chided. “Not every patient can be saved. Just look at Ms. Kemp’s roommates.”
“I know,” Gina said. “But it’s so sad. Especially since Ms. Kemp is in this bed through no fault of her own.”
“We’ll do all we can to get her out of here,” Dr. Tyson said.
But after they left I wondered if word got out that I might have contributed to the accident, would the staff treat me differently?
August 2, Tuesday
“I HAD TO MAKE A DELIVERY right near here, so I figured I’d pull off and say howdy.”
My boss, Percy Palmer, was standing near the foot of my bed. I could visualize him dressed in blue coveralls, wringing his favorite Mohawk Carpet bill cap in his big, hairy hands. And I could tell from the sound of his voice he was on the verge of bolting.
Poor thing. He’s gruff and single and baffled by the fairer sex. Any time a woman at the carpet company needs off for “lady reasons” he lifts his paw and says, “No details, just go.” So seeing me lying there in a hospital gown in a veritable garden of pale, lifeless women must be hard for him. Especially since he’s accustomed to seeing me with a bullhorn barking orders at the truck drivers.
“I hired somebody to fill in until you come back,” he said. “But they’re not as good as you at keeping everybody in line.”
From our five years together, I’d learned Mr. Palmer was not good at dealing with change. I had replaced a woman named Tatiana, a factoid I know because he called me Tatiana for the first year I worked there. And God bless the unwitting temp he’d hired who is now having to respond to “Marigold.” I dearly hope it’s a woman.
“Everybody at the warehouse misses you,” he blurted.
And I miss my job. Miss the sharp tang of carpet adhesive in the air that keeps everyone on a slight buzz. Miss going home every evening covered in a light fuzz of carpet fibers like an enormous piece of Velcro. Miss the ninety-minute commute there and back…
On second thought—
“We passed a hat for you at work, everyone feels so bad for you and your family.”
The faces of my coworkers flashed through my mind. Unbeknownst to most, Mr. Palmer often hires ex-cons looking for a second chance because he’d done a stint in lockup himself when he was younger. And not to be stereotypical, but if you’re conjuring up images of some rough looking dudes, you’d be right. But their loyalty to Mr. Palmer is evident, and the workers have been nothing but respectful to me. Still, as touched as I am by their donations, knowing what I know now about the accident, I wish they had kept their hard-earned money.
“When I brought the envelope by, I was surprised to meet your mother. A right proper lady. But I thought your mom was dead.”
Oh, God, I hope he hadn’t told her that.
“She seemed a little taken back when I told her that.”
Inside I’m wincing.
“Not that you’d ever said she was dead,” he rambled on. “It’s just you only ever talked about your dad, so I just thought, well, you know….”
That she was dead?
“That she was dead.”
My mother had omitted that little topic of discussion when she’d mentioned meeting Mr. Palmer. Her feelings must’ve been terribly hurt. She and I were good at finding each other’s soft tissue.
“Anyway, she seemed really nice.” He cleared his throat. “I thought you’d like to know I ordered a whole truckload of that silk blend carpet you told me to get. I had my doubts, but the salesmen said you were right, it’s awesome carpet and it’s already our number one seller.”
That’s good news.
“You really know rugs, Marigold.”
Aw …aside from sounding a tiny bit X-rated, that is maybe the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, because Mr. Palmer is hard to impress.
“The carpet in the waiting room could sure use an upgrade. Commercial contractors put in the cheapest carpet on the cheapest pad, and in a high traffic area. What were they thinking? It’s
“I know,” Gina said. “But it’s so sad. Especially since Ms. Kemp is in this bed through no fault of her own.”
“We’ll do all we can to get her out of here,” Dr. Tyson said.
But after they left I wondered if word got out that I might have contributed to the accident, would the staff treat me differently?
August 2, Tuesday
“I HAD TO MAKE A DELIVERY right near here, so I figured I’d pull off and say howdy.”
My boss, Percy Palmer, was standing near the foot of my bed. I could visualize him dressed in blue coveralls, wringing his favorite Mohawk Carpet bill cap in his big, hairy hands. And I could tell from the sound of his voice he was on the verge of bolting.
Poor thing. He’s gruff and single and baffled by the fairer sex. Any time a woman at the carpet company needs off for “lady reasons” he lifts his paw and says, “No details, just go.” So seeing me lying there in a hospital gown in a veritable garden of pale, lifeless women must be hard for him. Especially since he’s accustomed to seeing me with a bullhorn barking orders at the truck drivers.
“I hired somebody to fill in until you come back,” he said. “But they’re not as good as you at keeping everybody in line.”
From our five years together, I’d learned Mr. Palmer was not good at dealing with change. I had replaced a woman named Tatiana, a factoid I know because he called me Tatiana for the first year I worked there. And God bless the unwitting temp he’d hired who is now having to respond to “Marigold.” I dearly hope it’s a woman.
“Everybody at the warehouse misses you,” he blurted.
And I miss my job. Miss the sharp tang of carpet adhesive in the air that keeps everyone on a slight buzz. Miss going home every evening covered in a light fuzz of carpet fibers like an enormous piece of Velcro. Miss the ninety-minute commute there and back…
On second thought—
“We passed a hat for you at work, everyone feels so bad for you and your family.”
The faces of my coworkers flashed through my mind. Unbeknownst to most, Mr. Palmer often hires ex-cons looking for a second chance because he’d done a stint in lockup himself when he was younger. And not to be stereotypical, but if you’re conjuring up images of some rough looking dudes, you’d be right. But their loyalty to Mr. Palmer is evident, and the workers have been nothing but respectful to me. Still, as touched as I am by their donations, knowing what I know now about the accident, I wish they had kept their hard-earned money.
“When I brought the envelope by, I was surprised to meet your mother. A right proper lady. But I thought your mom was dead.”
Oh, God, I hope he hadn’t told her that.
“She seemed a little taken back when I told her that.”
Inside I’m wincing.
“Not that you’d ever said she was dead,” he rambled on. “It’s just you only ever talked about your dad, so I just thought, well, you know….”
That she was dead?
“That she was dead.”
My mother had omitted that little topic of discussion when she’d mentioned meeting Mr. Palmer. Her feelings must’ve been terribly hurt. She and I were good at finding each other’s soft tissue.
“Anyway, she seemed really nice.” He cleared his throat. “I thought you’d like to know I ordered a whole truckload of that silk blend carpet you told me to get. I had my doubts, but the salesmen said you were right, it’s awesome carpet and it’s already our number one seller.”
That’s good news.
“You really know rugs, Marigold.”
Aw …aside from sounding a tiny bit X-rated, that is maybe the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, because Mr. Palmer is hard to impress.
“The carpet in the waiting room could sure use an upgrade. Commercial contractors put in the cheapest carpet on the cheapest pad, and in a high traffic area. What were they thinking? It’s
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