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‘You navy boys always look so cute in your plain whites.’ The man forces a blush. ‘Can I buy you a drink, Ms …’ ‘Deidre,’ she gave him her hand. ‘It’s Deidre. And you are?’ ‘Arnold.’ He shook her hand and then excused himself for a moment. He approached the juke box, inserted a dime into the slot and then searched through its library for a song. The same song he’d played thirty-five years ago. He found it and pressed the play button. Seconds later Sinatra’s voice floated out of the speakers crooning about summer winds blowing in from across the sea. Arnold came back to her and extended his hand. ‘Deidre, would you please honour me with this dance?’ She smiles at him and places her hand in his. ‘I would love nothing more.’ He led her to the centre of the room, their hands interlock around each other’s body as they swayed to the sonorous music. Deidre caressed the back of her husband’s head while he kissed her shoulder. ‘It’s almost like the first night we met,’ she said to him. ‘I. As I continued down the steps, even managing a fake cough to let her know I was coming in case she hadn't heard me, she continued on with her hand, only then realizing, she was scratching herself and not doing something else. As far as I knew anyway."Ah, got an itch?" I asked letting her know as I said it that I had noticed her hand. This time she actually blushed just a little."All over," she told me. "Bad enough that the casts itch me to death, and I can't even scratch there, but I'm getting itchy here now too," she said openly. "Where it's starting to grow back."I had just learned something else about my daughter I had never thought about either, not that she wouldn't, or didn't, I certainly did myself. But she was in need of a trim or a shave. "I've got a new razor if you want it," I told her as I then began folding the towels placing them down on the coffee table."It's not that," she told me. "It's these damn casts, I can't really prop myself up well enough to see what I'm.
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