**
Kole Redmond
Traveler
It’s about nine p.m. and I’ve just gotten out of the shower when I hear it: Henry’s bell. Third time today. He never rings a third time. Something must be wrong. I drop my towel, throw on my robe, and run to his bedroom while leaving a trail of fallen water behind me. I enter and expect to see him half dead or with four broken limbs that would cause him to ring me a third time. Instead, I see Henry sitting up in bed the same way he was this morning. “Darling, what happened?” I hurriedly rush over to him and check his vitals. Normal. I reach my hand up to check his temperature and he pushes my hand away, “Dahlia! Will you stop being so hysterical? Back up!” I can tell he’s trying to regain the booming yell he used to have that always scared me, but now his voice is strained and sounds like rusty gears grinding together. Although I’m not frightened, my cheeks still heat up and I follow his orders. “I’m sorry. You rang a third time.” I say, trying to steady my quivering voice. “Am I not allowed to? You can be so inconsiderate, Dahlia.” I stifle an eye roll. Has he looked in the mirror lately? “You’re right, I’m sorry. It just caught me off guard. What do you need me to do?” He clears his throat, and I can’t decipher if it’s because he’s ill or nervous. What could he be nervous about? What is he about to say? “I hired a live-in nurse. She starts next week. I can’t have your emotions continue to get in the way of my treatment.” What? A live-in nurse? Another woman living with, feeding, and taking care of my husband? “Henry, that’s unnecessary. I love you. I enjoy taking care of you. We don’t need some strange woman living in our house doing the things your wife should be doing.” I try not to sound angry, he doesn’t respond well to my anger, but I know some emotion peeks through my monotone curtain. “Dahlia, having someone so inexperienced handle my care is not good for me if I ever want to go into recovery. I accessed my life insurance money and I’ve already hired her. I’m not asking for your permission I am simply letting you know. This is the last week I’ll needing your assistance.” He’s got a thicker monotone curtain than me. I want to plead with him, but I know I can’ t change his mind. Next week a woman will take my husband away from me and I will not be able to see him anymore except for the occasional glance through his door, which I refuse to close all the way. I numbly return to my room and let my corpse collapse on my bed without taking the comforter off. With this, his dark neglect completely suffocated my graham crackered whimsy.
19
