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."