Not Desperate

Chapter 7 Making Plans

Chapter Seven

“Making Plans”

            Damn! I hate waking up, especially Monday morning. I hadn’t heard my alarm go off yet, so maybe I could get a little more rest. I got about two or three minutes in before I heard “Blood of Cu Chulainn” blaring through my phone. I know Michael heard it too. I could hear him moaning and groaning in his bedroom next door. I roll myself out of bed, almost literally, and grab my clothes for the day. As I walked into the hallway, I stopped at Michael’s door. “You need in the bathroom ya better go now. I’m gonna take a shower.” He climbed out of bed and walked down the hallway with his eyes closed. “Better open those eyes before you pee, boy. I ain’t cleaning that up.” A minute later, I hear the toilet flush and the door squeak on its hinges. He had his eyes open, but not focused. “Can I lay back down?” Michael whined as he walked passed me, back into his room. “Yeah. Gonna shower and get dressed. Then I’ll come get you and start breakfast, okay?”

            “Great mom. Thanks. I love you.”

            “Love you too, sweetie. Now sleep. Take advantage of my generosity.”

            I love hot showers. The hotter, the better. Steamy, leave red marks on your skin, hot showers. After I lost all that weight when I had pneumonia a couple years ago, I get chills in sixty degree weather. I just let the water run over me and warm me up before I started to wash. It was supposed to be a beautiful, warm, sunny day. Well, not too warm, in the seventies. I could deal with that. I supposed Daryl could deal with it too. Being outside all day has to be better this time of year. It’s still hot during the fall here, but sometimes we luck out. I cut off the water and dried myself off. After putting on my uniform. I got the boy out of bed and went to go fix breakfast. This morning it’s pancakes and bacon, the dream of diabetics and heart patients everywhere. Twenty minutes later, I was putting the food on the table as Michael walked in. He hands me a piece of paper and sits down to devour his nutritious breakfast. I take the paper, grab a cigarette and my coffee and go outside to the back porch. I light my smoke and take a sip of coffee before I read the note. A field trip, a weekend field trip actually. Both of the fifth grade classes are going camping next month. Wow, even he gets to go and I don’t. I’m not volunteering for this one though. I sign it and put my cigarette out in the water bottle I keep by the chair. When I get back inside, Michael is gone, his plate clean. I snag a couple pancakes and some bacon and sit down.

            When Michael reappears, he has his backpack and his lunch ready to go. “Did you sign it?”

            “Yup.”

            “Are you going with us?”

            “Nope.”

            “How come?”

            “The idea of spending an entire weekend with forty ten year olds advances my age by decades, hon. My heart nor mind could handle it.”