Just Us Box Set

And This Is Ed-7

By the time I got to my local Meals on Wheels office, it was close to twelve-thirty.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier, Tabitha. I had a work thing where I had to make an appearance.” Tabitha headed up this branch of the program. I’d been volunteering here for years, and it meant a lot to me to spend time taking care of the elderly and others in desperate need of assistance.

She gave me a quick hug. “You know you don’t have to apologize, sweetie. Anytime you can help us out, we’ll take it.” She moved away to grab a sheet of paper, which she quickly perused before handing it to me. “You have three residents this afternoon with requests for some light housekeeping, and a fourth with a clogged sink and toilet.”

“Happy to do it.” I grabbed a bagel and a cream soda as lunch, kissed her cheek, and headed out.

My first stop was Mr. Fellows. He was eight-nine years old, partially blind, and wheelchair bound. He was as sharp as a tack, though, and his hearing and sense of smell were pretty darned good.

“You smell like you’ve been outside most of the morning,” he said as I dusted around the living room.

“Yes, sir. Company had a picnic, so I made a brief appearance.” Sang like a fool. Made an ass of myself in front of my man-crush. Why did I care? I didn’t know, but likely, deep down, I did. I emptied a vase of dead flowers and hoped the evening meal delivery person would bring some fresh ones.

“You don’t sound too happy about that, son,” he replied, propelling the chair forward with a button to be closer to where I was now dusting his bookshelves.

“I’m not, Mr. F. but it’s over now, and I get to visit you, so that makes up for it.”

He gave me a dry, rusty chuckle. “Nice try, but I’ll take it.” He was silent for a little while, and when I was finished, he asked, “How about you read me some more of that Bester book?”

“The Stars My Destination? Sure.” I always tried to finish my tasks quickly enough so I’d have the time to spend either talking to or reading to the people I cared for.

I read Chapter Four, which was where we’d left off previously, then, after checking that he felt okay, had what he needed until his evening meal arrived, I went to the next house on my list.

The rest of the visits were in the same vein. It was sad, yet heartening to see these people who’d lived such full lives still hanging on, despite the direness of their circumstances. I’d watched my dad die slowly of cancer, and without my mom and me, he wouldn’t have had anyone. We couldn’t afford the kind of care he’d needed at the time, so we did what we could. When he died, Mom couldn’t stand the house anymore, so she left it to me, used her savings, and retired to Mexico. I sold the house and bought a condo. We email each other once a week, and I call her every now and then.

I got home after eight that night, and I was starving. Apparently so was Voldemort, who simply sat by his bowl and meowed until I gave him his dinner. At least I had my priorities straight.

After a meal of stir-fried chicken and rice, I sat on the couch, determined to bury the day in a movie of some sort on TV. I was in the middle of Children of Men when my cell phone buzzed. The first thing I thought was that something had happened at work.

I snatched up the phone and swiped the screen so I could read the text. It was from a number I didn’t recognize. What are you doing on Memorial Day?

I replied, Who’s this?

Guess.

I was too tired to play games. You have the wrong number.

I set aside my phone and went back to my movie. Half an hour later, I received another text. It’s Titus, from work.

Shit. I thought about how he might have gotten my number, but then I remembered that the contact information—including cell phones—for department heads was available on the employee portal. So why was he bugging me at close to ten at night?

It’s late, I typed, hoping he’d get the hint.

Can we meet somewhere tomorrow or Monday?

What the…? I texted back. Why?

Why not?

This conversation needed to be over. Don’t you have people you can hang out with?

None of them can sing better than Timberlake.

I reluctantly smiled. He didn’t give up easily, did he? Against my better judgment, I sent back, Monday. Meet me at 54 Hill Crescent, 9 am. It was the address for Meals on Wheels.

Done. G’night, Ed.

Bye, Titus.

Jesus, what had I just gotten myself into?