TUESDAY TALES WORD PROMPT "GREAT"

Welcome to Tuesday Tales! This week is another episode of "Unforgettable," my pandemic love story. This one isn't as rough as the previous episodes, so no caution needed. 

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On West 78th St., Manhattan

A growl from his stomach reminded him he was beyond starving. Cary opened the door and joined his Aunt in the living room. She had a place laid on the small table by the window overlooking the street. The plate overflowed with pasta covered in an appetizing red sauce. On a smaller plate was a salad. A glass of red wine accompanied the meal. He sat down.

“This looks great. I didn’t have time to eat.”

“I must confess. I got it from Luigi’s Italian Restaurant. I got together with my weekly lunch group today. I felt so bad. Thinking of you, slaving away in the hospital.”

Cary put his fork down. “You what?”

“Met with my lunch group. Oh, they’re safe. We meet every week. And none of them are sick, so I’ll be fine.”

Anger flooded his body. He pushed up from the table. “Really? They’re fine? How the hell do you know? And what about the waiters, and the cook? Are they all fine? Do you know for sure they’re not carriers? And your friends? Didn’t the governor say to stay home? Sue, how could you do something so God damn stupid!”

“No need to swear.”

“I’m just beginning to swear. You’ve risked your life. And you might be carrying the disease here, too. I might get it and have to give up working at the hospital. Can’t you see you might have endangered the lives of a shitload of people?”

Sue’s face crumbled. Tears flowed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Cary. I didn’t mean to. It was just my friends. We’ve been meeting every week.”

“What about stay home don’t you understand?” he yelled. Anger pulsed through his body.

“You don’t have to get so mad.”

“Obviously I do. You don’t get it Sue. This is so incredibly contagious. You could get it from a handshake or a touch from a friend. And then you touch your face, and –boom! You’re infected. People your age are dying. Dying! Yes, dying! We lose patients every day.” His control broke. Tears flowed down his cheeks, he stormed into his room and slammed the door. After plopping down on the bed, he put his head in his hands and tried to regain self-control. Yelling at Aunt Sue wouldn’t do any good. But he had to get through to her. She had to stay home. She might have dodged a bullet this time, but how much longer could she flaunt the rules and escape the virus?

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "STRING"

Welcome! This week we're writing to the prompt "string." I have another episode of "Unforgettable", my pandemic romance. This may be upsetting or hard to take. If so, just scroll down and return to Tuesday Tales for a story from a different author. I understand. Please feel free to leave comments. I take them to heart. 
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Time flew. He barely had time to breathe. By two o’clock, there was a momentary lull.

“Karen, I need to…”

“You and me, both. Be right back.”

He chuckled and made a beeline for the bathroom. He met her back within minutes.

“Do you want to take a break to eat?” Karen stared at the clock.

Two thirty and lunch had never crossed his mind. The loud growl from his stomach must have alerted everyone. 
Embarrassed, he nodded. “I won’t be long.” He headed for the lounge. He eased his sandwiches from underneath someone else’s food. Cold, flattened peanut butter and jelly never tasted so good. He gobbled up one after the other, then opened a bottle of water. Checking his watch, he gave himself two minutes to relax and let his stomach digest before returning to work.

“Is it always like this?” he asked Karen.

“Most days. Some are worse.”

“Worse? How could this be worse?” His eyebrows rose.

“Oh, believe me. You don’t wanna know.”

A machine beeped loudly. This time is was Mr. Sheffield. Cary looked at his chart. He’d been on the respirator for ten days. It didn’t look good.

“He’d been holding his own for a week. We thought he was getting better. Then, last night, he started to decline.” She spoke out of earshot of the patient.

“He got better then declined?”

“That’s what’s been happening. They look better, then they fall off the cliff.”

 Cary shook his head.

“This disease is the worst. Just horrible.” Karen blinked rapidly.

Mr. Sheffield’s machine went off again. This time they weren’t able to revive him. Cary rubbed the back of his neck. The old man with a twinkle in his eye, reminded him of Gramps.

Karen motioned.

“It’s Mrs. Kent this time.”

They followed the beeping. He kept going and going until he grew numb. Slumping into a chair in the lounge, he struggled to find the strength to open a bottle of water.

“Go home.” It was Alan Snider.“It’s six thirty. Go home. Good night.”

Cary dumped his scrubs, sanitized his hands for the one-hundredth time that day, and shrugged on his coat. He hobbled down the stairs and into the subway. Finding a deli open, he bought bags and bags of food.

Stuffing the heaviest things in his backpack before tightening the string, he lugged the rest as he shuffled down the sidewalk. Mr. Sheffield, Mrs. Richards, Mrs. Kent –and four of the other patients he’d seen the day before, gone. He’d lost them all. That had never happened to him before. He watched people die, one after another, and stood powerless to save them.

When he reached the stoop, he dragged his exhausted body up the steps. He put the bags down and drew the key from his pocket. Fumbling with the lock, he couldn’t see because his eyes were full. He stopped moving, rested his forehead against the cool glass panel and cried.

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TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT WEEK

This is picture prompt week and we're only allowed 300 words. It's not surprising that I selected this picture. I promise that in the coming weeks there will be some excerpts that are not as harrowing as these early ones have been. Thanks for sticking with me. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thanks for stopping by. 

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Cary put on his sneakers and headed for the door.

“What about your lunch?”

“I’ll pick something up along the way.”

“Nothing’s open. I don’t have much as I’m a soup person. But I threw together two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Here you go.” She offered him a plastic bag.

“Great. Thank you.” He tucked it in his backpack.

“Oh, and take a water.”

“That’s okay. There’s bottled water at the hospital.”

Aunt Sue put her hand on his arm. “How is it there?”

How old was Aunt Sue? Old enough. No way would he tell her the truth. “It’s under control.”

“Oh. Good. Good luck today. Stay well.”

“I will. Stay inside.” He opened the door. His brows knitted. Under control? He’d never seen anything so out of control in his life. Even during his two years of compulsory military duty he never saw anything even close to the chaos of the pandemic. Not that his colleagues weren’t doing a good job. He was surprised no one had collapsed in the hallway yet.

Cary set his jaw and zipped his jacket against the brisk wind of the March day. It was seven fifteen. The subway would arrive in ten minutes. He increased his pace, anxious to start work on time.  He swore under his breath each time he checked his watch. The train had two minutes until he’d be late. The digital board said it would be there in five minutes.

He told himself three minutes didn’t matter. When he looked up, the train had made up time and would only be a minute behind. He took a deep breath. When he arrived, he dumped his stuff in a locker he shared with two other doctors, shoved his sandwiches in the fridge, and washed his hands.  

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "FISH"

Welcome! This week we have another episode of "Unforgettable". This one is emotional so I caution sensitive readers. Scroll on down to return to the excellent stories of Tuesday Tales. Thanks for stopping by. 

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His wet shirt made him shiver. The cold fish sandwich sat like an undigestible lump in his stomach. Grateful to see only one other person on the subway train, he took a seat at the other end. They’d lost ten patients in his shift. Hell, he’d never lost as many as that in a year. Exhausted physically and mentally, emotion shook him. His eyes watered. He bent his head, ashamed to cry in front of even just one stranger. Men don’t cry, right? Especially not doctors. They see sickness and death all the time. It’s supposed to roll off their backs.

Not today. He raised his sleeve to wipe his face until he remembered Dr. Snider’s warning. “Don’t touch your face.” The tears rolled down his cheeks and dropping onto the floor of the lurching car, leaving small wet spots.

With so few passengers, the train made excellent time, getting him to his stop quickly. Cary shook his head, scattering the remaining wetness and walked briskly to Sue’s apartment. He unlocked the outer door, then the inner one.

“Cary! You’re back.”

He raised his hand. “Stay away. In fact, you might want to turn your back. I’m going to strip down completely and put my clothes in the washer.” He emptied his pockets on the kitchen counter.

“Okay.” She turned away from him.

He moved to the small machine squeezed into her kitchen and took every piece of clothing off. He stuff the garments into the basket, then scrubbed his hands with hot water and soap in the sink. Then he sanitized them further with Purell. Barefoot and totally naked, he added detergent, set the dial to hot, and turned it on.

He disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Stepping under the hot water, he hoped to wash away the memories of his day at Empire General. Instead, he rested his head on the tile wall and sobbed.

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