Locked In Love by Louisa Line (5)

I’m still in a flunk Monday morning after spending Sunday either stomping around the flat or in bed. I know once I get myself like this it can take forever to get out of it. Oh, the joys of having depression on top of everything else. Lying in bed I listen to the rain on my window. I start hysterically laughing at the rain and how it reflects my dark mood. This just makes curling up into the warm safe cocoon of my bed even more appealing and I’m sleeping so little at night with these new nightmares that I now grab sleep whenever I can. I guess it will be just another issue to bring up with the therapist when they call later on in the week.

At lunchtime, I know I am going to have to emerge from my shell. For one thing, I am desperate for a pee, and two, I really should have something to eat as I can’t actually remember the last time I ate.

Finishing up in the bathroom, I make my way over to the kitchen to investigate what I have. Walking through the door I’m hit with a flashback of what sent me over the edge in the first place and I find myself crumpling to the floor in tears once more. I know it’s stupid, but with depression you never really know what’s going to trigger an episode and for me, I guess forgetting to put the food away triggered mine.

Time passes and I’m not sure how long I’ve been sat on the floor for. The tears stopped a while ago, but I know I am cold and my legs have gone to sleep. I’m convinced I would still have been there if it hadn’t have been for the intercom. I think about ignoring it, but from how insistent the buzzer is I know that’s not going to be an option.

I slowly peel myself off the kitchen floor and after several failed attempts to stand, manage to get the strength back in my legs. The buzzer continues and my head is now beginning to pound, whether through the noise, or the fact I have been crying for I-don’t-know-how-long. I make a mental note to get some painkillers once I’ve dealt with whoever this is.

“Yes,” I all but scream down the intercom.

“Miss… Jessica. It’s Steve. Is everything OK? I have your delivery.” I don’t think I have ever been so relieved to hear a cheerful voice and this just makes me want to cry all over again. I don’t realise I’m still holding the phone until I hear Steve speak once more.

“Jessica?” Is that a hint of concern I hear in his voice?

“Sorry,” I sob. “It’s just so great to hear your voice.” I don’t know why but just hearing his voice has already started to calm me in a way that nothing else in over a year has managed to do. It’s crazy but talking to him just feels right.

“Really, I know our food is good, but I didn’t think it was that good.” I can hear the smile in his voice, mixed in with a hint of something else. Worry? No, it can’t be! This guy doesn’t even know me, and other than Claire, I haven’t had anyone worry about me in an extremely long time, not since my parents passed anyway. I find myself letting out a laugh.

“Thank you. You don’t know how much I needed that today,” I say, smiling in relief.

“It’s all part of the service, Miss Wentworth,” I imagine him rolling his arm and taking a bow as they would have done in the olden days and, if it’s possible, my smile gets even bigger.

“Jessica, please call me Jessica. Miss Wentworth will always be my grandmother,” I plead shaking my head as I try to remove the picture of a 90 year old me.

“Jessica it is then! So how about this delivery, you’re a little early this week aren’t you?”

“I had a bit of an accident on Friday,” I find myself blushing as I remember what caused me to forget the shopping.

“Accident? You’re OK though?” Again, I can hear a hint of what I think is worry, but shake it off feeling silly the moment it enters my head. He’s just doing his job.

“Yeah, I was a little distracted on Friday and forgot to put the frozen food away.”

“Well, let’s hope you have no distractions today! Shall I bring it up?”

I really don’t want our conversation to end, but can’t find anything else to talk about so I buzz him in. But this time, rather than moving away from the door, I find myself moving closer. I hear the elevator door open and can sense, rather than hear him, approach the door. Next I hear the boxes being placed onto the floor. Before I know what I’m doing I find myself looking through the peep hole, but am left disappointed when all I see is a back retreating down the hall and into the waiting elevator. What a back it is though! The T-shirt he wears shows off the muscles in his arms which I saw through my window a few days earlier. He has dark hair, cut short, but what I really focus on as he retreats is the lower half of his body and I am so not disappointed. His bum is perfectly formed and I wonder if it would be as firm as it looks if I was able to give it a small squeeze. Once he has gone I feel the now familiar ache between my legs and wonder how a man I had never properly seen could have this type of effect on me.

Suddenly, remembering the shopping, I quickly open the door and try to ignore these feelings coursing through my body. It doesn’t work so I promise myself that Mr Darcy can come out later as I bring the shopping into the house and go to sign the machine. Pausing, I look at the machine as a thought suddenly comes to mind. Rushing around the flat in search of a piece of paper, I make a mental note to start to keep the place a little tidier. Once I have the paper I start to second guess myself and question if this is what I really want to do. Then remembering what my therapist said about challenging myself I scribble the note, sign the machine and place it all outside the door with the empty boxes.

The intercom buzzes and for about the hundredth time I question if I’ve done the right thing.

“All done?” comes the sexy voice through the intercom. I pause before answering only for a moment before I pull my figurative big girl pants up and reply.

“Yes, thank you.” I want to say so much more. I want to ask him so many questions, ask him to stay and talk to me some more, but I don’t. I simply move away from the door and worry about what I have just done. I want to move to the door and see what his reaction is through the peep hole, but I also don’t want to know and find myself anxious, but for a whole different reason. I hear the elevator doors open down the hall and wait. I hear a shuffling outside the door before I hear heavy footsteps moving away. Had I read the signs all wrong? I mean he was the one that had started sending me notes. I rush over to the window and once again catch the sight of his back getting into the van before it drives off down the road, but not before I’ve caught another sight of that amazing backside. I watch again till it moves out of sight and then realise there is only one thing to do in a situation like this and as much as I really want him right now, it’s not Mr Darcy.

I pick up the phone and call Claire.

Claire picks up after the third ring and I have never been so relieved to hear a familiar voice.

“Claire, I’ve done something really stupid.” I don’t even bother with the pleasantries. I really need her help.

“Jess what’s up? Are you OK?” I could hear the panic building in Claire’s voice and feel guilty for making her worry.

“I’m fine.”

“Oh thank goodness, please don’t ever scare me like that again,” I hear her sigh with relief down the line.

“I’m sorry, it’s just I really need your help,” I blurt out.

“Jess, you’re scaring me. Just tell me what it is.”

“I may have a thing for the new delivery guy and I may of, kind of, definitely, left him a note when he picked up his machine.” Saying it out loud doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, now I am thinking about it with a more rational head on, I realise how completely stupid I have just been. I mean I don’t even know the guy and I’m sending him notes as if we are still at school.

“What do you mean? How did you… how did you meet him?”

“That’s the thing. I kind of haven’t.” There is a long pause on the end of the line and I know Claire is wondering how to process what I have just said. Saying it out loud just makes it seem even stupider.

“So how…” I can tell Claire is really struggling here so I jump in and fill her in on everything that has happened over the last few days.

“Which leads me to now and the note I left him,” I conclude.

“So, what did the note say?” Her interest is evident down the line.

“It said he was a great distraction who brightens up my day.” The line goes completely silent to a point that I wonder if Claire is actually still on the end of the line. “Claire?”

“Sorry I was just… Wow, and he never replied or said a word back?”

“Nope, he just left.” Even I can hear my disappointment.

“Wow Jess, just… Wow! I mean, are you sure he got the message? Have you checked, maybe he didn’t see it or it blew away or…”

“I left it right on top of the machine.”

“Oh Jess, I really don’t know what to say. I mean good on you for doing it, but don’t you think you might want to know what the guy looks like before you start flirting with him?” I can hear the humour in Claire’s voice and know I have now lost any chance of a reasonable discussion we may have had on this subject. I place my head in my hands and just mumble down the line.

“Well I have to say Jess there is nothing like putting yourself out there. Who will it be next? The postman? Oh, I know, the pizza delivery boy!”

“I’m so glad you find this humorous Claire. How am I going to be able to face him again?”

“I’ll ignore the obvious error in that statement and just say that I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you. Come on Jess, you have to see the funny side of this. You are flirting with a voice. The guy could be really ugly.”

“Oh, trust me Claire. A man with those arms and a bum like that is definitely not ugly.”

“I love you Jess,” she says suddenly. I can hear sadness in Claire’s voice and I’m not totally sure why.

“I love you too Claire. But what’s up?”

“It’s nothing,” she says but then lets out a small muffled sob.

“Claire please?”

“It’s just you... you almost sound like your old self. I never realised till now how much I’ve missed you.” These words bring me to my knees and before I know it we are both sobbing down the line to each other.

“Thanks Claire,” I finally manage to say once we are all cried out.

“What. I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re just you and that’s all I need right now,” I say knowing this to be the truth and smiling through my sadness.

“Don’t be silly. What are best friends for?” I can hear that she has perked up and can almost imagine her doing one of those shoulder punches.

“Not all the rubbish I put you through, that’s for sure!”

“Don’t worry, you can return the favour when I need therapy for all my disastrous relationships. I won’t even need to pay as you’ll be my very own expert with the amount of therapy you’ve had,” she laughs down the line.

“Hey!” I say, but I’m not really offended since we are both now giggling together. That’s what I love about Claire. We can be crying together one minute and the next making fun of each other. She has always been my rock even before I got sick and I really don’t know where I would be right now without her. Well, I do, but we won’t go back to that dark place. We finish up our conversation and hang up on each other after I promise to update her as soon as I have any information, even though I do try to convince her that it’s not going to happen as I have probably scared the poor bloke off.

I potter around the flat for the next hour or so, putting the shopping away and then settle in front of the window to people watch. It’s not long before I start getting hungry, so I go into the kitchen to make a sandwich and a cup of tea. Wandering through the living room ready to go back to my window seat, my attention is drawn to a small folded piece of paper lying on the floor next to the front door. Staring over at it for what seems like forever I go and pick it up and must go through every emotion there is in that short distance. Fear, as I wonder what it could say, excitement, as I near it and hope, that I haven’t totally messed this up and then back to fear that I have. I turning it over in my hands several times looking for a clue as to who it can be from. I hadn’t let anyone in and I didn’t really know any of the neighbours. Walking over to the sofa I settle down, my sandwich and cup of tea now forgotten, as I carefully unfold the note. It doesn’t take long for me to recognise the familiar writing and break out in a cold sweat as I clutch it to my chest.

Before reading it I rush over to the window. I’m not really sure why, but I find myself hoping I might be able to catch a glimpse of my mysterious note writer. I am out of luck though as there is no one there. Turning around I stop dead, staring at the note which is now sitting on the sofa. I find myself questioning if I really want to know what’s been written on it. Making my way slowly over to the note I lift it up and start to read.

My body reacts in ways it only ever does when I hear from Steve. I feel a hot sensation coursing through my body as it is awakened to so many new possibilities and wants.

The smile on my face is unbelievable. I don’t think I have ever smiled this much in, well, ever. I distract him. Does that mean something? It has to, doesn’t it? I’m even more confused now than I was before, but as the heat dissipates I know I cannot wait to get my delivery on Friday.