The Doorstep Diaries, Day 22

Cough, cough.

Sally today. In a skirt. God what a woman. Not a supermodel, the skin and bones type don’t really do it for me. Too close to home I suppose. Marilyn Monroe, there was a real woman. Betty Page, too. Curves. And Sally. Legs creeping out from that skirt, a put together blouse, hips that you know have been places.

What sets her apart is that she’s here. It wouldn’t be anything if she wasn’t. Marilyn was a floozy. JFK, Joe DiMaggio, Arthur Miller. Betty Page scared me. Talk about baggage. Sally though. Loyal to the end. Here after work. But here before dinner because she tried once to come after he was asleep. Always here though.

She fluffs his pillow.

Cough, cough.

“Your dad wanted to come,” she says. “but he got caught in another meeting. He’ll be glad to know you’re looking ship-shape though. Ate that sandwich right up.”

Ship-shape. Class. What a woman.

She smiles and pulls up his covers around his arms. “Maybe I’ll sneak a few more of those cookies in, hmm?” She whispers. He smiles. He doesn’t cough.

Chicken pot pie today. No sign of Nurse.