your message.”

  “You were…away?”

  “I’ve been in London for the past week trying to tie up a record deal.” His voice sounded tired, strained. “I was trying to get so much done in the short time that I missed my flight. I should have been home eight hours ago.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay, I’m used to this sort of thing. But that’s not what I called about. What’s going on with you? The message you left was straightforward enough but there was something in your voice…that wasn’t the real you.”

  “The real me?” Summer frowned in the darkness. The man hardly knew her. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the bold, aggressive you.”

  “Aggressive?” she said, still confused.

  “Will you stop repeating what I’m saying? Are you sure you’re awake?” He chuckled softly. “You sound like you’re in a daze.”

  “Yes, I am,” she answered then added quickly, “Awake, I mean. I wasn’t sleeping.”

  “Good, because I want to know what happened to the spitfire I left in Chicago a week ago. Your message made you sound like a meek little lamb and I know you better than that.”

  “You do?”

  “I do. So…what has changed?”

  “I…” Summer hesitated, suddenly embarrassed. She sighed. “It’s a long story.” She was silent, not knowing where to start.

  Lance rescued her when he spoke. “I want to see you tomorrow. Will you be working in the morning, say around ten?”

  “No, I’m off tomorrow.”

  “Come down to my office for ten o’clock then. We’ll talk there.”

  Summer felt the tension in her body begin to dissipate and her spirit lifted as hope returned to her. “I’ll be there…” she began, then stammered, “I’m sorry…but I don’t know where your office is.”

  “I gave you my card.” His response was curt.

  “I…lost it.”

  “I see. So that’s why you called my apartment. If you’d left the message at my office I would have gotten it days ago. My assistant relays all my messages when I’m traveling.” There was a slight pause then he said, “By the way, how did you get my home number?”

  “Aah…” Summer felt her heart sink as she struggled to find an answer. Was she going to lose her last hope? Could she risk telling him the truth? Her sense of duty won and she decided to keep her promise never to reveal her source. “I’m sorry…but I can’t say.”

  “I see” There was another pause then he said, “Get a pen and I’ll give you the address.”

  After Summer hung up she went and sat on the bed and tucked her legs under her. She didn’t know whether to feel elated or depressed. She had fi
nally received the call she’d been waiting on for so long and now she had an appointment with Lance for the next morning. However, her joy was tempered with the way Lance had become formal at the end of the conversation. He hadn’t sounded angry but something in his tone changed. She hoped it wouldn’t affect his position about offering her a job.

  As she unfolded her legs and slipped under the covers she breathed a prayer that things would go well for her next day.

  5

  “You’re late, Miss Jones.”

  “I’m sorry. The cab driver got confused when I gave him the address and we ended up on the other side of the city.”

  “If there’s that anything that ticks me off it’s tardiness.” Lance’s annoyance showed on his face.

  “I said I was sorry.” Summer tried hard not to frown or raise her voice. She couldn’t understand why he was being so particular. It was only twelve minutes past ten, for goodness sake. Still, she couldn’t afford to annoy him so she simply said, “It won’t happen again.”

  “Thank you.” He beckoned to her to have a seat. He leaned back in the black leather chair and his relaxed yet alert posture hinted at underlying strength and determination. He wore a dark blue business suit with a red silk tie and he held a gold pen loosely in his long fingers.

  Summer had never seen him in this attire, not even when he had come to the restaurant with his colleagues from the music industry. She ’d heard he was successful but now he certainly looked the part.

  She glanced quickly around the office, trying not to stare openly, but impressed by its opulence. Her high heels had sunk into plush carpeting as she walked towards the proffered chair. The sofa and all the chairs in the room were of soft black leather and the huge desk behind which Lance sat gleamed under the lights overhead. There were three huge paintings on the wall, one of Lake Michigan and the other two of island scenes - fishermen with their boats on the seashore and a rustic market scene. Sculptures of rich black wood stood in the four corners of the room - the bust of a wise-looking old man, a roaring lion and two female torsos made even more sensual because they were headless.