I was up at 9am. I waited until I heard Shane close the front door and I got up. The last meaningful indication before everything goes quiet and I'm on my own to sleep until whenever.
He crunches his car into reverse, and then drives away.
It was sunny, with a beautiful blue sky today. I had made coffee set up my laptop on the coffee table and had slid the stewed apple and pear combination on to my muesli. There was the taste of summer in the air, the morning sparkled bright and alluring straight up.
My sister called and said she would be in the city to give me my mum’s new chequebook. I did kind of feel she could have dropped by on her way and simply put it in the letter box if she didn’t want to stop, but no. I had to go to her, apparently. I guess people think those who aren’t working have all the time in the world.
Now I have to leave the comfort of my warm lounge room. Bugger!
I checked the letterbox and there was a card from my American doctor friends saying that Doc B. had died suddenly last month. Poor B. I didn’t know he’d really been sick and I felt guilty for no having kept in such close contact. All that medical knowledge and it couldn’t save him.
The phone rang and it was Sam, sounding sick, saying he was sick and did I want to look after him for the day. He must have really been sick if he felt he had to leave work.
Quick thinking. “Hey, where are you?”
“Walking up William Street.”
“Could you walk up to Bourke Street and pick up something from my sister on the corner?”
“I am really sick, you know.”
I felt a moment’s hesitation, thinking I was being far too cheeky for my own good. “You practically only have to walk an extra block.”
“Really? Are you serious?”
And with a little more too’ing and fro’ing and a couple of phone calls, he agreed.
And I had a sick boyfriend, who arrived not long after. He stated vomiting not long after he arrived... at which point, I kind of felt bad for making him do my lazy arse chores.
I put him to bed and headed to the supermarket to buy the ingredients for chicken soup. Grandma’s old fashioned whole carcass chicken soup. Who is it, the Jewish mamas who make the life restoring whole carcass chicken soup? Is that who? Well, that’s who I had in mind as I headed down the street.
The breeze rolled over me, the rays massaged my skin and made me feel alive.
I had crossed over two of the streets and had crossed my road and was walking passed the yoga centre when a man came the other way holding a bottle of wine in a brown paper bag. His face was flushed red and his skin seemed to be slicked with sweat.
“It is soooo fucken hot, ay? Unbelievable!” He rolled his eyes. “Too hot! Too much!” He staggered a bit and his face was flushed red. I wanted to get out my phone and check the time.
“Yes, it is warm.”
“So.” Swoon. “Fucken.” Swoon. “Hot.” He looked dazed, or is that crazed. He tried to grab hold of the tree branch to stabilise himself, but the branch was way above both of us. He stumbled, but managed to grab the nearby fence to steady himself.
“Oh yes, have another drink, buddy.”
“Ohhh,” sounded his voice somewhere behind me.
I thanked the universe quietly that my drug of choice was never alcohol. Poor bastard, I thought, without looking around.
I put the chicken in a large pot and covered it with water. I chopped up the carrots, the celery and the potatoes. Sam gets up and insists on adding tomato to the soup, he is determined. “Add some acid.”
It cooks for 2 hours. Lovely. It fills the house with a lovely, freshly cooked, aroma. That in itself should be enough to make the sick feel well again.
The magical soup is a bit lacking, when we taste it, so we head to the supermarket to get more vegetables, and we buy a bread stick and really fake chocolate cakes and bags of jubes.
We make garlic bread… we are going to be happy, fat boyfriends.
We cut up the vegetables and add them to the soup. Sam adds more tomato.
I realise we forgot the plastic containers to freeze the soup in, so we head back to the supermarket for the 3rd time. Still, it is a lovely day, quite light and new, with the freshness of the summer sun to walk in.
We eat soup for dinner too.
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