Chapter 897
“That’s a relief. I really thought I was dying. No way, I can’t die yet. I still have so much money to spend, and so many things left to do. If I die, Teresa and her sister will be thrilled,” Irene said.
“Enough already?” Jonathan cut her off, his voice cold as ice.
As Jonathan was about to leave, Irene suddenly burst into tears. “Don’t go, Jonathan. Stay and look after me, please,” she cried out.
Jonathan turned back around. “Isn’t having all these people here to take care of you enough?”
Irene shook her head. “I’m scared.”
The doctor said, “That’s how it is with old folks. The older you get, the more afraid you are of dying.”
Jonathan fell silent. Suddenly, he remembered what Benny had said. Irene just needed some love and company. She had been a widow for so many years. No wonder she was a little messed up in the head.
Jonathan walked out and gave Benny a call. “About what you mentioned before, I’m going with your plan. Can you help me out?”
“Sure thing, leave it to me,” Benny replied cheerfully.
After the doctor left, Jonathan came back in and kept Irene company at her bedside. Irene kept asking again and again, “Are you sure I don’t have some kind of terminal illness?”
“Don’t jinx yourself. Just get some sleep,” Jonathan said, rubbing his temples. He thought, ‘If only I had a brother or sister, I wouldn’t have to handle all
this alone.‘
Jonathan only left after Irene finally fell asleep. He was planning to pick up Teresa, but work called, so he had to swing by the office first. It finally hit him -unless he got Irene settled, he’d never have time to go pick up Teresa.
By the time evening came, Jonathan got off work and headed back to Irene’s place. When he walked in, he found twelve men surrounding her bed.
They all looked to be in their forties or fifties. Some had refined air, some were delicate–skinned, and some had a glib tongue with a mischievous twinkle in their eyes.
One was feeding Irene, another offering her water, a third massaging her shoulders, a fourth kneading her legs. Some were shelling sunflower seeds for her, others peeling oranges, still others cracking jokes or performing magic tricks–and so many more attending to her every need.
In short, everyone had their own role in this little circus.
Irene sat up in bed. “Jonathan, you’re just in time. Where did you find all these men? What’s going on here?”
“Didn’t you say you were lonely? Are twelve people enough to keep you company? If not, I can find more. I’ll make sure you live like a queen,” Jonathan said.
Irene was taken aback. “I don’t need this many people to take care of me. I’m not a child.”
One of the men sitting next to her said, “Dear Irene, no matter how old a woman is, she’s still a little girl at heart. Just relax and take it easy.”
Another man chimed in, “Little Irene, seeing you sick really breaks our hearts. You have to get better soon.”
It turned out that women really did love hearing sweet talk. Having all these men fussing over her was something Irene hadn’t experienced in decades.
Jonathan glanced at his watch and said, “Looks like I’m not needed here anymore, right? I’ll be off then. Take care of yourself.”
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