by Helga Jensen
He looks at me with horror, startled by my ignorance. I realise that the lactose intolerance could be related to the illness. What if I could be the reason he dies sooner? What a silly thing of me to do to him.
‘I’m so sorry, Patrick. If you told me more things about your health and your problem, then maybe I’d have known you were lactose intolerant. Is it to do with your illness?’ I ask.
Patrick doesn’t respond.
‘You just won’t talk to me about it. I don’t know anything. You promised you’d tell me when I came over. Let me make you another coffee and we can chat,’ I say.
‘I’m going to be really sick now because of you. I’ve got a lot on at work today too,’ he says.
‘Well, you spat most of it out so hopefully you didn’t ingest that much, Patrick.’
He ignores me as I try to placate him and instead picks up his fancy watch, which is on the bedside table.
‘Shiiiit. I slept in. I need to shower.’
He jumps into the shower while I make another coffee, which I have now found out should be black with two sugars. As I pop the coffee on his bedside table, I hear him talking in the shower. It is only then that I notice he took his phone to the bathroom with him. Why would he take his phone to the bathroom? Unless, of course, he has tummy problems because of his milky coffee and plans on being in there a while.
I hear the words ‘landed thirty minutes ago, see you later’. Why is he pretending he has been on a plane somewhere?
He eventually walks out of the bathroom like some divine being. A white towel is wrapped around his waist and his cute dark hair is still wet.
‘Sorry, boss was asking why I wasn’t in the office yet. I had to make an excuse,’ he says, waving his phone around.
I find myself forgiving him for his outburst, even if he was being a total diva. He is possibly dying, though, so perhaps outbursts can be excused. Fortunately, his mood has mellowed following the shower.
‘Sorry I overreacted a little.’ He smiles at me. ‘I’m a bit of a health freak nowadays. I didn’t mean to get mad at you.’
Surely, if he cared that much about his health he wouldn’t take two sugars. He was also knocking back quite a few glasses of Sauvignon last night, but maybe he is just living out his last days.
‘That’s okay,’ I say. I pull at his towel and hint at round three. He suddenly forgets that he is late for work.
Round three wasn’t quite as amazing as rounds one and two, partly because the bed was now covered in coffee and it was quite difficult to position myself in the right place. In addition, it’s nice to snuggle for a while afterwards and not have what could be your future husband rush into the office.
I have to say goodbye to him, which is a horrendous thought. I leave tomorrow morning and he has already told me that he has something on at his polo club tonight. It would have been nice to have been invited, but apparently it is strictly members only and not even partners are allowed. It is disappointing that he has to go, but he is giving some trophy out so he absolutely can’t miss it.
‘So, my gorgeous, Amelia. It’s au revoir, we will meet again soon. I will come to Wales as soon as I can, okay. I can’t wait to meet the boys and, of course, meet with you again,’ he says as he stands by the hotel room door.
‘Okay, but I hate it that you have to leave. I wish I could stay with you all day today. It’s my last day here. I wanted to spend it with you.’ I think I may start to cry now.
‘Me too, my sweet Amelia, but I have a deadline by five, and I’ve been with you instead of working on the interviews. You know what my boss is like. She is already looking for me,’ he says.
‘I know, but there’s more to life than work.’
‘My darling, I’ll see you in a few weeks. I promise. We’ll be together very soon. We have the rest of our lives together.’ He smiles and leans down onto my neck and gives me one of his spine-tingling kisses.
Was that a proposal? Did he just say we have the rest of our lives together? Was this what the fortune teller meant, perhaps? I am obviously not going to say yes; he hasn’t even met the boys, but I do wonder if that is what she saw.
Now the tears really start to fall. How can I carry on my day without those amazing kisses? Can I take his lips back home with me?
Patrick wipes away a tear from my cheek.
‘I love you, Amelia. You are truly special. Now I must go.’
I watch him walk to the elevator. My potential future husband is walking away and I don’t know when I will see him again.
I shout after him, ‘See you soon, Patrick.’
He blows me a kiss, and the lift doors close. I am tempted to chase him down the corridor and follow him to work. I don’t want to say goodbye just yet.
Chapter 33
An alleyway – following Patrick
I feel like Cagney and Lacey, only it is just me, Cagney, as I try my hardest to keep up with Patrick. He has been on the phone the whole time since I ran out and followed him. I can’t believe I caught up with him after he left me; it is amazing how quickly you can get ready when you really have to. I can’t get close enough to hear his conversation, or he might spot me. I am not spying, or anything, I am merely curious. I want to see what his office looks like, so the next time he chats about work and all his deadlines I can lovingly picture him at his desk.
He walks for ages until I think that I may have to give up. I fear that I can’t keep up with his pace much longer. For a dying man he certainly walks fast. Fortunately, he stops by a fire hydrant to end his phone call, so I have the chance to catch my breath. However, he soon moves on and starts walking at his usual brisk pace. The area that he is heading for looks quite rough. I feel a little uncomfortable. I don’t know that I want to follow him much further as a female on her own in a place so foreign. I could be anywhere, but it certainly feels like I have entered the wrong part of town. It’s so hard to tell what sort of area this is. It could be that it’s super trendy. This is New York after all. The graffiti with the bad language and crude drawings could be some kind of art installation, who knows?
Finally, Patrick heads up another alleyway and heads for a graffiti-decorated door. He keys in a code and disappears through the entrance. He is definitely not going to work, unless this is some kind of trendy media-type place. He said he covered Wall Street. I assumed his office would be close by.
I am still catching my breath when Patrick walks back out, but now he is in jogging bottoms and a sweatshirt. He has removed the smart clothes that he was wearing and replaced them with workout gear. I thought he had a busy day with a deadline. Nothing makes sense. I want to call out to him, but he will think I am so odd to follow him all this way. Anyway, he immediately starts jogging, so there is no way I can grab his attention or keep up with him, for that matter. I can only either wait until he comes back or return in the direction I came and head to the shops, even though I am in no mood for the souvenir hunting I had planned. I decide it best to turn back, as I don’t know how long he will be and I certainly don’t want to hang around here alone.
I have so many unanswered questions. Is this his home? Is that why he didn’t want me to see it, because he lives in a run-down area? I can accept that. I don’t mind if he doesn’t have money for a fancy place. That doesn’t explain how he can afford his membership to the exclusive polo club, or the dinner that he paid for last night and everything else he seems to afford though. Perhaps he lives beyond his means and spends everything on socialising and not on his home. I try to make sense of his lifestyle, but it is all one big mystery. I decide to message him to see what he says. Will he say he is in work if I ask him? Perhaps he won’t even return my message.
I still haven’t heard back from him by the time I reach the shops and my mood is worsening. To top it all off, there is an elf in one of the toy shops that is really irritating me. I don’t want to buy an Elf on the Shelf. It is only October.
‘No, really, I’m fine. I already have one,’ I lie to the
overgrown elf, trying not to look at his silly green tights. I only came in for some last-minute gifts for the boys.
How I can’t wait to see them. They are going to be so full of tales, especially after the claw machine escapade. Although I still have to give them both a good talking to the minute we all get back.
I am picking up matching T-shirts and putting them in my basket when the elf comes up to me once again.
‘Oh, give me two bloody Elves on the Shelf then,’ I snap.
I suppose they will make a nice pre-Christmas present, although I detest buying gifts early. When you have boys like mine, their tastes change all the time. One minute they are into Thomas the Tank, then it is Fireman Sam and nowadays it is something totally different each week. I caught them watching Family Guy the other day and totally freaked out. What is wrong with Shaun the Sheep?
‘Thanks, ma’am,’ says the elf. The temptation to stick the elves back on the shelf when he is not looking is very strong, but I suppose he must work on commission so I must not be mean. Maybe he has a family and a litter of stray dogs to feed. The thought of all those puppies looking up for food makes me keep it in my basket.
There is not much else in the shop, so I head towards Battery Park for my boat trip to the Statue of Liberty. I absolutely cannot get on that flight without two Statue of Liberty foam crowns for the boys. Jamie mentioned that you can find them in some of the nearby souvenir shops, but I figured it would be more authentic if I went to Liberty Island itself and bought them there. How funny to think that the last time I was in New York I was buying a teeny-tiny thong that wouldn’t fit over my big toe today. At least a foam crown would fit my head, maybe I will treat myself to one too, then we can all wear one when I get back.
Looking up at the statue, I can’t believe quite how big it is. Although I came here the last time I visited, I forgot how impressive it was. Seeing it again lifts my spirits and I forget the questions I have about Patrick for a moment.
Onboard the ferry on the way back to Manhattan I send Dick lots of photos to show the boys. Now that my secret is out it has become easier to share my movements with them all.
I can’t wait to give them the biggest hugs. This time tomorrow I will almost be at home with them. As I am reading their excited responses, a message finally pings from Patrick.
Honey, sorry for the delay. I am so sick after the milk xxx
My mind goes into overdrive again. So, he admits that he was sick; perhaps that explains why he didn’t go to work. Surely he wouldn’t be able to run like that with stomach cramps though. I decide to message him back later; he can wait.
* * *
Following a full day of snooping, shopping and sightseeing, it’s time to meet up with Jamie for our last dinner before we leave this wonderful city. I consider telling him about today and all the questions I have. I think better of it, though, as he might start on again about taking things slowly. He would definitely give me that advice after what I have seen today and rightly so.
‘You look fabulous, Amelia,’ Jamie says as soon as he sees me.
‘Thank you, Jamie!’ I say. He doesn’t usually compliment me on how I look. It must be all the sex I have been having, or the effects of the Botox are starting to kick in.
‘It looks like this holiday has done you the world of good despite the little hiccups.’ He laughs.
‘Certainly hasn’t been without its dramas… But, yes, it’s been good.’
Despite my new reservations about Patrick, I have a flashback to last night and my body quivers. There is definitely something amiss, but I have also had the time of my life when we have been together. Just as Patrick promised we would.
Jamie chose a steakhouse to dine in tonight that had been recommended by his boss. He says he has saved the best restaurant until last. I don’t know that anything can top the lovely Italian we went to though.
He also said that he has a little something for me. It seems Jamie is more relaxed now that the conference is all done.
A smiling server, with a name badge that says ‘Jess’, approaches us as we discuss what time we need to leave for the airport tomorrow.
‘Hey, you guys, here’s the menu,’ she says.
‘Thank you, anything in particular you’d recommend?’ asks Jamie.
‘Well, of course, all our steaks are fantastic,’ she says. ‘I love the rare Angus, personally.’
‘Ooh, I don’t think I could eat a rare steak,’ I say.
‘Wow! Are you guys British?’ She is so excited that she doesn’t wait for the answer. ‘I went to London last year. Loved it. Saw Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square… I love England.’
‘We’re from Wales. It’s quite far from London,’ says Jamie.
‘Ooh, Wales, I know. Like Ireland and Scotland. Cool.’ The table next to us calls her over bringing her education of the British Isles to an abrupt halt.
‘Well, you guys take a look at the menu and let me know what you fancy. I suggest the Angus though,’ she says before rushing off.
We eventually decide on two medium Angus steaks. Jess seems quite shocked and I worry that the chef won’t be best pleased with us, but it is how we both like our steaks done.
Whilst we wait, we chat about the end of Jamie’s conference and what a wonderful time we have had in New York. It is almost like a debriefing of our trip, except that I exclude all the hot and steamy parts.
‘So, what will you do now it’s time to go home?’ asks Jamie. ‘Will you see Patrick again soon?’
‘He’s hoping to come to Wales,’ I explain. ‘I’ve had a great time with him, but it’s bound to be fun on holiday. It would be good to see him in Wales, and he wouldn’t have to rush off to work either. Talking of work, I’m not looking forward to getting back to that bit,’ I say.
The time off has made me think about my future. Lisa will never leave the bookshop; she’s worked there from school; there won’t ever be any opportunity of a promotion for me. I do love being around books, but the dream of helping people like Mum with dementia is never far from my mind.
‘I agree, you should get Patrick to come over. I’d like to meet him. Make sure he’s good enough for you,’ Jamie says, laughing. ‘You having problems with Lisa again?’ he adds.
Patrick is the only one who knows about my dream of becoming a dementia nurse, and he dismissed it. As he is still the only person I have been brave enough to tell, I hesitate informing Jamie about what he might think is something I could never accomplish.
‘No, she’s fine at the moment. Just, when the boys were smaller and I was married, it was enough. Now my circumstances have changed. I’d like to retrain at something,’ I explain.
‘That sounds good to me. Work is always looking for new staff if you want a future in IT? I can put a word in for you,’ says Jamie.
‘No, I was thinking of a different career. It would involve going to uni and so much work, I’m sure I could never manage it. Just a silly thing I can’t get out of my head,’ I say.
‘What is it? You can be determined when you want to be. I’m sure you could do it. Maths isn’t your strongest point, so as long as you don’t want to become a mathematician, I’m sure you can do it.’ He laughs.
‘No, definitely not a mathematician,’ I say.
‘Well, what then?’
I take a sip of my pina colada before plucking up the courage to tell him.
‘A dementia nurse. I know… It would take far too long to train and I’m too old to start now,’ I say.
Jamie jumps forward in his chair.
‘That is the most wonderful idea I’ve ever heard. You’re so caring and kind. Remember when that old lady fell, you took her to hospital and stayed with her until her daughter arrived. You rang every day to see if she was okay. If it wasn’t for you, she may have had hypothermia and died.’
‘I know, but anyone would have done the same,’ I plead.
‘No, not necessarily. They may have helped call an ambulance, but you were dedicat
ed to her recovery. Oh, Amelia, you were born to be a dementia nurse,’ he says.
‘Well, it was after Mum and… I want to give that help back to other people’s mums… and dads, of course,’ I explain.
‘What do you have to do to get a job like that? I presume you have to go to uni?’
‘I haven’t looked into it that much yet. I wasn’t sure I could give up work to retrain. I couldn’t afford that,’ I say.
‘When we get back, you have to find out. There are grants and all sorts of things. You can study part-time, anything. If this is your dream then you must do it. Imagine the difference you would make in people’s lives,’ says Jamie excitedly.
I take another sip of my cocktail. He is right. I will look into it when I get back.
‘To a great future,’ says Jamie, clinking his cocktail against mine.
‘Absolutely,’ I say, feeling more positive than I have ever felt in my life.
The sizzling steaks arrive, which end our conversation. They are every bit as delicious as I expected. By the time I have devoured it, I consider the possibility that I may never eat again in my life. That is until Jamie asks what we should have for dessert.
‘How about New York cheesecake?’
‘Oooh, yes. I’m desperate to try some New York cheesecake before we leave,’ I say.
The cheesecake quickly arrives by the lovely Jess. I can see why Jamie’s boss suggested this place. The food and service are excellent.
‘Enjoy, guys,’ says Jess, putting it down.
‘Mmmmm, so delicious,’ says Jamie between mouthfuls. ‘I’d say it could even be a touch better than your apple pie and that was nice.’ He smiles.
‘Even I can’t argue with that,’ I agree.
Once we finish desserts we ask Jess for some Irish coffees to finish our night off. She delivers them with her friendly smile.
‘Hope you guys had a nice evening. Did you enjoy everything?’ says Jess.
‘Oh, just perfect,’ I say.
‘And if you don’t mind me saying, you guys are just perfect too.’ I look at her with a shocked expression.