Numb

Numb

By Andy Pearson © 2023

The shell splintered when my hand closed harder than I planned. Bright yellow and clear white oozed through my fingers and dribbled to the counter. Staring at the mess in my hand and the one forming on the counter, I said the only thing I could think.

“Well, crap.”

Keeping my egg-covered hand over the counter, I sat my morning cup of coffee down and twisted to reach the trash can under the sink. Scooting it over, I let the crushed shell drop into the can, and twisting some more, the egg slopped into the sink. I rinsed my hands and grabbed a towel to dry off. The towel fell from my fingers.

“Dang it,” I said looking at the pale brown cloth lying on the floor.

I bent over, grabbed the towel, and hung it on the front of the stove.  Stepping across the kitchen, I opened the refrigerator.  

“Ok, these eggs are fragile, so be careful,”  I mumbled to myself.

“They’re not the only things.” I heard from behind the open refrigerator door. With two eggs cradled in an open hand, I swung the door shut. Sophia stood there. Her blond hair tousled from sleep.  She was wearing my faded black Billy Joel concert t-shirt. The one she hadn’t worn to bed in some time.

“Morning sunshine,” I said kissing her on top of the head. “What are you doing up? You don’t have to be at work for a while. Go back to bed.”

She yawned then smiled. “I’m up. Give me those, and I’ll whip up some scrambled eggs while you finish getting ready.”

She took the eggs from my still-open hand and slipped around me with a hip bump. I took another sip of coffee and headed to grab my boots. 

Sitting down on the bench in the hallway, I grabbed a boot from the mat. While moving it over to my foot, it slipped and thudded to the floor. I looked at my fingers for a moment and flexed my hand. 

“Clumsy this morning John,” I said.  

“What was that babe?” Sophia said from the kitchen. “I thought I heard something fall.” 

“Just my boot. I’m a bit clumsy this morning. I must not have slept enough.” I hollered back.

I retrieved the boot and slipped it on without trouble. Grabbing the laces on my right boot, I pulled. The laces slipped through my fingers and, I banged backward into the wall. 

I was staring at my traitorous fingers when I heard Sophia.

“Babe, what was that?” her voice twinkled from the kitchen.

“Just me having a great morning. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Take your time. The eggs aren’t ready yet,” she said.

I eyed my fingers suspiciously. I opened and closed each hand and then finger by finger I worked them. They seemed to be moving fine, but the feeling in them was a bit off. I wiggled my toes and realized I couldn’t feel the inside of my boot. I slipped the boot off and flexed my foot. It was moving just fine. I leaned over and scratched the top through my grey wool sock. I couldn’t feel the scratching, and my fingers couldn’t feel the sock.  

I held my hands up in front of my face and studied them again. They moved, but slowly. They felt like that sleepy numbness when I lay on them wrong but before the painful tingling. 

“I must have pinched a nerve or something last night. If it doesn’t clear up, I’ll go see a doctor this afternoon.” I mumbled shaking my arms and shoulders and rotating my neck back and forth.

I concentrated on the shoelaces and got both boots tied. Leaning back for a breath, I heard the coffee pot gurgling. I knew I made a fresh pot this morning, like every morning. Sophia knew that. I set up the pot the night before so all I had to do was push the button when I woke up.

“Sophia, the coffee is fresh. You don’t need to make a pot,” I said gruffly.

“Yes dear, I’m making a fresh clean pot of coffee,” she said cheerfully from the kitchen. 

I pushed down on the bench and numb hands failed me. They slipped. I thudded back to the bench. The feeling or lack of feeling was moving from my feet up my legs and from my hands up to my shoulders. The sensation was now more than just numbness. I was losing the ability to move. Panic enveloped me and I started breathing heavily.  

“Sophia,” I croaked through a numbing tongue. “I think something’s wrong.”

“What’s that dear,” she said from the kitchen.

“I don’t feel right,” I slurred.

“ No dear. I don’t think you do.” 

I looked to my right and Sophia was there drying my morning coffee cup. She was staring at me with a bemused smile.

“I bink you shood caa 911,” I slurred as the numbness spread.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s quite time. A few more minutes.” She said and walked over to stand in front of me. Holding the coffee cup in the towel, she reached down and picked up my unfeeling hand.  

“This cup is going to need your fingerprints on it before I fill it with fresh coffee.” She said closing my fingers around the handle and then the mug itself.

“Tofffiaa,” I croaked. It was getting hard to breathe.

“Yes, dear? Did you want to say something?” Her eyes twinkled as she spoke to me.

I concentrated on breathing.

“Well, since you’ve run out of things to say, I have a trivia fact for you. Did you know that digitalis can cause heart attacks in people? Funny isn’t it?  Prevents heart attacks in people with heart troubles, but in healthy people, causes them. Wonders of science. And did you know that in a normal autopsy, it is rarely tested for?” She said holding the mug up and looking at it with a smile.

“I won’t bore you with the whole story, using wasp poison this morning to kill the nest I’ve been telling you about. Dangerous stuff. It turns out that spray is a nerve toxin that can lead to numbness. The can has it all written on the label, but who knew?  And you just left it on the workbench when you were done.“

I sucked in a ragged breath through numb lips. 

“Of course, I don’t have access to digitalis. Nobody I know that well even uses it.” She leaned forward conspiratorially and said,” That was the challenging part. Everyone we know is so darn healthy. But, weeks ago, at that party for Mark’s retirement, I managed to get one of his digitalis.  I felt like such a criminal taking it from their bathroom but it was just one so it wouldn’t be missed. Since then I’ve kept an eye out and managed to collect a few more.”

I stared at her while trying to fill my lungs.

“I put it all in the coffee maker last night. You are as regular as a watch. I mean the same thing every day. Get up. Start the pot. Shower. Then breakfast.” She was waving her hands happily as she talked to me. “The eggshells in the trash will testify that you were going about your regular morning. But you know, I don’t think they’ll even look. Let's face it. Your family has a history of heart attacks at a young age. Plus, you’ve been under such stress at work and working such long hours. 

Here she paused and put her finger to her chin as if thinking.  Then she giggled,” Or were those hours under Cheryl, from personal experience, they certainly weren’t long hours.” She said air quoting the word long and laughing.

She was quiet for a moment looking at me. Then she continued quietly.

“Oh yes, I found out about Cheryl. I saw you and her on your desk. Oh yes, I saw.” She said.

She took a breath and looked at me.

“Every thump I heard out here this morning, I assumed was you slumping to the floor. But here you are still upright. That is not part of my plan.” She said wagging her finger at me.  “You see your falling over is what makes me get out of bed and come out here to find you on the floor. Of course, you’re not breathing and I can’t find a heartbeat. I’ll be crying and hysterical on the phone with 911.”

My breath caught.

“So this is going to hurt you more than me,” she said pushing gently on my shoulder until I fell off the bench and crashed to the floor slamming my shoulder and the side of my head into the tile.

“Oh, I bet that did hurt.” She said squatting in front of me with a beaming smile.  “You see now there’ll be marks from the fall. I had to do it before your heart stopped beating so there’d be bruising, and if there’s any blood pooling, that’ll match too. Although I don’t think there’ll be time for that, one can't be too careful.”

My vision was going grey at the edges and her voice echoed far away. 

“Yes, can’t be too careful. Some ‘wanna be’ Sherlock Holmes at the police department, might get the call.” She said waving her hands and making a goofy face. “That’s why I wore the shirt. It’s yours, and it implies a loving relationship and trust. I thought it was a nice touch. Yes, I imagine this will be a perfunctory autopsy and then a very sad funeral with the grieving widow in the front row.”

She looked at me and smiled, then my vision dimmed and faded to blackness