grilled cheese on multigrain bread that didn’t appear to be moldy yet or peanut
butter and apricot jam on the same iffy bread. She was reaching for the jam when she
remembered there should be one egg left in the carton. But when she lifted the lid,
the egg was gone. In its place was a single white sock.
She stood there staring at the sock in the egg carton for a full minute, too befuddled
to react. When she finally picked it up, she saw that it was definitely one of hers,
which was probably a good thing. What wasn’t quite so dandy was the fact that she
had apparently put it in there. And what was worse, she had no recollection of cooking
the egg or eating it.
Letting the refrigerator door swing closed, she sank onto one of the two chairs at
the little kitchen table tucked into the corner. She turned the sock over and over
in her hands as she tried to make sense of the nonsensical.
Could she be starting to lose her mind to early-onset Alzheimer’s? She had no idea
if one or both of her parents had been headed in that terrifying direction when they’d
died in their mid-thirties. It wasn’t the kind of thing they would have discussed
in front of a seven-year-old. It occurred to Jaye that losing them had not only cut
her off from the legacy of her past, but it had also stripped away the underpinnings
of her future. She yanked her mind back from the edge of the “woe is me” abyss. She
needed to focus on the present craziness.
First the wallet and now this—all in one day. Could the incidents be related? Not
likely. The wallet had belonged to someone else; the egg and sock were hers. Was someone
sneaking in to play pranks on her? Had they installed a tiny camera to record her
reactions? Would she see it tomorrow on YouTube? She was so busy following her thoughts
down the rabbit hole that the ringing of the phone made her jump as if she’d been
poked with a hot iron.
“I’m here,” Sierra announced in answer to Jaye’s “Hello?”
“I’ll be right down,” Jaye said, not particularly surprised by her friend’s unexpected
visit. It was just one of the many quirks that came with the deluxe Sierra package.
“Why didn’t you just ring the bell?” she asked as she made her way down the steps
still talking to her on the phone.
“This morning I rang the bell forever before you let me in. If I’d been injured, I
would have bled to death and been a feast for maggots by the time you opened the door.”
Jaye clicked off the call and let her in. “That’s a bit of an overstatement even for
you.”
Frosty walked in first, with Sierra on the other end of his leash carrying a shopping
bag. “Hyperbole carries more weight.”
Jaye leaned down to give the dog a welcoming scratch around the ears. “Please tell
me that’s food,” she said, eyeing the bag in Sierra’s hands. “I’m starving, and the
cupboard’s bare.”
“A baguette and a wedge of Brie for the humans among us, kibble for the canine.” She
plunked the bag into Jaye’s arms and let Frosty lead the way upstairs.
They sat at the little table, Frosty between them, his soulful eyes riveted on every
bite they took. In return for his quiet patience, he was rewarded with bits of cheese
until Sierra cut him off.
“No more, pal, or
I’ll
be up all night with
your
bellyache.” From day one, Sierra had insisted on speaking to him as if he were a child
with a reasonably good grasp of the English language. In spite of many naysayers,
including Jaye at first, Frosty actually seemed to understand her. Realizing no more
cheese would be forthcoming, he sighed and ambled over to the bowls that Jaye had
filled with his kibble and water.
With the worst of her hunger sated and her stomach too busy digesting to issue any
more complaints, Jaye launched into a blow-by-blow account of her talk with Elaine
Feldman. “Did you think Peggy was overly secretive?” she asked at the
butter and apricot jam on the same iffy bread. She was reaching for the jam when she
remembered there should be one egg left in the carton. But when she lifted the lid,
the egg was gone. In its place was a single white sock.
She stood there staring at the sock in the egg carton for a full minute, too befuddled
to react. When she finally picked it up, she saw that it was definitely one of hers,
which was probably a good thing. What wasn’t quite so dandy was the fact that she
had apparently put it in there. And what was worse, she had no recollection of cooking
the egg or eating it.
Letting the refrigerator door swing closed, she sank onto one of the two chairs at
the little kitchen table tucked into the corner. She turned the sock over and over
in her hands as she tried to make sense of the nonsensical.
Could she be starting to lose her mind to early-onset Alzheimer’s? She had no idea
if one or both of her parents had been headed in that terrifying direction when they’d
died in their mid-thirties. It wasn’t the kind of thing they would have discussed
in front of a seven-year-old. It occurred to Jaye that losing them had not only cut
her off from the legacy of her past, but it had also stripped away the underpinnings
of her future. She yanked her mind back from the edge of the “woe is me” abyss. She
needed to focus on the present craziness.
First the wallet and now this—all in one day. Could the incidents be related? Not
likely. The wallet had belonged to someone else; the egg and sock were hers. Was someone
sneaking in to play pranks on her? Had they installed a tiny camera to record her
reactions? Would she see it tomorrow on YouTube? She was so busy following her thoughts
down the rabbit hole that the ringing of the phone made her jump as if she’d been
poked with a hot iron.
“I’m here,” Sierra announced in answer to Jaye’s “Hello?”
“I’ll be right down,” Jaye said, not particularly surprised by her friend’s unexpected
visit. It was just one of the many quirks that came with the deluxe Sierra package.
“Why didn’t you just ring the bell?” she asked as she made her way down the steps
still talking to her on the phone.
“This morning I rang the bell forever before you let me in. If I’d been injured, I
would have bled to death and been a feast for maggots by the time you opened the door.”
Jaye clicked off the call and let her in. “That’s a bit of an overstatement even for
you.”
Frosty walked in first, with Sierra on the other end of his leash carrying a shopping
bag. “Hyperbole carries more weight.”
Jaye leaned down to give the dog a welcoming scratch around the ears. “Please tell
me that’s food,” she said, eyeing the bag in Sierra’s hands. “I’m starving, and the
cupboard’s bare.”
“A baguette and a wedge of Brie for the humans among us, kibble for the canine.” She
plunked the bag into Jaye’s arms and let Frosty lead the way upstairs.
They sat at the little table, Frosty between them, his soulful eyes riveted on every
bite they took. In return for his quiet patience, he was rewarded with bits of cheese
until Sierra cut him off.
“No more, pal, or
I’ll
be up all night with
your
bellyache.” From day one, Sierra had insisted on speaking to him as if he were a child
with a reasonably good grasp of the English language. In spite of many naysayers,
including Jaye at first, Frosty actually seemed to understand her. Realizing no more
cheese would be forthcoming, he sighed and ambled over to the bowls that Jaye had
filled with his kibble and water.
With the worst of her hunger sated and her stomach too busy digesting to issue any
more complaints, Jaye launched into a blow-by-blow account of her talk with Elaine
Feldman. “Did you think Peggy was overly secretive?” she asked at the
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