Minda 5

(change of narrator; Minda is now speaking; years in the future)
I knock quietly, no reply, then a little louder.
Nancy's sleepy voice, "whozit?"
"Me, Minda."
She opens the door, "for Chrissake, what are you doing at this hour?"
"You and I are on DRO (Day Room Orderly). We better go for breakfast soon or we'll be late."
Derisive snort, "rookie! No one shows for DRO on time, normal is an hour or more late."
"Remember Capt Bligh (our pet nickname for the Warden) said everything by the book today. Bigshot politco touring something nearby, could drop in unannounced."
"I'd forgot." She dresses quickly.
As we walk down the hall, I ask innocently, "so why is it you hate DRO so much? Few scattered books and mags to pick up, put back, not like we do janitorial."
Snippy tone, "Don't you start with me!"
As I recall, it's now Full Moon, perhaps she answers to its pull.
We eat in silence, then take up residence in the Day Room, lounging back, snoozing.
Later in the morning, she chooses three tattered magazines (all of them are). Easy tone, "here you go, Chatelaine, Woman's World and Redbook. Go on, take em, they won't bite. Open each to the index page."
I do.
Her finger points to "Troublesome in laws and how to cope"; she snorts, "as if you or I will have in laws to deal with, troublesome or not."
To, "what to do when you discover your husband frequents a gay bar"; "as if you or I will have a husband."
To, "recipe for the perfect Thanksgiving dinner"; "as if you or I will ever cook one or have anyone to cook it for."
To "when your kid fails math"; "as if we'll ever have one to worry about."
To "choosing the perfect curtain"; "as if they'd let us hang it here."
Her eyes are on me, appraising, "let's test your detective skills, smart ass. You asked why I hate DRO. You figger, tell me."
I grin easily, "because each and every one of them mags makes me wanna puke all over. And that's to say nothing of those sappy Harlequin romances."
"Close but no cigar, so, why do I really hate it?"
"Because it make you think of what you cannot be or have."
Curious look, "ok, now I ask you. How is it you are so utterly unaffected by all this?"
I shrug, "I don't look inside the covers, just pick em up, put em back."
She chuckles, "a very Zen thing to say, ever look at Buddhism?"
I blush hotly, "well ah that is I'd read some. It vanished on me when I felt the pull of the Dark Side. And now look where I am."
An hour after lunch, I rouse myself from my torpor and am in the very act of retrieving the two scattered mags when the Warden walks in. Now some people, I hate as a very matter of principle. Anyone that perpetually cheerful is either totally bonkers, on a triple dosage of antidepressants, or both.
Huge smile, I'm guessing phony, "ah Minda, you do such a good job on DRO."
(See what I mean.)
"I've been meaning to talk with you. You've heard of the Improvement Committee, headed by Heidi?"
I nod, but I'd prefer trekking to the source of the Nile with Darth Vader as expedition chief to doing any committee, much less that one.
"It's short one member. I'm recommending you. Once a month, this Thursday at seven."
I reply "yes ma'am" while throttling the desire to throttle her.
Once she's gone, Nancy turns on me. Nasty tone, "I've noticed a pattern here. You're the newest arrival, yet everyone kisses your butt shamelessly. And why? Simply because you ran up such a huge body count. I wanted that spot, even asked her for it."
With a look of fury, she turns, pulls her dress up, her panty down and moons me.
Without thinking, I do the exact same in reply.
Then we burst into convulsions of laughter. As this dies out, I remember something similar to this was on the list of possible side effects. Still, what can you do? No going back.