Jacqueline Druga - The Flu

“That wasn’t the leader in me. That was the diehard optimist screaming to see this thing end.”

“Guess what? You have. We’ve seen the last of this flu.”

Henry closed his eyes. “Let’s hope.”

Lodi, Ohio

Patrick couldn’t believe it was in. He had been waiting all week to get his hands on that new release, constantly stopping in Tom’s store to see if it was there. Of course, it actually wasn’t a new release seeing how Tom hadn’t received a shipment in nearly a month. But Patrick had it, and pleased, he walked up to the counter.

“Here, Tom.” Patrick laid the movie down. “Quite the selection tonight. Usually the shelves are empty.”

“Usually people aren’t getting ready for the festival tomorrow night. Not gonna help?”

“Oh. I’m helping, but I stay up pretty late. That’s for later.”

Tom peered at the box. “Will you stop pestering me now?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good flick.” Tom nodded. “Watched it last night.”

“Wait a second…” Patrick said. “You said you’d call me as soon as it came in.”

“Never came in. I was on my way out, Wayne dropped it off. I took it.”

“Figures. I was bored, too.”

“Must happen to you a lot.”

“Yeah.” Patrick hunched down and peeked in the mostly empty candy case. “No chance of any chocolate covered peanuts in the back?”

Tom lifted a finger and pointed.

Marian, with a pleased expression on her face, came from the back room with a box. “I knew you were in here. Had to find that box.” She smiled and gave the candy to Patrick.

“Thank you.”

“You are brushing after those. They tend to…”

“Marian,” Tom cut her off. “You can’t be badgering the customers about good oral hygiene. It isn’t gonna help business if things go back to normal.”

Embarrassed, Marian giggled and went behind the counter. “Did you tell him?”

“Shush,” Tom shook his head. “Getting there.” He pushed the box forward. “Got you logged.”

“Thank you.” Patrick gathered up his things.

“Say…” Tom spoke up, stopping Patrick, “did you know, since this whole thing went down and we just been logging movies, you’ve rented a whopping fifty-three movies?”

“That’s… that’s just pathetic,” Patrick commented. “That many?”

“Yep. Pretty much tied with one other person.”

Shocked, Patrick shook his head. “I guess I have nothing else to do.”

“Bet you get lonely sometimes being the single guy and all,” Tom stated.

“Yeah, kind of,” Patrick nodded.

“Bet you’d like nothing more than to have someone to watch that movie with. Discuss it, laugh over it.”

Patrick gave a shrug. “That wouldn’t be bad. I think Mick is getting tired of me going over there with him and Dylan. Lars, he argues with me over the movies.”

“It’s tough when the world shuts down before you get a chance to meet someone. I mean, a nice home cooked meal…”

“That,” Patrick lifted a finger, “would be nice.”

“Would you like a nice home cooked meal, and someone to watch that movie with tonight?”

Patrick smiled, his eyes shifted to Marian who seemed to have on her best Donna Reed look. “I’d love it.”

Tom’s eyes lifted at the ring of the doorbell and he smiled. “Well, you’re in luck. Eunice?” Tom gave a wave of his hand. “He said ‘yes’. How do you like that?”

Eunice? Patrick didn’t want to turn around. He felt her presence near him.

Tom leaned closer to Patrick and whispered. “Eunice is a nice woman. Has dinner all ready. Loves this movie. Go on, have a good time. She ain’t married.” Tom winked.

Thinking, Maybe Eunice just had a case of bad luck and got a really shitty name , Patrick grinned and turned around with an extended hand. He felt every facial muscle freeze when he forced the smile to stay put. His neck muscles felt the strain as well from looking up at the extremely tall, thin woman in her late forties, with obviously dyed jet black hair. To Patrick, the sourpuss look she had all but shouted one of the reasons she wasn’t married. Patrick swallowed. What was he gonna do? Nervously he pulled his hand back, while trying desperately to find a single positive detail about Eunice.

Eunice’s thickly painted lips parted and she smiled widely. “We’ll have fun.” She continued to smile.

That was it. Patrick knew where he would focus… on her mouth. She had great teeth and her mouth wasn’t bad. Patrick only hoped that Eunice never noticed that he never looked anywhere else.

The tiny tug on Mick’s tee shirt sleeve made him turn his mouth from the fork full of pasta to Tigger. “Yes?”

“What’s a maggot?” Tigger asked.

The fork lowered from Mick’s mouth. “What the hell kind of question is that to be…” His eyes raised across the picnic table to Dustin and Chris, who were snickering. “What did you guys tell him?”

“Nothing,” Dustin laughed.

“Nothing,” Chris repeated in the same manner.

Rose Owens shook her head. “Mick, wipe that fuckin’ look off your face, they’re just being boys.”

“They made Tigger bring up maggots,” Mick defended then lifted his fork again.

Tigger gave a pull on his sleeve. “What’s a maggot?”

Laughing, Dylan decided to intervene, “A maggot is a baby fly. Little disgusting worms.”

Tigger nodded his understanding. “Oh. Hey, Mick, so are there a zillion maggots on the bodies outside of Lodi?”

Mick opened his mouth to answer only after sending a scolding look to Dustin and Chris. “Not a zillion. A few.”

Tigger let out a little shriek. “Oh, they lied. They said maggots were crawling in and out of dead people’s bodies and…”

“Enough,” Mick grumbled. “And boys, why are you talking about this?”

“Check this out, Mick.” Dustin leaned into the picnic table. “Jerry got a hold of a scope for the camera. We were snapping off pictures of the bodies from Diggins’ roof.”

“What the—”

Rose cut off Mick. “How very entrepreneur-like of you, Dustin. Getting the scope.”

Dustin nodded. “Did you know when the Spanish flu hit no one took any really disgusting pictures for the public to see?”

“That’s because they saw it,” Mick commented.

“Yeah, but,” Dustin continued, “generations to come wouldn’t have seen it. Right?”

Rose noticed the look on her son’s face. “I hope you aren’t being fuckin’ discouraging about the career choice Dustin here is making. A photographer is a—”

“Mom,” Mick silenced her. “Who said I’m not being… Tigger!” Mick reached down to the ground, then, with his free hand lifted Tigger. “You have to use the booster seat.” Mick set the seat on the bench, then Tigger on the booster. “Use it.”

“I’m not a baby,” Tigger grumbled.

“I know you aren’t a baby,” Mick argued. “But you don’t eat when you have to kneel. If you don’t eat, you won’t grow.”

“I’m not growing anyhow.”

“Yes, you are,” Mick said.

“No.” Tigger folded his arms. “Look at me. I’m not gonna grow.”

“ I did.” Mick said.

“What’s that got to do with me?” Tigger asked.

Rose interceded. “Mick is trying to tell you that just because you’re little today, don’t mean you won’t be a big fuckin’ ox tomorrow.” She gave a wink to Dustin and Chris who laughed. “Mick was short. God, Dylan, wasn’t he less than five feet in the ninth grade?”

“I think so,” Dylan stated. “Definitely shorter than me.”

“And round,” Rose whistled. “Mick was as round as they came. Called him Orca.”