{"id":983,"date":"2020-10-26T15:51:10","date_gmt":"2020-10-26T22:51:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/?p=983"},"modified":"2020-10-26T15:53:33","modified_gmt":"2020-10-26T22:53:33","slug":"sheltering-in-place-at-the-magdalena-arms-episode-xxv","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/2020\/10\/26\/sheltering-in-place-at-the-magdalena-arms-episode-xxv\/","title":{"rendered":"Sheltering in Place at the Magdalena Arms: Episode XXV"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Previously<\/strong>: Nurse Beverly caught Covid. The hunt for Mrs. DeWitt\u2019s missing daughter was struck by a slowdown. Phyllis kissed Laura, after a decade long crush, and Ramona and Jackie\u2019s slow drift apart turned into a serious spat.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Faithful Readers<\/strong>: The serial management apologizes for last week’s posting hiatus, which was due to the world briefly becoming too much for the writing staff. We return now to our weekly schedule, in time to celebrate Post 25, our silver anniversary!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Simmering in Place<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

On the fifth floor, in apartment 502, Kay blew a series of excercises on her clarinet\u2014scales, arpeggios, long tones, triplets. The notes climbed up and down, in a rhythm that seemed tuned to Beverly\u2019s coughing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beverly lay in bed in apartment 503, weakly tugging the white sheets and floral coverlet smooth as her chest heaved with another coughing fit. She couldn\u2019t abide wrinkled bedclothes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Still hacking, she took the thermometer out of her mouth and peered at it through eyes bleary with fatigue. Leaning on one elbow, she turned to draw a dot and shaky line on the fever chart, propped on her nightstand. 103.3, and still climbing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A floorboard creaked outside her door and the prone nurse tensed. Then came a gentle tap at her door, and Lon\u2019s muffled voice: \u201cDo you\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve told you a dozen times to let me be!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2014want more hot water?\u201d Lon finished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo! Now go away!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the other side of the door, Lon looked down at the tray they carried. It was laid with a linen napkin and filled with china dishes: a covered bowl that contained steaming oatmeal, thin enough to slide down an invalid\u2019s throat; a pitcher of cream, a ramekin of raisins, another of brown sugar, a plate with a freshly poached egg on lightly buttered wheat toast, and a big glass of grapefruit juice. All rejected, sight unseen. The Calypso\u2019s<\/em> former medical officer had never encountered such a recalcitrant patient.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beverly\u2019s overpowering concern was containing the contagion, and she absolutely refused to be nursed. She claimed she had plenty of food in her kitchen, and didn\u2019t need the meals Dolly dished up. She said she could take her own temperature. She said she didn\u2019t need any cold washclothes or hot compresses. The only aid she\u2019d accepted was the big thermos of hot water, and Lon suspected she would boil water herself to refill it, now that it was inside her studio.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lon crossed the hall and tapped on apartment 501. \u201cPhyllis,\u201d they called, \u201cwant some breakfast?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 501, Phyllis was staring at her computer screen without even seeing the graph of data that filled it. She\u2019d pushed earplugs deep into each ear to muffle Kay\u2019s clarinet and Beverly\u2019s cough, but it was more difficult to muzzle her memories. Oblivious to her visitor, she relived the records room kiss with Laura for the umpteenth time: the rush of pleasure as their mouths met; the disappointment when they disengaged; the horror and shame when Laura backed away. Ecstasy disappointment, horror. Pleasure, pain, shame. The decrescendo repeated over and over, a nightmarish echo of Kay\u2019s clarinet exercises.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dimly Phyllis registered a distant tapping noise and came back to the present with a start. She pulled out an earplug and listened. The tapping had stopped. But maybe\u2026she leaped up and tore open the door, filled with the irrational hope that she would discover Laura waiting outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hallway was empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

**********<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lon carried the tray into the fourth floor loft, feet sinking into the carpet as he traversed the dim living area with the couch and bar cart and then through to the sparkling kitchen. To his surprise, Maxie was out of bed already, sitting in the orange canvas butterfly chair on the rear balcony, contemplating the distant downtown skyline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cInterested in a bowl of oatmeal?\u201d Lon put down the tray on the gleaming marble countertop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHa!\u201d said Maxie. She loathed oatmeal. \u201cIs Beverly eating anything at all?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI hope so.\u201d Lon came to lean on the railing. In silence the pair listened to Kay\u2019s clarinet above, repeating the same trill over and over, like a maddened song sparrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not social distancing,\u201d Maxie observed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo point,\u201d said Lon. \u201cBeverly hasn\u2019t opened the door except to grab the thermos.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo you might as well give up the hair salon sublet and go back to the roof.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll keep it handy for another two weeks.\u201d Lon smiled as they added, \u201cJackie\u2019s on the roof.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maxie sighed and stretched. \u201cThis whole building is going bonkers.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

**********<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the third floor, in apartment 301, Laura typed an email. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because the available housing stuck is limited\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

She frowned and changed stuck<\/em> to stock<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was the one who was stuck, not Bay City housing, which wasn\u2019t all that limited, if you considered the empty units whose former inhabitants had fled the city.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe she should brainstorm new policy recommendations based on the changing land-use demographics. It would be helpful to map these changes, color code them even. Clearly a job for a statistician\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stop drumming up excuses to visit Phyllis!<\/em> she scolded herself. Not until she could make up her mind how she felt about her upstairs neighbor. And the kiss they\u2019d shared. And whether the crush she\u2019d carried for so long was waxing or waning, or what<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was queer how harried and helpless a girl could feel, just sitting in her quiet studio apartment, trying to get out a work email. Laura\u2019s unconscious kept putting words to Kay\u2019s distant scales: Do-you-want-to-kiss-her-a-gain? <\/em>Then back down: Do-you-want-to-stop-this-non-sense?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

She lifted her hands to the keyboard and took a deep breath. Funds must be found\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Down the hall in apartment 302, Sylvia grumbled throatily, \u201cHas everyone forgotten the hunt for the missing DeWitt daughter besides you and me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by stacks of papers. A half-emptied box was on the chair next to her. A TV perched on the countertop next to the sink, playing Lucille Ball soundlessly. A bowl of brioche dough puffing up under plastic wrap was on the stove, crowded by flat plate filled with tofu marinating in soy sauce. Sylvia took a drag on her cigarette and crushed the butt in the already overflowing ashtray, adding, \u201cand by you and me, I mean mostly me!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Terry looked up from the Bay City Reporter recipe page. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, honey,\u201d she began, then stopped as her girlfriend lit another cigarette. \u201cSylvia!\u201d she admonished, \u201cthink of Patty breathing all this smoke!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sylvia blew a leisurely smoke ring. \u201cI talked to her, hon. She understands her mother has needs. She\u2019s stuffed a towel in the crack under the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Terry looked dubious, but shrugged. \u201cWell, all right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sylvia fished another envelope out of the box on the chair which bore the label CORRESPONDENCE \u2014 MISC<\/em>. She flicked it open with a red-polished fingernail and squinted at the old-ashioned engraved card that fell out. \u201cMaybe this is means something\u2014a birth announcement for a gal named Maud.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Terry paused to ponder. \u201cBut you wouldn\u2019t announce the birth of your own kid to yourself, would you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll put it in the \u2018ask Dolly\u2019 pile,\u201d Sylvia decided, adding the announcement to an already towering stack of paper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

**********<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the second floor, landlady Dolly had just knocked on apartment 203. The door opened and new tenant Millie, still adjusting her mask, peered suspiciously over the green-and-gray patterned fabric. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes?\u201d  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Undaunted by the chilly greeting, Dolly held up a basket. \u201cI was down in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of pecan buns, and I thought you might be interested.\u201d The landlady folded back the gingham napkin draped over the top, disclosing a pile of sugar-glazed pinwheels, pocked with pecans, glistening temptingly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The new tenant swallowed. \u201cNo thank you,\u201d she said brusquely. \u201cI\u2019m being extra cautious about contagion, given the case of Covid upstairs.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She started to close the door, but Dolly wasn\u2019t done. \u201cNot to worry!\u201d the hearty ex-housemother reassured her susicious tenant. \u201cI was gloved and gowned like a surgeon while I baked! Besides,\u201d she lowered her voice a few decibels, \u201ca little bird told me your larder\u2019s kind of bare.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Millie\u2019s dark eyebrows went up and then came down. Her greenish-brown eyes narrowed. \u201cI\u2019ve quite enough to eat, thank you!\u201d she snapped, and shut the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Millie stood a moment in her studio’s entryway, biting her lip and wishing she hadn\u2019t lost her cool and been so cantakerous. It was this cursed caffeine withdrawal that had caused her to lose control! She dragged herself through her days as if in a fog, punctuated only by grinding headaches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But anyway, what business of hers is the state of my larder?<\/em> Milly argued with herself. She was doing just fine. She had three potatoes and that dented can of fruit, not to mention a large quantity of that pork loin pilaf she\u2019d improvised with the other ingredients.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And if her pilaf wasn\u2019t half as appealing as those pecan buns, that was nobody\u2019s business either.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After staring at the closed door blankly, Dolly wheeled around and went across the hall to Angelo in apartment 201. Angelo always appreciated a fresh-baked bun! As she knocked, her ears picked up the pulsating music coming from inside, and she wondered if Angelo had company. She put her ear to the door and heard a woman calling out numbers in an encouraging tone: \u201cThree! Four! Five! Six!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Huh?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The music stopped and Angelo opened the door. He was panting, and sweat gleamed on his round, cherubic face. His hair flopped over a terrycloth headband, and despite the nippy early May weather, he wore a t-shirt and pair of very small shorts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBrought you some pecan buns,\u201d Dolly began, but before she\u2019d finished, Angelo was shaking his head. \u201cNo, no! Take them away. I\u2019m on a diet, Dolly!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It had never been so hard for Dolly to get rid of a batch of buns before. This Covid thing was making everyone nuts!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot even one?\u201d She couldn\u2019t help wheedling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t tempt me!\u201d Angelo turned his head away and flung up his hands as if protecting himself from an attacker. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll right, all right!\u201d Dolly backed away, grumbling, \u201cYou know, this recipe won a blue ribbon in the Bay County fair in 1970!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow\u2019s Beverly?\u201d Angelo asked wiping his face and ignoring Dolly\u2019s past prize.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dolly\u2019s gesture of despair nearly dislodged the buns from the basket. \u201cShe doesn\u2019t want to eat anything either! And lord knows, Lon has tried!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Angelo chewed his lip. Unlike Milly, he\u2019d answered the door maskless. \u201cWe\u2019ve got to get her to accept some help!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes\u2026well, if you have any bright ideas\u2026\u201d Dolly left Angelo to his exercise and went down to apartment 202.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This time the door opened wide and Ramona invited her old friend inside. \u201cMmm, pecan buns!\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cCome into the kitchen, I\u2019ll make some coffee.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Jackie?\u201d Dolly asked, glancing around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOn the roof,\u201d Ramona replied blithely. \u201cShe\u2019s in a pet and she\u2019s slept up there the past two nights. I think she\u2019s using Lon\u2019s little camp bed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut–but aren\u2019t you worried?\u201d Dolly asked. She couldn\u2019t help finding Ramona\u2019s nonchalance rather unfeeling, in the face of poor Jackie\u2019s misery.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ramona smiled sardonically as she put the kettle on, as if she guessed Dolly\u2019s disapproval. She sat down and sliced a cinnamon bun, buttering one half. \u201cNope. Not worried. I\u2019m done playing nursemaid to that drama queen. A little dose of discomfort on the roof might bring her to her senses! Anyway,\u201d she added, as Dolly started to protest, \u201cwe have more important things to discuss. I\u2019ve been sorting through Mrs. DeWitt\u2019s collection of objets d\u2019art, and there are quite a few things of value. Her missing daughter is going to inherit a lot more than the copyrights to a few dusty poems! It\u2019s not just the Meissen figurine\u2014which, incidentally, I prevented my new neighbor down the hall from pilfering\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you mean Millie? Why, she wouldn\u2019t even accept a single pecan bun!\u201d Dolly protested. \u201cAnd Lon tells me she\u2019s living on food bank groceries!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, it makes sense she\u2019d snag a Meissen she saw sitting out in the hall, then, wouldn\u2019t it?\u201d Ramona got up as the tea kettle shrilled and poured the boiling water into the coffee pot. \u201cBut never mind Milly now. My point is, we have to get serious about searching for this missing heiress. I know Beverly\u2019s illness has distracted everyone, but we can\u2019t all nurse her, and from what Maxie says, she\u2019s not even letting Lon do much. Cream?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dolly nodded distractedly, and Ramona dolloped some in her coffee before handing her the cup. Dolly took a sip and then said, \u201cIt\u2019s not nursing Beverly that\u2019s caused the slowdown, it\u2019s that Lois and Pam are back to sheltering across town. They were the ones pulling together all the pieces, and pushing people to do their tasks, that is before they decided it was too risky\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The doorbell chimed in the distance, and Ramona asked, \u201cexpecting anyone?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Dolly heaved herself to her feet. \u201cIt\u2019s just another cursed package from that nefarious company! If only tenants would attempt to shop locally!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her grumbling trailed away as she headed out the door and down the stairs. Ramona munched on her buttered bun and sipped coffee, poring over the list of Mrs. DeWitt\u2019s valuables she\u2019d drawn up. Then the sound of distant voices exclaiming excitedly pulled the entrepreneur to her feet and out into the hall. She leaned over the second floor landing and looked at the trio clustered under the chandelier. Ramona recognized dark-haired Lois, but who was that red-headed wraith beside her?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t know where to turn,\u201d Lois half-sobbed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But before she could explain her predicament, the door chimed again. Dolly swung it wide, revealing an imposing woman in a blue uniform, with a black leather bag over one arm. An enormous red-brown afro concealed much of her face from Ramona\u2019s angle, but the interested observer caught the white flash of a surgical mask and she heard the newcomer declare as she strode inside, \u201cI\u2019ve come to take care of Beverly!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Next<\/strong>: What happened to Pamela? And who\u2019s the new nurse at the Magdalena Arms?<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Previously: Nurse Beverly caught Covid. The hunt for Mrs. DeWitt\u2019s missing daughter was struck by a slowdown. Phyllis kissed Laura, after a decade long crush, and Ramona and Jackie\u2019s slow drift apart turned into a serious spat. Faithful Readers: The … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[210],"tags":[222,255,218,219,99,215,223,217,269,216,225,226],"class_list":["post-983","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-serial-siping-at-the-magdalena-arms","tag-beverly","tag-covid-19","tag-dolly","tag-kay","tag-laura","tag-lesbian-career-girls","tag-lon","tag-maxie","tag-milie","tag-phyllis","tag-sylvia","tag-terry"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/983","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=983"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/983\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":985,"href":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/983\/revisions\/985"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=983"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=983"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/monicanolan.com\/pulppep\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=983"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}