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Love, Annie
.
I put it into an envelope, sealing it immediately. Then I addressed it the same way I had addressed the first letter I wrote him, the one Millie Thomas never gave Tony.
"Do you want to remain in your wheelchair to eat or return to bed?" Mrs. Broadfield asked as soon as she returned with my tray of food.
"I'll remain in the wheelchair."
She put the tray down to
fetch the small table that went over the arms, fit it into place, and brought me the tray. I lifted the silver cover and looked at a breast of plain boiled chicken, a portion of green peas and carrots, and a slice of buttered white bread. It looked like hospital food.
"Rye Whiskey prepared this?"
"I had his helper prepare it, following my specific instructions."
"It looks . . . blah."
"I thought you were hungry."
"I am, but I was expecting something different . . something Rye made. Everything he makes is special."
"He's been using too much spice and making your food too exotic."
"But I like it; I eat everything now, and that's what Dr. Maiisoff wanted, isn't it?" I protested.
"He also wants you to eat things that are easy to digest. Considering your condition--"
I slammed down the lid over the plate. Something proud sprang into my spine. I could put ice into my words, too, I thought. I sat back, crossing my arms over my chest.
"I want something Rye makes. I won't eat this."
She stared down at me. I knew she was burning with anger, but she kept her eyes clear, calm, and unreadable. There was even a small, tight smile around her lips.
"Very well." She took the tray. "Maybe you're not as hungry as you think."
"I am hungry. Tell Rye to make me something."
"Something was made for you; you don't want it," she said as if stating the obvious, simple fact.
"I may be crippled, but I still can enjoy food. Ask Tony to come here, please," I instructed.
"You don't realize how you're acting, Annie. I'm just trying to do what I know is best for you."
"I have had no trouble digesting anything Rye has made so far."
"All right," she said, relenting. "If you have to have something he makes,Ill ask him to fix the chicken."
"And I want him to fix the vegetables and potatoes, too. And I want some of his homemade bread."
"Don't complain later when you have stomach problems," she said before leaving. She just had to have the last word. But I saw how to get her to do what I wanted--just ask for Tony.
Tony arrived before Mrs. Broadfield returned with my new food.
"Well now, how are you feeling?"
"Tired, but hungry. I'm waiting for Mrs. Broadfield to return with something Rye Whiskey makes. I don't want to be troublesome, but I didn't like what she had brought me." I told him because I thought she would complain to him about me later and give only her side of the story.
