Steroids and Cottage Cheese by Rachel Sievers

Mr. Morton needed a new pair of shoes. That was quite obvious to Mrs. Morton but since he had started this health kick she couldn’t convince him of anything. She shot a glance at the runners out of the corner of her eye, afraid they would jump out and get her if she gave them her full attention. 

Mrs. Morton stirred the corn chowder on the stove and then in a nervous gesture tested her apron strings for tightness around her middle. There were less of the strings than fifteen years ago when her boys had given her the apron for Mother’s Day. She remembered the day with fondness, the boys had wrapped the gift in birthday wrapping but she hadn’t cared. Inside the box had been a ruffled pink and white apron that had read: World’s Greatest Mom. She wore it every time she cooked, even though it was faded and stained now. She gave the chowder one last stir and moved to the sink where the dishes from breakfast laid. 

Her eyes fell upon the shoes again and Mrs. Morton glared but quickly turned her attention to the sink. The dishes pointed out the changes just as much as the shoes so she glared at those too and took to scrubbing them with venom. The low-fat cottage cheese and remains of tomato slices washed easily from her husband’s plate but she gave them an extra scrub anyway. Her grits, eggs, and bacon became a greasy mess on her sponge and she added more soap. 

Finishing the dishes, she walked to the living room where she found more reminders that her husband was now a crazy person. Hand weights, shaker bottles, and some sort of stretchy band lay discarded around the living room. 

“What has gotten into him?” She whispered to herself, she didn’t want to speak too loudly, lest the shoes hear her and report her insurrection to her husband. She picked up the oddities and placed them in a pile. He had started the health kick after their youngest child went to college. It started small, less food and a walk in the morning, all things she could understand. Then little by little it morphed until she was left with a man who woke at five in the morning and ate cottage cheese and tomatoes for breakfast. 

What if he started steroids? The thought popped unbidden into her mind. She had read about this kind of thing. Where a man started steroids and then killed his whole family. She was sure she had seen something like that on the news at one point. The thought made her stomach clench and she went straight to the hall closet and began pulling out her cleaning supplies. Nothing helped order her more than ordering her house. A clean house was the same as a clean mind. 

Mrs. Morton worked her way through each room. The act of putting things right in her house put her mind at ease. Slowly she worked her way through the house and the thought of those awful shoes started to fade. When she was almost done with the boys’ rooms a loud beeping started. The smoke alarm screamed loudly and Mrs. Morton remembered the chowder. 

Rushing to the kitchen a great cloud of smoke engulfed her as she ran to the stove where the chowder boiled over and was burning on the stove. Turning off the heat and throwing open the door she put the burnt chowder in the empty sink. As the smoke cleared and the detector chirped out its last warning she glanced at the shoes. Picking them up she dumped them into the pot of chowder. “See how you like that,” she said and tightened her apron strings. She smiled at her fallen foe slipping ever deeper into burnt chowder. 

Rachel Sievers

Image: A pair of grubby running shoes from Pixabay.com