Job idea?

Oscar was so glad that Esther had offered to drive him to and from work. He was so exhausted Monday evening when he climbed into her jeep. He reached his hand over to her and she held it. His life was in her hands; he closed his eyes and slept all the way home. He laid on the couch and fell asleep while she put the finishing touches on dinner.

“Want to try to eat something?” She leaned over kissing him on the forehead.

He smiled a sluggish smile. “What’s for dinner?”

“Potato soup.”

“Sounds great.” When he got up to stand, he couldn’t. She caught him before he hit the floor. “Maybe I shouldn’t have worked today?’ He just sat at the table staring at his dinner. She pulled her chair up beside him, “what are you doin’?”

“I’m going to feed you.”

“I’m not gonna fight you.”

“I didn’t think so.” She smiled. He ate about a cup of soup and was finished. She helped him to the bathroom so she could change the dressin’ on his wound and helped him to bed.

What would he have done if she hadn’t been here? He wouldn’t have eaten dinner. That was for sure. He might have wrecked on the way home. When she finally lay down, he said, “thank you.”

“For what dear?”

“For everything.”

She put her arm across his chest, “you are most welcome.”

She helped him to the bed. “Oh, shoot.” The bed was covered with folders, papers, and pictures.

“What is all this?”

“Chet asked for an extra set of eyes on a cold case he’s been working on. I’m more than happy to help.”

Oscar thumped through the pictures. Some were quite disturbing. “Have you seen anything he might have overlooked?”

“Not yet. Chet is very thorough. It would surprise me if I do.”

“Have you thought about writing crime stories?” She stopped gathering up the papers and just looked stunned. “What?” He smiled, “it’s not a bad idea.”

“No, it’s not. But where would I even start?”

He held up one of the pictures. “How about here?”

Esther didn’t know what to say. It really wasn’t a bad idea. She was having a horrible time finding a job in this painfully small town. They had spent pretty much half the summer and fall cleaning out Oscar’s garage. Had to do that before she could sort and sell contents from the basement. Then there was the rest of the house to sort through. This wouldn’t last forever.

“I’ve given you something to think about,” Oscar grinned?

“Yes, you have.”

Winter Season

Mother hen

Even with all the drama that had happened lately, Thanksgiving dinner was amazing. The ladies out did themselves. Oscar and Chet both agreed. Everyone helped cook and clean up the mess. Though, there was three hours between the two events. After dinner, they went for a walk around Chet and Bell’s property. They would walk a little while and would rest awhile. Oscar was still really sore. But he was able to sit without help today. As they rested, they would chat. The two couples decided to spend Christmas Eve together. All in all, it was a great day.

Esther was doing what she could to help Oscar. She in no way wanted him to feel like she was smothering him.

She was sitting in her brand new window set, “sweetheart, would you care to help me with this dressin’?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “I would’ve offered but I didn’t want you to think I was trying to be a mother hen.”

He kissed her on the forehead, “how about I tell you if you’re bein’ a mother hen? That way you don’t ever have to worry about it.”

She smiled, “I think I can deal with that.”

After following him into the bathroom, he took off his shirt and rested his hands on top his head. Dr. Bob had given him medicine to be taken by mouth and a cream to put on the wound. “Did he tell you how often to put on a clean dressin’?”

“No, I was hoping he told you.”

“Honey, this is going to hurt. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” He whispered.

She tried her best to take it off slowly and with the least amount of damage. “The only thing he told me about changin’ the dressin’ was to make sure it was clean.” Oscar drew a sharp breath through his teeth. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Oh my,” she stared at the raw red flesh on his side.

“What?”

“It looks so angry. But I guess I would be too if someone had sliced me open.” She took a rubber glove from the sink. Dr. Bob did give her very clear instructions on how to clean the wound. Oscar flinched. As she applied the cream, he drew a sharp breath. As carefully as she could, she recovered the wound. “I guess this means I can’t screw your brains out my husband.”

He smiled, “perhaps not tonight, but I find that idea intriguing.”

“Oh do you now?” She grinned as she snapped off the glove.

He kissed her with THAT KISS. “I love you so much.”

“If someone would have told me a year ago that I would be married, I would have laughed in their face.”

He gave her a sleepy smile, “likewise.”

“Are you gonna try to go work Monday?” She called from the bedroom.

“I see no reason why not.” He groaned as he put his shirt back on.

“May I drive you?”

He didn’t answer at first. He was too blown away by the question. Wow! She had really asked if he wanted her to take him to work. He walked into the room; she was turning the bed down. “Am I not supposed to drive?”

“I didn’t read anything about it on your medications and Dr. Bob didn’t say not to. I just thought it might be a nice gesture.”

He grinned a big sly grin, “I would like that very much.” Esther was trying really hard not to hurt him. So much so that she insisted that they sleep with a pillow between them. “Honey, I hate this pillow. I understand why you want it to be here, but I hate it.”

She caressed his face in the darkness, “what if I hurt you? What if I hit you and it starts to bleed? This way I feel like there is a little more cushion between us.”

He moaned as she trailed her fingers around his face, “I need to hold you.”

She gave in and wiggled carefully into his arms. “Better?”

“You know it.”

Winter Season

What to do?

Oscar was still knocked out from all the drugs. “How is he?” Bell was standing at the foot of the bed.

“The doctor says he’s going to be fine. When he wakes up and gets up, he can go home.”

They let Oscar go home late Thanksgiving evening.

Friday afternoon their doorbell rang. Esther opened it to Chet, Chaz, and two other people she didn’t know.

Chet gave her a hug, “how’s our boy today?”

“He’s doing okay.”

Chaz gave her a hug. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

Chet introduced the two other people, “this is Principal Davis from the high school and the superintendent of schools, Mr. Browning.”

She shook their hands as Oscar entered the room dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt. The doctor had recommended that he not wear tight or stiff fabrics for at least two weeks.

“What do we owe the pleasure?” Oscar asked.

“We have a twofold reason for being here.” Mr. Browning spoke. “First and foremost, we wanted to check on you. Second, we need to talk about Mr. Smith.”

Oscar was standing behind the couch, “please sit. I think I’ll stand.” But no one sat down.

“Oscar,” Chet spoke. “Do you want to press charges?”

“No.”

“Good God why not man.” Principal Davis was not amused.

“I was just a bystander. That tray could have hit anyone. Duke never meant to hurt me.”

“Be that as it may,” Mr. Browning reported. “I am going to ask the board to press charges. How dare you assault one of my teachers. He turned that tray into a deadly weapon.”

“If you wish,” Oscar answered.

Chaz cleared his throat, “Esther can tell y’all that I don’t feel sorry for criminals. I think you deserve what you get. With that being said, I feel sorry for this kid. He has done nothing but cry since he got arrested. His remorse seems to be genuine.”

Mr. Browning scoffed, “genuine indeed.”

“A great deal of the student body respects Oscar. I’d say his remorse is genuine.” Principal Davis shared. “But on the other hand, this is what you get for trying to help the little punk.” She shook a finger at Oscar.

“I fail to see where he’s a punk.”

“Why are you protecting this kid?”

Oscar took a deep breath, “because I see myself. I hated math. I was bored. I had no idea what I was doing and Mr. Kromer took the extra time to tutor during study hall almost every day. He cared enough about my education that he worked with me and tried. I see a lot of that in Duke. There are times when he is so engaged in my class and he tries. There are other times; he is so bored that he can’t sit still.”

“What do you do on those days when he acts like that?” Mr. Browning asked.

“I have an I-pad and a pair of head phones that he uses.”

Mr. Browning looked confused, “to do what?”

“He is extremely interested in the weather, volcanos, and life in the deep ocean. I have several sites preloaded and test him on the programs he watches.”

“So you give him special treatment?” Principal Davis asked.

“There is nothing in the rules saying that I can’t do it. I have researched it seven ways to Sunday. I have even read his file. When he was in kindergarten, he was tested for ADHA and autism. The report said that he was autistic slightly. When the school recommended a treatment plan, his parents when ballistic: to the point of threatening the school. At the time it was Mr. Seamore, whom got a restraining order against the Smith’s.”

“But you’re creating extra work for yourself. Why would you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I have no desire to see this young man fail because his home life is shit. Children can’t help who their parents are.”

Esther was amazed. She knew that Oscar was a good person. She knew that from the way he had been so kind to her. But he continued to surprise her.

“Boy you called that one,” Chet shook his head.

“Explain it to me,” Chaz asked.

“I’ll do more than explain it. You can come with me when I go to talk to his parents.”

Chaz nodded in response.

Everyone left.

Oscar wanted so badly to set down. He stared at the couch like it was a lone lost friend. He sat down for the ride home in the jeep. It wasn’t so bad but he was sore and a little afraid.

Esther held his face in her hands. “Sweet heart, you are one extraordinary of a man.”

“Why do you say that?” He looked surprised.

She smiled, “you just are.” He took her outstretched hand, “let me help you.” She held him as he sat on the couch.

It did smart, but nowhere as badly as the thought it was going to.

Winter Season

Lunch room duty

Week one of Duke’s watch period was uneventful.

Week two was a different story. It was the week of Thanksgiving. Two blessed days off. Oscar couldn’t wait. Esther and Bell were talking and texting two or three times a day to plan dinner. This was the most excited Oscar had ever been about Thanksgiving. He had refused many invitations to go to Chet’s house. In all the years they had been friends, he had been there at Thanksgiving about five times. His way of giving thanks was a glass of pop and laying on the couch.

Each week four different teachers had lunch room duty. These three days just happened to belong to Oscar. Nothing ever happened in the lunch room. It was boring. In all of his years of teaching there had been two fist fights and three food fights during his duty.

When something did happen, it was their job to get the other students out of the lunch room, close it down if need be, and call the cops. The law handled the dirty work. In cases like these, going to the principal’s office, was a thing of the past.

Oscar was watching students enter the cafeteria when he heard Connie blow her whistle. The students scattered to reveal Duke and another student slugging it out. Oscar hadn’t known Duke to be violent. But several of the other teachers were concerned about his outburst.

As the teachers ushered the students from the room, the boy fighting with Duke picked up a tray and hit Duke over the head with it. It broke in half. The force of the break sounded like fabric being torn. Oscar wondered for a brief moment what those things were made of to make that kind of noise. Duke ripped the tray from the other students hands and sent it sailing through the air. The hunk of tray hit Oscar in the side. He took a deep breath as he fell to his knees.

There was a singular gasping sound as the students watched him fall. It pulled Duke’s attention away from the fight causing him to get hit in the jaw. Once he realized what had happened, he ran toward Oscar. “Mr. P,” he panted. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t touch Oscar. “Mr. P. say something. Please!”

Oscar had curled up in a ball on the floor. He couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t breathe. His side burned. “What can I do to help Mr. P.?” Then Duke noticed the blood soaking Oscar shirt.

One student started to throw up as another one yelled, “blood. He’s bleeding.”

Principal Davis pushed her way thru the crowd of students from one side of the cafeteria as Chet, Chaz and two other officers entered from the other side.

The one officer arrested the other student in the fight. Chaz picked Duke up by the shirt collar like he was a rag doll. Duke screamed, “I’m sorry Mr. P. I’m sorry;” as another officer drug him from the room screaming all the way. “I’m sorry Mr. P.”

Chet and Chaz attending to Oscar.

“Esther isn’t going to be happy.” Chaz growled to himself more than anyone as he moved Oscar’s hands to see the gash made by the broken tray. He covered it with a towel Chet retrieved from the kitchen and applied pressure.

Oscar started to gag. Chet tried talking to him, “buddy you’re going to be okay. Paramedics are on the way.”

Esther was at the hospital before the ambulance could get there. She paced the waiting room for hours. When Bell got off work, she waited with Esther.

“Mrs. Patterson.” Esther jumped to her feet when the doctor walked into the room. “You can see your husband now.”

When she got to the room, Oscar was awake. She kissed him on the forehead, “hi honey.”

He was weak when he spoke, “hi.”

She sat down, holding his hand.

“Oscar, you are very lucky. You have a cut approximately two inches long and an inch deep. It’s going to heel nicely but you’re going to be very sore and have one hell of a bruise.”

“Thanks Bob,” he squeezed out.

Esther woke to Chet gently shaking her.

Winter Season

School girl – ish

When he walked through the door, the first thing he noticed was a grin. Wide. It pushed her cheeks up, into the equivalent of a flesh colored plum on either side of her nose. Cheeks that were almost touching the bottom of her eyes. Eyes that danced with mischief. Twinkled with delight. Her arms were clasped behind her back as the movement of her hips pivoted from side to side. She batted her eyelashes followed by a down cast gaze. Speaking with a hushed whispering tone; that gave away what was missing from her features, she asked, “did you buy me anything?”

It was then that his heart stopped. She was wearing a school girl uniform, ish. It was close enough. A super short pleated skirt. That white blouse with three of the top buttons undone. The tie matched her skirt; its knot rested in the middle of her cleavage. Knee high socks that he was going to remove with his teeth. His body was weak as water.

With shaking knees, he staggered over to her, lifted her chin; that look in her eyes struck a cord deep inside him. Was she aware that this playfulness was a turn on? And with the addition of the outfit, dinner would be a midnight snack.

His actions were deliberate, he took his time gliding one hand, then the other around her waist. He stepped into her, feeling the energy radiating from her body. He kissed her with THAT KISS. When he released her, his breath teased her ear as he whispered, “what did you want me to bring you?”

A low growl filled his ears. The sudden motion of her grabbing his butt; pulling him even closer in, caused him to inhale sharply.

“I think you might be melting your present.” He hissed.

“What once was melted can be frozen?” She teased.

He gulped, “yes.”

Her only reply was a giggle.

Winter Season