house call
havoc /noun/
1. widespread destruction
My freedom from the nightmares doesn’t even last a night. I am confronted with my demons after less than two hours of restless sleep filled with endless tossing and turning. My sheets soaked with sweat and the fear of people whom I don’t even know and will probably never meet.
I wake up with a sore throat from screaming and a beating heart ready to jump out of my chest at any moment. It’s like the hammer always lurking under my skull, is ready to take vengeance with double force. Paying me back for every moment that I spend with only my voice occupying my thoughts. This seems to take forever until the minutes turn to hours, and those hours change into days. I fight it at first, distracting myself in every possible way but eventually even I have to give up. The pain surrounds me like a cocoon until I am no longer able to stand on my own. Everything becomes a gigantic blur of darkness and mayhem colored by my own insanity. Until... until something manages to break through.
Hope is such a funny thing, isn’t it? No matter how bad things are, we always keep it somewhere in the back of our heads. Hidden away in the deepest corners of our minds. Conveniently stashed behind the layers of cynicism that replaced our dreams. But at that moment, I did not let hope set in, I let the thing that happened next, distract me from myself.
______
sometime later...
The bell rings. A piercing sound so high that it seems to make my ears bleed. I moan, throw a small carpet off my body, and drag myself from the wooden floor. My feet stumble under me as I head for the door.
The bell keeps ringing. I hold back the tears. The pain is excruciating.
I look through the peek hole and clench my teeth, trying not to scream and ignore the pneumatic hammer destroying my brain. I swallow, not sure what to do. It’s him. Paying me a house call. Just like he said he would. I watch his worried and frustrated face and stand there for a couple more seconds, frozen to the spot. He starts to pound on the door. I jump back startled, yet still grateful that he didn’t ring the doorbell this time.
I know you’re there...
He starts and then cuts abruptly, probably realizing he never asked for my name. I hear him curse under his nose and then he pounds again on the door.
Just open up. I can see your shadow under the door.
I almost jump back, like a child being caught on doing something bad. I move without coordination, fall to the ground and hit my elbow on the hard wooden floor. I growl while the pain in my head mixes with the one coming from my arm.
Son of a bitch...
Please let me in. I have medical training, remember? I can help.
I lift myself to my knees and get up. Oh, what the hell, he couldn’t possibly make this worse than it already was.
I unhook the multiple chains and locks and step out the door so he doesn’t see the catastrophe, that was once my flat. I couldn’t control what was going around in my head and I lashed out on almost everything I could find. Things flying in the air, the place a mess. Pieces of broken glass everywhere. This time the place really resembled a junkyard.
I cover myself tightly with my oversized, grey hooded blouse. I cross my arms, feeling weak but already going in my defensive mode. The one that I have used, as long as I can remember. Whatever the situation I was in, this has never changed. I stand there in my black, ripped jeans, messy hair tied in a falling apart knot, and stare at him. I bit my lip, not sure what to say or do.
Will you let me in? Or are we just going to stand here like this in awkward silence?
I turn back, open the door wide and step in, not even looking if he is following behind me. I pass the pieces of glass on the floor and sit on a sofa and then close my eyes. My hands tremble.
I hear him come in but keep my eyes closed. Too tired and embarrassed to even look at him. I know I was being childish, and that I desperately needed help.
This is the time you can muck my junkyard.
I say in a low voice and feel him get closer. I don’t have to see him, to guess what’s he’s doing. He crouches in front of me and grabs my hand. I know that normally he would start with examining my body and the possible injuries... but in this case we both know the obvious procedure wouldn’t have worked. I feel his fingers slide against my cold skin and a certain warmth starts to spread. It fills my veins and slowly moves through my cells, and when it finally reaches my head, I start to relax.
This was going on for almost two days straight.
My body starts to tremble again. I open my eyes and look down at him. He still has that worried expression on his face... and it’s this mixture of concern and a kind stare that makes my eyes sting. The idea that someone would care for me like that... for such a nobody like me. I blink and tears start to roll down my face. I quickly wipe them with my sleeve and clear my throat. I feel irritated and angered by my weakness, but still, the relief seems to be the most dominant emotion right now.
Thank you, Charlie.
I said I would come to check up on you.
So a man of your word?
Something like that.
I thought you would call first.
I did. Repeatedly. But there was no signal. I started calling you last night after realizing that 24 hours have passed since your last visit.
I look past him at the kitchen counter, when the phone used to be. My gaze falls down to the ripped cables. I frown and move my left foot to the back. I feel the phone under the sofa. I look up and keep a straight face.
It must be broken again... so you waited for another 24 hours so you could officially start the search and claim me as a missing person.
Well, look who’s mucking now?
I shrug my shoulders trying not to look bothered, at the same time wondering how will I ever repay him for what he was doing for me.
He stands up and looks at me critically. He has a strange expression on his face. Like he’s trying not to laugh. I frown at him. I can feel my defensive mechanisms kicking back in, even if this man probably just saved my life, and my senses.
What?
So which part of your body did you hurt, falling down? You know, when all of those delightful words cascaded from your mouth?
I narrow my eyes, growl and answer him spiting through my teeth.
My right elbow.
Alright then, take off your clothes.
What did you just say??
Relax, I am not here for your doubtful innocence. I just meant your blouse so I can examine the damage... Don’t look at me like that. You could kill people with the stare of those steel, grey eyes.
He says raising his hands in the air and I flinch. I did kill someone, even if his eyes were colder than mine. I don’t say anything, just take off my blouse, revealing a worn out, white spaghetti strap shirt. The material is thin and I am not wearing a bra. I fight the urge to cover myself but he doesn’t seem to even notice. His expression serious and professional.
He opens a medium size, black bag that I didn’t notice before and puts out a pair of latex gloves. He touches my elbow gently and moves it to the side, looking at the scrapped skin and checking if I broke anything. He sterilizes the wound and puts a special gaze bandaid on it.
I think you are going to live, gorgeous.
Mmm, thanks again.
I quickly put on my blouse and zip it up to my neck. I felt very exposed around him, and not just because of the clothes. Just the whole situation mixed with his kindness. I wasn’t used to this.
It’s Eleonore... I thought you might want to know, and I don’t use short forms of my name. So watch it.
You’re very feisty for someone who was just laying on the floor, raving in pain.
Okay. Sorry. I really do appreciate what you did, and that you actually came over to check up on me. I’m just in a bit of stress state lately. That’s all.
Stressed? Don’t you mean excruciating pain that doesn’t seem to have any medical foundations? Because I think that’s what you really meant.
Yeah, that too. Mind not being so observant and perfect?
Perfect, you say.
Because of your medical training and doing house calls without any charge.
Who says it’s free?
Hmm, okay. How about that hammer over the head, for all of your help?
Sounds marvelous. Have you got a medium size one? The big ones can really open up your skull, too much mess if you ask me.
I stare at him for a long moment, debating what he just said and how sarcastic his tone of voice is - and for the first time in what seems like forever, I let myself smile.
Okay, how does tea sound then?
Well, it’s a big compromise but I will take it.
I get up and try not to step on anything dangerous while I walk to the kitchen annex. I fill the kettle with water and put it on the stove. I open a beaten up drawer and look for some matches. It’s not easy with all the clutter inside, but I manage to eventually find them. I light the gas and try not to notice how much my hand is shaking.
Do you have a broom?
I jump up as he stands behind me. I turn around, while I watch him, crossing his arms and giving me a funny look. My heart is pounding like crazy. Let’s face it, I was a complete wrack these days.
Why? Planning on changing your occupation? From a male nurse to a cleaning lady?
You know, that attitude isn’t going to get you very far.
I sigh and hand him an old broom that seemed to be here since I moved in. Then I pretend to wave an imaginary white flag at him.
Here. Sorry for being an ass.
He grins at me and goes to the living room area.
Mind telling me where all the glass is from?
I narrow my eyes and point to a big, tall frame, leaned against the nearest wall. It looks old and made of gold, but it isn’t. I bought it at a flea market, for 85 bucks. I fell in love with it, the moment I saw it and used some of my rent money on it. Still, it was worth it, even if now only the frame was left and the back panel.
I broke the mirror because I didn’t like what I saw in it.
He looks at me in a weird way, like he doesn’t believe that my words could be true. I shrug my shoulders and watch him start to sweep the floor. The kettle begins to whistle after a while, and I open the top cupboard to pick two mugs that are in the best shape. One mug is covered in little violets and the other boldly states“I choose to be a unicorn” It’s a picture of a lama with an attached horn on top of its head. I frown. Yeah, he is getting the flower one. I make rose tea and carefully take the mugs to the little coffee table that’s in front of the sofa. I put everything on a stack of newspapers, not thinking that he would actually mind.
I cross my arms and watch as he sweeps the floor, throws away the pieces of glass to a bin that’s in the kitchen, and puts the rug in its place. Right in the center of the living room. He also grabs some clothes off the floor and sofa and heads to the bathroom. I lean forward and see him throw it to the laundry basket (yes, I am also surprised that I have one and that I didn’t manage to break it yet). My frown deepens as I notice how comfortable he is in here. Like it’s his place. He comes out, wipes the fake sweat off his forehead and sits on the sofa.
Why are you still standing? Come on, sit down.
I was wondering what weapon I would use on you if you started to clean my bedroom.
I sit down and look suspiciously at him as I lift the mug and wrap my cold fingers around it.
I am not going there. It’s a danger zone, and you are out of your genie wishes by now. I am no longer lifting my finger. Well, maybe only for this.
He grabs my wrist for maybe five seconds and then let’s go. He gives me a long stare, probably looking for some reaction from me. The touch of his warm fingers is short, but it momentarily makes me calmer. The warmth of his skin better than the one I get from holding the teacup. My frown disappears and my face muscles start to ease up. He keeps examining my face like he would normally do with his patients. I don’t mind, simply enjoying the silence in my head.
That will do. I think I will handle the rest of the cleaning by myself.
If you think that you are up for it.
More than I was just an hour ago.
We sit around for some time and drink the tea, not really saying much. Just enjoying the silence. From time to time he puts his hand on my wrist and then I just close my eyes, trying to take as much as I can from this. I’m actually surprised that he isn’t asking me a million and one questions while we sit on the sofa. I know that he wants to, but maybe he is just aware of my current state and doesn’t want to push it. Eventually, he gets up.
I need to go to work now. I don’t want to be late for my shift.
I stare at the window and watch as the sun slowly falls over the horizon.
So a night shift?
Yeah, but I actually like it more. I’m not really a morning person.
You and me both... Charlie?
Yeah?
Thank you for this. I might act like a total douchebag, but I am really grateful for what you did for me today.
Did what I had to do, Nora.
Eleonore - I correct him.
Hmm, Nora suits you better.
I told you, no shortening my name.
He puts his hands in the air and his black bag moves around. I try to keep a straight face again.
Alright, Eleonore but only if you will tell me more about yourself next time I see you, and maybe explain what’s really going on around here.
I can’t promise anything.
Very well, Nor...
Okay, okay. I will try, alright? Is that enough?
He just nods his head and walks out of the apartment. I stare at the door for a long time after he leaves. I try not let myself be too hopeful while I think what he actually said. Next time I see you. I try and yet I hold on to those words tightly, like a person drowning, holds on to a razor. I lock the door and head for my bed, that’s in my tiny bedroom. I land on it, and my tired mind falls asleep as soon as I hit the pillow. It’s been so long since I could do that.
I just hope it lasts... even if just for this night.
_____
next chapter...