New Shoes for Mr. Morton

Mr. Morton needed a new pair of shoes.  That’s what Grace had said in her message.  His loafers were tattered and the soles had worn thin.  But even more than replacing the loafers, he needed dress shoes.  Something nice that would go with the black suit hanging in his closet.  It just wouldn’t look right otherwise is what Grace had said.  And now the shoes had been added to Rosie’s “To Do” list.  A list that Rosie had never failed to fulfill.

Rosie was wondering about the budget for the shoe purchase but trying to get in touch with Grace was always difficult.  She had texted Grace this morning but she still hadn’t heard back.  She’d text her again later.  Now they needed to hurry. 

“Come on, Mr. Morton.  We don’t want to miss that bus.  There won’t be another one for another hour.”  Rosie held out her arm and let Mr. Morton grasp the crook of her elbow. “It’s lovely weather, isn’t it?”  She spoke a steady stream of pleasantries as they walked slowly along the sidewalk, Mr. Morton hunched over beside her.  It didn’t matter that he hadn’t said anything to her today.  She continued to chat reassuringly till they got to the stop. 

It was the middle of the day.  The bus was almost empty.  “Everything will be just fine.”  She patted Mr. Morton’s withered hand and checked her phone.  “Good news, Mr. Morton.  Grace is going to be there this afternoon.”  Mr. Morton’s brows furrowed and she squeezed his hand in response.

The room was dimly lit save for the bright blips flowing across the monitor.  The whir of pumps punctuated the scene of tubes tangling their way to Ethel’s nostrils.  Ethel’s eyes were closed and her mouth was agape.  “Mrs. Morton, it’s Rosie and your Mr. here to visit you.  We miss you at the house.  Mr. Morton thinks it’s mighty lonely there without you, don’t you, Mr. Morton?”  She gave the old man a nudge and his head began bobbing up and down rhythmically.  She wasn’t sure if it was in answer to her question or just his body tottering and trying to regain its balance.  “Grace is coming today.  She sent me a text.  That’ll be nice, won’t it?  You’ll have everyone here with you then.  Not just Mr. Morton but your daughter too.”

The door creaked open and in walked a trim woman in a crisp, tailored suit.  She was putting her cell phone in her purse as she looked up at the three of them and smiled.  “Dad, Rosie.  I got here as soon as I could.  Work is just so busy.  End of quarter, you know.  How’s Mama doing?” 

Rosie turned back to look at Ethel and shrugged.  “She looks the same to me.  But I’m not a doctor.”

“Yes.  Yes.  I do need to follow up on that.  The stroke was just such a shock to me.  I’m still trying to process it all.”

“She’s been like this for 4 weeks now,” said Rosie, matter-of-factly.

“I know.  I know.  And you’ve been such a big help, Rosie.  I know these hospital visits aren’t part of your usual duties.  You’ve definitely gone above and beyond.  And I want to let you know how much your efforts are appreciated.  I’ll be sure to add a little something extra in your paycheck for you.  Did you see my note about the shoes?  I thought it would be good if Mr. Morton had some dress shoes.  Something to wear, you know, just in case.”

“Yes.  I saw your note.  I haven’t had time yet to get the shoes.  Maybe on our way home.”

“Oh.  Sure. Sure.  That’s a good idea.  Just send me the bill.”  Grace’s phone buzzed then and she dug down in her purse to pull it out.  “I’ll just be a minute,” she said, distractedly.  “I need to take this call.” 

Grace exited the room hastily as Rosie took a seat next to Mr. Morton by the bedside.  Rosie found herself at a loss for words and let the sound of the breathing machine fill the void.  The slow hiss escaping from the hoses was oddly soothing and brought to Rosie’s mind images of the tea kettle in the Morton’s kitchen.

She had been with the Mortons for 3 years now.  Ethel had been quite a spark when Rosie had first come on board, always talking animatedly about this or that.  And every day, without exception, Ethel would invite Rosie to join her and Mr. Morton for afternoon tea.  “Whew!  Let’s take a load off our feet for a moment, shall we?” Ethel would announce.  It had always been a rather informal affair with Ethel in her frayed housecoat and slippers relishing the opportunity to espouse her opinions and brief them on the latest neighborhood news.  Even as Ethel’s health had begun to decline, teatime held fast although Ethel’s energy had begun to wane. Mr. Morton, meanwhile, had always played the role of rapt audience, letting out a hearty guffaw whenever Ethel called for a response. But, without Ethel’s lively presence, Mr. Morton seemed to be fading fast.  The bond between the two had never been one to question but the same could not be said of the Morton’s perpetually-in-a-rush daughter, Grace.

Rosie had hoped that Grace would return to the hospital room, but, somehow, Rosie knew that she wouldn’t.  After an hour, Rosie gave a sigh and said, “Well, Mr. Morton, let’s see about that bus.  It’s about that time.”  And then she rose and helped Mr. Morton to his feet.  “We’ll be back tomorrow, Mrs. Morton.  Me and Mr. Morton, that is.  You hang tight till then.  We’ll be thinking of you.” 

Rosie had thought to stop on the way home to shop for the dress shoes, but the steady whisper of Ethel’s ventilator made her think better of it.  “Mr. Morton, let’s you and I just call it a day and head right on home.  What do you think?” she asked.

Mr. Morton nodded absently and they rode to the end of the route.  When they entered the home, the clock struck 3PM and Rosie found herself rummaging around in the kitchen cabinets.  “Ahh . . . here it is,” she announced.  “Back behind the sugar bowl.”  She set the water to boil and prepared a tray.  “Mr. Morton, I think you and I could both stand for some tea.  We haven’t had any in quite some time.”  She echoed Ethel’s words and added, “Let’s take a load off our feet for a moment, shall we?”

Rosie set out the saucers and teacups and poured a steaming cup for her and Mr. Morton.  “There now.  If only Mrs. Morton were here, she could fill us in on the news.  But I’ll give it a try.”  Rosie talked about the fence that had gone up across the street and the new For Sale sign on the block.  And she talked about the dog that yapped all morning and the cat that yowled all night.  And when she paused to take a sip of tea, Mr. Morton chuckled.  It wasn’t quite the guffaw that he had used with Ethel, but it was close.  And as Rosie cleared the table to prepare to leave for the day, Mr. Morton had smiled, an amused expression of sorts that she hadn’t seen from him in a month.

“Well, they say that time waits for no man.  And, if that’s the case, you might as well enjoy your tea.  I see it’s done us both some good,” she remarked.

Mr. Morton answered with a hearty guffaw.  And as Rosie turned to go, she grinned.  “Now then, Mr. Morton, that laugh you just gave me was worth far more than a new pair of dress shoes.  And I think Mrs. Morton would agree.  That To Do list can wait.”  Rosie headed out then, a deep satisfaction settling over her as she realized she had put those shoes where they belonged.

Robin Blasberg's stories often make connections in unanticipated ways.  Her writing has been published in The Pink Hydra, Scribes*MICRO*Fiction, and Short Circuit online.  Her plays are available from Big Dog Publishing and YouthPLAYS.