by Michelle Day
“When will you do the surgery?” Monica asked.
“As soon as your husband is out and settled, we’ll take Paul in.” The doctor assured her, “The sooner we get this done the better. In the meantime, I’ll ask a nurse to go through the admission and consent forms with you and get you into a robe.”
Paul succumbed quickly to the anaesthetic and before he knew it, he was waking in a quiet room, just the murmur of a soft voice close by. Although still drowsy, he remembered quite clearly where he was and what had happened. He shuffled into a semi sitting position, feeling a pull on his left arm, he looked down to see a dressing on the inside of his left bicep and correctly guessed the surgeon had taken some skin from there to properly close the wounds on his hand. He looked to his right where his hand was heavily bandaged, a plastic splint under his fingers to prevent their movement.
“Hello darling.” Monica’s voice now had him turning away from the bandage to look into her concerned face.
“Mum.” He croaked and smiled gratefully when she held a glass of water complete with a straw up to him. “Thanks.”
“You weren’t out very long, how do you feel?”
“Tired but I’m ok.” He sat up further and that was when he noticed his father laying in the bed opposite him. “When can I leave?” He asked.
Puzzled by the way in which he’d asked the question, Monica followed his gaze before answering “Probably tomorrow.”
“Good, in the meantime, can I be moved to another room? It might stop me smothering him in his sleep.” He growled.
“Paul! You mustn’t speak like that.” Monica gasped.
“He slammed the bonnet shut on my hand Mum, if Matt hadn’t pulled me off I doubt very much I would’ve stopped hitting him.” He paused, “I can’t come home, you know that don’t you?”
“It’ll all blow over and I’m sure now that you’ve stood up to him, there won’t be any further retaliation.”
“I’m not worried about that, I’m more concerned with how I’ll handle being around him. I lost it Mum, I completely let go of all that hate that’s been building and I wouldn’t have cared less if I’d killed him. I promised myself I would never do that, that I wouldn’t become like him but it turns out I’m just as bad.”
“No, you are nothing like him; don’t ever beat yourself up over that. I love your father, you know I do but even I have to admit that he had this coming. I’ll take you home tomorrow and we can hash it out and decide what to do.”
“I’m not coming home.” He stated. “If you want to help me, then pack up my things and bring them with you tomorrow.”
“You don’t have anywhere to go.”
“There’s always someone who will put me up. I can start off at Grandmas’ and take it from there.” He drew silent as a nurse entered and first checked on Michael before turning to him and checking his charts. She smiled when he said he wasn’t in pain but he was starving and could he have some food. She left the room with an “Of course.” leaving him to continue his conversation. “I need you to make some calls for me to Phil and Jez, explain what’s happened and that I’ll call them in a few days.”
“Alright.” She took a pad and pen out of her bag and noted the numbers as he recited them. “I’m going to call John. I think it would be better if you stayed with him for a while until you are ready to come home. I think Grandma and Grandpa are a little old to deal with all this now.”
“Thanks Mum. Don’t get your hopes up about me ever coming home, at least not all the time he’s there.”
John had his spare bedroom ready for Paul’s arrival along with new towels and he even had dinner on the go when his sister and nephew arrived.
Paul chuckled at the preparations his Uncle had made, certain that he’d only done it to show his mother how well he would be taken care of.
Monica helped her son unpack all the while telling Paul that she was by no means happy about this and asking him several times to reconsider. She stayed for dinner which was a muted affair with the mood she was in and the subsequent one she had put Paul in.
Predominately right handed Paul struggled with cutting his food and sat in silence while Monica cut it into bite sized pieces, souring his mood further. Both he and John heaved a sigh of relief when she left for home.
“Ok, glad that’s over.” John breathed and gestured for Paul to join him in the living room. “I wanted to go over some house rules with you.” He reached for his cigarettes. “Don’t look so worried. First things first. No mud in the flat ok? You get changed in the bathroom if you come home muddy.”
“Ok.”
“Next, I have a lady that comes in three times a week to keep this place spick and span, I’ve already let her know that you are going to be living here and given her the pay rise that goes along with the burden of caring for two bachelors however, there are things I don’t expect her to do. One of them is pick up after either of us so with that in mind; any dirty laundry you have gets put in the wicker basket in the bathroom. If it’s not in there, it won’t get washed. If you take food into your room, make sure you bring whatever you used out again, I don’t expect her to have to pick up mouldy plates. Other than that, this place is as much your home as it is mine.” He leaned back and fished a key out of his pocket and handed it to Paul, “Any questions?”
“Yeah, do you expect me to be home at a certain time? Can I have friends over, you know stuff like that.”
“Well, your work at the club doesn’t allow for me to set a curfew now does it? All I ask is you respect the fact that I have to work Monday to Friday and to be quiet when you come home, the same applies to your friends and any girls you want to bring back.” He grinned when Paul gave him a slightly shocked look, “I’m a realist Paul, I know you are going to bring girls back here and I don’t have a problem with it, I do expect you to use a little discretion though.”
“Yeah, of course I’ll be discrete. How much do you want me to give you for rent?”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I paid rent at home,” Paul shrugged, “It’s no big deal.”
“You paid rent?”
Paul nodded, “Uhuh, I started giving Mum money when I began working full time. She never asked for it but it just seemed right and it meant she has her own money you know because Dad didn’t want her to work so she didn’t have to ask him for some and have to justify what she spent it on. So it makes sense to me to pay rent here. You’ve already said you’ve given the cleaning lady more money because I’m here, I’m happy to pay her wages in place of rent if you prefer.”
“You’re a good kid, my little sister did a great job on you. Ok, you pay the cleaner and we’ll call it quits.” He finally got around to lighting the cigarette in his hand. “So, you whacked the old man huh?”
“I don’t want to talk about that tonight if you don’t mind. Maybe tomorrow ok?”
“Whenever you’re ready kid.” John nodded. “I’m here when you’re ready.”
Paul returned to work the following day. He arrived on site late as usual having asked John to drop him off on his way to the factory. Settling his backside on the rear lip of the van, he reached back for his work boots with his right hand before remembering that he couldn’t pick them up. Grabbing them with his left hand, he dropped them to the floor and proceeded to pry his trainers from his feet. Once he had the boots on, he bent at the waist to thread the laces through the eyelets and quickly became frustrated that he couldn’t even do that, he was completely useless with his left hand.
The youngest member of the crew, Justin came over and knelt to tie his boots for him. He didn’t say a word, picking up on Paul’s embarrassment. He just tied the boots and went back to work. Paul stood, grabbed a spade and headed to a flower bed and a waiting rose bush. Setting the handle of the spade against the heel of his hand, pressing it against the splint, he grabbed the shaft of it with his left hand and began to dig.
It was hard going even though the ground was soft. With th
e splint concealed in the bandages, he had no movement in his fingers, the thing didn’t even give a little and the handle of the spade kept slipping out of his hand. He was sweating profusely by the time Phil called tea break.
Slumping into one of the old foldable garden chairs they used on site, Paul gratefully accepted a cup of stewed tea from the flask and hunkered down for a nice session of self-pity and brooding.
“What are you doing here Paul?” Phil asked softly, leaning close so the others wouldn’t hear as they good naturedly ribbed each other.
“I thought I was planting a rose bush.” He answered. “It’s harder than I figured it would be.” He pulled a face, his hand was stinging now from the built up sweat beneath the bandage.
“Why don’t you let me take you home?” Phil offered.
“That would mean he’s won.” Paul murmured.
“No it wouldn’t, you came to work and got stuck in, if what I read in the papers is true, he’s still wallowing in a hospital bed, you did that, you stopped him in his tracks, you win.” Even though Paul had never admitted that the bruises he’d turned up on site with were caused by his Father’s hands, Phil had guessed and therefore, Paul had never denied the fact either.
“Alright, let me just finish what I think is tea,” he grinned at the older man, “then you can take me home which, by the way, is my Uncle’s flat now. I moved out of home.”
“That was probably a wise decision.” Phil nodded in agreement. “If you want to help, the phone company is coming tomorrow to set up the lines to the Portacabin and it would save me having to sit there if you could cover it.” Phil took the cup from him and threw out the last of the tea as he stood.
“Yeah ok, I can do that.” He agreed. “Once the phones are in, I’ll order a couple of desks and stuff, I can at least do that with one hand.”
They’d made it to Phil’s van and he’d managed to fasten his seatbelt one handed.
“Sounds like a plan. When does the dressing come off?”
“Not sure but I have an appointment with the surgeon the day after tomorrow, I’ll know more then.”
The following day, Paul spent doing what he did best, spending vast amounts of money. Although the local council had denied planning permission for a nest of small offices, they had allowed the Portacabin and Paul set about furnishing it lavishly, just because it was basically a hut, didn’t mean it had to be shabby inside. Several calls and a healthy bribe to the council meant he was allowed another two Portacabins and an old shipping container in the yard too. The container would be used for storing the tools, one of the cabins would be turned into a mess come changing room for his work force, complete with heating and showers, the extra cabin would eventually be used for the administration staff he intended to hire in a few months once he had finished building up his company further with the addition of several tradesmen which meant everyone would be able to work year round and not be governed by the seasons when it came to outside and gardening work.
His splint was removed and the doctor made positive sounds about the skin graft taking. He was given a series of exercises to do to aid the recovery of his tendons. He was absolutely forbidden to work once he explained what he did. That meant no bar tending or gardening until his wounds were properly healed and the stitches removed. The only thing he was allowed to do was office work, the doctor told him that holding a pen again would be good for his hand and although he wasn’t relishing the thought of returning to the office, he knew he’d have to do it sooner or later and that Michael was easily avoided there. In the meantime, he had his own paperwork to complete and after a call to Jez, he also had a pile of requisitions from the club to do too.
He was ready and waiting when John arrived in his lovely new yard. His Uncle took his time looking around and listening to his plans, impressed with his nephew’s vision. Paul’s enthusiasm was contagious and John was smiling broadly by the time they got into the car. They stopped off at Jokers so he could collect even more paperwork before heading home where Paul held court with the conversation while John cooked them something to eat.
Lying diagonally across his bed with his paperwork in front of him and his feet being kept warm by his pillows, Paul laboriously filled out the job cards required for the next week. His hand was aching and the pen was irritating his stitches. He didn’t quite have the grip required to hold the pen properly and had tried writing with his left hand to no avail. Gritting his teeth, he turned to the next page, settled the pen in his hand and, with dogged determination, continued.
He was almost relieved when John opened his bedroom door as he was on the verge of asking for help.
“You have a visitor.” John said through his face splitting smile. He stepped aside and ushered the person over the threshold.
This visit was out of the blue, totally unexpected but more than welcome. Forgetting his paperwork and the pain in his hand, Paul pushed himself back onto his haunches before scrambling off the side of the bed. “Hello Suzie.” He didn’t even notice that John had backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. “This is a surprise.”
“Matt told me what happened and said that you were ok but I wanted to see for myself.”
He smiled and sat back down on the edge of the bed, “I’m fine.” He held his hand up and painstakingly wriggled his fingers but was unable to hold back the wince, “Well, mostly I’m fine.” He shrugged. He hadn’t seen her for months, not since he’d walked away from her at Victoria train station and she looked amazing.
She’d obviously come straight from work given the way she was dressed. He loved her crisp white blouse coupled with a deep purple skirt and, as always, insanely high heeled shoes on her delicate feet.
“How’d you know where I was?”
“Matt.” She stated. Reaching up, she dragged the band from her hair, freeing it from the tight pony tail it had been in all day. Sighing as her hair tumbled over her shoulders, she briefly massaged her scalp while perusing the paperwork spread over the foot of the bed. “Sorry, I came here on the way home from work; my head hurts after having my hair up all day. What’s all this?” She perched on the opposite side of the bed to him and began shuffling papers.
He began to tidy the papers away, “Just paperwork. I’m not allowed to actually work. Doctors orders. I have to wait for my hand to heal.”
“Am I disturbing you?”
He smiled and looked over at her, “No, seeing you is always a very pleasant distraction.”
Ignoring his obvious attempt at flirting, she looked back at the papers. “Have you finished this?”
“Far from it.” He shook his head. “At the very least I have to get the job cards done.”
“Writing must be difficult.”
“Yeah, but I’ll get there.”
“I can help. You tell me what to write and where and between us we can get it done.” She detested doing paperwork but things between them were somewhat stilted and she wanted an excuse to stay. She’d missed seeing him around the Jensen home over the past few months and had the distinct feeling that he was avoiding her.
Pleased that she was finding a reason to spend some time with him, he handed her the pen, picked up his diary and pointed to the appropriate paperwork. They worked diligently, separated only by the paper between them and only interrupted their concentration for drinks and bathroom breaks.
Suzanne sighed, “We. Are. Done.” She said triumphantly, making her point with the final full stop.
“Thank you Suzie, I couldn’t have done it so quick without you.” He leant across the bed, taking a chance and fully intending to just kiss her cheek. When she didn’t pull away or make any effort to stop him, he changed his mind and pressed his lips to her mouth instead, sweeping his tongue across her bottom lip as he pulled away.
Oh how she wished he hadn’t done that. Her own tongue darted out, licking away the moisture left by him, her eyes locked on his. He hadn’t pulled away, he’d stayed close, kissing distance away and right now she
wanted nothing more. Reaching out, she pushed a hand into his hair and mashed her mouth to his while pushing all that carefully completed paperwork onto the floor.
She quite literally had her arm wrapped around his head as she kissed him with more enthusiasm than he had hoped was possible. Her free hand snaked up his chest and over his shoulder, fisting in his t-shirt.
“I’ve missed you.” She breathed against his lips as they surfaced for air.
“Missed you too.” He agreed taking her mouth again.
At the tug on his shirt still wrapped in her hand, he broke the kiss and scooted backwards, ducking his head and raising his arms, by the timed he’d gained his feet, his shirt was off and on the floor on top of the papers.
And there it was, acres of smooth golden flesh coming closer as he crawled across the bed towards her, kissing her again as he fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. Frustrated with the lack of dexterity of his injured hand, he gave up on the buttons and set his mouth to her neck.
“Help me out here Suzie, I can’t get the buttons undone.”
Looking up at him through her lashes, she smiled seductively and slowly began to prise the buttons open, her smile widening as he scooted off the bed and wrangled with his belt before beginning the struggle with his own button.
“Let me.” She slid forward, her blouse dragging behind her from the waistband of her skirt. She popped the button open on his jeans and followed it with the fly. She slid her hands into the top of his boxer shorts and over the taught cheeks of his rump before sliding them down his beautifully muscled thighs, leaving them pooled at his feet as she moved closer and enveloped him in her mouth.
Letting his hands rest by his side, he looked down as his flesh disappeared into her mouth. She knew how to work him, she knew just what got him going, his most sensitive spots and what would push him over the edge. No other woman made him tremble this way and he suspected that would be a lifelong thing.
Cupping a hand under her chin, he guided her to her feet as he shuffled his own out of his jeans. With their mouths melding, he pulled her to him, his bare chest pressed into her lace clad one, his hand spanning her back, deepening the kiss while she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor.