Death at a Drop-In: Myrtle Clover #5

Chapter Eighteen

            "It's time for me to be getting home," muttered Miles before making a speedy exit.

            Some friend.

            "Red, get that thing away from me.  Return it to the store at once.  It's a waste of your money.  I'm not using it.  I don't need a walker."

            Red sighed.  "Are you done?  Spit out all your reasons for not wanting one?  Good.  First of all, I didn't buy this walker.  Carolyn Frances gave it to me straight out.  Said her mama didn't need it anymore."

            "Because her mama is dead!  Who knows, maybe she tripped over the walker while trying to use it and that's what killed her.  I don't want the thing.  I don't like it," Myrtle glared at the offending walker.

            "You're being hardheaded.  There's nothing wrong with needing to stay a bit steadier on your feet.  In my way of thinking, this walker will help you to stay independent longer," said Red.

            Myrtle stood up and walked very steadily to the coffeepot to pour herself another cup of coffee.  Then she walked back, perfectly balanced.  "I'm independent enough now.  I hate those walkers.  They squeak. And they're too hard to push."

            Red opened up a plastic bag that he had hanging on his arm.  "That's why I brought these."  He held up a bag of tennis balls.  "We're going to put these tennis balls on the back legs of the walker and you'll glide around like a swan."

            "I don't want to glide around like a swan.  I want to thump around with my cane."  Myrtle felt her face color.  This whole issue would give her an apoplectic fit.  Carolyn Frances.  Interfering biddy.

            Red ignored her and put the tennis balls on the walker legs, talking as he did.  "I think you'll find that you get used to the walker and that it gives you more stability and more options as far as where you go."

            "It's a waste.  And waste is sinful, Red.  You should give that walker to an elderly person who needs it."

            "Mama, you are elderly.  Very, very elderly."

            "Didn't say I wasn't.  Said that you should give the walker to an elderly person who needs it.  I don't.  And a walker is absolutely no help when someone deliberately pushes you."

            Red looked up at his mother.  "That's another thing, Mama.  You don't need to go around town telling everyone that story about someone shoving you down the library ramp.  It only makes you look silly."

            "It's the truth! And I've never looked silly a day in my life."

            "I've got Trina Balmer coming by tomorrow to show you how to use the walker.  Apparently, it does take training, because improper use can make seniors fall down."

            Myrtle gritted her teeth.  She had a feeling that she was going to be indisposed when Trina Balmer came by the next day. 

            "And make sure you open the door to Trina.  She's going out of her way to help you train on the walker as a favor to me," said Red smoothly.  He stood up and took a few experimental steps with the device.  "Yes, I can see that it's not really intuitive.  Training will help."  He leaned over to give his mother a peck on the cheek before she could turn away.  "Okay, that's it. I've got to run follow up on a couple of leads.  I'll see you later, Mama."