“Yes? Yes. He’s… right here.” Felicity waited with the receiver outstretched until Jack hobbled to the kitchen and could take it from her. She turned away and busied herself by searching the cabinet under the sink for scouring powder, then walked to the refrigerator, took out the ketchup and put the canister of scouring powder in its place.
“Thanks. Yes, they received the message. I’ll have to arrange a ride to the downtown office, but that shouldn’t be a problem. I know. But it’s what I want. I’ll explain later.”
Felicity turned on the water and put a stopper in the sink, despite the fact there were no dirty dishes in the sink.
Jack returned the receiver to the base unit and hobbled across the room to stand beside Felicity. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Her guilt was too great.
“Hmmm?” She turned toward him and planted a static smile on her face.
“I could really do with some lunch. Mind if I make us some sandwiches?”
“Oh. Oh! Let me fix you something. You should sit.” She buzzed around him, opening and closing cupboards in search of sandwich fixings.
“Ah-huh.” He pivoted, opened the trashcan by pushing the pedal with his crutch, then bent at the waist.
“What are you doing?”
He retrieved the nearly new ketchup bottle from the trash, turned to the fridge, opened the door, pulled out the canister of scouring powder and returned the ketchup bottle to its place. He turned again and handed her the scouring powder.
Her cheeks burned.
His heart made a hesitant tha-bump, followed by another, and then another… until it beat at a regular clip… something no one had inspired in his old ticker in nearly thirty years.
Awwww... if you can get beyond the fact that there's a lot of head hoping, and hobbling, and disjointed conversation. -Sofie.