One Second After [85]
She smiled.
"Well, we got married right after he graduated, two years ahead of me, and the classic old routine," Makala said with a sigh. "I switched majors to nursing to start the money rolling; agreement was once he got into residency I'd go back for pre-med."
"And let me guess," John interjected. "He got his M.D. and you got the divorce as a thank-you."
"Something like that. Just grew apart, I guess. Another woman wandered in, actually several women, and I got fed up and left. Young doctors with big egos, starry-eyed nurses saying, 'Oh, Doctor,' it's two in the morning, happens all the time."
He looked at her, the slight show of dimples when she smiled, clear blue eyes, tall, slender figure, and shook his head.
"He was an idiot."
"John, you hardly know me," she smiled, "so don't just judge by exteriors. I have my bad side, too."
"Well, I've yet to see it. Volunteering to go up and help at the nursing home. That took guts."
"Or it could have been calculation," she replied, "get into the community that way."
He looked straight at her, remembering what she said on the day he had shot Larry, and shook his head.
"No, you'd of done it regardless of the situation."
He hesitated, looking back down at the soup bowl.
"And any guys for you?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Just trying to put the pieces together."
"No one serious, if that's what you mean. Gun-shy."
"And no kids?"
"Thank God no."
"Why?"
"Now, with this? You think I'd want that worry on top of everything else? Suppose we did have children and I was up here the day it happened. I'd of been clawing through the tide of refugees to get back to Charlotte."
He nodded. The way she said "clawing through" told him a lot. She liked kids, maybe wished she had some, and had the instinct to kill to protect them, no matter whose they were.
"Let's talk about Jennifer," she said quietly.
"Is there a problem?" he asked, suddenly anxious.
"Of course there is, John. You got enough insulin for a little more than four months, though the water temperature where you are storing the vials is just over fifty degrees. I checked it. That will degrade the shelf life somewhat."
"By how much?" he asked, feeling a sense of panic.
"I'm not sure, John. We'll start to know when the regular dose doesn't control her blood sugar. Besides that, we have to start getting conservative with her testing kit. The new one, as you know, is junked, the old one, thank God, survived, but the test strips, no replacements now. So we're going to have to learn to just eyeball the situation more and only use the strips when we absolutely have to."
He couldn't speak, just staring off across the valley. It was all so peaceful. No noise, some plumes from small fires rising up, drifting with the westerly breeze. He reached to his breast pocket. No pocket; he was still in a sweat-soaked T-shirt.
"Cigarette?" she asked.
He nodded.
"I'll get them."
She came back out a minute later with two, struck a lighter and puffed one to life, hesitated for a second, then handed it to John, putting the second one on the table.
"Ex-smoker?" John asked.
"Yup. Surprising how many nurses smoke. But I looked at one too many cancerous lungs, though." "Don't need to hear it." She smiled.
"Well, you're going to run out in about two weeks anyhow. Stretch it and you might make it to four weeks or six, but sooner or later you will quit. Maybe one of the few blessings to come out of this. An entire nation going cold turkey on tobacco, alcohol, drugs. No cars, so we have to walk or ride bikes. Might do us some good."
"Back to Jennifer," he said, after taking several