Flowers In The Window

               

          start of   Flowers In The Window

💐Neil, and the staff of Rowan Lea  discussed her long haul back to normality in vast detail. They weren't wrong when they claimed to have the latest high-tech equipment. The anti-gravity treadmill and she were getting on famously. Since the day her mother more or less stopped giving a shit about her, her determination to bounce back to spite her was all the focus she needed. In only a few days her levels of impetus to her cause were astounding. 

  The beginnings of her restoration had taken a longer (hence the very early bed exercises to keep muscles and circulation going in preparation of the more challenging stuff) due to her broken tibia and head wound, but boy, was she forging ahead - like a late developing short kid, who all of a sudden sprout inches overnight. Neil was in awe of her turnabout, and relieved that she was no longer bedfast and now joining in all of the sub-specialty units: the hydrotherapy in particular, where your partner gets offered the chance to join you in the pool (which he declines) worked wonders.

   Her biggest thrill was when progress went well enough to introduce her to the centre's Thursday Therapy Dog - a charity that Rowan Lea supported - where owners brought in their pets to befriend and allowed patients to take out walks in the garden. Saskia was partnered with Millie, a five month old golden labrador, utterly beautiful and playful. Visit-clashing one Thursday, Saskia took devilish delight in watching Neil's hand jerk back from Millie like a big wuss when she encouraged him to pet her, and for the rest of Millie's visit he spent giving the dog side looks terrified to make eye contact with her. Most definitely, he was not and never had been an animal person. 

Check-out day was almost upon her. Neil sat on a bench by the wall in the well-equipped utility room. All other courses and caterings  - medical and mental - had been given the green light. The only one to go was the most important physical test. 

   The treadmill buzzed into life and her feet picked up a steady pace. A walk became a march, became a  trot, became a run. Neil rose and stood at the end of the machine, calling out encouragement, egging her on, his heart beating quicker with the pace of her feet. She'd done it. Passed the required score with flying colours, and just to be a show off, she notched up the speed dial and jumped straight from the moving belt and into Neil's quick-reacting arms, where he birled her around a few times in pride and jubilation. Tomorrow she would be discharged.  

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All her belongings had gathered on the bed. Now the day had come to be leaving what had been her home for a quarter of a year.  From time to time Neil wondered how she would react to fending for herself after being institutionalized for so long, but her Rowan Lea Personal After-care Brochure was designed purely for her (as it were for each individual paying around £600 per day), which they entrusted her to follow rigorously.  She had worked with the staff laboriously hard and intended to keep it up once she was home. From today, Neil took a full fortnight off work (to the delight of his staff) as a settling-in period for her, and to monitor where things go from there. No-one, though, let Beverly know of her homecoming. That she would have to find out for herself. Saskia did leave permission with Rowan Lea to disclose the fact that she had vacated rehab, but not to give a forwarding address.  It'd be pretty obvious to Beverly where she was, but Neil wanted her to sweat a little. One thing was for sure -  she'd want the numeric ball to start rolling sooner than later.

  

They were waiting impatiently for the presence of Dr. Harness and a prescription from the pharmacy before they could say their final farewell. For utmost comfort, Saskia chose a garishly multi-coloured but-ever-so-comfortable jogging suit to travel home in.

   Opening the wardrobe door for a view in the full length mirror, Saskia slowly raised her sweater to reveal how the damage the glass from her fall left her with was faring now. The cicatrix scarring from the wound had now begun to blend in with her skin tone, but the developing pull of new skin left a huge scoop just above her hipbone. Wearing tight tops would show the disproportionate waistline up even more - quite a hard thing to accept for a such a clothes queen.  Already she had decided that bikinis would always be a no-no.

   Repeating a question to Saskia with no answer, Neil caught her looking into the mirror, not listening to his trivial chatter for staring-out her reflection, her eyes focused on the traumatic reminder there for life.  

   'My God, look at it. It's deep. Raw. Ugly.' 

   Neil stopped what he was doing and came up behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder, arms around her, staring at the reflection of the two of them.

   'All I can see is a beautiful creature and one helluva lucky old raptor,' he told her.  His hand glided down past her waist, settling into the scoop of the missing flesh. Whispering, he said,  'Look at that... fits my hand perfectly.'   

   Saskia rested her own right hand on top of his, reaching up with her other to stroke his cheek; her empathetic tower of strength. At times, she couldn't believe that he'd stuck by her, often convincing herself that he only told her he loved her just to help make her well again to assuage any guilt. Yet here he was with her on her discharge day, taking her home. She'd taken root in him like no other soul had, and fully invested now. By fair means, not foul, he had made her whole again. The forgiveness had grown and eventually accepted.

   In one unexpected motion, he twisted her round to face him, the action making her gasp. Today was home day, no sorrow allowed. 

   'What are you doing!?' she lightly laughed. 

   Cupping her face in his hands, he landed a very much needed deep and desperate kiss upon her.   'I can't wait to get you home to test out that new hip!' he said cheekily grinning.

   'Ah. Ah. Ah!' She wiggled a windscreen-wiper finger at him, 'Not recommended right away, you'll have to wait a bit for that, Raptor!' she teased. In between daft nonsensical exchange, she continued sorting her belongings. 

   Their rackety dalliance flitted its way down the corridor and drew the attention of another patient Saskia had gotten fairly close to. A rather good looking dark-haired lad of around Saskia's age, knocked on the open door and quietly stepped in to find Neil sitting on the edge of her bed, arms around her waist pulling her to him as he swung  his feet back and forth like a bored schoolboy.  

   Saskia was playing with his hair, teasing him about needing a haircut while giving him severe side and middle partings with her comb; it really was all fawning giggles and love-sick puppy stuff. Feeling most uncomfortable Nigel tried to turn and sneak away, but caught both their eyes.

   'Nigel! Sorry, never heard you there - please come in,' Saskia invited, as the pair of them parted respectfully. She could only imagine how that must have looked to him, but she was glad it did. 

   'I was told you're going home today, just wanted to say goodbye and wish you luck.'

   'That's really sweet of you.'

   The lad's face was familiar to Neil, the boy was recovering from spine and brain trauma if he remembered correctly. He ruffled his overgrown waves into partial order and slid down from the bed giving them space for a private farewell. 'I'll go find out if the doctor's going to be much longer. Won't be long.' 

   They stood in a bit of a strained silence, until Neil's footsteps faded. Saskia spoke first.

   'It's sometimes easier letting people think he's my father, it's the automatic assumption anyhow.'

   'I see... makes what I walked in on a bit more... ' He wanted to say wanted to say 'acceptable' but stopped himself as he wasn't sure he agreed with that, and it showed rather awkwardly on his face.  

   'Hey - don't feel bad a bout it, we know there will be loads more raised eyebrows and disapproval to come, we'll have to get used to it.'

   'Fooled me,' he said, rather forlornly, 'but I kind of get it, umm... as I said, I just wanted to say goodbye and wish you well.'

   She moved closer and gave him a huge hug, and would never forget that bond they had. She understood how he felt when he described how the lining of his brain felt as if it had been branded by a hot iron after surgery. Lives akin.

   'Thank you, Nigel. I'll miss our subs and our overdosing on nightly Horlicks!'

   'Yeah, the ruddy stuff never worked for us, did it?

   'That it did not...!'

   Nigel's smile faded. 'I'll miss you.'

   'And me you.'

   And there, a tad crestfallen, he walked out of the room saying no more.

   There was only a very select and confidential few from Rowan Lea that knew of the actual relationship status of Neil and Saskia, and Nigel was one of the first to discover by chance the true nature of them.  There would be no reason now for them to shy away and protect themselves from public scrutiny, nor give any second thought to caution, but they still wouldn't be shouting their truth from any rooftops. Most will still assume they were father and daughter, and it would be hard for her to shake off that father-figure feeling. But people could judge them in all their age-gap glory, in whatever manner they chose. They weren't too fixated on decorum the time she was his daughter, and people can react how they please now she was merely his lover.  Overlooking ignominy he would, in a way, miss the little lift taboo brought along with it. Doesn't everyone sit at the intersection of what they shouldn't have in life and pick and risk chances?

   It was another twenty-five minutes before Dr. Harness appeared. Saskia had already said most of her farewells. Rowan Lea would be missed. It had been her settlement and haven, her new confidence and company where immediate attention was catered for by the flick of a switch or push of a button. Neil himself had gotten used to the journey there, enjoying the calming, scenic surroundings. He'd probably miss her room too, as he was always shuffling about in it and tidying her things. Her room's window had some view for this constant emptier of bins. But before she went there was one last pledge to undertake.

   Neil carefully removed the present-hanging canvas on the wall that was to be swapped with the one Saskia had delineated. At arms length, he studied the vision it held.

   Saskia had painted a rough stone wall with a Victorian post box embedded into it. In front stands a barefooted little girl in a blue dress, side on, as a strong wind blows her dress and hair forward, hiding her profile. A letter she was about to post gets whipped out of her hand before she has the chance to post it. In her other hand she's holding a stringed, lilac balloon that keeps perfectly upright and not affected by the force of the wind.  

   'This is pretty good,' Neil stated, not quite believing that she had any creative side to her other than woodwork and make-up. He figured her art therapy teacher guided her on colour, tones and shadows to bring the picture into being, but the concept was all hers. 'What does it say? Is it titled?'

   'I don't know, it's not mine, remember? It's for whomever resides in this room after me.' 

   Neil knew her well enough now to work out what the subject matter of her art was saying, and that he was there if she needed to use brushstrokes ever again. Taking one last look around her, Saskia then closed the door. From the car park she looked up at the room window she'd been occupying. Heaven knows how many bouquets had bloomed and shrivelled on its sill. It was strange to see it bare. 

             

The car felt warm and stuffy, but ever so joyous to be in, as the city centre was drawing them in magnetically with an almighty, welcoming pull. Saskia's eyes were flicking through the streets, from shop to shop, building to building, face to random face and it kind of felt alien to her. So they said very little on this journey home, but since approaching London from the motorway, Neil was bursting to speak.  

   'I've a little surprise back at the flat for you', he said, with an 'I've been up-to-something' grin on his face.       

   'Like what?' she replied, frowning. 

   'You'll see.'

   She hoped the place wasn't filled with balloons or worse still, flowers - she'd had enough fragrance and foliage to last her a lifetime.  A fleeting thought of even worse horror popped up. Surely he wouldn't have bought a puppy? As much as she loved and will miss Millie, there's no way she wanted to shovel shit into a bag up to four times a day. She berated herself for such a fret thought as, realistically, that wouldn't work for two simple reasons: They live in a flat; and he's a wuss when it comes to four legged friends. No. That wasn't it. But what she did know was an undisturbed cuddle would be appreciated more than some glittering box from Tiffany's, or hotel chocolat.  But whatever it was, nothing had more appeal than a vast city view and a familiar toilet pan.   

   Back at his complex he insisted they take the elevator to his apartment. Saskia waited with baited breath while he opened the door as she slid past him. She couldn't believe her eyes. Mouth open and dumbstruck. The place was a shambles!

   'Let me take you on the guided tour... ' 

   She gingerly followed him. What the hang...

   'We'll start in the kitchen; That bit spaghetti stuck to the tiles has been there for two days, the greasy outline round it may never come off.... those dishes have been in the sink for three days, and... ' he spun round an empty cardboard roll on its holder, '... we're out of kitchen roll.' 

   He prompted her along by the elbow. 'That wastepaper bin by the computer is chock-a-block, never realised what fun it is to see if your crunched paper ball's gonna roll off or not!'

   To the sitting area: 'Cushions are all to pot, in the wrong order, and think there's a coffee stain on that one.'  He then pointed to the floor by the couch. 'Oh, and I found a couple of your glossy magazine things under the couch seat and chucked them on the floor where they usually end up. Now you can slide on one and do-in your other hip!.' Pointing further up he said, 'Bed's not made, clothes still under the duvet at the bottom, some piled on the chair... och - you can see the rest for yourself!' 

   That proud-as-punch, ludicrous beam on his face was the best homecoming present she could have asked for. After all, she was at her happiest amidst disarray. It was a message to her that she didn't have to worry about him worrying about mess. All this perusing of perfection taught him that mess, ultimately, was nothing to be feared -  he can live with it if he has to. He wanted nothing more than her to focus on full recovery and not fret over her remiss house habits. She doubted it would be an everyday occurrence, but for now this domestic shrapnel scene equaled any chapel or gallery glorious to the eye.  

   Neil threw his coat over a chair and went to the kitchen to make drinks.

   'I got some of that caramel-coffee syrup stuff you like,' he told her,  'I'll see if that mug you chipped is somewhere at the back... Oi!'

   Saskia had crept up behind him, grabbed and twisted the neck of his jumper, forcing him to turn round to her.  Fingers still clenched, keeping him attached to her, she carefully backed herself round the settee and closer to the bed.

   'Woah, woah, what are you doing?'  he asked with a huge grin, knowing damn-well fine what was going on.  

   Feeling the edge of the mattress touch her calves, she stopped. 'I was told that I had to lead into this sort of a thing with a certain slowness and ease.'

   Neil shook his head with a mock serious expression. 'Nah... can't promise I'd stick to that.'

   Saskia let out a hot and heavy sigh. 'Stick to me instead, then?' 

She acted all shy and coy, then pulled him down on top of her, as the bed bounced with belated buoyancy. Looks like Raptor would be testing out that hip today after all.

             FLOWERS IN THE WINDOW end

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