Tales from the Bed by Jenifer Estess Valerie Estess Katie Couric

Author:Jenifer Estess, Valerie Estess, Katie Couric
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-26T16:00:00+00:00

“I like this bed, Jen,” said Reed, lying next to me on my new shift-o-matic, sending us up and down with the clicker. He had stopped at my new apartment straight from the airport.

“Thank God,” I said, and Reed laughed hysterically. Reed and I had a verbal chemistry. He provided the setup, something benign and flat as a wheat field like “I like this bed.” And I came back with sarcasm, the murder weapon. I could slay Reed with the slightest intonation. Reed and I were very Nick and Nora, platonic, of course.

Reed arrived at my bedside in June looking perfectly tanned and coiffed. (I think that Freud would have been proud of me. Every single guy I ever pretended to date, dated, or thought of dating had amazing hair, which probably meant that I wasn’t trying to marry my father.) Reed wore his army fatigue shorts just so. His T-shirt fit him perfectly, and his sandals revealed flawless, tanned toes.

“The guy’s a doll,” Valerie said. There was something Ken-dollish about Reed, but for my sisters, I think that his perfect looks were an easy target. Outwardly, they were defensive of me, but in their heart of hearts they were praying for Reed and me to fall in love and get married, and for Reed’s love to be the medicine that would make me better. As far as I was concerned, Reed presented a safe way out of the house. He certainly looked safe—and dangerous.

“Lorna!” I shouted.

“Coming,” said Lorna, who helped me dress, prepare meals, and turn in bed when I couldn’t, which was more often now. Lorna was my lady-in-waiting.

“What do you think of this lip gloss?” I asked.

“It’s nice,” said Lorna. To Lorna everything was nice, good, or fine. When my sisters asked Lorna how I was doing, it was always, “She’s real good.”

“What do you think of Reed?” I asked.

“He’s good, real nice,” said Lorna.

Lorna got a big dose of Reed and me that summer. Reed was either on his way out for a shower back at Billy and Maura’s—he was very Lady Macbeth with the washing—or on his way in with a take-out dinner and movies for us to watch. Reed came and went with the wind. That summer, I was along for the ride. Reed was a Zen master with the wheelchair and my body. He knew how to nudge the chair, lift it, carry it. I never felt bumps. We never derailed. With Reed at my back, it was all smooth sailing. He made me forget I was sick.

Our first night out he pushed me along Seventh Avenue. Women stared at me. What was someone their age and outwardly healthy-looking doing in a wheelchair? An d was it contagious?

“Such a beautiful night—my husband and I couldn’t resist,” I said to one. “We just had a baby boy. Give her a cigar, honey.”

“I’m all out,” said Reed.

“Then let’s haul out,” I said, and we took off.

“Congratulations!” the woman called after us.

Reed and I pushed westward to the edge of the Hudson River.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.