JANICE IS CALLED TO DUTY

The coffee was wimpy; the toast charred. Her hair was spiked from a night of on and off again sleepless tossing; the newspaper was late again. Not an auspicious beginning to the day.

The phone rang.

She did not answer.

It was noon before she surrendered to her curiosity and checked her voice mail. “Janice, Mazie here. Could you come by Ellen’s tomorrow morning and help her set up the guest room for Debbie. I’m picking Debbie up at the airport. She’s flying in for her dad’s funeral. Call me back.”

Janice fought the anger she was feeling at herself and at Mazie. At Mazie for asking this and at herself for resenting it. She called Mazie.

At nine the next morning she appeared at Ellen’s door with Hardee’s sausage biscuits and coffee. “Ellen, I am so sorry.” She embraced her long time friend.

Her concern for Ellen co-mingled with the resurfacing of her own loss. Tears flowed from both women.

Finally Janice stood back and said, “Now the first order of business is breakfast. And don’t tell me you aren’t hungry. You have to eat. Then we make abed for Debbie. How long is she staying?”

“Just for the funeral. She has to get back to work.”

Well past noon Mazie produced a teary eyed Debbie and a bag of Deli sandwiches. “I need to get home to see to Clyde’s supper. Call me if you need anything. I leave you Janice’s good hands.”

Janice’s good hands. Janice’s Charlie was not waiting for his supper; Janice was available on demand.