She scratches her
cheek and looks out the window, feeling the warm sunlight flood through the
glass onto her face. Closing her eyes,
she leans back against the pillows on the couch and sighs heavily. “Can we go for a walk now? It’s so nice outside,” she pleads, the sound
of a whine leaking into her voice.
He sighs
heavily. “I just want to see the end of
this game,” he explains in a tone that communicates his patience is wearing
thin.
“The score is
fifty-six to twenty,” she says in the same tone. “I think we can surmise-“
“Just let me
finish it, all right? There’s only a
minute and a half left, it won’t-“
“A minute and a
half in football usually ends up being more like-“
“Will you-just -” he growls, patience finally
wearing out. The sound of a deep breath
reaches her ears as he tries to control his temper. “We’ll go for a walk; we’ll go for an hour
and a half long jaunt if it makes you
happy, just please, please, let me
finish watching the game,” he begs, angling his body back toward the TV.
She snorts,
feeling nettled, but relents and is quiet as the sound of the TV fills her
ears. “Seahawks run with the ball,
they’re at the forty, now the fifty…”
She lays her head
back and closes her eyes, feeling the cat crawl onto her lap and purr
contentedly as she scratches behind his ears.
“You know, I’m not the only one who wants to go for a walk,” she adds as
the announcer on the TV shouts the new score.
The losing team has made a touchdown, there is a time out
happening. The walk is moving further
and further away. “Stabler wants to go
to.”
“Stabler always
wants to go for a walk,” he says, not looking away from the TV. “He’s a dog.
It’s engrained in their DNA to want to walk constantly.”
“Don’t you think
it’s cruel to make him wait? He’s been
sitting by the back door for the last forty-five minutes,” she notes.
“Stabler!” he
shouts, listening to the dogs nails scratch along the wood floor as he races
into the living room. She rolls her
eyes; he begins to scratch the dog’s ears roughly and the dog wags his tail
like it’s been years since he’s laid on eyes on him. “Who’s
a good boy? You’re a good boy… being
so patient, and tolerant of my needs and-“
“Oh please,” she
groans. “All he hears is blah, blah,
blah-“
“And that’s all I
hear from you,” he laughs, still scratching the dog’s ears. “See!
Look, final score…fifty-six to twenty-eight. Now… we can go for a walk.” He stretches his long arms and legs, arching
his back against the chair before standing up.
She nods, feeling
relieved that they are finally going to get out of the house as she stands
up. The cat jumps from her lap onto the
floor, scampering off under the couch to her favorite napping place.
She’s fluffing her
hair and pulling on her shoes as the television suddenly roars loudly. Static blares over the screen, relentlessly
invading the ears of everyone within the small sitting area. “Gaaah,” she cries, clapping her hands over
her ears. “What are you doing?
Turn it off!”
“I don’t have the
remote,” he explains loudly, having to shout over the sound of the static. “Molly must have stepped on it.”
“What do you mean
Molly stepped on it? She went under the
couch, wasn’t it on your chair?”
“No, I haven’t had
it-“
“What do you mean
you haven’t had it?”
“I haven’t had
it! I laid it down earlier when I was
sitting over there, but when I moved to the chair I didn’t take it with me.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t need it;
the game was on, I was going to watch it,” he explains, getting down on his
knees and shoving his arm under the couch.
“I wasn’t planning on changing the channel.”
She groans. “How many times do we need to go through
this? You have to keep track of it! You have to put it someplace where we can-“
“Don’t lecture me,
just… help me find it!”
“There’s no sense
in us both floundering about looking for it, I’m going to try and turn the TV
off,” she shouts, walking across the room and feeling along the edge of the
set.
“You’re going to
mess up all the settings!” he protests.
“No I’m not,” she
explains as calmly as possible with the TV blaring over her voice. “I just have to run my fingers along the edge
until I find the button that shuts it off.”
She runs her fingers over the buttons, which are really just flat little
symbols against the edge of the small TV.
She hits the wrong one.
“Tonight on Sixty Minutes,” an announcer screams,
causing her to jump away from the TV and clap her hands back over her ears.
“Great! You made it louder,” he shouts.
“At least it’s not
the static,” she counters.
“Will you just
help me look around for the remote? You
pushing buttons on the edge of that thing is not going to shut it off or turn
it down,” he grumbles, still feeling around under the edge of the couch.
She groans and
begins to shove her fingers between the cushions, searching for the thin piece
of plastic that serves as their remote.
There’s a few moments of silence between them as the TV blares
loudly. “Listen, I understand how
confusing this still is for you,” she says after a few moments. “But-“
“I asked you not
to lecture me. I get it; you went
through it as well and it takes getting used to,” he grumbles. “I’m used to it now… I am.”
“It’s only been
six months; you can’t get used to this type of life in six-“
“Well, I don’t
exactly have a choice do I?” he shouts, getting to his feet and walking across
the room. The dog barks loudly as he
runs into him; there’s a crash as he tumbles to the floor.
“Oh, God! Are you all right?” she shouts, cautiously
crossing the room until she finds where he fell.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m
all right,” he groans.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine… stop
trying to coddle me.”
“I’m not trying to
coddle you, I’m -“
“I’m used to
it! I am… just… stupid dog... Stabler!” he
shouts, angry that he has to rely on him for assistance
The dog pads over
quietly, nuzzling his hands with its cold nose.
He finds the dogs collar and holds on, crawling first to his knees and
then onto his feet. The dog moves and he
follows its lead across the room back to the chair. “The TV is still blaring.”
“I’m aware... Sit, let me look for the remote,” she sighs,
crawling onto her knees and feeling along the floor under the couch.
“How long did it
take you?” he asks after a few moments, trying not to shout but finding he has
to over the sound of the commercial blaring in the background. “Nationwide
is on your side!”
“How long did it
take me to what?”
“To get used to
it.”
“I’m still getting
used to it,” she explains. The cat
hisses as her fingers accidently bump its face.
“Oh, Molly… keep your claws in…”
“’You’re still
getting used to it,’” he repeats. “What
is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’m
still getting used to it. It’s just like
anything else in life, there’s constant change and new things to come across;
as long as that goes on, ‘getting used to
it’ is a state of being, not a phase.”
He nods, ruffling
his hair and randomly thinking he needs a haircut as a commercial for the
service rings in his ears. “Any luck?”
“Obviously
not. The TV is still blaring. Did you put it on the entertainment center?”
“No!” he
protests. “I swear… I was sitting over
there, and then when you came in I moved 'cause I know you like to stretch out
and… wha… wait,” he starts, shifting in the chair and digging in the cushions.
She waits;
suddenly the volume of the TV lowers and then finally shuts off. “It was in the chair… in the chair… the whole
time?”
“No,” he replies,
the sound of laughter leaking into his voice.
“It was in my pocket.”
She shakes her
head, snickering as he gets to his feet and walks toward the door. It opens and Stabler leads the pair of them
outside. The sun is warm, much warmer
now that they are out in it than it was through the window.
“Okay, let’s do
this,” he says confidently.
“Let me take
Stabler,” she says.
“Why?”
“Because, you’re
still working on using the cane,” she explains, handing him the long walking
stick.
“But… If we have
him, I don’t need to-“
“Yes,” she
replies, pulling her glasses over her eyes even though it’s unnecessary to
block the sun. “Yes, you do.”
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