A Dove for Eddy

by Sherry Elliott

  Chapter 7

  Why hasn’t she come to pick up Porter? Eddy wondered. She hadn’t planned on watching the boy this long. After all, she wasn’t running a boarding home for orphans and injured wildlife. Then Eddy felt a twinge of guilt. Well, I guess I could at least be nice to the kid, she thought.

  “Porter,” she said, trying to use her best nice voice. She smiled and continued. “When I was a little girl there was a man, named. . .Tarnation! What was his name?” She scratched her head and then shrugged her shoulders. “Oh well, it don’t matter what his name was. He lived down the street from us, and he raised doves. He loved those birds and took care of them like they were his children. They would eat right out of his hand, like this.” Cupping her small, wrinkled hand, she held it out for Porter to inspect. “See here, you could fit a whole bunch of seed in here.” Porter looked in her hand, as he had been instructed. “You know that he even trained them to deliver messages.”

  “But – but -- birds can’t talk,” Porter said.

  “Of course they didn’t talk. Little smart aleck,” she muttered. “They carry a message written on a little piece of paper tied to their leg,” she said.

  “But - but after they deliver the message, how - how do they know how to get home?” Porter said.

  “I heard they can see really well and remember what things look like as they fly over them. Maybe they just know how to get there, I don’t know,” she said. “What difference does it make?”

  “Maybe they want to see - see the man who loved them and took care of them. They might look for - for him because they miss him,” Porter said, as he fidgeted with his clothes. “Or maybe, they can - can feel his love so - so strong that it helps them find their way home,” he said.

  Eddy gathered up the blanket and shook it out several times before folding it into a nice tight bundle. She smoothed the plastic covering on the crème brocade couch and tidied the living room, as she carefully considered Porter’s words. “Hmm,” she said, as she pumped the handle of the germicide vigorously.

  It was getting late in the day, and she had still not heard from Porter’s mother. She wondered if they should go to the hospital, but then she remembered what she had heard on the news. What about all those criminals on the loose just looking for easy prey like a defenseless old lady with a small boy? How could we protect ourselves? But, she argued, Porter’s mother needs help. Her hands trembled, and bile filled her mouth, as she contemplated the notion of venturing outside. She swallowed hard and wrung her hands. I can do this, she told herself. She held her head high, as she announced, “Now, I think we better go to the hospital. You can watch TV while I get ready.” She turned on the television, then handed Porter the remote. Pointing her finger at him, she said, “Don’t turn it up loud, and don’t sit close to the screen, or you’ll go blind.”

  Porter sat silently as he scanned the channels for cartoons, while Eddy made her way to the bedroom. She jabbered, as she rummaged through her bedroom closet, “I heard that fifty percent more Americans have poor vision since the invention of the television. It should be illegal for kids to watch TV and ruin their eyes. You know, you have to be twenty-one years old to drink booze, because it can damage your liver. Everybody wants to save other people’s livers, but nobody cares about people’s eyes.

  You know what, I’m making a stand, starting today,” she said to herself. “That boy will not ruin his eyes on my watch. Turn that blasted TV off,” she yelled. Click, the TV fell silent. “It’s for his own good,” she said.

  After removing the house dress, Eddy held it up to the light. She noticed the soiled collar and tattered hem and wondered how long it had been since it was laundered. She couldn’t remember. Was it two or three weeks? She sniffed the underarms. “Phew.” She swayed and caught the doorjamb with her hand. “It must have been three weeks.” Eddy rummaged through her closet, but it took longer to get ready than she planned. Inspecting her reflection in the mirror, she noticed that her clothes didn’t seem to fit right. “I must have lost weight,” she mumbled.

  She knew that she didn’t eat as much as she did when Fred was alive. Fred didn’t forget to eat. “Don’t you think we had better eat,” he would say. “We don’t have to cook.” Then he would ask her what restaurant she wanted to go to, but since she knew what he liked, she often picked one of his favorite restaurants. But without Fred here to remind her to eat, she frequently skipped meals. The cigarettes, though, wouldn’t let her forget about them. They had a way of gnawing on her gut till she gave in to the craving. She lit up a cigarette and laid it in the ashtray.

  Holding up a brown polyester pantsuit, she inspected it in the scrutiny of the sun‘s light. “I don’t know why polyester isn’t as popular as it used to be. It never needs to be ironed.” She shook her head from side to side and clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “People just don’t have good sense anymore.” Eddy placed some coins in her pocket then folded up a twenty-dollar bill and tucked it in her bra. She pulled the neckline of her top out and visualized her shoes. “I hope that don’t fall out.” Just to be safe; she decided to secure the twenty in place with a piece of tape. Then she slipped a ten-dollar bill in her shoe. Applying the hand sanitizer, she briskly rubbed her hands together before putting in her dentures. She chomped down several times to make sure they were secure. She eyed the wedding ring on her left hand and contemplated whether she should wear it or leave it at home. After much debate, she decided to leave it at home. Lastly, she put the house key on her necklace chain, and then hid it under her blouse. “Got to play it smart now-a-days, since all of them knuckleheads are on the loose.”

  Eddy snuck in another smoke before going to the living room. There she found Porter napping in the Lazy Boy recliner. She felt a surge of anger course through her. That’s Fred’s chair; she hadn’t even sat in his chair. Grabbing a pillow, she popped Porter on the head. “Get up,” she barked. Startled, Porter jumped up and gawked at Eddy. He rubbed his eyes. “It’s time to go,” she said.

  The rain pelted the umbrella, as Eddy and Porter walked toward the cab. The cab smelled like sour milk, and it was cluttered with clothes and toiletries. Shoving the contents onto the floor, she toppled onto the back seat. Porter scurried behind her. Eddy spent most of the trip holding on to the side door handle, as the driver jerked around sharp corners and weaved in and out of traffic. Porter’s eyes were plastered on the road ahead, and he held his arms stiff to his side, clasping the vinyl seats. His face had grown pale, and she wondered if he was going to throw up. She scooted her feet away. He’d better not mess up my good shoes, she thought. Finally they arrived at the entrance of the hospital. Eddy fumbled with the money to pay the fare. “I hope you aren’t expecting a tip.” Her voice was shaky. “You know, the way you drive could give a person a heart attack.”

  “Jeez,” the cab driver said, rolling his eyes.

  “Don’t be picking me up when I call for a ride home. I want to arrive alive,” she said.

  The color was beginning to return to Porter’s cheeks, but his voice was still trembling. “Yeah - yeah,” he said. He looked at Eddy for support.

  “Yeah,” she echoed.

  “Don’t worry; it won’t be me picking you up,” he said, as he looked at the handful of coins Eddy had given him to pay for the fare.

  Eddy felt a little woozy. “A person needs a pill for motion sickness to ride with that guy.” She grabbed the hand sanitizer from her purse. “Here, use some of this,” she instructed Porter, as she pumped on the handle repeatedly. “No telling what kind of germs that derelict was carrying around.”

  Once inside the hospital, Eddy made a beeline for the information desk. Eddy was only a little taller than Porter, and together they looked up at the young woman seated at the elevated platform. She peered over the desk at them and smiled warmly. “What can I help you with today?” she asked.

  Well, at least there were still a few people in the world with manners, Eddy thought. The young woman gave them directio
ns and then handed them a map to the pediatric oncology floor.

  As soon as the elevator doors opened, the odor confronted her like an old enemy seeking to engage her in yet another battle. The sickening mixture of disinfectant and bodily fluids reminded her of Fred’s long fight with cancer. Tears stung her eyes. Eddy was tempted to bolt for the door as fast as her feeble body would carry her. But, Porter needed someone to be there for him, she reasoned. She straightened her spine and pushed the feelings back down to her gut where they had been for ten long years.

  They rounded the corner and saw the nurses clad in scrubs lined up at the nurse’s station like combat soldiers preparing for war. She heard the phones ringing, the beeps and bleeps of the monitors, and the overhead speakers paging for some doctor stat. Beads of sweat lined up on Eddy’s upper lip, and her mouth felt sticky and dry. She looked around for help. She was relieved to see Porter’s mother at the end of the hall. “Look Porter, isn’t that your mom? What’s her name?”

  He scratched his head. “Mom? I think – think -- I heard someone call her Ca - Carol once,” he said. Carol looked as if she had aged during the night. Her eyes were puffy and her shoulders had the slump of someone who had carried a heavy weight for a long time.

  Porter ran towards his mother and then threw both arms around her waist. Soon Eddy joined them. Carol looked up as the tears rolled down her face. “Thank you,” she said. She looked down at Porter, and held his shoulders. “The doctor said she’s very sick. We have to be strong, because she needs us more now than she ever has.” Carol then looked at Eddy, pleading with her to hear her unspoken words: Karen was dying.

  Eddy wanted to run away to keep the rising tide of grief from enveloping her and choking out the little bit of life she had left. Her instincts told her to get away from this place, to run and not look back, but her heart told her to stay. “Are you the grandmother?” the nurse asked. Eddy wasn’t sure if she nodded yes or no, but she felt the nurse escort her toward Karen’s room. “You’ll need to put a mask and gloves on before you enter the room. Karen is in isolation, because she has a very low white blood cell count.”

  Eddy carried out the instructions, but it was all surreal. Fred had been in isolation before he died, which required her to wear a mask and gloves to visit him. But at least Fred had lived to be eighty-two years old, so she had reasoned that it was his time to go. But Karen hadn’t yet begun to experience life.

  Eddy’s feet felt shackled in place. Porter looked at her expectantly, but she couldn’t force herself to enter the room. She turned abruptly and walked away. She glanced over her shoulder and made eye contact with Porter. His mouth was drawn and tight as if he wanted to yell for her to stay, to help, but he did not allow himself the indulgence.

  Eddy made her way through the corridors and stumbled out the exit doors into the cold drizzle. The skies were gray, and the pavement was covered in a layer of dirt and grime from the local construction, making a muddy mess of her shoes. She smelled the roasted coffee beans from the local coffee factory which she had always found reassuring. But today, she found it sickening.

  She tied her rain bonnet under her chin and lit up a cigarette. A passerby gave her a disapproving look and pointed to the sign above Eddy’s head, which read, NO SMOKING. So many changes, Eddy thought. Not only had smoking become unfashionable; in some places it was illegal. Right now she didn’t care what he or anybody else thought. She stuck out her tongue and blew him a raspberry.

  “Cute,” he said sarcastically.

  She blinked hard to clear the rain and tears from her eyes. “Now what should I do?” she mumbled. The reckless cabby let his engine idle as he waited for his fare. Some poor sap called for a cab and ended up with that maniac, she thought. She looked over her shoulder at the hospital entrance and then back at the cab. Eddy was tempted to jump in the back of it and speed off to the safety of her home. She didn’t even care if she arrived alive.