Me and Aby

There Tom was sitting up in bed, making Granny Klampet look like a super model. Complete with breathing mask. And scabby lips – think about it. And a slightly wild gaze, if I am going to be completely truthful. You know, effected.

I regaled Tomie with the story of Aby and my plan – well, Aby’s really – to smuggle her into ICU as one of Tom’s sisters. (Well, they were all adopted) But we knew how testy he is – positively ropeable when Aby and I go to visit together… as Rob pointed out. (Remember, traditionally Tom likes it to be about him… and with me and Aby in the room… well?

He just got agitated and made me promise – 10 times – to call Aby and tell her not to come.

“No. She’s not doing it. It was just a thought. Ha… ha.”

“Don’t forget to call Aby and tell her not to come.”

No, it was… um… er…” (I just couldn’t make myself say funny) “she’s not doing it. See, I’m here on my own. (nothing up my sleeve)”

“Don’t forget to call Aby and tell her not to come.”

“You make it sound like I forget things.”

“You’re famous for it.”

“What?”

There have been occasions in the last six months where my only recourse with Tom has been to fix his gaze and count to ten. This wasn’t one of those occasions, though. I laughed and said surely you jest and kissed him on the forehead and marched straight out the fucken door.

For a minute there, I thought about NOT calling Aby… only to say (to myself) yet again, she isn’t coming in, there is nothing to cancel. It was supposed to be funny… Then I text Aby and told her Tom never wanted to see her again. She responded, What a scamp!