Midnight Movement

I led the way to the bedroom, feeling badly.

He didn’t know he wasn’t going to enjoy this ride with Jeff.

I guess I went in first. I stood beside Jeff on his side of the bed, in the same spot I’d been standing in. But, it felt different. Different from the moments before. It felt weird.

We’d recently slid the bed straight across from the inside wall to the bowed-window wall. I was thinking, if we’d flip-flopped the bed, he should have been on the other side.

Instead, when we’d moved it, he kept his spot closer to the door. I was closer to the bathroom, just as I had been, and was suddenly wondering why.

It wasn’t such a mystery. Not even worth calling a question. The answer was easily there before I finished asking myself.

Midnight movement.

That’s what he’d called it. He’d said just because he was awake didn’t mean I had to wake up. He’d said having to walk around the bed meant he’d bump into stuff and would wake me. As far as I was concerned, the bumping concern far outweighed my need for sleep and was scarier than me without enough.

Jeff’s legs were sensitive and easily bruised, A break in the skin could easily become an ulcer. Ulcers easily became infected. Fighting infection was getting harder and harder. Poor blood circulation, neuropathy, obesity, heart issues, stomach troubles – were all set in motion by his unconquerable diabetes monster.

The soft snap of a glove snapped me out of my pondering.

I tracked the sound: startled to find the medic had moved around to the other side of the room and the other side of the bed. I hadn’t noticed. I’d thought he was still behind me or beside me. Not so far away.

I tracked the source: finding it. I stared at the glove, followed it to his wrist, up the arm – eventually traveling to the responder’s face.

There must have been something more than the vacancy I felt in my expression because he seemed a bit surprised.

I don’t know what question I was wearing, but his stop-in-mid-motion answer was:

“You know I’m not going to try to revive him, right?”

 

Quote for the Week: 2019 11 05 IF is a futurate escort jakorte

Slightly Familiar & Fourth

 

Sometimes, if I move a certain way, it recalls the exact physical feeling; the act of turning away, turning my back on Jeff and the eerie finality of walking out our bedroom door.

I got as far as the dining room when the phone I amazingly still had in my grip, rang.

911 was calling me.

Apparently, I was supposed to stay on the line until it could be confirmed help had arrived. Until I was securely handed off to the next step.

I opened the door to find a man already standing in place, ready to move in, so I stepped back.

I registered the familiar face and was bit stupefied by that.

That and the fact that the situation had changed into something; moving, forward, fast.

With the screen door behind him and one foot inside our home, he said something official-sounding announcing he was who he was.

I don’t think I moved.

He told me his partner so-and-so had gone back to the ambulance for more equipment, then bent to grab what was already piled up on the porch.

I don’t think I said anything.

Which may have accounted for the curious look he glanced my way while straightening up.

When his focused eyes took me in, he actually sort-of smiled.

“I thought I recognized this address…” he said.

 

I couldn’t blame him for the almost grin. Jeff was a memorable rider, always joking. Even with acute pancreatitis.

Even the night that Nannee blew her airhorn. There was a lot of laughter that night. From everyone – Jeff, me, the crew of two. Nannee, as well.

This would be his fourth trip to our home.

 

“Yes.” I agreed with his observation.

A full beat passed before I added, “I can’t wake him up.”

“Where is he?”

“In bed.”

He glanced around.

I realized he was waiting for direction, so I led the way.

 

Quote for the Week: 2019 10 29 Adding a slightly familiar element to an unexpected jakorte