The room more spacious than I'd expected. There was a window with a lone vase sitting on the ledge. A few peonies poked out of it, their delicate petals swaying a bit, as a result of the early evening breeze.
There was nurse already in the room, plumping up his pillows, and they were laughing. Zachary was laying on the bed. He looked much better, almost normal, if it hadn't have been for all the cords connecting him to the machine; it was beeping in the background, a forbidding reminder that we were in a hospital. But, as far as I could see, he looked all right. A bit pale, but he was laughing as though he was in good spirits. I'd never heard him laugh like that. It was a bit of a revelation; I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's just that I was so used to seeing him behave in such a controlled, self-contained way that it was almost a shock to see him actually show emotion. Actual joy. You could see it in the way his eyes sparkled as though he had been given a new lease of life (which I suppose he had, I thought guiltily). If it hadn't been for me being a stupid, silly, old know-it-all, the guy would have been home shagging a random chick and not in a hospital.
That must have been a good sign, right? Maybe he wasn't going to tear my head off...
They both turned their heads to look at me. Zachary's rich, musical laugh trailed off and the nurse smiled at me, her eyes were kind. I was suddenly aware that I was staring at him, my feet were shuffling awkwardly against the floor as though I was put under the spotlight in a school play.
'Hi, Zachary,' I said, raising a tentative hand, it must have looked like I was waving a limp handkerchief as a peace offering.
Without a flicker of emotion, he motioned for me to take a seat. I almost stumbled over my feet in my eagerness to follow his cue.
The nurse turned to Zachary with a strange smile as though they were both in on a secret. 'Is this the bakery girl?'
'Yeah, Jane. She's a bit of a handful.' Zachary was staring at me, an intense look of concentration on his face as though he was working through a mathematics equation. A problem that wouldn't stop circling around in his head. There was a sudden tension around his mouth and I regretted even stepping into the room. I guess I'd spoiled the atmosphere. I couldn't blame him if he wanted to kill me.
'Hi,' I gave the nurse a smile, deciding to distract myself from his intense scrutiny. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my neck. 'I hope it's okay for me to talk to him for a bit?'
The nurse glanced at Zachary who looked like he wanted to play with his favourite toy: me. His restlessness was apparent; I could see that Zachary was eager to pounce.
He must have been really bored to have wanted to actually converse with his would-be murderer.
'Sure, I'll leave you two to catch up.' The nurse gave me a kindly smile as she left the room.
Zachary was patting his bedsheets for something and I seized on his distraction, so I could finally prepare my rehearsed apology. When I took the tube to go to the hospital, I was going through what I was going to say like I was going to a courtroom as a witness. I know it was ridiculous, but I was shitting myself. Whenever I was anxious, I liked to go over the possible scenarios that might occur, so I could prepare myself for every eventuality.
But I'd never found myself in this kind of situation. I mean, I couldn't be seen to appear insensitive to his plight by showing too little emotion. It wasn't like I could have said something like, 'So, Zachary, um, I'm sorry for almost killing you. I guess you won't be gracing us with your custom anymore. That's okay. I completely understand. In fact, a part of me is even all right with it... you terrify me for some inexplicable reason.'
I couldn't say that! I had shaken my head so hard on the train carriage that the banker type sitting in front of me was staring at me with raised eyebrows over the head of his newspaper.
'Stiff neck,' I'd laughed nervously.
But it wasn't like I felt close enough to actually cry in front of him, snot coming out of my nose, like I'd done in the privacy of the kitchen, away from the curious, prying eyes of Dorothy. I wasn't a pretty crier â I doubt he wanted to see that.
'Bloody hell! Where's the remote?' Zachary was grumbling as he clawed at the bedsheets in frustration.
I stiffened for a second and the words came out of me in a rush. You could almost see the steam coming out of my mouth like a kettle that just wanted to get the torment out of the way. 'Zachary, I am so sorry for what happened earlier. I was an idiot for not placing a label next to the plate. Again, I'm sorry.'
I swallowed at the end of 'sorry', expecting him to crow or send daggers my way. To his credit, an explosive reaction didn't occur. He was too wound up over searching for the remote.
'I should have asked Jane â the nurse â to actually attach it to my hand. Fuck.' He ran a hand furiously through his hair. Then he whipped his head round to face me, jutting his finger at me. 'It's your flipping fault.'
At that, my sympathy for him evaporated. Then again, I reminded myself, I was supposed to be a better person. There wouldn't have been any point in trying to get into an argument with him when I'd made a resolution with myself to be more tolerant of others and that meant not losing my temper.
'Where'd you last see it?' I said calmly.
He let out an exasperated sound which sounded like he was despairing of me already. 'Well if I knew that, I'd have found it by now, wouldn't I, Candice?'
He sounded like one of my patronising teachers Mr Rudd â a man who was still resentful that he had to teach history to a bunch of 'blockheads' as he so kindly called my class.
'Have you tried looking under your pillow?' I offered.
'No, I haven't.' Zachary immediately took the pillow with both hands and threw it in my direction. I managed to catch it before it slid onto the floor. I hugged the pillow to me like a teddy bear, watching him scramble about for the remote. It was pretty funny. When he'd exhausted all the avenues, he growled and crashed his fists like he was imitating King Kong. Then glared at the television screen opposite him as though he wanted to destroy it because he couldn't access the easy pleasures they offered. I was trying to keep a straight face out of respect for his intense annoyance, but I couldn't prevent the giggles escaping from my mouth at what I'd witnessed.
'Oh, you think I'm amusing, do you?' He gave me his attention, dead serious. I hugged the pillow closer to my chest.
'It's just that I've never seen anyone get so frustrated over a poxy remote,' I said casually. 'I mean, what do you have to watch that's so important?'
'You wouldn't understand.' He shrugged his shoulders, the gesture was a little like he couldn't be arsed to explain. The type of look where he didn't really rate me as his intellectual television equal. He went back to gloomily staring at the television screen as though it held all the answers, but wouldn't give him any leeway.
'I could switch it from the mains,' I suggested, trying to get him to open up. He was probably the idiosyncratic type who got really stressed whenever his normal routine was disrupted â I couldn't fault him that. I got upset whenever I left the house without my wristwatch. It had strap with a cookie monster pattern. My mum had found it at a jumble sale for me and bought it as a joke. It was a good watch, it had never failed me yet. I noticed that I had forgotten to wear it today. Perhaps that explained why I'd had the most disastrous of days...
I had zoned out into the depths of my mind, so I failed to notice Zachary's attempts to get my attention.
'My little assassin, you've gone back into daydreaming mode again.' He started to pull at his hair, a half-hearted laugh escaped from him.
'Hey!' I protested. 'I was listening to you. You were saying something about my idea being silly because you couldn't switch or mute the channel during the ad breaks... something like that, yeah?' I paused to gather my breath.
He was looking at me and silently laughing at me as though he was indulging a little kid. 'Wow, much respect. Makes me reassess my opinion of you entirelyâ' (my eyes must have seemed as big as golf balls as he seemed to take pleasure in my shock) 'âAlways thought you were a dreamer. Sometimes you have this zoned out look. Seems like you're thinking about a million different things all at once. Mental spaghetti. It's like your here, but you're not. What I'd to give to understand what goes on in that odd brain of yours, Candice,' He tapped the side of brain as emphasis, a reminiscent look was in his eyes. Then he grinned widely, catching me off guard.
'That's some serious multi-tasking power you have there. Must come with the territory though â you're a waitress, now an assassin. I'm impressedâ'
'And I'm not your assassin.' I threw the pillow at him, sending him into a fit of laughter.
'I disagree â you've got a nice ass on you.' He held the soft pillow to him and nuzzled his face in it contentedly.
'You're a real charmer, you know that,' I said sarcastically.
'I was wondering how long you could keep up the nice-girl act before you cracked,' he snorted. There was a brief silence, one in which he closed his eyes. 'You know, I'm usually not one to ask for help, but, in this instance, needs must.' A cunning, foxy smile appeared on his face, as he toyed with the material. 'It is absolutely imperative that I have complete and utter possession of that remote, Candice.'
'Naturally,' I drawled, a flicker of excitement started to brew in my stomach at his playful tone.
He winked at me. 'Would you be so kind as to help me find the fabled remote?' I watched as he made a wide sweeping gesture over his body as though he was presenting himself like a rare delicacy to be savoured.
'A pair of hands are certainly better than one,' he said, with feigned innocence.
Was he flirting with me? He was shameless. Well and truly shameless. I got up from the chair on unsteady legs and walked closer to his bedside. His eyes were bright with anticipation as he watched my movements carefully. I rocked on my feet, taking my time, as I allowed my eyes to gaze down the length of his body.