Chapter 4

Weena had a great time looking at face plates. She decided that the two switch plates should have animals on them, but rejected giraffes and zebras. She picked macaws because they were "close enough to galahs." I agreed. They were both psittacoids. The fact that galahs were grey and pink and macaws were brightly coloured was irrelevant. That Weena was happy was relevant. I asked her about door handles. She looked at me blankly until I pointed out that we had knobs at home, but hospitals had pushbars and levers, so that doors could be opened when you had hands full — like when you were carrying a baby. We got three L-shaped handles. One for the inside of the closet — in case Weena got trapped, I assumed. We got away for only $100.

I spent over an hour installing plates and handles. Weena was delighted. I hoped that someday Patrick would notice.

When it was done. It actually looked nice. I moved the furniture back, knowing that I would move it and re-move it -- at least a dozen times. I also knew that there would be curtains or shades on the window and that light fixture in my future. Perhaps two light fixtures.

After dinner I rubbed Weena's abdomen again — could it have grown in 24 hours? I also massaged her feet. She told me how good I was. I told her I was selfish, as I knew I'd be rewarded. I was.

Monday Kevin called me in the office. "What is this galah stuff?" he began.

"Could you give me a notion as to the topic?"

"This Watkins stuff!" He sounded irritated.

"Mr. Watkins feels he should have been promoted. Mr. Eyre didn't agree. I noticed in the files that Eyre's predecessor had refused to promote Mr. Watkins twice. I received an appeal and agreed with Mr. Eyre. Mr. Watkins has now appealed to you." I was trying to be calm and judicious.

"Yeh. I read all that. What am I to do?"

"You have a binary choice: agree with Mr. Eyre and me or agree with Mr. Watkins."

"Do you know him?"

"Not really. He's the one who told me I'd stolen his rightful job nearly two years ago."

"Oh. That loonie. He sounds like a kookaburra."

"Sir?"

"'Laughing Jackass'."

"I can't say that."

"No. I guess not. Very well. I'll adjudicate this. You and Eyre will get copies, of course."

"Thank you."

"With that out of the way, how's Weena?"

"Pretty good. Four or five more weeks, we think."

"Give her my best."

"Of course."

I sighed and looked out the window. Autumn was beginning. It already seemed cooler. Many students were sporting pullovers or jackets. Mona came in.

"Is everything OK?"

"He wanted to talk about that appeal."

"I guess you'll be copied on the word from on high."

"That's what he said."

"Is Weena still working?"

"Yes. I don't know for how long, though. It could be anytime, now. Weena thinks at least four weeks, but..."

"My first one came a month earlier than we thought. But he was big and the doctor thought I must have counted wrong. I didn't agree with him."

The phone rang. I raised my hand and answered: "Hollister."

"Hi. I thought I'd call and tell you I'm out of work."

"Oh?"

"The obstetrician looked at the sonogram and said I shouldn't be on my feet so much and that I couldn't serve in surgery or communicable diseases. So I'm going to be over at the training centre on the 30^th and the 6^th and that's it."

"Well, that's OK."