Tender Care
1241 Words
The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of the living room, bathing the flowers in a warm glow. Larry crouched near the vase, gently spraying water over the leaves, his movements careful and unhurried. It was something he always did caring for plants, giving them the kind of tenderness he often felt people failed to give him.
Beverly’s footsteps echoed down the stairs. She appeared dressed sharply for work, her perfume filling the room before her words did.
“Good morning,” she said lightly. Larry turned from the flowers and offered a greeting. Morning.”
There was no kiss, no lingering hug, none of the usual warmth that had once defined their mornings.
Beverly noticed. Her eyes softened, but she did not press the issue. Instead, she glanced toward the dining table where her breakfast sat neatly arranged eggs, toast, and her favorite tea, as always. He never missed preparing it, even when distance crept between them.
“Thanks, babe,” she said, but no reply, lifting the tray carefully into her arms. Her hands were full as she turned toward the door. “Please, could you get the door for me?”
Larry nodded silently and opened it. She walked out briskly, heels clicking against the tiled floor, leaving him standing there, holding back words he could not bring himself to say.
Later that afternoon, Larry sat hunched over his laptop in the sitting room, fingers moving absently across the keyboard as he worked on a floral proposal for one of his clients. The room was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the ceiling fan.
His phone buzzed. A strange number flashed across the screen. Larry frowned, ignoring it. Seconds later, the phone rang again. He sighed and picked it up.
“Hello?”
A rushed voice answered on the other end. “Is this Mr. Lawson? Please, your wife… she’s been in an accident. She’s here in our hospital”
Larry shot to his feet, panic striking his chest like a blow. “What? Where? Which hospital?” He scribbled the directions shakily, his heart pounding, and bolted out of the house.
The hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic. Larry’s shoes echoed against the tiles as he hurried down the corridor, searching for the ward. His mind was clouded with dread until he finally spotted the doctor.
“Mr. Larry? the doctor asked gently.
“Yes, I’m Larry. Where’s my wife? Is she alright?”
“She’s stable,” the doctor reassured him quickly. “She suffered a fracture in her leg, but no internal injuries. She’ll need crutches to walk for some weeks, but she will recover well. You can see her now.”
Larry exhaled sharply, his legs weak with relief. He pushed the door open and found Beverly lying on the bed, pale but smiling faintly when she saw him.
“Larry,” she whispered.
He rushed to her side and held her hand tightly. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” His voice cracked despite himself.
She laughed softly. “I’m fine, babe. Just… unlucky timing.” He kissed her hand and stayed with her, watching over her like a guardian until the days in the hospital passed. Eventually, the doctor cleared her for discharge, handing Larry the bag of medications and reminding him of her need to use walking sticks for mobility.
When they returned home, Mrs. Lawson was already waiting.
The moment Beverly stepped through the door, hobbling gently on her crutches, her mother rushed forward and enveloped her in a hug. Larry followed behind, carrying their hospital bag, his face weary but patient.
Mrs. Lawson glanced sharply at him. “Can’t you see she’s struggling? You couldn’t even support her as she sat down?”
Larry froze mid-step, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He turned to Beverly, helping her ease onto the sofa. “There you go, babe.”
“Thank you,” Beverly whispered, smiling faintly at him.
But Mrs. Lawson’s eyes narrowed at Larry. “It’s just as well you don’t have children yet. I honestly cannot imagine entrusting my grandchildren to you.”
The words sliced through the room. Larry clenched his jaw, his knuckles tightening around the bag handle, but he forced a calm smile. He glanced at Beverly. “Babe, should I get you something to drink?”
She nodded quickly. “Yes, please.”
He walked toward the kitchen, pretending he hadn’t heard the insult.
As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Lawson leaned closer to Beverly. “Darling, it’s time to put an end to these plants in the house. They’re everywhere. With your current condition and medication, they could trigger allergies.”
Beverly shook her head firmly. “No, Mom. The flowers have been here all this while, and I’m used to them. They’re not harming me.”
Mrs. Lawson frowned. “You may be used to them, but now you’re vulnerable. It’s not wise. Think about it, Beverly.” She straightened, adjusting her bag. “Anyway, I must rush to the office. I'll be standing in for you during your recovery. Make sure you take your medicine. Larry!”
“Yes, ma?” Larry called from the kitchen.
“Try to be useful and take care of my daughter,” she said sharply, then swept out of the house.
The silence left in her wake felt heavy. Larry returned, carrying a glass of juice. He handed it to Beverly with a smile that was half-forced, half-genuine. “So… how’s my one-legged queen today?”
Beverly laughed despite herself. “You’ve been dying to say that haven’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Larry grinned, kissing her cheek. They both burst into laughter, the tension dissolving, at least for the moment.
Recovery days kept Beverly indoors, but Larry transformed the confinement into warmth. He never allowed her to feel like a prisoner in her own body.
“Up you go,” he said one morning, handing her the walking sticks. He supported her as she took Slow, steady steps around the living room. “That’s it. Queen of the runway.”
She laughed, shaking her head.
Some evenings, he played music, dancing dramatically until she laughed so hard her sides hurt. Other times, he cooked her favorite meals and massaged her sore legs with quiet devotion.
One night, Larry stood ironing clothes in their room while Beverly typed furiously on her laptop, responding to work emails. The glow of the screen reflected on her tired face.
Without looking up, she said, “Baby… Mom said she’ll come and stay with us for a couple of days.”
Larry’s hands were still on the iron. He let out a long breath. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
He nodded slowly, setting the iron aside. “Alright then. Guess I’ll have to do some grocery shopping in the morning.
She closed her laptop and looked at him, her eyes softening. “Thank you.”
He sat beside her, taking her hand gently. “I love you, Beverly.”
She smiled, squeezing his fingers. “I love you too.”
- Writer
