Good Night, Sarah

         An ambulance broke Roger’s trance. The panicked trill startled him at first, but as he looked around the dark room, the sound faded into the distance.

          “Honey, How long was I sitting here?” Roger extended his stiff arm and reached for the light switch. It was further away than he remembered. With a groan he leaned on the edge of his chair and found the toggle on the wall.

         Roger squinted tightly as the light filled the room with images. On the dinner table were two cold cups of tea resting on doily coasters. The tea set was given to Roger and Sarah about a decade after they were married. Maybe two decades.

          “Sarah, when did Aunt Mable give us the tea cups? Was that before or after Uncle Charles passed on?” In the silence Roger felt lonely and looked at his watch. The old watch never missed a tick, but Roger had to look again. It read 3:42 am. Roger covered his mouth and wondered if he had woken his wife. She had been concerned about his dizzy spells and he didn’t want her to worry about this little confusion.

         Roger crept up the wooden stair of the old house. His old joints ached and snapped as the floor creaked and squeaked. He kept his hand on the oak rail and thought about how alike he and his house were; old and creaky, but sturdy and reliable. Sarah had always admired him for his honesty and dependability, and even in his later years he always felt like a young man when she spoke of him so.

         He left the bedroom light off as he snuck in to the adjoining bathroom and closed the door. His pajamas were still laid out and he fumbled out of his clothes in the dark. Sarah was a light sleeper and even a light under the door could wake her.

         Roger turned on the shower quickly to avoid the banging of pipes that rang out through the house when the faucet was adjusted slowly. He was hit with cold water and let out a constrained yelp as he numbly fumbled with the tap. His elbow knocked a bottle over and Roger leaned against the wall tightly. Cold became warm and he inched his way under the stream.

         The hot shower felt calming on his back. It had been sore ever since he tried moving the oven so Sarah could clean behind it. He had told Sarah he was fine, but maybe he would go see Dr. Nillian when his wife has tea with the Ladies on Tuesday.

         In the dark he kicked around until he felt the shampoo bottle. It had spilled its contents and Roger lifted it with both hands to ensure it didn’t slip and make more noise. As he placed the bottle on the shelf he could smell the floral scent on his hands. Sarah had been using the same brand for forty years and Roger had told her many times that it made her smell better than a garden of roses. She would always blush and Roger would always gently kiss her on her forehead, taking in a soft floral breath of her bouquet.

         Icy water broke Roger’s trance. The morning sun was pouring white light under the door. He turned off the shower and trembled.

          “Honey, how long was I in the shower?” He lifted his wrinkled leg onto the bath mat and reached for the light switch. In the burning light, still dripping of shampoo and water, Roger wrapped a towel crudely around his waist. From his bedroom he could hear the dresser drawers sliding in and out. It must be laundry day.

          “Hello Mr. Brown, It’s me, Jessica. I thought we agreed that you were not supposed to take a shower until an aide worker was here.” Jessica spoke loudly while she stuffed shirts into Roger’s dresser.

         Roger slid into his pajamas, opened the bathroom door, and looked grimly at the large woman folding his underwear.

          “Miss Jessica, you do not have to be here, I am quite capable of running my house.” Roger scowled and stood in her way. Jessica stopped and placed her hand on Roger’s shoulder. He pulled away and continued to glare.

          “Mr. Brown, I’m a single mom, I know it is tough to be alone, but we need to work together on this one.” She held a sympathetic face for a few seconds and then continued to fold laundry. Roger peacefully returned to the bathroom.

          “I’m not alone, Miss Jessica. I have Sarah” Roger spoke quietly to himself as he cupped his hands over his face and took a soft floral breath.