A rubber ball was strapped between her lips. She could feel and she could hear and the absence of sight heightened both those senses. Earlier that evening the two women had been in the sitting room of the flat overlooking the garden, the late evening sun gilding the leaves on the trees. They had had a glass of wine each as they unwound from their separate, busy days. Friday evenings were their close time, their period of togetherness, reserved exclusively for each other. She had looked at her Mistress as she sipped the wine. The gun metal full skirt that spread around her thighs on the seat. The pale blue silk blouse, open slightly more than it would have been when she was at work. The barely black stockings that she knew were held up with suspenders and above them the thin silk thong that cupped her treasure and disappeared between her buttocks. She could just see the lace edge of her white blouse. Her shoes, strappy and expensive, lay abandoned on the rich carpet. She had watched. I sat with Jo until dinner time; our conversation moved from one subject to the next, as she would doze off for a few minutes at a time, sometimes in the middle of a sentence. The evening shift nurse brought her food, and I went back to the cafeteria for my own meal.The night and the following morning passed quietly, and I decided to go out of the hospital for lunch, since Jo was asleep. When I returned to Jo’s room, I found two doctors conversing at the foot of her bed, and two nurses attending Jo. “What’s going on?” I asked as I stepped in the doorway.Her primary doctor turned to me. “Mister Hickman, Jo has an infection, which does sometimes happen after surgery. Her temperature is up, and she was not very responsive when we tried to wake her for lunch.”“Can I stay with her?”“For today, I’d rather you not. We will see about tomorrow, and you will be required to wear at least a mask and gloves.”“How bad is the infection?”“That is what we are still trying to determine. I’m sorry that.
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