How to peel an Apple

Why are men such babies where they’re sick? Simple answer, because women for the most part have a built in nurturing gene and most of them do like babies. Well, Colleen did anyway.

It made her feel good to be needed. Even though Cal didn’t notice her the way she wanted to be noticed, he was at her mercy right now. It was him that was flat on his back and hacking up a lung. Not a very pretty picture mind you but to Colleen he needed to be coddled. Bring on the coddling.

She carried the bowl of homemade chicken soup upstairs to Cal’s room. It tasted good enough by her reckoning and she figured he’d appreciate the dose of grandma’s penicillin.

Pushing the door open with her toe, she carried the bowl to the end table to set it down. He was sleeping, snoring like a hibernating bear. There was a second thought about waking him but he’d not eaten anything for nearly twenty four hours. He had to have something in his stomach to help rebuild his strength.

Laying her hand on his back she spoke his name quietly. "Callum."

"Hmm," he groaned in response. "Ma?"

"No honey, it’s not your mother, it’s me, Colleen."

She could tell that every muscle and bone in his body ached when he turned over. The look on his face was sheer agony and the sound of his voice defined a completely blocked nose and a sore throat all rolled into one big dose of the flu.

"Colleen, sorry. I was just dreaming."

"About your mother?"

"No. I think you were in it."

"I was? What was I doing," she asked as she stirred the soup to cool it down.

Cal scratched his head. "I’m not sure but I think Stephen King and the New York Yankees were in it too."

She eyed the bottle of Nyquil on the nightstand and thought to herself that she should water it down or something. Raising the spoon to his lips she said, "Here, try some of this. It might make you feel better."

Cal sipped from the spoon then grimaced. He really couldn’t tell much about what the soup tasted like but the warm liquid felt good on his throat.

"Does it suck?"

"No, no, honey, it’s fine. It’s helping my throat too. Can have some more, please.."

Tipping another spoonful to his lips she waited until he got it all down before asking. "Tell me about your dream, if you feel up to it."

"Oh, please. You really don’t want to know," he stated, reliving the vision of her in a tight Yankees uniform.

:"Yes I do. What was I doing in your dream?"

He gave her a withering look. "Colleen. If you really must know, you were peeling an apple."

"That’s it?"

"No, you were standing on the pitches mound at Yankee Stadium and after you peeled the apple you threw it. I was batting and Stephen King was the catcher."

Colleen giggled a little. "Did you hit it or was it a ball?"

Picking up the bowl of soup on his own, he made her wait until he got a few spoonfuls in him. "To be honest with you, Col, I was trying very hard to get to first base."

Knowing Cal like she did, she had to think about that statement. Was he speaking in metaphor? "Are you trying to tell me that you...you wanted me?"

"What do you think?"

"I don’t know. What happened next?"

"You pitched again but it was a swing and miss."

She looked directly into his eyes and that devilish glint was present. Thank goodness for that because for the past day or so they looked void of anything. Cal was on his way back amongst the living but aside from that he seemed to have had some kind of epiphany.

"You’ve been missing everything I’ve thrown at you for a while," she stated but then it was obvious by her squirm that she felt uneasy. "Did you ever get on base?"

He shook his head no.

"Cal, I think I understand what you’re telling me but what did Stephen King have to do with all of this?"

Setting the bowl down he reached to take her hands into his. "Not sure I could say, Col but if I had to analyze it, I guess I’d say he was there as a peripheral…kind of like he used to be in his films."

"I see," she replied. "I should go. Is there anything else you need?" Colleen asked as she stood from the bed.

"Wait," he said as he grabbed her hand. "Don’t go. I need to ask you something."

She sat back down slowly. "Okay. What is it?"

He drew a breath and let it out slow. Cal bit his lip as he thought about how to word this properly. Maybe it was just best he took the simple route.

"Why did you come here with me? I mean you’re a long way from home and you didn’t know anyone here and…"

She put her fingers up to his lips to quiet him. "Callum McCaffery if you haven’t figured it out by now then I don’t know what to say except that ….I’m in love with you. You big nitwit."

He looked stunned. Yeah he knew she was fond of him but not in that way. Maybe he’d sequestered it in his mind and that’s what the dream was all about. His stunned look soon softened and he pursed his lips to kiss those two fingers against them. Raising his hand to her wrist he pulled her down to him. Sliding a hand into her hair he closed his eyes and kissed her. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

Hours later he lay with her in his arms. She was breathing softly. Bending his neck, he breathed in the scent of her hair. It made his heart beat in a way it never had before. Here she was, the woman of his dreams and she’d been under his nose all along. How could he have overlooked her?

She stirred, and then raised her head to look up at him. Cal smiled down at her with warmth she’d never seen in his eyes before.

"Morning," she said with a kiss to his chin.

"Morning," he replied with a kiss to her forehead.

"You didn’t dream of me peeling apples last night did you?"

Cal laughed lightly. "Naw. I didn’t have to dream, honey. It seems everything I really want is right here in my arms."

Cuddling into him, she savored the feel of his broad chest against her cheek. "Can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that, Callum, but there is one thing I want to know. What did Stephen King have to do with all of this?"

"I have no idea," he replied. "Maybe it was just some kind of anomaly in my imagination."

She opened her mouth to reply but the unwelcome itch in her nose stopped her short. Colleen drew a deep breath then she let go a big ‘aaahhhchoo.’

"Bless you, and OH SHIT."

"Yeah, my throats a little sore. Maybe that’s the Stephen King connection. Misery."

"Could be the Green Mile."

"Eugh, Cal! Hand me a tissue please."

"Needful things?" he asked as he swiped a Kleenex from the beside box

She took it, sat up and blew her nose. "Ack, Everythings’s Eventual."

"I’m sorry, Colleen."

"For what?"

"For giving you my cold."

"No problem, Cal. The Stand is fiction."

"Now I know why it took us so long to get together, " Cal sighed. "Two vivid imaginations can be pretty scary."

"Yeah," she replied as she blew her nose again. "It’ll be find as long as you don’t turn into …..The Running Man."

"Groan! What have I gotten myself into?"