My Happy Retreat: A Novel by Toni M. Forsyth

Author:Toni M. Forsyth [Forsyth, Toni M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789769569331
Amazon: 976956933X
Publisher: Minna Press
Published: 2014-12-30T05:00:00+00:00

The day after the math and science joint venture day, there was to have been a big island-style breakfast for our Friend, the Featured Speaker, at the Great House, but it was cancelled because Mr. was sick. He had developed flu-like symptoms and was taken ill with fever and chills and was holed-up in bed. But wait a minute—the on-site cook was still available. Certainly Mrs. had to eat. The food had been purchased and was sitting in the refrigerator. The guest still had to eat. However, I ended up having to scramble to find a way to provide breakfast for “our” friend, “our” guest, “our” visitor from another country, and in the end, she made suggestions about where to eat and things worked out just fine. I’m just saying, if it had been me, I would have served the breakfast anyway. Everyone still had to eat.

But I was getting sick too. I was experiencing shortness of breath, an albeit less dramatic reoccurrence of my ER symptoms. My heart was pounding, and I was coughing more and more—a newly developing symptom (there would be more, one ultimately life-threatening) in reaction to one of my many medications. The preparations and final execution of the event had taken its toll on me. I needed to debrief with Mr. I wanted to know if he had been pleased with the results of my hard work, if he thought I had done a good job. My anxiety, the bane of my existence, the source of all my angst, was building. I was beginning to feel stress and panic at the thought of having to attend to our guest all on my own.

The doors and the windows to the Great House remained closed to Friend and me. I couldn’t get through to him on the phone. Mrs. ran across 100+ yards of open space to collect the Sunday paper we were asked to purchase by Mrs. to bring to him. She ran in order to keep us from approaching the house, from getting too near the sanctuary. Mrs. had now assumed the role of gate-keeper to the crypt—the Crypt Keeper as it were. We had to scramble to make arrangements for dinner as well. After so much planning, there was now no plan.

The next day, Monday, more of the same: the doors and the windows to the Great House were shut when we arose. Exclusion. Friend fixed breakfast for the two of us. Later on, when we were leaving to go out for the day, we saw that the front door to the house was open and we thought, “This is our chance! Let’s go see how Mr. is doing.”

He greeted us at the door. He was feeling better. We chatted. He asked, “Why didn’t you call me on my phone?” to see how he was doing. And I said that I had called his cell phone number several times but there had been no answer. I told him that I had been scrambling to

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