Authors: JD Nixon
“I have decided
to personally take on some commissioned jobs.” From the faces of
the other men, I could see I wasn’t the only one surprised by his
announcement, but I didn’t give anyone else the chance to speak
before I started in on him.
“Commissioned?
Commissioned by who?”
“The
government, my sweet.”
“The government
is a big organisation, Heller. Which part of the government?”
“A highly
classified part.”
“What will you
be doing?”
“Highly
classified special projects.”
“Special
projects? What’s that supposed to mean? What kind of projects?”
“Exceptionally
well-paid ones.”
“You don’t need
more money. Your business is doing well.”
“Matilda,” he
answered, his voice gentle and patient. That only annoyed me more.
“I have many people to support. I need to ensure I have the
resources to do so. And also it’s beneficial to work for the
government. It may begin to throw other, more ordinary work my
way.”
“Why do you
have to do these
projects
personally?”
He shrugged. “I
have a special skill set which is required. Also, I need a
challenge. My life has been relatively tame for a long time
now.”
“There’s
nothing wrong with tame. Surely running a business is enough of a
challenge every single day for anyone?”
“No. I need
more.” He stood and moved over to the window to gaze out. “I’m
restless. It’s been building up for years. Doing these projects
will cure me of that as well as bring in a rewarding amount of
money. I’m starting my first one tomorrow. I’ll be gone for about a
week.”
“That’s it?
Decision made? Just ‘see you when I get back’? No considering other
options for improving your incomings? No discussion? No talking it
over with your girlfriend? No asking her how she feels about the
whole matter?” I demanded, hurt.
Though his
voice was still gentle, his words cut deeply. “It is not your
business to know about my business, my sweet. And I have talked it
over thoroughly, so you may rest assured about that.”
My eyes shot to
Clive at that last comment. He avoided my angry stare, obviously
not as ignorant about the situation as he’d originally tried to
make out.
“Are you going
to be in any danger?” I asked Heller.
He continued to
look out the window. Whatever he saw out there must have been
fascinating to hold his attention for so long. The silence grew
awkwardly in the room and I guess that gave me the answer to my
question.
“I can’t
believe you’re doing this. You, the person who worries so much
about everyone else and providing for them, is going to voluntarily
put yourself into ridiculous danger. And for what? To earn a few
extra bucks and to get a cheap thrill.”
He didn’t deny
it. “Everyone has been well provided for in the event of any
negative outcomes for me.” He turned to smile. “Especially
you.”
I jumped up,
desperately needing to throw something at him. I picked up a
cushion and pegged it at him, missing him by miles. “I don’t want
any of your stupid money. I want
you
– alive and safe and
well! And
here
at home with us!”
He retrieved
the cushion and brought it back, dumping it back on the chair.
“Matilda, be reasonable. Many people have to be away for periods of
time for work purposes. You, yourself, have left here to do
assignments. It’s perfectly normally and nothing to worry
about.”
“Yes, but I
don’t plan for ‘negative outcomes’, so excuse me, but it sounds as
though there’s
plenty
to worry about.”
“It’s only . .
.” He stopped, puzzlement creasing his features. He strode closer
to me, peering down at me. “Matilda, what’s wrong with your
face?”
“There’s
nothing wrong with my face! What an unbelievably rude thing to
say,” I spat back. There was no call for him to propose pissing off
on me on a regular basis doing who-knew-what to who-knew-who one
minute, and then the next minute insulting me while he exited on
his mystery adventure. “My face is perfectly fine, so don’t try to
distract me.”
“Oh, my sweet .
. .” He seemed lost for words. When I glanced at the others, they
wore similar expressions of horror, and in Clive’s case, borderline
disgust.
I rushed over
to his wall mirror, shrieking when I saw my reflection. I was
spotty, but not with acne. Red, measles-type spots, which started
to swell, dotted my face, neck and chest. I touched my face – it
was bumpy.
“Good God,
Tilly,” Daniel spoke from behind me, his reflection appearing next
to mine. “I can see more appearing while we watch!”
He wasn’t
exaggerating. As we stared into the mirror, more and more red spots
popped up on those areas where I’d smeared on the lotion. So many
sprang up in some places, they joined together into huge red
patches of bumps. I swiftly resembled a tomato – a lumpy,
disease-ridden tomato that even dumpster-divers would shun if they
spotted it in the industrial bin behind the supermarket.
“I must be
having some kind of allergic reaction to Elise’s lotion,” I wailed.
“Look at me!”
Clive averted
his eyes. “No, thanks.”
“I’m splodgy!
And
bumpy! I’m splodgy and bumpy! And I have an interview to
go to tomorrow morning. How am I going to land a job looking like
this?”
Heller whipped
out his phone and a thumbed a speed dial number. “I’d appreciate it
if you came over immediately. Matilda seems to be suffering from an
unattractive reaction to something.”
“I
knew
I shouldn’t have let her experiment on me again. What if it’s
permanent? What if I look like this for the rest of my life?”
Nobody knew what to say to me, which didn’t fill me with confidence
about my current predicament.
And that was
when the burning itch began. I didn’t notice I was scratching at
first, until the urge became uncontrollable, only matched by the
pain that followed each rake of my fingernails across my skin.
“Oh God! Oh
God!” I screeched. “It itches so badly, but it hurts!”
I pushed Heller
so hard out of the way in my bid to escape the room that he fell
back into one of the chairs. I rushed to the kitchenette sink and
splashed my face with water, grabbing some paper towel to wet and
mop over it, hoping to dilute the awful cream, and the pain.
“Get me some
ice or
something
,” I begged Daniel, on the point of tears.
He flustered around, not really knowing how to help, but credibly
managing to tie some ice cubes up in a tea towel. He assisted me to
one of the two chairs nearby and held the impromptu icepack to my
fiery cheeks.
“Does that
help?”
“It’s numbing
the pain a bit. Thank you,” I said, my voice a bit wobbly.
“The doctor
will be here soon, Matilda. Let me take you to your apartment.”
He swept me up
like a sack of potatoes and for once I didn’t complain about him
carrying me upstairs, too miserable to worry about trivial matters
like my dignity. After all, when you’re as lumpy as me, nothing
else seems to matter much. Daniel anxiously followed along behind
us. Sid and Clive ran away.
Heller
deposited me gently on my bed. He held the icepack on my stinging
parts, moving it around to help alleviate the pain a little. He
instructed Daniel to pull together another icepack, so they sat on
either side of the bed providing me with some pain relief.
“I think you
have a very bad case of hives, Matilda. What happened?”
With my voice
breaking, I told him about Elise and her ointments.
He was the
epitome of long-suffering affection. “My sweet, after the last
time, you let her experiment on you again?”
“I thought of
saying no, but I wanted to help her out. She’s
pregnant
and
she has these eyes that just make you say yes to anything.”
He brushed my
hair back from my burning face with his hand, his eyes tender. “I
know someone like that.” But then he shook his head. “You really
have to stop trying to help people. It always seems to land you in
trouble.”
“Will these
hives last forever?”
“No.”
“I just want to
scratch everywhere.”
“You must be
strong and resist. The doctor will give you some antihistamines and
probably some topical cream to soothe the itching.”
“I don’t want a
cream! I’m sick of lotions, potions and massage oils.”
“Potions?” His
eyes narrowed. “When have you ever had a potion?”
And despite my
extreme physical discomfort at the moment, I inwardly groaned. I’d
promised Niq not to say a word about that misadventure to Heller
and I wasn’t going to break that oath.
“Never,” I
lied. “It’s just an expression.” I hated lying to him, but
sometimes he just didn’t need to know the full truth.
His eyes
narrowed even further until they were the merest slits and his
luscious lips pursed. “Somehow I think more happened with that
silly man and his ‘magic’ than you’ve told me.”
“Heller,
please. Not now. I’m in agony here,” I tried.
“You’re
stronger than that. We will talk more about this when I return,
Matilda.”
“I may not have
survived by then.” I pulled my most pathetic face, which really
didn’t take much effort or acting.
We were saved
from any further discussions on that tricky topic by the breathless
arrival of Dr Kincaid, his clothes rather crumpled, his usually
beautifully tended hair carelessly whisked into a fuzzy grey ball.
He looked down at me and shook his head in sorrow.
“You. It’s
always
you. I’m going to start charging you personally.
Heller shouldn’t have to pay for me running here all the time.
Especially as I’ve now had to go out in public looking like
this.”
“I like it,” I
managed to joke. “You look like a dandelion fluff.”
“Excuse me,” he
huffed. “It’s called a dandelion seed head, not ‘fluff’. That’s
layman’s science that any nine-year-old knows. And anyway, my hair
doesn’t look like that.”
“Who cares
about science? Nobody, that’s who. Especially lumpy, bumpy, itchy
people. Just give me something to make it all go away,” I
pleaded.
“You’ll care
about science when I give you a remedy.”
He took his
time examining me, wasting precious minutes asking a million
pointless questions and taking my pulse and blood pressure, despite
my frequent and increasingly strident interruptions reminding him
that I was lumpy, itchy and burning. He ignored me. I guess they
teach you to zone out from whining patients when you do doctor
training.
“You have
urticaria,” he finally diagnosed.
“Oh, my God!
Did you hear that?” I asked Heller and Daniel, upset. That probably
meant I was going to die.
“That means
hives, Matilda,” Heller informed me.
“Oh,” I said.
That news was a bit of an anticlimax after my last dramatic minute.
“Why didn’t he just say so? That’s treatable, isn’t it?”
The doctor
rolled his eyes. “Yes. I’ll give you a corticosteroid injection now
and leave you with a prescription for a course of antihistamines.
I’ll also recommend a common soothing skin balm –”
“No way! I
don’t want to put anything else on my skin. That’s what started
this whole mess.”
He sighed.
“It’s pH neutral, especially made for skin conditions. Someone will
have to go to the chemist for you to get these things.”
“I won’t be
here tomorrow,” Heller said, only reminding me of what we’d been
arguing about. “So Daniel, research after-hours pharmacies for me,
please. I’ll go tonight before I leave on this assignment. I don’t
care what part of the city it’s in, no matter how far from here.
Matilda must have her prescription filled.”
“Thank you,
Heller,” I said gratefully. I expected him to kiss my forehead, but
he didn’t.
“My sweet, this
is our last night together for a while and I’m afraid of hurting
you.”
“And touching
me,” I snarked.
“Of course not.
You’ll always be beautiful to me. As I said, I’m afraid of hurting
you.”
“None of you
should worry about this,” said the doctor. “The inflammation is
just topical. You can see that by the limited range of the effects.
It’s not affecting her entire body. Miss Tilly was affected by that
ointment she applied.”
“Will it be
gone tomorrow? I have a job interview,” I asked hopefully, trying
not to flinch when he jabbed me with the needle.
He tried to be
tactful. “Maybe you should postpone it?”
“Maybe . . .
I’ll ring her tomorrow. I hope she’s the understanding type.” I
shot Heller a look. “Most bosses usually aren’t, in my
experience.”
He sighed
patiently. “Matilda, must we go through this again? It was my
decision to make, no one else’s, because it’s my business and I
care about what happens to it. It’s an excellent opportunity for
me, for us. And I really don’t want to argue in front of the
doctor.”
“As if I care,”
that medico muttered to himself as he scribbled a prescription. He
handed it to Heller, not me, I noticed with great indignation.
“There. Make sure she sticks to the doses. I don’t want to have to
come back.”
“I know how to
take medicine,” I butted in rudely, my itchy fieriness starting to
make me irritable.
“Make sure she
doesn’t miss any antihistamines for the next week,” the doctor
instructed Daniel, pointedly ignoring me while he packed up. At the
door, he stopped to address Heller. “And I certainly hope you and
Miss Tilly are heeding my previous directions about safe
intercourse.”
Daniel groaned
in disgust and it probably wasn’t obvious to anyone except me, but
I darkened at least three shades of red.
“Yes, of
course,” Heller told him. “Although there was that one other
incident in the bathroom. I think we’ll avoid that room from now
on. Do you agree, Matilda?”