Thirteen

She had gone to bed that night thinking they'd had a major breakthrough, and if his progress equaled the coming day, what it had been the previous, he was sure to be well, in no time. Hope gave energy to her optimism. She allowed memories of happy times to pool her thoughts and she fell asleep with a smile on her face. Her dreams were sweetly romantic. She awoke to bright sunshine, refreshed and eager to begin again the adventure of bringing Matt back.

Her optimism soon changed for she could hear Lilly's irritated voice coming from his bedroom as the `ten-day-girl' tried to coax his cooperation. Apparently he was fighting her every attempt at even basic grooming. With grunts and growls, and a resounding, "NO, NO!", he loudly refused shoes, carpet slippers and even socks. Kitty decided to keep out of the fray, recalling on even his best days he could besomewhat out of sorts before he'd swallowed that first gulp of morning coffee. She quickly pulled on her robe and slippers and hurried to the kitchen to start his breakfast.

GS GS GS GS

Hazy memories flashed through his mind, but their significance remained just out of range. Emotions, never his strong suite welled in his body like lava in an active volcano - close to the surface ready to erupt, but unpredictable and sometimes volatile. However, his tenuous hold on the confusing world around him, was braced by a primal obligation to take charge of his life, to be sovereign; to answer only to that valiant sense of duty and honor, which was inherent to his nature. He sought control, even if it was as small a thing as saying "no" to something on his feet. For in the saying and the refusing, he gained some measure of autonomy.

He was hungry and had no desire to continue the battle of the bare feet. His narrow attention span was already pursuing another direction. The aroma of bacon and eggs drew his interest to the kitchen. Thrusting Lilly from his path he followed the mouth watering smell.

"Listen here Abe," Lilly reproached shrilly, as Matt walked from the room. "You behave like a gent'man. I ain't partial to being pushed around!"

Ignoring Lilly, he lumbered into the kitchen, his early morning gait somewhat awkward and rolling like a seaman too long aboard ship. "eggggs." He demanded of Kitty.

At the stove, one hand with potholder and the other holding spatula, Kitty greeted pleasantly, "Good Morning."

"EGGGS." He said again, louder this time.

"Good Morning." She repeated, "now you say it to me, "Goooood Morn-ing."

"EGGS!" he demanded.

"NO." she replied. "Not until you say, "Good Morning."

He looked at her, and his face took on a glower. His eyes traveled around the room. His stomach rumbled. He licked his lips. There was bacon already fried sitting on a plate at the back of the stovekeeping warm, and biscuits fresh from the oven, sat in a napkin lined basket on the table - within arm's length of his reach.

His scowl grew obstinate. He grabbed a biscuit and moved to pop it in his mouth, but she slapped it out of his hand. "NO." she said again.

He watched the biscuit bounce to the floor and roll toward the sun-drenched porch. She worked to keep her voice pleasant, "I know you are hungry, but if you want to eat you're going to have to show me some courtesy and manners. Now, say, 'Good Morning'."

His eyes darted from biscuits to eggs to bacon, but still he said nothing.

"Matt, say, `Good Morning'."

He stood in the doorway, and Lilly coming into the room had to squeeze past him. "He's heading for the funk." She advised. "I reckon, I kin dose him."

Kitty took a plate, filled it with food and handed it to Lilly, "Let's see how he does, maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

Matt's frown lines deepened a degree more, for he'd noticed, Lilly had been served without offering the apparently mandatory salutation,`Good Morning.' Justice had always been a keen element of his temperament. Doing battle for the rights of the underdog, was part of his code of honor, the fact in this case he was the underdog, and in his eyes was being severely discriminated against, added to his indignation. He grabbed another biscuit from the basket and popped it in his mouth.

Kitty was growing annoyed, for she felt he was being stubborn and unreasonable. Before he had a chance to bite down, she pulled the biscuit from between his lips, most of it still intact. Her tone lacked sympathy and showed her own stubborn nature, "No. No, no, say, 'good morning', and then we'll both sit down and eat."

The images in his head were jumbled, lacking words to attach, to give voice to their meaning. Frustration welled. His hands balled to fists."Eeat." He said again, but the intent no longer meant that he should eat, but that Lilly was eating. He pounded his fist to the table. Lilly's plate and the biscuit basket bounced, the silverware rattled, and Lilly's coffee sloshed over the side of the cup. "Eaat." He all but shouted.

Lilly reached in the pocket of her apron and extracted a pill. Even with a bad leg she made it to Dillon's side and pushed the drug down his throat before he had a chance to prevent her from the act. He knew what the pill meant, knew its course of action would be swift. He focused his eyes on Kitty, and gathered his thoughts in a desperate effort to make meaningful words, for he had to make her understand before it was too late, before the pill won, "Lil leee eeet … no … G'mooor ng." The words out of his mouth, the fog rolled in and Lilly guided him back to his room where he collapsed on his bed.

Left standing in place, Kitty expelled the word in a rush of air,"Oh." Understanding hit her like a blow to the gut. She took the eggs off the stove - her appetite lost. She went to stand on the sunporch, arms crossed against her chest, direction of vision locked on the rolling river, besieged by the knowledge she'd let him down, for there was no one who should understand Dillon's sense of justice, better than she.

Kitty dressed without much enthusiasm, donning a dark skirt and white shirtwaist, her hair pulled back in a solitary braid. She shooed Lilly from his room and took her place instead, sitting at the chair drawn close to his side. He was drugged to a cavernous sleep. The air going in his nose and out his mouth in shallow respirations, his chest barely rising and falling with each breathe. With each breath she breathed a silent apology. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."