Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
I woke up and stumbled to the bathroom, it was nearly ten in the morning. I got myself dressed and after a brief breakfast of toast and tea, I went to the bank and withdrew two hundred and fifty pounds from the hole in the wall. I would do the same again tomorrow if I could.
Dad's mortgage was paid off, but the running costs of the house and my food were not. I wasn't going to eat that much, but I also needed to take my twenty quid pocket money. I needed some new cleansing wipes which I got in the Wilkinson's store.
I purchased a few more bits and bobs and called the hospital on my mobile once I got back to the car. There was no change. I would go after lunch and sit talking to him for an hour or so, then come home and worry. It was now thursday and Simon was due tomorrow evening. I called into Tesco on the way home and bought some more baking stuff, flour and so on. At least I could make him some nice bread, I also bought some cheeses, some fruit and a bottle of nice wine.
At home, I ran around with the vacuum cleaner while the kettle was boiling, then had the last of my bread and soup, plus some fruit and lunch was over. I was at the hospital by half two.
I sat and talked to him about anything and nothing. "I'm still making the bread Daddy, it's just waiting for you to feel well enough to have some. So there's a challenge for you, get well again and I'll become your personal baker." He didn't stir, maybe he didn't want a baker.
"It's a pity Mummy didn't have one of these bread machines, they are so good, except at the rate I'm eating it, I shall get as fat as a pig. It's so tempting Daddy." No response.
After about ninety minutes, I felt so washed out, I went home after kissing him on the cheek. The nurses shrugged when I asked about him, and they waved when I left. They agreed that I had done my duty and needed a rest. Despite my tiredness I began drafting the plans for my environmental study. I nodded off at my father's desk and nearly jumped from my skin when the phone rang.
"Hello?" I said sleepily.
"Hi flower, how ya doin'?"
"I am okay."
"You sound as if you've just woken up."
"I have, I nodded off doing some work for uni."
"It is actually, I didn't sleep too well."
"Okay, I'll let you off."
"I'm not a firework, you know."
"Yes you are, my little cracker."
"You watch I don't give you a rocket!" I cautioned.
"What unless I give you some sparklers."
"Ha ha, very bloody funny."
"What are you having for dinner?" he enquired, I hadn't even thought about it.
"Pasta and something."
"Not stewed dormouse?"
"There is no need to get personal."
"The Romans used to eat them."
"Well I'm not, I'll have some tuna or something, if I can find the tin opener."
"Don't you have an electric one?"
"No, nor do I want one. If I can't open a tin by dint of my own strength with a manual tin opener, then I shall go back to frozen food." I had visions of him producing one when he arrived tomorrow and again it wouldn't please me. He now knew that.
"Anything you want me to bring?"
"The names of the bastards who took my bike. I want to ritually sacrifice them to the gods of cycling."
"What all of them?"
"No just their genitalia."
"Ouch! You women seem fixated on removing our genitals."
"Probably because you are equally fixated on keeping them."
"Wouldn't you?" he shot back at me, the answer was of course no, but then I didn't count as a man any more.
"It doesn't apply to me," I lied trying to sidestep the question.
"No I suppose not, what about your breasts?"
"I'm beginning to develop an inferiority complex about my boobs."
"I didn't mean it like that."
"You are always complaining about my small breasts."
"I have never complained about them, I think they are lovely, but how would you feel if you lost them?"
The answer would be devastated, but I wasn't going to say that. "Lots of women get by with prosthetics."
"That wasn't the question."
"I'm too tired to play power games Simon, if you want to be in control, I don't care. You stay in control, I'm going to bed."
"I'm sorry Cathy, it's only tea time, a bit early for bed isn't it?"
"Not for me. Goodnight, I'll see you tomorrow." I put the phone down and regretted it immediately. He'd now have me down as a moody cow, an estimation with which I might not disagree.
I checked with the hospital, there was no change. I didn't know if that was good or bad news.
Deciding that I ought to eat something, I did make myself a pasta meal with tuna and tomatoes. It tasted good and I fell asleep with a full stomach.
I awoke in the wee small hours and after a cuppa, went on the internet. I looked on ebay, but no one was selling a Scott bike of any description. Maybe it was too soon and what if it had been stolen to order? That made my eyes hurt.
I read some stories on the net, none of them anything like real life. I know I'm fast becoming an authority on it.
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