It was nine o’clock on an overcast, wintery Saturday morning; the neighborhood seemed deserted. There was no sign of life as Kim turned into his drive and pulled up to the garage door. Even the next-door neighbor’s morning paper had yet to be retrieved from the front walk.
The interior of Kim’s house reflected the exterior. It had been mostly stripped of rugs, accessories, and furniture since Tracy had taken what she wanted when she moved out. In addition, the house hadn’t been cleaned in months. The living room in particular had a dance-hall feel, with only one chair, a tiny scatter rug, a side table with a telephone on it, and a single floor lamp.
Kim tossed his keys onto a built-in console table in the foyer before passing through the dining room into the kitchen/family room combination. He called out Becky’s name, but she didn’t answer. Kim glanced into the sink. There were no soiled dishes.
Having awakened a little after five that morning, which was his custom, Kim had gotten up and gone to the hospital to make his rounds. By the time he got home he’d expected Becky to be up and ready to go.
“Becky, you lazy bum, where are you?” Kim called out while mounting the stairs. As he crested the top he heard Becky’s bedroom door open. A moment later Becky was standing in the doorway, still dressed in her flannel nightgown. Her hair was a dark mop of tangled curls, and her eyes were heavy-lidded.
“What’s going on?” Kim asked. “I thought you’d be raring to get to your skating lesson. Let’s move it.”
“I don’t feel so good.” Becky said. She rubbed her eye with her knuckle.
“Oh?” Kim remarked. “How come? What’s wrong?”
“I have a stomachache.”
“Well, it’s nothing, I’m sure,” Kim said. “Does the pain come and go or is it steady?”
“It comes and goes,” Becky said.
“Where exactly do you feel it?” Kim asked.
Becky made some vague movements with her hand around her abdomen.
“Any chills?” Kim asked. He reached out and put his hand on Becky’s forehead.
Becky shook her head.
“Ah, nothing but a few cramps,” Kim said. “It’s probably your poor stomach complaining about last night’s junk food. You shower up and get dressed while I see to some breakfast for you. But snap it up; I don’t want your mother complaining to me about you being late for your skating.”
“I’m not hungry,” Becky said.
“I’m sure you will be after your shower,” Kim said. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
Back in the kitchen Kim got out cereal, milk, and juice. Returning to the base of the stairs, he was about to call out to Becky when he could hear the unmistakable sound of the shower. Returning to the kitchen, he used the wall phone to call Ginger.
“Everybody’s okay at the hospital,” Kim said as soon as Ginger answered. “All three post-ops are sailing along fine, although the Arnolds, particularly Gertrude Arnold, are driving me bananas.”
“I’m glad,” Ginger said tartly.
“What’s wrong now?” Kim asked. He’d had another minor run-in with one of the nurses on rounds that morning and was looking forward to a stress-free day.
“I wanted to stay over last night,” Ginger said. “I don’t think it is fair. . .”
“Stop right there!” Kim snapped. “Let’s not get into this again, would you please. I’m tired of this nonsense. Besides, Becky is a little under the weather this morning.”
“What’s the matter with her?” Ginger asked. Her concern was genuine.
“Nothing much, just a stomachache,” Kim said. He was about to elaborate when he heard Becky coming down the stairs. “Uh-oh,” he intoned. “Here she comes. Listen, meet us at the rink at the mall. Bye!”
As Becky came into the room, Kim hung up the phone. She was dressed in Kim’s bathrobe, which was so big it dragged on the floor and the arms came down to mid-calf.
“There’s cereal, milk, and juice on the table.” Kim said. “Feel any better?”
Becky shook her head.
“What do you want to eat?”
“Nothing,” Becky said.
“Well, you have to have something.” Kim said. “How about a shot of Pepto-Bismol?”