Chapter 7-1
987 Words
Chapter 7
“Sorry, Mr Smith, the nurse is running about half an hour behind schedule,” the doctor’s receptionist told Mark. “But if you take a seat, she will see you as soon as she can.”
We found seats in the waiting room, crowded as usual with anxious mothers and their screaming, hyperactive children.
After a while I asked Mark if he’d be okay on his own for a bit. “I’ve just got a couple of errands I need to take care of.”
Mark gave me a smile. “No problem.”
“Thanks. I won’t be long. Probably be back before you get seen.”
“Okay, see you later.”
I’d decided to get a surprise Christmas present for Mark. I hoped he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable that he hadn’t been able to get me a gift in return. Not one he could wrap anyway. Mark agreeing to spend Christmas with me would be gift enough.
I went into the local branch of Waterstones, the booksellers. I thought Mark would appreciate a book. I know: what would you expect a librarian to buy? They had a few copies of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. One in particular had a bright-red cover in tooled-leather. I thought he would like that. It was also small enough to fit in my pocket, so it wouldn’t be difficult for me to get it home without Mark being aware of what I’d bought. I thought about writing an inscription in the book, but I couldn’t put down on paper what I felt. Maybe I would think of something before I wrapped it.
My purchase made, I went back to the doctor’s. Mark still hadn’t been seen, so I waited with him. I read an ancient copy of the Reader’s Digest, but felt guilty as Mark couldn’t hold a book. He said he was okay staring at the posters on the wall extolling the virtues of giving up smoking, taking more exercise, and losing weight.
Finally his name was called. I asked him if he wanted me to go in with him and he agreed. I abandoned a ‘fascinating’ article on the problems of establishing rubber plantations in India in the early part of the century, and followed Mark into the treatment room.
“Now, Mr Smith, let’s have a look at these dressings,” the nurse, all businesslike, said. “And how have we been with them?”
“I don’t know about you, nurse, but, for me, they’ve been itching a bit lately.”
The nurse didn’t appear to catch Mark’s sarcasm.
“Good. The itching means your body is healing itself.” She cut and unwrapped the bandages.
Mark’s hands looked red to me, but the nurse seemed to think everything was healing nicely.
“That’s it, you’re done,” she said once the new bandages were taped in place. “Make an appointment for the same time next week, and we’ll see how they’re doing then.”
I remembered the sick note Mark would need to go with his benefit forms. The nurse said to ask the receptionist. We did, and she managed to collar a doctor, who after taking a quick glance at Mark’s notes, gave him a certificate for a month. This was more than I thought he would get. The doctor saw my surprise and said if Mark found any work earlier, then the note could always be revised.
We left the surgery, I posted off the benefit forms, and we headed for Woolworth’s to check out their decorations. I’d remembered to put the rucksack on Mark, as I thought we’d end up buying quite a bit.
We bought so much—despite Mark’s protestations—I had to buy a second rucksack for myself. There was no way I could carry a plastic snowman as well, so we had to ditch that idea. Though I didn’t give up hope altogether about buying one. Even so, we were a heavily laden pair who dragged ourselves through our front door.
“I don’t know about you,” I told Mark once I’d set down our bags, “but I need a cup of coffee.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a cup, either.”
I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. “You know, that isn’t the end of the shopping,” I told Mark, who was still in the living room.
I heard him groan. “Why, what have we forgotten?”
“Although we’ve plenty of food in, I want to get a few more special items. I want to make this a Christmas to remember!”
Mark had walked into the kitchen by this point and put his arms around me. “It already will be because you’ve agreed to share your home with me.”
“Thanks.” I swallowed. Originally I hadn’t planned on doing much of a Christmas meal for just me. I’d bought a piece of turkey breast and a tiny foil-wrapped carton of stuffing. “I plan to do a large supermarket shop. I was going to walk up to Tesco, load myself up, and get a taxi back, but if you want to come, I don’t mind. Otherwise I could ask Mary if she’d come round this evening and keep you company.”
“I’ll come with you. It doesn’t seem fair to put Mary out.”
“She won’t mind. She’d enjoy spending the evening with a good looking man.”
Mark blushed.
“Though on second thoughts, she did say she’d have her father’s car for the early part of this week. I wonder if she’d take us to the supermarket? Believe me, that girl lives to shop. I swear her motto is ‘When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping’.”
Mark chuckled.
“Okay, then. Ring her up and see what she says.”
“Going shopping with a couple of gay men, we’ll have a whale of a time,” was Mary’s response over the phone when I asked for her help.
“Don’t stereotype. Not all gay men enjoy shopping.” I also asked her if she wanted to stay for the evening and have supper with us.
“I’d love to. Since Jerry left, I’ve just been pining away at home.” She laughed.
“Yeah, right.”
“Well, my honour couldn’t be in danger with you two, could it?”
“I think you’ll be safe with us. You can help decorate the house as well if you’ve a mind to. You know what I’m like up a step ladder.”
“Course I’ll help. Though you’d have thought a couple of gay men wouldn’t need any help with decorating.”
“Don’t start all that again,” I laughed.
“I’ll come round about six. Be ready to shop, shop, shop!”
I groaned, said ‘goodbye,’ and hung up.
Going back into the kitchen, I related most of the conversation to Mark. “And if you think this morning’s shopping expedition was tiring, just wait until you’ve seen Mary in action.”
“I feel a headache coming on.”
“Wimp.”
- Writer
