When Joyce woke up again, her mouth was dry and her body felt like rubber. She opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what she might see. I don’t believe it, she thought. I really am in this crazy place. She attempted to turn on her side to get a better look at her surroundings but groaned as a sharp stab of pain shot through her right foot.
The old woman was sitting at the tiny kitchen table with her head down.
Joyce felt so weak. A wave of nausea swept over her entire being, and she started to cough.
Hattie jumped up. One of the dogs started to bark and was soon joined by the other three as Hattie hurried over to the couch. She leaned over Joyce, violating the seventeen inches of space that normal human beings like to keep between themselves and anyone who isn’t a contender to be their valentine.
“You want some more tea?” Hattie breathed, her scraggly hair perilously close to brushing against Joyce’s cheek.
“No. I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Okay.” She turned to the barking dogs. “Quiet, fellas!”
Joyce pulled back the ratty blanket, swung her legs around, and attempted to stand. But her right foot gave way under her. “Oh!” she cried. “My ankle. It hurts so much. I can’t put any weight on it.” She lay back down.
Hattie’s eyes darted about. “Do you want me to help you to the bathroom?”
“No!” Joyce said, not wanting to be touched, then quickly added, “Thank you. I’m all right. I can wait.” Will I ever get out of here? she wondered.
“I’ll go get us some breakfast. And a bandage for your foot. You must have hurt it when you fell down the steps.” Hattie hurried for the door and reached for an old coat that was hanging on a lone hook. “I’m making us a nice stew for supper tonight. My friend Edie and I used to have dinner together every Sunday night. Since she died I didn’t have anyone to eat with. Now I have you. You like jelly donuts?”
Joyce felt herself falling back asleep. “Can you make a phone call for me?”
Hattie didn’t answer. When she closed the door, the dog in the bedroom started to bark and throw himself against the door.
The four little dogs all jumped up on the couch and cuddled with Joyce.
They’re afraid, she thought, as the barking and thumping continued-just like I am. They know that the mutt behind that door is vicious. I have to get out of here.
But she was so groggy she couldn’t move. She put her head down and drifted off.