Read Online Glamour by Melody Carlson - Free Book Online

carton on the rug and leans back on the cushions, closing her eyes. “I’m glad he did, Erin.”
    She looks so tired and beat up. I wish there was something I could do to help, but this is all new to me. How do you help someone who’s sick like this? I see her half-eaten yogurt and suspect that’s all she can handle for now. “Want me to put the rest of your yogurt in the freezer?” I offer. “For later.”
    She barely nods. “Thanks.”
    I go into her kitchen, which is really messy, and put the yogurt in her freezer, which is surprisingly barren. I’m thinking Fran needs help. Just the same, I don’t want to overstep my bounds, so I go back to ask her if she minds me cleaning up a bit, but she seems to be asleep. She also seems to be shivering, so I find a couple of throws and cover her. She doesn’t even open her eyes.
    Then I go back into her kitchen and start cleaning, throwing things away, loading the dishwasher, scrubbing down the countertop tiles and sink. Okay, it’s not exactly my favorite way to spend a Sunday afternoon, but at the same time, it feels really good to help someone. Fran continues to sleep while I clean, moving from the kitchen to the bathroom, which is seriously in need. Fortunately, it’s a small space that cleans easily.
    After that, I timidly go into her bedroom, which smells so stale I go ahead and open a window. Then I strip the sheets from her bed, throw them into the washing machine, and remake her bed with fresh sheets. As I hurry to get as much done as possible before she wakes, I’m curious about Fran’s life. Does she have family nearby? Or friends?
    Finally, I think I’ve done about all I can and I’m surprised to see Fran’s still sleeping. She is so quiet and motionless that I actually stand over her, staring hard to be sure she’s breathing. Then, reassured that she’s simply sleeping soundly, I return toher kitchen and open the fridge. And it’s just as I thought—nearly as barren as her freezer. This is not good.
    I quietly tiptoe out of the apartment, hurry to my Jeep, and drive to a nearby grocery store. Then I wonder … what does Fran like to eat? I try to remember how it feels to have the flu. What makes you feel better? I pick out the kinds of foods I think my mom would try to get me to eat. I get different kinds of fruit juice, saltine crackers, chicken noodle soup, applesauce, a loaf of bread, some fresh fruit and vegetables, a couple more cartons of frozen yogurt, and a quart of milk. Enough groceries to fill two heavy bags.
    When I knock on Fran’s door this time, she actually opens it. “Oh, it’s you again.” She yawns sleepily. “I just woke up.”
    “I—uh—I got you some groceries,” I say as I come in. “I hope you don’t mind. It looked like you needed some things.”
    She blinks. “You got me
groceries?”
    “Is that okay?”
    She looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “Yes, of course. I’ll get my purse and pay you — ”
    “Just let me get these into the fridge,” I say as I go into the kitchen, setting the bags on the counter. “We can settle up later. Are you feeling better?”
    “The nap helped,” she says. “I was about to take a shower. I think I finally have enough energy.”
    “Go ahead and do that,” I urge her. “I’ll let myself out after I put these away.”
    “Thanks, Erin.”
    As I hurry to put things away, I realize that she didn’t even notice that I’d done some cleaning. I guess that just shows how rotten she’s feeling. It’s like she’s oblivious to her surroundings. Besides, I remind myself, I didn’t clean to get her appreciation. I cleaned because it needed doing.
    I can hear the shower running, so I decide to do a couple more things. I put the wet sheets in the dryer then quickly straighten her living room. And I write her a note, saying that I want her to call me if she needs anything and that the groceries are a gift. Then I leave.
    I feel good as I get back in my Jeep. It’s a cool