Little Etheldreda Riding Hood by Dakota Cockaday EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Dakota Cockaday
- Language: English
- Genre: Fairy Tales
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
In Which Our Protagonist Has to Rehash Wandering
Dick
“Etheldreda, dear, could you hand me another skein of this same yarn?”
Mrs. Whittaker says from her recliner, waving what’s left of the one
she’s working with in the air.
I look up from my book on the Warsaw Uprising of 1944 and bite my lip
to keep from making the face I always make when someone calls me
Etheldreda. Not even my mom called me that when she was alive, and she’s
the one who bestowed me with that unfortunate family name.
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But for Mrs. Whittaker, a person’s full name is sacred. It’s like she lives
by the rules of commanding the fae. There are no nicknames, no
abbreviations in her world–she won’t even shorten it and call me Ethel.
Everyone else I know is perfectly fine not trying to sound out my name.
They are more than happy to go with the nickname I’ve borne since I came
out of the womb with a mane of unruly red hair– “Red.”
Mrs. Whittaker’s sister, Mrs. James, sits next to her in the other recliner,
crocheting god only knows what. “While you’re up, Red, could you find me
some stitch markers?” Mrs. James asks, not looking up from her own work.
“I think they’re on the top shelf.”
I set my book down, push up from the couch, and head over to their yarn
stash. There are shelves and shelves of it arranged by color and weight that
I’ve painstakingly organized for the two ladies over the past few months
that I’ve been their home health aid.
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Whittaker says as I bring her the new skein. She
ends her row on the baby blanket she’s crocheting and begins with the new
skein, holding the tail against the completed row so it will get worked in
with the rest. I open up a few of the stitch markers and lay them out on the
end table where Mrs. James can reach them, then head back to my usual
spot on the couch opposite them.
I pick up my book, but don’t bother to start reading. Instead, I sit quietly
waiting for the question I know that’s about to come.
I don’t have to wait long.
“So, Etheldreda, when am I going to be making a baby blanket for you?
Has that young man of yours pulled his head out of his ass and come
crawling back yet?”
I sigh. Mrs. Whittaker is not one of my memory patients. She’s as
mentally sound as me, probably even more so.
When hell freezes over…
“Now, Ophelia, don’t start that up again,” Mrs. James says.
I feign interest in my fingernails. “I wouldn’t know. I changed my
number and have him blocked on everything still.”
“Pshaw, this is a small town. You have to live under a rock not to know
what is going on with someone.”
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