Who's sorry now?

Who's Sorry Now?

Joyce Peterson

Fred looked up at his assistant. "Make sure they're all there when I get back."

"I'll see to it. They'll be there," the man assured him as he turned and started up the path.

Fred looked out at the little lake someone had built among the beautiful plants in the park. He liked to come here when things felt like they were getting out of hand. Like this morning, or was it yesterday:

"Dad, Mom said I had to get your OK so I can go with the gang to the mountains today." His son was a good kid but Fred wasn't sure about the so-called "gang".

"No," he told the boy, "You haven't mowed the lawn or cleaned your room like your Mother told you."

"Daaaad!" Fred hated to hear the pleading in Eddie's voice.

"N…O…NO." Fred was the boss in this house. He didn't owe the kid any explanations.

"You're an old Foagie," His son had shouted at him. He hadn't said "foagie" but Fred didn't want to remember the terrible name his son had called him. He knew his son would be sorry someday when he, himself became a Dad.

He watched the ducks that had taken up residence on the pond. He threw them the few bread crumbs that he had brought with him. The whole flock gathered to share them.

A flock of ducks reminded him of a group of people, his people, his employees who had gathered in a bunch to demand he review salaries and instigate raises across the board.

John Kiley, his oldest employee, and one that Fred had considered a friend, spoke for the group, "Sir, we all think you should be giving out raises. It's been too long…."

Fred held up his hands. "I am sorry but you all know that business is at a standstill, right now." Fred knew that he had spoken a lie but he went on, "Have any of you tried to get other jobs lately?" Fred felt he was the boss and no one was going to tell him when to give raises. When no one answered, he continued, "I thought not, now let's get back to work and forget all this happened."

He was pleased that they all went back to work with no further argument . However, in a few days, he lost some of his key people, even John Kiley. He figured that John had been offered another job earlier, , because he went to work for a competitor within a couple of weeks.

While he was here, there were other things he needed to get out of his memories, like that argument he had with Millie, his wife.

"Fred, I need more house money." Millie had never worked and he had always given her plenty for household expenditures.

"Why?" Fred was sure she spent the house money on frivolous items like new clothes when she didn't need them. He knew she wouldn't put anything she didn't need, on her credit card because she knew he checked the monthly statement.

Millie had come up with a lame excuse. "Have you seen the prices of things lately? I need more and I won't ask you again."

"I'll look into it." He had lied to her. He knew she didn't need any more money and he wasn't about to change his mind . Since then, he wondered if that had anything to do with Millie's leaving him 2 weeks later. He had heard that, after the divorce, she had married John Kiley. He couldn't think of anything those two had in common.

"Let me see, now," he wondered, "There's that argument I had with that neighbor when we first moved into that house on Elm street."

Adam had been raking up the leaves, in his own yard, from his big, old tree when Fred had gone out to ask him about those leaves that fell in their yard. All he had said was, "I hope you're coming over here and rake up your filthy leaves in my yard?"

Adam had taken offense and thrown the rake at Fred, "Rake 'em up, yourself. These trees have been here longer that either of us have been alive."

Fred avoided neighbors in general and Adam in particular. He didn't care if they had never been invited to any of the noisy barbeque parties that Adam had every weekend. He had thought, "One of these days…" But "one of those days" had never happened. Maybe today?

Fred pushed the thought of the neighbor to the background as he thought of the new Secretary he had had to hire. She was impossible. She couldn't even remember his name. She just said , Yes, sir and No, sir to everything and her spelling was terrible even though she had a computer that corrected her. He would enjoy telling her she was fired.

"Sir?" Fred looked up to see his assistant had come back to remind him it was time to go. He gave one last look at the ducks on the pond and promised himself to come again tomorrow.

"It's time, sir." The man turned the wheelchair around and started to push it up the hill.

"Are they all here?." Fred asked.

"Yes, sir, everyone." He answered politely.

"My son?" When the assistant hummed, "Um hum," Fred asked, "What's his name again?"

"Fred, Jr." the man said.

"How about the others, John and Millie, Adam…"

"All present and accounted for, sir." The assistant told him.

"Remind me to fire that new secretary." Fred told him.

"I think you did that on the way out, sir." The white coated attendant said as the door opened to admit them to the rest home.

Fred looked at the people in the reception area. "I can see she's gone." He motioned to an empty desk. "And my guests…did they all say they were sorry?"

"They all said they were sorry and left because they wanted you to go back to bed to get some rest." The attendant pushed the wheelchair down the hall and entered Fred's room. When he had put Fred to bed and tucked in the covers, Fred grabbed his arm.

"If they ever come back, tell them I'll never forgive them. We'll see whose sorry!!" Fred shouted.

The attendant loosened Fred's hand from his white coat sleeve.

"Absolutely, sir," he smiled as he told him, "we'll see whose sorry now."

As She Remembered

AS SHE REMEMBERED

Joyce Peterson

A car pulled up to the curb along the esplanade sidewalk. The engine was left running, while a middle aged woman got out and took a pull-along cart from the back. An elderly woman, got out of the passengers' side and waited on the sidewalk until the cart was placed beside her.

"Thanks for driving me down, honey. I could have walked," the old woman said.

"No problem, Sadie. I was on my way to the grocery when I saw you come out of the house. I'll just put a gold star on my Good Neighbor chart. Looks like it's all yours today," she observed as she motioned to the empty bench that sat in the portioned off square of cement, surrounded by a balustrade, that had been built specifically for it. "It's going to be a good day for doing one of your beach sketches. By the way, how's your grandson getting along?"

"Fine, I guess. We haven't heard from him for a while," she answered as she made her way around the end of the bench.

"I'll tell Angie where I dropped you off." The words came floating over her shoulder as she got back in the car and took off.

Sadie looked after the car as she thought, "Angie and I did ourselves a favor when we bought that little house next to such a good neighbor." Twenty years ago, she and Angie, her daughter, had both lost the men in their lives when Sadie's husband, Frank, had died and, the father of the baby Angie was carrying, had taken off for parts unknown, after she had told him that she was pregnant. The sale of Sadie's house, and the insurance money, had been enough to get them the beach house and enough reserve for Angie to have little Davy, then, time to find a job. Sadie had been Davy's caregiver since the time he was born.

She sat on the end of the bench and pulled the carry-all along side. Taking out her sketch pad, she started on a loose drawing of the people on the beach below her . Her pastels helped her capture the blue-green of the ocean as it broke into white on the shore.

"Why does it change?" she wondered out loud.

"Everything changes. Nothing ever stays the same." The young man in uniform had sat down so quietly that she hadn't realized he was there until she heard the soft words that had been almost a whisper.

Sadie smiled. "I was just talking to myself. I didn't see you sit down. Home on leave?" she asked.

"Something like that," he said. Looking at the sketch, he continued, "You must have a lot of sketches of the beach."

" Yes, and they bring back so many memories but, I guess we both have things to remember. I hope yours are as good as mine." Pointing to a little boy who was trying to get away from a man who was holding his hand, she continued, "I brought my grandson here when he was about six."

"And he ran away from you." The words were uttered softly.

Sadie looked at the young man. He was blond with brown eyes and the uniform looked familiar. "So… do you know my grandson?" She asked. She saw he was a Private, like her grandson

"Yes, yes I do," the soldier answered.

"I assume you are on leave. Will Davy be coming home soon?" She could already feel the happiness she would know when Davy would come up the walk, home on leave. He had volunteered when he graduated from High School. Sadie had heard him tell a friend that by joining up he could save up for college and with help from the government, when his time was up, he could pay his own way. Davy had always been a thoughtful boy. She wished he hadn't been so thoughtful about trying to pay for his college degree. They could have managed without his going away to, who knew what. "Will he be home soon?" She asked again.

"Soon, I think." The young man told her. Pointing to her sketch pad, he said "There must be a lot of memories in there for you."

Sadie looked back at the people on the beach below them. "See those two boys down there? The ones playing catch?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "Davy and his friend Billy always did that. One day the ball got away from them and some man caught it and didn't want to give it back. Billy wanted to tell a cop, or somebody, but Davy said he didn't want to cause any trouble. He was that way and now he has put himself in the way of the worst trouble in the world."

"I know." The soldier said, softly

Sadie wished he would speak up more. "We should have kept him from signing up."

"There wasn't anything you could do. He had his reasons." The answer seemed to drift on the air.

"You're right, but I still wish…" She spied a young couple who had put their blanket down among the other bathers. "See that young couple just putting down their blanket?" The soldier was looking to where she pointed. He nodded and smiled as though he knew what was coming. "He had a beautiful girl friend that he left behind. He thinks she will wait for him but I don't know. "

The soldier nodded without agreeing or disagreeing.

"When he gets home on leave, we'll see." Sadie really liked Brittany and had kept her informed about Davy.

"Yes, you'll see." It sounded like a promise as the soldier said it.

Sadie watched the young couple on the beach before she looked around but the young man had gone. "I was going to tell him to have a good time on his furlough but I'm sure he will."

A car had pulled up to the curb and a young woman got out of the passengers side and was waving at her, "Grandma Sadie, we came to take you home. Your neighbor told us where to find you."

"Brittany?" She asked. "What are you doing here? No classes today?"

"They didn't seem very important today." She said as the driver got out of the car. "We wanted to surprise you."

When Sadie saw who the driver was, she must have looked faint because he came around and put his arms around her. "Davy, it's really you, it's really you!! He said you would be home soon."

"He? Who?" Davy asked.

Sadie hugged him, "Another soldier. He sat on the bench with me and seemed to know a lot about my memories. He knew you, so you must have told him about me. He was about your age, with blond hair and brown eyes."

"Must have been Charlie. We talked a lot about home and the folks we would see when we got here. He said, if he was ever in this area, he would look you up to see if you were as great as I had been telling him." Davy's voice had a sad note to it.

"Nothing to be sad about," Sadie told him. "He kept his promise. He came by."

Davy's smile was also sad as he told her, "I know, Gram, but Charlie was killed by a roadside bomb a week before we were both to come home on furlough."