3 What the hell is a scooter?
3
What the hell is a scooter?
Benjamin
Beep… beep… beep…
What kind of bloody noise is that?
I open my eyes slowly, feeling my head throbbing. The room is so bright that I feel like I’m facing the sun itself. The lights on the ceiling are white, a lot of them. Apart from the annoying noise, it’s cold and the pungent, unfamiliar smell, which is not unpleasant, gives me the impression that I’m not in a familiar place.
“You’re awake! Oh, my goodness!”
The soft, feminine voice sounds relieved. It takes me a few seconds to focus on the stranger’s face. Her dark eyes show concern.
But who is she?
“What…”
“Thank God you’re awake. Jesus Christ, I’m so nervous,” she says, staring at me intently. “I’ll call the nurse. Don’t move.”
She practically runs out of my sight. Nurse? What is she talking about?
My limbs are heavy, without strength, and my mouth is bitter. I look down at myself and realise I’m wearing strange clothes. In fact, what covers my body is more like a sheet with sleeves. There’s a thread on my left arm, which ends in a transparent pouch filled with a liquid – I have no idea what it is – tucked into a metal holder. On my chest, more wires, these ending in a rectangular box. I realise that the annoying whistle seems to come from there, from this unknown object.
I blink once more, trying to understand. Where am I? What has happened? Why am I not in my study?
“Look! He’s awake.” The unknown girl returns, this time accompanied by another older woman. My eyes wander over them both. They are also wearing unusual clothes. Masculine, I’d say, considering they’re wearing trousers.
The lady approaches me, her eyes attentive.
“Hello, I’m Nurse Sam. How are you?” she asks me, checking the beeping box next to me.
It’s a difficult question to answer, not just because I’m tired and confused, but because I have no idea what has happened.
“Where am I?” I ask and raise my arm with the thread. I pull it and feel the area burn with the movement, bleeding. “What is this?”
They both look in the direction of my arm with alarm. The nurse is quick to press the place that hurts.
“Don’t move like that, you’ll hurt yourself. I’ll have to take another vein.”
I don’t have the energy to move around much.
“Where am I?” I repeat.
“You’re in the hospital,” Miss Sam replies.
In the hospital? Why? How did I get here?
“I was in my study…” I stop talking, trying to remember. My eyes meet those of the first girl, the young woman. “Who are you?”
She swallows dryly, her cheeks flushing in what I think is embarrassment.
“I’m Isabella. Isabella Kato. Don’t you remember what happened? We had an accident, I…” She sniffles, blushing more. “I hit you with the scooter.”
With what?
“What the hell is a scooter?” I mutter quietly.
They look at each other again. Why are they looking at each other like that?
“Well?” I say again.
“What’s your name?” the older woman asks.
What kind of dialogue is this?
“My name is Benjamin Gerard Waldorf,” I say slowly. The words come out slurred, but I have no control over my weakened voice. My arm is still throbbing, but the nurse is still holding it.
“And you remember what happened, Benjamin?” Miss Sam asks me.
Why is this woman calling me by my first name? We’re not intimate. I don’t know her, and she doesn’t know me or my name, or she wouldn’t call me that.
Not that I’m a snob. I’m not. I wish I didn’t have to be His Grace. But I’m a duke, and society has its rules.
“I…” I said, “I was in my study, and…”
I stop again. They wait a few seconds until Miss Isabella starts.
“We were on Tower Bridge. I looked the wrong way down the street and ended up hitting you. You know, I’m not from here. You do everything the other way round.”
“You?” I ask.
She nods, pushing her long hair out of her face.
“You English people,” she explains, as if it were obvious.
So, she’s not from around here. Well, obviously not. Miss Isabella has an accent whose origin I don’t know.
Apparently, I’m completely unaware of everything around me.
“Try to remember, Benjamin,” the nurse asks, her voice very calm. “Take your time.”
I close my eyes, feeling a twinge of headache. I’m trying. Just now, I was in my study. Howard was talking to me about a complaint. It was noisy and hot. I thought about Abigail. I wanted to be free sooner.
And then the memory hits me.
The cameo. The cameo my grandmother gave me a few days before she died.
I remember hearing it falling and reaching for it. I remember the light, and…
God in heaven, I remember that everything went dark.
“Where am I?” I ask again.
“In hospital,” the nurse repeats.
“Where?”
“London,” Miss Isabella answers.
“London? I was in Bath!”
“Calm down, Benjamin.” The nurse touches my arm. “Let’s calm down, please. You’re in London, at Guy’s Hospital. You’re safe, don’t worry.”
It seems they do not understand me.
“How did I get here? Since when? What day is it today?”
Miss Isabella’s frown intensifies. She is still very pretty, though. Not that I should notice that in a moment like this.
“Today is Tuesday,” she says.
I frown. My last memory is of a Saturday . I was unconscious for three days?
“What day of the month?”
Isabella Kato takes a deep breath.
“29 November 2022.”
I freeze. I can’t be listening properly. Did she say 2022 ?
“I asked a serious question,” I say, irritated.
“She’s telling the truth, Benjamin.” The nurse looks at me, taking a rectangle of dark glass out of her pocket. Something lights up on the surface, a coloured light. Even though I’m intrigued, that’s not what I’m paying attention to right now. “Look, here’s the date. 29 November 2022.”
Yes, that’s what it says on the strange object. But it doesn’t make sense. I am from 1817. 1800s! The date these two women tell me is two hundred years after my time.
They tell me I’m in the future.
Suddenly, I can’t breathe. I can’t even think.
“I need to get out of here…” I mumble, trying to get up.
“Benjamin, calm down,” the nurse says, trying to contain me.
I’m not sure what I’m doing, I just want to leave. I want to understand where I am, who these people are, these things around me. My chest is tight; my lungs are squeezing inside my chest. I’m suffocating, desperate like never before.
The movement in the room increases. Within seconds, there are more people there, and I feel someone holding me back, restraining my movements, and a pinch on my other arm. I lose control of my own body.
I can’t speak; I can’t ask them to let me go.
My eyes close against my will. Even in agony, I fall into a deep sleep.
* * *
Isabella
I watch Benjamin close his eyes and stop moving as my heart squeezes.
Oh, my God, what have I done?
Bloody English streets where everything is the other way round. Even after months of living here, I still get confused. But he also came out of nowhere – the people who stopped to help us at the time said so, that they didn’t see where he came from.
It was like magic, like some special effect.
Wow. That would make an excellent scene for a romantic comedy.
Come on, for God’s sake, creativity, now’s not the time to show up. But she’s been absent lately so… I’ll save the idea for later, just so I don’t forget.
I open my phone notepad and type, feeling my knee sting. Apart from a scrape, I wasn’t hurt by the impact. He, on the other hand, hit his head and didn’t wake up from the moment of the fall until just now, even with all the paramedics’ efforts.
I was really worried.
From what the nurse told me, he’s fine. They did tests, put him on an IV to hydrate him, all while I took care of the bureaucracy of this kind of situation.
I was so nervous that I even forgot to text Cinthia. I’ve been out of the house for hours, so I’d better let her know.
I go back to typing on my phone while the nurse goes back to dealing with Benjamin, now asleep. I open the messaging app and request a video call.
My friend answers two rings later.
“Wow, Bella. I was worried,” she says, as I sit down on a chair in the hospital corridor.
“Girl, I ran over a man.” The words burst out.
Cinthia’s dark eyes widen in amazement.
“How did he get hit?”
“With the scooter. I was practically on Tower Bridge when I looked the wrong way and nearly ran over him. I’m here at Guy’s Hospital.”
“My God, Bella. Are you alright?”
I sigh. “I am, but he hit his head. He woke up super anxious just now, and they injected him with a sedative.”
“Have you already spoken to the police?” she asks me.
“Yes, I did. Actually, I could leave, but I don’t want to leave him until he’s well. It was my fault.”
“Wow, that’s a lot…” Cinthia grimaces in disbelief. “Do you want me to come?”
“No, you don’t have to. You’re travelling tomorrow, better not to leave Duke alone.” I glance quickly at Benjamin. “He’s asleep now; maybe I’ll pop home to change and have a shower.”
“I think that’s a good idea. Shall I order you something to eat?”
I think for a moment. I’m not hungry, but considering I’ve only had lunch today, it’s not a bad idea to eat something.
“You can order a burger, please. I’ll speak to the nurse and be there in about thirty minutes.”
“Fine, I’ll order it. Oh, and who’s the guy? Do you know him?”
I shake my head.
“He only told me his name. They didn’t find any documents on him.” I stop talking and Cinthia notices my expression.
“What’s wrong?”
Only then do I realise that the man was dressed as a nineteenth-century lord. A handsome lord, by the way, the kind you imagine dukes and viscounts in Regency novels, like Jonathan Bailey in Bridgerton.
Not that I noticed, of course.
“He was wearing a lord’s costume. And what a handsome lord, God in heaven. I wonder if there’s an event here.”
It wouldn’t be unusual, after all, we’re in the land of Jane Austen and Bridgerton .
“Not that I know of, but this city is kind of nuts. Since you know his name, see if he has Instagram.” She shrugs. “Sometimes it’s easier to track down someone in the family, and you’re free right now.”
Great idea. I hadn’t even thought of that.
“But, Bella, don’t get too involved.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, frowning.
“I know that guilty look. You hit the guy, but it can happen to anyone. Make sure he’s OK and move on.”
Argh, I know that. You’d think I’d get involved with a stranger. I already have my own problems to deal with, for God’s sakes.
Although such an unlikely encounter could make for a good story…
“Bella, what are you thinking about?” Cinthia asks me.
“Let’s say the walk worked to spark creativity, at least.” I shrug. At least one good thing in the midst of chaos. “I have to go now. Kiss, kiss.”
I thank my friend and hang up the phone. Nurse Sam has her eyes fixed on a clipboard.
“Is everything alright?” I ask.
She nods, not looking worried.
“Yes, he is OK. He’s going to sleep for a few hours. When he wakes up, we’ll try again.”
“Is it normal for him to be so anxious?”
She smiles amiably.
“Yes, it could be. Even though the CT scan is normal, he could just be confused and disoriented. It happens sometimes.”
I sigh heavily. I feel a little lost, not knowing what to do.
“I think I’ll go home and have a shower and come back. I want to talk to him when he wakes up.”
The woman agrees, jotting something down on a clipboard.
“He’ll be discharged tomorrow, no doubt. As soon as he wakes up, we’ll try to locate his family.”
Thank goodness. But even knowing that the hospital is keeping a close eye on the guy, I don’t feel comfortable abandoning him. I’m going to take advantage of the fact that he’s asleep and go home. I just need to change and eat something, and then I’ll come back here.
The nurse says goodbye, and I take one last look at the victim of my stupidity. Oh my, how handsome he is. Even with his tired face and hospital gown, he looks like a model. Strong and masculine, an angular face, square jaw, and stubble. His brown hair falls over his forehead, and his nose is straight, very aristocratic, just like I write about in my novels. His voice, which I heard earlier, is baritone, thick, and elegant. I didn’t see him standing, but I’m sure he’s tall. Very, very tall. I shouldn’t be noticing his beauty now, but I have eyes and needs – what can I do?
All the single ladies who have suffered from this problem before, please, raise your hands.
I shake my head slightly and walk out of the room into the corridor. A little lost, I remember that I need to get to the nearest tube station. I walk out the door, feeling my knee throbbing and my head heavy. Wow, I’m exhausted. Who would have thought that one little walk would end up in all this?
When I get to the Underground, I get on and go down the escalators automatically, just checking which way I should go. I manage to sit down in a free seat in the carriage. On the way, with my mind still on the handsome guy I hit, I do what Cinthia suggested and open Instagram to look up the guy’s name.
Benjamin Gerard Waldorf.
A suggested post pops up on my screen, with a recent photo of my ex and his girlfriend. I’ve seen it before, but the open smile he shows continues to intrigue me. He never smiled like that when he was with me. Not once.
Blergh , I won’t think about my ex. I turn my attention to the search, which shows me several Benjamins, some Bens, a few Waldorfs, but none of them are him . I decide to try Googling the name. Maybe the guy is one of those people who doesn’t have social networks.
Again, nothing. Well, unless he’s a duke from the 1800s, which is the only result I can come up with.
I put my phone back in my pocket and get off at my station.
All the way home, I can’t stop thinking about what a disaster today has been. I just hope that Benjamin will be OK, despite everything.
And then, life goes on.