No Reception

by Maisie Porter

  “Hey, where are you off to?” I lift my head as a voice takes my attention away from the movement of my legs.

  “Oh hi, Chantel,” I say.

  Chantel stands in front of me holding a bouquet of roses, her black hair in a slick, neat ponytail. Everyone is trying to be proper now. Hopefully, my students don’t start feeling righteous, I have to make sure that Chantel and the other students speak about what happened pre-snake bite.

  “John and I were anxious about you when we were waiting in the house,” Chantel says.

  “You could have come to look for me; I specifically asked John to come and look for me after two hours.”

  Chantel blushes and picks a petal from one of the flowers she is holding.

  “Oh Chantel, you didn’t – you and John?” I ask, hoping that she offers up more details about what happened between them at the house.

  “John and I thought you would be angry at us, that we had forgotten you,” Chantel says.

  That’s not what I wanted to hear. I take the flowers from her because her picking at them is starting to annoy me. Chantel puts her hands behind her back like a school girl.

  “Chantel, it’s all in the past now,” I say waving my hand. “Thanks for coming by to visit me, but I’m terribly tired. And please, could you ask the others not to visit; I can’t handle company at the moment. I’m also putting the photography classes on hold indefinitely; I need to spend some time with my family. Speaking of family, here’s Archer now.”

  I look over Chantel’s shoulder. Archer walks across, only half his shirt is tucked into his pants, and his hair is messy.

  “Chantel, you remember Archer, you met at the barbecue we had at our place a few months back,” I say, grabbing Archer’s arm and pulling him closer to me. There is a familiar smell about him that I recognise, but right now I’m not going to think about that.

  “Archer, Chantel was with me at the wedding; she was my assistant. I should have listened to her when she told me not to go scouting for photo shoot locations in the bush on my own. That’s right isn’t it, Chantel?”

  Chantel nods.

  “Archer, we really need to organise another barbecue again soon, I’ll make that salad you love,” I say, lifting my hand and pushing Archer’s unruly hair to one side. “I was also telling Chantel, I’m going to let her have some of those photography jobs I’ve got booked, I think I overstretched myself and realise now I was wrong to put work before the needs of my family.”

  “Excuse me, can you talk quietly out there,” the dog bite lady says from behind the curtain.

  “Anyhow, as I was saying, this snake bite is the best thing that happened to me, to us,” I say, pulling Archer closer to me again. He looks down at me and gives a faint smile.

  Chantel’s eyes are wandering around the room, like she may be getting bored, I have to make sure that she and Archer don’t leave this room together.

  “Chantel, thanks for the lovely flowers, but Archer and I need to spend some time together now.” I give Archer my flowers and turn in the direction of my bed.

  “No worries, Helena, I’ve got to get to the store anyway, we’re having a big sale today, and later John said he’s going to take me for a ride in his postie van,” Chantel says.

  You are aiming high there, Chantel. “That sounds fantastic, Chantel,” I say over my shoulder.

  “Helena, I can’t stay, work called. They’re having a staffing issue at one of the western suburb stores, I really need to get out there and sort it out,” Archer says, untangling his arm from mine.

  Before I can speak he continues, “Helena, once you get home, we need to have a serious talk.”

  I rest my backside on the bed. “I know, Archer; I haven’t been there for our family and especially for you. It may seem that I’m saying this after my near death experience, but I want us to reconnect, it was our relationship that needed to be worked on, not searching for more work.”

  Archer pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “Okay, Helena, what I do need from you right now is the number for that babysitter we used when we went out to dinner a few weeks ago. I’ve got to run so if you could text it to me, I can get her to pick Marla up from day-care and look after her this evening, do you think she’ll do that?” Archer asks hopefully.

  “I will send you the number for two babysitters, choose one. No one can be trusted, so you have to make sure you check that the babysitter actually picks her up from day-care,” I say as Archer spins his on his heels ready to leave.

  “Archer, what took you so long in the cafeteria earlier?” I ask.

  “I took a walk around the hospital grounds. Talk to you later, Helena,” he says over his shoulder.

  “Finally,” the dog bite lady mutters from behind her curtain.

  Zody

  I’ve always felt comfortable sitting in front of my computer so I’m determined to make sitting here with a banged up ankle work for me. I face the screen with my leg stretched out to the side, resting on a stool.

  The doorbell rings, I’m not going to answer it. I can’t get up again. The knocking becomes louder, more urgent.

  I open the door. It is Archer. Again.

  “Zody, I want to apologise for leaving so abruptly earlier this morning, I still want to talk about what happened to you and why it happened,” Archer says.

  “Archer, I’m busy at the moment.”

  “I went back to the hospital just now to buy myself some time with Helena, I don’t know what to do, Zody, suddenly Helena is talking about working on our marriage at the same time she is still spewing lies,” Archer explains, a hint of desperation in his voice.

  I leave the door open, spin around on my crutches, and hobble towards the lounge giving Archer a choice of whether or not he wants to follow me inside.

  I hear the door close behind me.

  “Archer, all your problems aside, I need to ask you for an immediate favour. I have a show opening this afternoon at the Paizale Gallery. I’ve been dreading the idea of catching a taxi or even an Uber with this leg. I would really appreciate if you could drive me there. You can stay for the opening, relax, and maybe watch me sell some art!”

  I look closely at Archer’s face, his jaw is tight, his eyes fixed on me, I can’t tell if the look on his face is concern or if he’s trying to conceal extreme excitement; this guy likes to feel needed. I’m going to have some fun with this one.

  “Yes, of course I’ll take you,” he says finally.

  “You will have to excuse me now though, I need to get ready for the show, minus a shower, I don’t have time to unwrap and wrap my bandage,” I explain.

  “Let me guess, problems with diminishing time?” Archer says, letting out a gentle laugh.

  “Always,” I say. “Have a seat, and you already know where I keep the beer.”

  I swivel my body around in the direction of my bedroom and give the door a push with my crutch. Once inside I push it closed with my crutch but there isn’t a click, the door opens slightly. I don’t shut it.

  Through the space in the door, I can see Archer sitting in the centre of the sofa, phone in hand, texting.

  In the corner of my room, I have a suitcase open, always ready for travel. I bend over, take out a black, no-need-to-iron dress, and hop back to standing in front of the slightly ajar door.

  I lean my crutch next to the sliding mirror of my cupboard. I notice the mirror is open. I slide it shut, with an extra effort making sure it makes a sound when it hits the other side. With my free hand, I hold the bottom of my singlet and slide it up my body and over the top of my head. I pick the black dress from my bed and slip it over my head; I adjust it, so it sits straight over my breasts. Next, I need to lose my shorts; I pull them down and kick them to the corner of the room. There isn’t time to struggle with putting on underwear. I turn to check myself in the mirror.

  Satisfied that the dress looks good without a bra, I sweep my hair over my shoulder and pick up my crutch, putting it into position
under my arm. I swing open the door and watch Archer fumble, turning the pages of a book he had picked up from my coffee table.

  “I’m going to water my plants, and then we can get going,” I say.

  “So you do have a nurturing side, after all,” Archer says, not able to take his eyes away from travelling up and down my body.

  “Maybe I just need a chance to look after something or to prove to someone I’m not a self-obsessed bitch. It’s like when I take care of my clients, I’m fully committed, I only give them my best.” I hop onto the balcony putting aside one crutch and picking up the watering can.

  “What or who do you think made you like this?” Archer follows me onto the balcony.

  “Being anxious? It’s a by-product of my youth. I ran away from home a few times. I always came back but ran away again; I think I liked looking after myself even though it scared the hell out of me, so my answer is the sweet taste of fear made me like this,” I say, taking notice of how close he is standing to me now.

  “Are you still in contact with your parents?” Archer asks.

  “Yes but they live on a farm in a small country town in Victoria, I don’t go there often, I feel like I’m choking when I do.”

  Archer touches my shoulder. “You may need looking after now in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you need to run away.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” I reply, “and incidentally, you are right, I just might need to be looked after when I lose all my work, firstly because of your wife and secondly because of my leg.”

  “Do you think Helena may have done you a favour, by making you slow down?” Archer asks.

  “Fuck, yes that’s it, maybe she was there to ruin me, and you are here to catch me when I fall.” I laugh.

  “You are spot on there, Zody, I am here for someone who’s falling, and I have to decide if it’s you or my wife that I want to save.”

  “That’s dark, Archer, what about you, who will rescue you?” I ask.

  “I will be saved when I make a choice,” he replies and takes a deep breath.

  “Zody, I have been fascinated by you since the first time I met you on the boat to Corfu. All those times I ran into you – following that, I could only dare to imagine more than a brief conversation. Remember what I said before, I always tried to be the good husband,” he says sadly.

  “Archer, I do appreciate your honesty, but I don’t have time for anyone, I don’t even spend time with my friends, all I do is work and travel.”

  “Can I travel with you?” he asks.

  “Archer, I can’t believe we are having this conversation, I don’t know you well, and you don’t know me either. After all I have been through, how can I even be sure you aren’t working with Helena on another kidnapping plot, and you are just going to tie me up as well?”

  “Well, maybe I would like to tie you up!” he jokes. “But seriously now, sorry to ask such a personal question but are you concerned about money, because Helena stole your clients?”

  “I am always worried about money, but yes, because of what your wife did, I have lost my clients’ trust. Therefore, I have lost potential clients and some of my income,” I say avoiding Archer’s eyes.

  “Zody, I want to make it up to you, but it’s going to involve making a gamble on our lives,” Archer states.

  I look at him. I listen to what he is saying.

  “Here goes… If you sell a photo at your exhibition tonight above the price of $20,000 you continue with your life as it is. If you don’t sell a photo above the price of $20,000, you give me three months. Three months to look after you. You can alternate your time between staying here and at my house, take your time to rebuild your career, but at the same time I want to help you relax, breathe, not just count hours and minutes.”

  I picture myself editing in my underwear and wonder if this proposed arrangement Archer has concocted would work. I imagine Archer bringing me coffee and sushi and yes, this wild yet practical arrangement will work.

  “Before I agree to your novel proposition, tell me… how do you suppose you will break it to Helena? You know telling her you are leaving won’t be easy and how do you think she will react once you do? What if she sees me with you?” I ask a barrage of complicated questions, and we both stand staring at the water that is pouring out of the can.

  “Easy, you will go to the police and tell them what she did to you; I still can’t believe you didn’t file a report already,” Archer says.

  “Wrong answer. Archer, let me tell you this. I will go along with this proposition but only if you don’t question me anymore about why I am not going to the police. You make this deal with me, and you accept the raw edges it comes with and anything you find out during those three months if that’s how it plays out. You also deal with Helena.

  “I will take care of my deteriorating relationship with Helena; I’m not saying it will be easy, I will still have Marla to look after so I will have to see Helena regularly. But I don’t want you to worry, I will protect you from Helena.”

  “Don’t get too excited, Archer, I’m sure one of my photos will sell tonight,” I say. “Tell me, what will you do if I do sell a photo this evening, will you continue with your life as it is?”

  “If you sell a photo tonight, I will stay with Helena. I don’t think I love her anymore, but I will try and help her get better out of obligation more than anything, but if she continues with her lies, scheming, and selfish ways I will start a new life on my own,” he says.

  “Okay, let’s go. It’s time to take me to the future!”

  ***

  The future can’t begin without a touch of quirkiness. I slip a grey beanie with a red pom-pom onto my head.

  “Please don’t make me like you any more than I do,” Archer remarks.

  “I guarantee you won’t be too impressed by the time we reach the ground floor, walking with these crutches turns me into a monster,” I say.

  “Well, you are a cute monster who wears beanies to gallery openings!”

  I will ride out this challenging time, be it with another person or on my own but at the moment I will welcome support which, on this occasion, is Archer holding me under the elbow as we move towards the lift. We wait in silence for the elevator to arrive. Inside the lift, mirrors surround us. There are many sides to us; I look at Archer in the reflection; I enjoy his quiet side. I don’t appreciate people talking at me constantly. I feel sorry for Archer because I remember Helena’s constant chattering into my ear when she had me tied up. Archer is standing close to me, and I’m sure as the lift doors open, and Mrs Bennett stands in front of us she’ll mistake us for lovers. I don’t think that she has seen me with another person since I have lived here, it’s always just my backpack and me.

  “Oh my, Zody, what happened to your leg, dear?” she asks.

  “I got it caught between a rock and a hard place,” I answer.

  “Oh dear, well you make sure you look after yourself, lucky you have this nice gentleman to help you out.” She steps into the lift as we step out.

  “Thank you, Mrs Bennett,” I say looking at Archer.

  As the elevator doors close behind us, I whisper to Archer, “Be aware that I will always be imagining that Helena has sent out an army of spies to follow us. I’m confident Mrs Bennett is a spy.”

  “I don’t think Helena is a secret agent with a network of spies. I can assure you, my wife – soon to be ex-wife – is quite average,” Archer says.

  “She’s definitely not average, and I don’t want to talk about her anymore,” I say, stepping out onto the street.

  Archer’s grip on my elbow tightens when we are on the street as if I need to be held up in the world. “I will bring the car around, so you don’t have to walk,” he says.

  I picture him pulling up in front of me with Helena sitting in the car patting the empty seat for me next to hers. The air is cool. I should have brought something warmer to wear. Maybe I can ask Archer to bring my jacket for me, but I won’t because I am
discovering by the minute that when you have to stand in one spot for a long time it’s painful. It’s physically painful when the crutches dig into my armpits.

  A postal van drives past me, and I think I see someone waving at me from the passenger’s side. The van slows down further up the road and pulls over to a red mailbox in front of Timeston’s Café. No one steps out of the van. I squint my eyes so I can see the face in the van’s side mirror, but I can’t make out the features.

  Archer stops his car in front of me and puts on his hazard lights. He gets out to help me. I want to mention that someone sitting in a postal van is watching us, but I don’t.

  “I’m going to put your crutches in the back of the car, are you able to hop in without them?” he asks.

  “I can if I use your body to steady myself.”

  I drape my arm over Archer’s shoulder while he puts his across my lower back and guides me to the car.

  “I think I’m going to kill whoever buys one of your photos this evening,” he laughs and shuts the door.

  I look in the rear-view mirror and can still see the postal van standing with its hazard lights blinking; I don’t think anyone has gotten out as yet.

  Helena

  The phone next to my hospital bed rings. I pick up the receiver. An excited voice speaks from the other side.

  “Helena, it’s Chantel.”

  “Chantel, why are you calling me on the hospital phone?” I ask.

  “I didn’t think you could answer a phone call on your mobile while you are in hospital. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” I reply.

  “Mmmmh okay. Are you sitting down?”