lotus land 2

        A wheelchair and a hospital bed were added to her life. Invading and corrupting her carefully wrought realities. She idled much beneath an open window. On a clear day she could see the channel islands. Winking like diamonds and shards of jade.
       It was ten o'clock in the morning. A breeze visited her: the buffeting of butterfly wings, fractal designs from China.
       Hank knocked at the doorway. "I'm taking the ferry to Vancouver. Anything special you want?"
       "Why don't you just drive the Rover down to Victoria?"
       "You know why."
       "It's such a lovely place."
       "Too damn lovely. Nothing but dandies and snobs. Anglophiles all. And the only good tree is a log!"
       "Not true--"
       He lifted her to the wheelchair and rolled her outside to where he had prepared a breakfast table with coffee and scones. She sighed, "I wish I could go with you."
       He hugged her. "Wish you could too."
       Her body was ethereal, birdlike. Crushable. She wore her black ankle-length gown and hooded cloak. Midnight noir.
        As he left her sitting in the shade of his prized dogwood arbor he heard the chirrup of the house telephone. It rang fifteen times before he was able to answer it.
        "It's me," said the insect. "Mac."
        McEwan. Bernice's ex.
        "What can I do for you, Mac?"
        "Tell Bern I'm sorry. So sorry."
        "I'll do that." Hank cut it short. Hanging up before he lost his temper.