Murray Is Ill

It is his one flaw. Sometimes he gets ill.

At these times he wanders about with his eyes half closed taking his temperature or asking her to feel his head. Sometimes he shudders for no reason. He puts his long legs out to the end of a blanket and dozes in his chair. He would never go to be or remove himself from her sight in any way. She had to practically step over him as he shuffled from cabinet to cabinet in the kitchen asking petulantly if there wasn’t any honey. This the man who planned to circumnavigate the world. This the man who wanted to scale the Peruvian Andes. Whatever.

If the children filet themselves with fireplace tongs while Murray is ill and Ronnie happens to be in the bathroom, they will have to stay filleted.

I can taste my tonsils he says ominously. I think my glands are swollen. Do they feel swollen?

Murray will oppose a trip to the doctor for either of the children for any reason until they are spurting blood out their eyes or have stopped breathing for half a day. Then he’ll sigh and say, “Maybe they should go in,” but he would never take them or go with Ronnie, he’ll just give his approval. Meanwhile if one of his eyelashes won’t line up properly, he’s on the phone to the doctor saying, “I need to be seen immediately.” And with the air of, “Now a true illness has entered the house.” Even though she’s been gutting it out with sinusitis so bad she’s had actual nosebleeds for three weeks. Makes her mad and short with him. Which he notes. And whines about.