I Guess Cleaning Would Have Been Much Easier

There was the Italian Pork and Pistachio Terrine, which had sat in the back of the refrigerator for quite some time. I’m not sure how long exactly, but certainly as long as those that turn into science experiments have in the past. It was vacuum sealed so it should have kept okay, you would think. Surely? Isn’t that what that sort of packaging is all about? Shrug. And then there was the new packet, just purchased. Shane was terribly poor at, what shall we call it, stock rotation. He was completely hopeless at cleaning, particularly cleaning out the refrigerator of all of his “leftovers”. It annoyed me. Oh yes, like the many other things that annoyed me about him. Stupid is as stupid does? Is that the expression?

There we had the new and the old vacuum sealed Italian Pork and Pistachio Terrine. What to do with them?

He had the ability to buy things, new things, and bring them home, but no such talent at cleaning up the mess that the old purchases caused. Just as he had the ability to turn on lights, but not turn them off again, or the ability to put washing on, but never take it out of the machine, or fill the kitchen sink, but never empty it, or run up bills, but never pay them, despite constant reminding.

So, to amuse myself, and yes I may not have thought this through thoroughly, I swapped the old packet of terrine, which had languished in the back of the refrigerator, for the new packet. Yes, it amused me, like when you deliberately don’t wash you hands after taking a shit and then come back into the room and fingered all of the peanuts in the bowl, or when you have gone out to the kitchen and masturbated into all of the pots on the stove. Then you watch your poisonous aunt eat he meal at the dining room table.

Oh yes, it was the pretentiousness of the purchase to some extent, sure that encouraged me to act. I don’t deny it.

A couple of nights after, I was woken from a deep sleep to voices downstairs in the hallway and some sort of commotion. There seemed to be a number of people all talking, inexplicably. I wondered what it was all about? If I hadn’t been so comfortable I may have got up and investigated. It was probably just one of Shane’s drugged out piss swallowing buddies reacting to something.

Then there was someone calling out, kind of official, who seemed to want some sort of attention. After some time, I realised that it was me who they wanted. Begrudgingly, I got out of my warm bed into the cold night to see who it was who wanted me. I tip-toed to the top of the stairs and peered over. Below was an ambulance officer. Uniform, jacket, all blue, white and red. He said something about apparent food poisoning, a severe case and that they were now taking Mr Wilson to The Alfred Hospital for treatment.

“Oh… okay,” I said.

Then there was a rattle of the stretcher and some sort of gurney on the front veranda and hoses and what appeared to be breathing apparatus and then a rattle and a clunk and voices giving directions and a click of the door lock to closed and they were gone, the front hallway was empty and silence fell over the house again.

A severe case of food poisoning, I thought, in the darkness of the stairwell. Really? Goodness.

Then my feet were cold and I wished I had some slippers to cover my poor sore toes and I headed back to bed.

Fancy that. Who would have known about the failures of vacuum sealing?

I didn’t wake until late and I was in the kitchen brewing coffee when the phone rang. It was Helen, Shane’s mum. She sounded very distressed and then she was saying something about Shane not making it, with his compromised immune system because of his HIV infection, his body couldn’t fight off the food poisoning. She thought I should know. They would be in contact in due course. Then she hung up.

Oh? I took the phone from my ear and put it in the cradle, staring at it for some time. I felt kind of numb, a chill of some sort ran up my spine, it seemed to spread out through my muscles in a tingle and an ache. Wow? I wondered? I could feel my eyebrows raise up and my bottom lip curl over, my jaw bone curved into a frown, I could feel it.

“Oops.”

Then the coffee pot started to rumble and I turned my attention toward it. I grabbed to handle of the pot and poured the coffee into my cup. I spilt some of it, as I wasn’t concentrating, completely.

I laughed. I bought my hand up to my mouth, as if to stop the thought. That’s a tough lesson to learn. I laughed again. I guess, next time, he'll opt to clean out the fridge and not always leave it to me.

My hand was shaking as I raised the cup to my mouth. The coffee was bitter, strong, comforting.