Чарльз Кроуфорд - Three-Legged Race

"It looks absolutely scrumptious to me," Amy said. "I love Alpo."

"Does anyone ever die of food poisoning in this hospital?" Brent asked.

"If not, this could be a first," Kirk replied.

"I liked it better when they fed me through the tube."

"Didn't I tell you so?"

Amy ate a mouthful of fruit cocktail. "It's not so bad," she said.

"What can you do to fruit cocktail?" Brent asked.

"Not much," Kirk said. "Except they heated it up by mistake a few weeks ago. Hot grapefruit, ick."

Amy ate a mouthful of roast beef. "The meat's not bad either, although it tastes like the ham we had yesterday."

"All the meat's the same. You know that. They just call it by different names. It's actually all something called Mystery Meat."

"What's Mystery Meat?" Brent asked.

"It depends on what's cheap that week," Kirk said. "Either kangaroo cutlet or roast of goat. It doesn't matter much. Amy's right. It all tastes the same anyway."

Yet Amy was the only one who didn't eat the whole lunch, Brent noticed.

"What I wouldn't give for a really good hamburger and a milk shake about now," she said, putting her fork down by her half-finished meal.

"Send out for one. You have fourteen thousand dollars worth of Kleenex, after all."

"Funny man, Kirk."

"Just trying to be helpful."

Amy began to smile. "I've got an idea. Thanks a lot, Kirk."

"What did I say?"

"You're a genius, is all. Think you can get your bed wheeled into my room, Brent, after Nurse Rush leaves and the evening nurse comes on?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Good. Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, you are invited to my room for dinner. Semiformal. Dinner at seven sharp. Don't be late."

"Are you kidding?" Kirk asked.

"Nope. Just be there."

"Hot damn," Kirk said. "My mouth is watering already. What do you have in mind?"

"It's a surprise. I've got to go plan. See you later."

Amy left the room. Kirk looked at Brent and shrugged his shoulders. "Crazy broad," he said.

Jewel returned and took the trays out.

"Do you mind if I take a stroll, Brent?" Kirk asked.

"No. Fine. I just wish I could get out of this room myself. I'll be fine. I don't mind being alone."

"Okay. I'll see you later."

"Don't peek in on Amy. You wouldn't want to ruin her surprise. What are you up to?"

"Nothing. Just a little wandering. Maybe I'll pay a visit to the maternity nursery, and when the new fathers look through the glass, I'll say, 'That one's not yours. I just saw them switch the tags all around.'"

Brent laughed. "See you later."

"Right. Take care." Kirk struggled with his crutches for a few moments and left the room.

Brent lay back and looked at the ceiling.

I almost don't mind being here now that I feel better, he thought. If I were home I would be just kicking around at the pool until the family left for Maine.

Brent picked up the book he was reading and found his place. He was halfway through the second volume of The Lord of the Rings for the second time. He loved the world of Middle Earth. It seemed so real to him. He always wished it were a place that he could visit.

He had gotten so absorbed in Frodo's plight that he didn't hear his mother come in.

"Hi, Brent. How are you feeling?" she said when she had reached the foot of his bed.

Brent looked up from his book and smiled, "Fine, I guess. I'm getting awful tired of not sitting up, though."

"I know. It must be hard. I've got some good news. I just saw Dr.Matthias on the way up here and he said yesterday's X ray shows you're healing just fine."

"Yeah. I know. He told me this morning."

"I'm so pleased. He said you would be ready to go home in two or three more weeks."

"The brace guy is supposed to come and measure me tomorrow."

"We'll be so pleased when you come home. It's not the same without you, as I'm sure you can imagine. Betsy just mopes around all day. She doesn't have anyone to fight with." Brent's mother smiled.

"No Maine in August?" Brent asked.

"Maybe. We'll have to see what the doctor says. Anyway, you should be pleased that you'll be as good as new in the long run. No football this fall, but Dr.Matthias said by winter, when the brace comes off, there should be no restrictions. If we can't get to Maine in August, perhaps you and Betsy would like a week of skiing in January or February."

"Sounds great," Brent said. "I guess I don't mind lying here day after day as long as I know the end is in sight."

"Betsy wanted to come too, but she had swimming practice this afternoon."

"Fine. How's Dad?"

"He's fine. He said to tell you he'd try to get by on the way back from a settlement he has tomorrow morning. He'll be so glad to hear how well Dr.Matthias says you're doing."

"Yeah, well, tell him 'Hi' for me."

"I sure will. Have any of your friends been by for a visit?"

"No."

"Not even Jimmy or Tom? I'm surprised. I saw Tom on the street yesterday and he was so sorry to hear that you were laid up."

"No, he hasn't been by. You know how things are in the summer. Everybody's off doing their things, at the shore or somewhere. I've gotten cards from a couple of the kids at school. One from cousin John too."

"Well, it would be nice to have a visit from somebody else but family. Cards aren't much of a substitute."

"Oh, it's okay. Amy and Kirk and I spend a lot of time together. We have a good time. They're really great."

"I'm glad. Amy's a lovely girl. It's good to hear you aren't holed up all by yourself anyway. How's the food? Still as bad?"

"Worse."

"You'd think, at the prices you have to pay, that they would at least serve a decent meal."

"The only thing they serve are indecent ones."

"The night you get home, I'll make sure I have all your favorite things for dinner. Where's Kirk?"

"Out wandering."

"That's nice. I brought a surprise for you."

"What is it?" Brent asked.

"Your watercolors. I thought you might like to do a little painting while you have all this time on your hands. The doctor thought you could manage without hurting your back."

"That's great. Thanks."

Brent's mother took the paints, a few brushes and a small pad of watercolor paper out of her pocket-book.

"I'll leave them here on your table in case you want them. I hate to see you here without anything to keep you busy."

"I don't mind. But thanks."

"Well, I think I'll be on my way and let you get back to that book you were so buried in when I arrived."

"Right. Thanks for stopping, Mom."

"Take care now. Don't do anything foolish like sitting up."

"Don't worry."

"We're all so happy with your progress. You were a lucky boy."

"I know."

"Okay, then, I'll see you tomorrow. Sorry I've got to run, but I've got a million things to do today."

"Right. 'Bye, Mom."

"'Bye, dear."

Brent watched her leave the room. He reached over and swung the table closer to him. He opened the pad of watercolor paper and poured a glass of water from the Styrofoam pitcher. He dipped a small brush into the water and opened the tin of watercolors. He rolled onto his left side and propped his head up on his left hand. The pad was almost touching his nose as it lay open on the bed. It was awkward, but it would have to do, he thought.

What can I paint? he wondered.

He always painted landscapes in Maine. He had become very good at trees and rocks. Rocks weren't easy.

The view out the window beside his bed was only the brick wall of another wing of the hospital.

Not much of a landscape there, he thought.

He dipped the brush in the water again and swirled the tip in the small cake of brown.

I'll paint a picture of Amy, he thought; but it scared him in a way. He had never tried to paint a picture of a person before, only landscapes.