Tracy

051:

               

*****051:

She set Richard up in a room facing the ocean on the ground floor of her new house, near the kitchen and great room, so he could hear Danny playing, and see her if she was cooking or preparing his herbal cocktails. And after the first day home, when a nurse had been brought in, Tracy called Richard's mother, Louise Mann, to come help out. He was essentially trapped.

Louise was a farm girl, but in her youth, she'd been a dancer and taught also. That made sense, seeing as Richard was an accomplished dancer as well. She hustled and bustled around, organizing and cleaning. She bowed to Tracy's herbal knowledge and eventually Richard's desire to use it. But it meant a strict regimen of pills and shakes; therapy after the swelling went down.

Tracy had re-written the film schedule, with very little real deviation, just the shots that required Richard's presence were put off for a later time. Living together in the same house meant that all talk was shop talk. This was of interest to all but Louise, who finally stayed out of their way when they ventured to congregate in Richard's rooms. Tracy used oils to massage into Richard's skin to open it up and release the toxins it was holding. He did a lot of throwing up the first three days, and it had nothing to do with his leg.

He was an irascible patient, ungrateful, unappreciative, loud, obnoxious, and dissatisfied. He complained incessantly, till his mother pulled on his toes hard and caused him to scream, thereby ending the loud and obnoxiousness.

Tracy--- up at the crack of dawn, came to him every morning, ran lines, read scriptures, because he knew he was disrupting her normal routine, and he bitched about it the whole time, but wouldn't think of having her stay upstairs. She practiced meditation, and therefore he began to as well, it not being something he'd ever thought of. She did yoga, and he began to utilize what poses he could, dragging his pain-wracked body from bed to floor and back, once the chills and sweats were gone.

Danny came in to find his momma, playing with her, doing yoga with her, and being generally entertaining. Richard at first had thought that he might be annoying, but he was not an annoying child. He was quiet and absorbed in his Voltron guys. He also played the piano. How could he not, with Tracy McCaffrey for a mother?

And he didn't whine. He did sometimes get boisterous--- but that might have been egged on. He sat on Richie's bed to watch his cartoons. They developed a rapport.

He soon found out that she really didn't sleep. She played her piano at all hours of the night, and wrote incessantly. And she came into his room in the middle of the night to talk.

He'd dozed. When he opened his eyes, the only light was from the huge windows overlooking the sea, the blinds had been raised, and the sheer curtains pulled back. She was standing there, in a longer diaphanous gown--- shapeless, and nearly sheer. It had been unseasonably warm, her hair was piled on top of her head, and only a few stragglies wisped down. She'd softly opened the glass door, and with one hand on it, and one on her stomach, was watching the waves come in.

Through the moonlight, he imagined or thought he could sense the curve of hip and waist, the swell of breast, the slant of shoulder, and the enticing softness of her back. He swallowed hard. It wasn't the first time he'd caught her in here, but it was the first she'd come in dressed in anything but her sweats and ugly t-shirt. She did her best to be unappealing.

"How are you feeling?" She didn't turn, but had sensed the difference in his breathing.

"Like shit." His standard answer.

"As much like shit as you did last week at this time?"

"No." Again the standard answer.

"Two more days." She finally turned and came to the bed, reaching out to lay her cool palm across his forehead, as she leaned, he sniffed appreciably. She smelled like roses and jasmine, alternately, depending on her conditioner.