Summer Surprise

SUMMER SURPRISE 

All signs indicated this would be another very hot day. After all, this was July in the Valley of the Sun, a title bestowed upon Phoenix for good reason.

When Sharon Thompson moved to Arizona three years ago, she had heard all the jokes about the heat.  Humor about "hot enough for you," how Arizona has dry heat, how Phoenix has only two seasons and those were summer and not summer. At the time, she could take such jokes and shrug them off, as though she were hearing a dirty joke. She didn't want to take issue with the teller and she was still a newbie with little experience and had no means of comparison.

But her anticipated dread of the desert heat had proved true. Phoenix was hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk during July and August. She had successfully tried that stunt. Now she was required to suffer living in the southwestern desert.

Today's sun was already bearing down on her sunglasses. It was becoming uncomfortable at 9:00 in the morning. She shifted her weight in the canvas chair to adjust the plaster cast that now imprisoned her right foot.  

But she had only herself to blame for this current circumstance.

Sharon had long been addicted to seeking out yard sales and flea markets. Bargain hunting was an obsession. Great fun with little expense had resulted in some unique treasures. 

A few weeks earlier, Sharon and her friend Tom had been driving along Western Avenue when they happened upon a huge yard sale in an upscale section of town. 

“Look at that crowd,” she had cried. “Let's stop.”

Tom quickly parked the car and they hurried toward the property, which was already overrun with shoppers.  Assorted items were stacked and scattered on tables, driveway and across the lawn. It was a remarkable discovery.

In such situations, their usual routine was to split up and scout the overall area, then report back with details. As Sharon glanced over her shoulder at a colorful area rug flapping from a rope line, her right foot slipped out of her sandal and immediately she heard a snap. She froze in place.

As she slowly hobbled toward the car, Tom ran toward her. As soon as he saw her face, he said gently, “What happened? Are you OK?”

“I stepped into a hole in the yard, then heard a noise. I thought I’d stepped on a stick but must have been my foot that I heard crack. It really hurts.”

That event had altered her fun for most of the summer. “Broken fifth metatarsal,” the doctor announced. “The cast means no more driving. You must keep the bandage dry when you shower. Try covering it with a plastic trash bag.”

At that direction, she knew she was not going to be dancing the night away with friends. Not this year, anyway.

Sharon became a patio potato, spending early morning hours each day outside.  In Phoenix, morning hours were often quite pleasant when the air was sweet and fresh. As the temperature began to warm, mornings usually remained lovely. But by midday, she was forced to seek comfort in the house.

Today the time was approaching when she would hobble indoors again. Movement was not easy, even though the cast stopped at her knee. A little flat device on the bottom of the cast allowed walking short distances without crutches but she found any mobility difficult.

Sharon stood up to begin the arduous journey into the living room. Suddenly she spied a small dark object a few feet away on the concrete. Her eyes focused intently on the object. When the spot began to move, she confirmed it was a black spider.  The creature, about the size of her thumb nail, was moving toward her chair. There was little time to decide what to do. Would she be able to lift the cast high enough to mash the spider? Sharon began to look for some nearby object to use as a weapon.

Before she could decide what action to take, the spider sped up. Perhaps he was spurred into motion by the already-hot patio surface. It was rapidly approaching her chair and then … disappeared. She sat down again in her canvas chair, scanning unsuccessfully for the intruder. Perhaps he crawled onto the nearby lawn. 

Then a frightful thought came to Sharon. Her toes protruded from the molded cast, exposed to the fresh air, through a small opening. The lower portion of the cast was out of her line of vision. What if he had entered into the cast.

Her pulse became more rapid. The thought that he could be walking around inside her cast made Sharon queasy. She could feel her panic increasing. Sweat beads began to trickle down her legs and onto the top of her foot.

She couldn't decide what to do next. Should she call the doctor? If the spider were merely inspecting her plaster prison, perhaps he would exit the cast and be on his way. He would find no food source inside – other than her.

Should she call 911 for help? How could she describe the situation? She would feel ridiculous if help were summoned but no spider would be found.

The plaster cast had always felt cumbersome, never more than now. She feared that moving might upset any visitor.

Suddenly, Sharon felt a tickle along the back of her shin. Yes, there had been some movement.  That was followed by another tickle. Then she felt a quick, sharp pain. It reminded her of a time when her bare foot discovered a plastic push pin hidden in the carpet. One singular poke. Brief but painful.

Perhaps she had been overreacting to the entire event.

Suddenly, Sharon felt her muscles begin to relax. She would not dwell on what may or may not have happened in the past few minutes.

Sitting there on the patio, Sharon became very calm, even drowsy as the desert heat began to climb.

“I feel wonderful,” she thought. "I can't remember ever feeling so sleepy in the middle of the day. She drifted off into a very deep sleep.