Daisy
The doctors put me in a machine shaped like a donut and a short while later tell me everything is fine but I’ll have concussion for a while.
My head is stitched and covered with a white dressing, and then I’m released with strict instructions to come straight back to hospital if I get dizzy or sick in the next twenty-four hours.
Mechislav doesn’t leave my side.
By the time he gets me back to his place, I’m tired and hungry and feel like I could sleep for a year.
Every so often, Mechislav disappears into the hallway with his phone, speaking in English for the most part, but swapping to Russian for some of it. But one phrase I hear clearly.
Take him out.
“What was that about?” I ask when he returns to the living room, sliding his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. I’ve never seen him dressed so casually. It’s weird, almost like he is an entirely different person. Though he is still intimidatingly huge.
He sits on the couch and pulls my feet into his lap, rubbing my soles with his thumbs. The tension melts out of me.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. Bodhan messaged, the ladder is done and they’ve pulled all the paper from the windows. The signage is being delivered tomorrow on schedule and he thinks you might want another coat of paint on the back wall.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re changing the subject. Why?”
“Because I don’t want to lie to you,” he says.
“Then don’t. Tell me the thing I don’t need to worry about.” I push myself a little further up the cushions into an upright position.
“The man who caused the accident was paid to. He crashed into my car on purpose to hurt me, or send a warning to my family.” He looks at me the whole time he says it. But he says it flatly, clinically. Like if he tells a horrifying truth in such a bland manner, it would make it less horrifying.
I take a slow, deep breath and then let it out again.
“I see,” I say, pulling my feet from his hands and tucking them beneath me.
“They wouldn’t have known you were in the car. And Eduard is sorting it out now.”
“Sorting it out?” It comes out irater than I intend, but we could have died. Other people could have died. “Why did they want to hurt you?”
He shrugs and I feel the hold on my temper begin to fray at the edges.
“You tell me right now or I will walk out of here and never come back. Is this because your bratva? Or is this some other shit I don’t know about?”
“It’s linked to being bratva, but only because a deal went bad. Being bratva doesn’t inherently make me bad.”
I let out a short laugh, but it isn’t humor.
“I knew it. I knew if I fell for you, I’d end up out of my depth.”
“That’s not the case,” he argues, “This was more like bad timing.”
“Mech—” I throw the blanket from my lap and stand up a little too quick, causing pain to flare in my head. “Bad timing nearly killed us.” I walk from the room and find my boots, tugging them on while trying to ignore the ache in my head that has turned into pounding.
“Where are you going?” he asks, following me.
“I need to go home. I need to be alone.”
“You can’t be alone right now, you have a concussion.”
“Then I’ll stay with a neighbor.” I slam the door behind me, regretting it the second the sound hits my ears.
Tears blur my vision, and I’m angry at myself for getting emotional, then I blame it on the concussion while I thumb through my phone looking for my neighbors number.
She answers pretty quickly, which surprises me.
“Mrs Klein?” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as watery to her ears as it does to mine.
“Yes dear?” she says.
“Would it be possible for you to pick me up? I was in a car accident.”
“Of course,” she wails, causing me to wince. “Where are you, I’ll be right there.”
I tell her roughly where I am and she promises to set off right away. Even so it could be a while before she gets here.
Within an hour I’m tucked up in her spare room with a tray of sandwiches and a steaming cup of herbal tea.
“You just call if you need anything,” she says, patting my hand, and I offer her a tight smile in return.
The next morning I wake up with my whole body aching, but nothing compares to the thunderous booming in my head. Mrs Kleine brings me pain relief and a glass of water, then twenty minutes later she appears with a tray of scrambled eggs on toast.
I give her my thanks and once I’ve eaten, I feel well enough to get up.
I make my way downstairs, looking at the photos on her wall as I go. She has an entire family I’ve never met and it makes me feel a little sad. I should have been more friendly to her, included her in my life a little more.
“Thank you,” I say to her when I find her in the kitchen. “I’m truly so grateful to you.”
“Oh, it’s no problem, darling,” she says with a smile as she pulls the tea towel from her shoulder and dries her hands. “I’m glad you called me. It felt good to be useful.”
I point at a photo on the wall of her with three young adults. “Are these your children?” I ask.
“Yes, foster children. I looked after them from when they were small.” She is smiling as she considers the picture.
“They were great kids, considering the circumstances. And I’m so proud of each of them.
” She points to the eldest girl. “This is Phoebe, she is married now with a baby of her own on the way. She comes by once a month or so, but I’m hoping to go and help her once the baby is here.
Then that’s Jamie, he works all over the world now, always travelling.
He pops by whenever he is back here. And Tamsin, she was a firecracker.
Still is. She is thinking of moving back this way once her tour finishes. ”
“Tour?” I ask.
“She is a dancer. She dances on those big fancy boats and even on the television, once…” she trails off with a faraway look on her face.
“I couldn’t have children of my own, that’s why my husband left me.
But those kids…” she points at the picture, “they were the best thing that could have ever happened to me. That’s not to say it wasn’t a challenge.
But every bit of it was worth it to have them in my life. ”
I find my face is wet. At some point the tears came again. What I would have done for a woman like Mrs Kleine to have been my mom.
“Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart.” She comes around the kitchen table and wraps her arms around me.
“I’m sorry,” I blubber. I’ve been so emotional since the accident.”
“Totally understandable,” she says, leaning back and wiping a tear from my cheek with the pad of her thumb. “Sit down and have one more cup of tea with me before you leave,” she says, guiding me to a chair.