Donna's Job--A Short Story

 People often ask me about that Mennonite novel I've wanted to write for years. It isn't written yet. In fact, I've written very little, fiction or non, the last five years.

However, sometimes I write a bit of fiction just for fun, like this story I wrote the last time I had Covid. I think that was my fifth round of it. So parts of this story may have been based on fact.

Donna's Job

Donna had to keep everything alive. It was her job, and they were counting on her. But her body weighed far more than she could lift off the bed. Fevered dreams swirled around her--parakeets in a cage, listless and thirsty. Hungry children. Cats prowling, scratching at cupboard doors, finding nothing.

She woke up slowly, her head full of a fevery fog and her eyes watering. She glanced around the room–desk, curtains, easy chair, the clock on the wall. No bird cages, thank God. That was just a dream.

But still. Were Mark and Amanda keeping the cats fed? Did the chickens have enough water on these hot days? And her precious straw bale garden with the radishes just beginning to sprout. Was anyone remembering to water it?

Donna glanced at her nightstand. A fluffy pile of kleenex, a glass with an inch of water in the bottom, and a tube of ivermectin. She needed food and water, but Mark was at work and Amanda was busy. She hated to bother them. Surely she could find her way to the bathroom and get fresh water. She considered this monumental task until she fell asleep again.

This time, she was still in her room in the feverish dreams, but a bird hopped out of its cage to bring her a cracker, the cat tucked a thermometer in her mouth, and Amanda appeared with a pot of tea that smelled minty and refreshing.

“Mom! Are you ok? You look terrible!”

Was Amanda real? Donna opened her eyes. Amanda set a tray on the nightstand and threw a wad of tissues in the trash.

Had she really brought tea? Yes, she had. Amanda poured a minty stream from the little white pot and handed it to her mom.

Donna struggled to sit up, motivated by anticipation. She took the cup in both hands and took a sip. The refreshing fluid rinsed her dry mouth and went down her raw throat in a wave of life and hope.

Maybe she’d be ok after all.

“Did anyone water the garden?” Donna croaked.

“Dad did, this morning,” Amanda said. “And he took care of the chickens. I fed the cats. Everything is taken care of.”

Donna felt a rush of relief. She swallowed another gulp of tea.

“Stop worrying and get better,” Amanda commanded. “And let me know what to bring for you.”

“I hate to bother you,” Donna whispered. “You have enough to do, and I feel so bad for not doing my work.”

“Right now, your work is to keep yourself alive!” Amanda turned and left the room, softly closing the door.

Donna lay down, the pillow welcoming and soft. Everything was still alive! She just needed to keep herself alive. That was her job.

In her dreams, the parakeets hopped onto the nightstand and reminded her to take ibuprofen. A chicken marched in and poured her another cup of tea. The cat straightened her mangled covers.

“All right,” Donna told the cat, “I am going to try to keep myself alive.”

“Good for you,” said the cat.