The Bringer

“All done.” His eyes meet mine. I hold his gaze for a moment then look away. I lower my leg back to the floor. “Thanks.”



He stretches his hands above his head, yawning, and rubs his eyes roughly.



“You’re tired?”



“Hmm. I am,” he says, sounding suddenly sleepy. “Sorry, I know it’s only early.”



“Don’t be sorry. You’ve had quite a day. I’ll help you up to bed.”



It takes us a while, but we finally make it up the stairs and I see him to his room.



“Thanks,” he says, leaning up against the door frame.



“It’s no problem. I’m happy to help you.” I take a step back. “So I think I’ll go to my room and sleep too.”



“Goodnight, Lucyna.”



“Goodnight, James.”



I walk along the landing, heading toward the back of the house, knowing exactly which room I’m going to stay in. The one that provides the perfect view of his beautiful garden.



I shut the door behind me and go over to the window. The night’s drawing in, preparing to coat everything in its blackness. I look around the room, taking in just where I actually am.



I am in James’ house. He’s just down the hall from me. And he knows me, he actually knows me.



And I finally release the euphoria that this knowledge brings, the one I’ve been working so hard all day to contain, and I let it run through me with all its heavenly urgency, releasing the smile that wants to own my lips forever. I lie back onto the bed, and begin to replay my day with James over and over again in my mind.



Chapter 7



Cross Your Heart



I’ve been downstairs for hours as I’ve discovered I don’t sleep.



I haven’t slept since I became this – well – version of a human I’ve become. And I’ve already gathered that my new body doesn’t require other humanly functions to survive, as I’ve had absolutely no desire for food or drink. But I wasn’t sure about sleep. I didn’t know if my body would need to rest or not. As it turned out, it doesn’t. I did try. I laid on the bed and closed my eyes for quite some time, but nothing happened. And I haven’t had any signs of fatigue, as human’s do – no yawning or desire to stretch my body of any sort, and considering how long I’ve been awake, I surely would be tired by now if I was ever going to be.



So I just stayed in my room and wiled the hours away thinking about James, distracted by just how close he was to me. Then I read a book I found in my room. It was a new and joyous experience, and one I most certainly want to repeat. Some humans really do have a way with the written word. And finally I watched the sun rise.



Then, when it seemed like a reasonable hour for a human to arise after sleeping, I came downstairs.



I’ve being trying to think of ways I can help James today as he is partially incapacitated. The first thing I came up with was breakfast. Humans need to eat, and James doesn’t eat nearly enough, as I’ve seen, so I decided to make it for him.



I searched through the kitchen cupboards and found some cereal. Then I located bread, browned it in the toaster and, when it was ready, buttered it. Finally I prepared James’ coffee in his coffee machine, just as I’ve watched him do nearly every morning for the past three weeks.



I survey the kitchen table. It's all set up with the food and drink I’ve created, and I feel a sense of achievement. Toast, cereal and coffee. It looks enticing – I think.



“Morning.” I hear James’s warm, husky voice come from behind me and turn to see him in the doorway surveying the table. “You didn’t have to do this.” He motions to the food. “Well, assuming some of it is for me.” He grins, standing there one arm resting on his crutch, the other raking his fingers through his dishevelled hair.



But I can’t answer. I can’t form words. And it’s not just because he looks glorious with his hair all messy and rumpled from sleep, his jogging bottoms that he’s cut up the leg to accommodate his pot hanging so loosely around his navel – no, that’s not what has clamped my mouth tightly shut and sent every particle of me into frenzy. No, it’s the fact that I can see from his navel all the way up to his broad expansive chest, his bare skin perfectly smooth, exposed here before me. I can’t take my eyes off him. I’ve never seen James, well – naked, before. I was always very respectful whilst I was here watching him, always departing when he would be about to undress.



He raises his brows in a question mark, forcing me to finally say, “Yes, of course it’s for you.” But my voice breaks, betraying me. I turn away, face flaming, and move over to the sink. I look up to see James watching my face in the reflection of the window. I look away.



He chuckles softly, then I register the sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor as he pulls it out. “Thanks for this. You really didn’t have to.”



I turn back, lean up against the sink and desperately try not to stare at his chest – it’s harder than you’d think. “I wanted to.”



He smiles. “Well thanks. I really appreciate it.” He pours himself a coffee, takes a sip, and then tips the cup in my direction. “Coffee’s spot on. Cheers.”



I smile, glowing, happy I’ve pleased him. “You’re welcome.” I take a seat across from him at the table, noticing for the first time that the gauze on his forehead has gone. “You removed your gauze.” I touch my forehead in the equivalent spot to where his gauze used to be.



“Yeah, they said to take it off when I got home. Let the air get to it.”



I gaze at the cut that sits cleanly under his hairline, tiny stitches holding it together, as his fingertip touches just shy of it. “Another scar to add to the collection.” He sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes with obvious amusement, his finger drifting to the older scar on his brow. “How’d you sleep?” he asks, picking up a slice of toast.



“Oh. On the bed. It was really comfortable. For eight hours. How did you sleep?” I worry because I know just how little he actually does.



He raises his eyebrow, lips curving and puts down the untouched piece of toast. “Oh yeah, I slept on my bed as well, for about ten hours.” He nods grinning.



I smile, pleased he’s slept for so much longer than normal. “That’s really good.”



He laughs, then says, “Hmm, yeah, I was expecting to be up all night with this thing on.” He taps his potted leg. “Must be the painkillers the hospital has got me on that knocked me out.” He picks up his toast and takes a bite.



“You not hungry?” he asks, words muffled by his mouthful of toast.



“I ate before you came down. I hope that’s okay.”



Another lie and it concerns me how adept I’ve become at this lying business. And honestly, I wish I could eat the toast and drink the coffee because the smells wafting up from the table are wonderful.



He laughs. “'Course it is. This is your home now, Lucyna. You do as you please. You don’t have to fit around me.” He leans back in his chair, cup in hand. “So what are your plans for today?”



“Oh – I don’t know.” I rest my arms on the table, linking my fingers together. “I hadn’t really thought past breakfast.”



He takes a sip of coffee, then puts it down. “I need to do a few things work-wise this morning, well mainly I have to get on the phone and sort a temp to help Neil and the lads out with the workload whilst I’m out of action. And then I really need to go to the supermarket, as you’ll have noticed –” He gestures to the kitchen cupboards. “– there’s not much in, and I thought it would be an idea for you to come with me . . . obviously I need the help –” He scrunches his face up, squinting at me cheekily. “– but I also thought we could get you some clothes and stuff while we’re out.”



“Sounds like a wonderful idea.”



“Good. We’ll have to take a taxi, though, as obviously I don’t have a car any more. I’ve got the work van but it’s not like I can exactly drive with this thing on – unless you drive.” He looks at me hopefully.



I shake my head. “No, sorry.” I used to be able to travel at the speed of light, but now I have to walk to get where I want to go.



“No worries, we’ll take a taxi.” He smiles.



After happily watching James eat nearly all the breakfast I’ve made, I go upstairs and take a shower for the very first time, knowing this to be a normal humanly thing to do. And it’s the most amazing experience I’ve had so far – well except for every time James looks at, or touches, me, that is.



I stand under the hot water, exhilarated by the feel of it as it cascades down onto this body of mine. After a while, I reluctantly get out, wrap a towel around myself and stand in front of the mirror, not really knowing what I should do with my now wet hair. I know human women generally put a lot of effort into the appearance of their hair, but I haven’t got a clue where to start. So I just wring the water out with a towel, leave it to hang down my back, and put my original clothes back on now they’re clean.



We take a taxi to Kings Road. James steers me into a clothes shop first. It’s probably one of the most challenging things I’ve done since I landed here in my new attire, well aside from saving James' life. Wonderful but daunting. I’m wandering around this shop with absolutely no idea of what I’m supposed to buy, trying to act like I do. But part of me, well a big part, can barely believe that I’m actually here amongst these humans, looking like one of them, pretending to be one of them. It’s truly beyond imagining.



There are so many different clothes to choose from. I do the best I can, mainly by watching what other women in the shop are picking out, which mostly consists of t-shirts, skirts, jumpers and jeans.



“What about this?” James is standing before me holding up the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen. It’s the colour of the sky, with these little jewels embellished along the neck line.



“It’s really lovely,” I say fingering the silky fabric.



He smiles. “I thought it’d suit you. We’ll take it, then.” He peers at the tag inside the dress. “I think I got the right size – you’re about an eight, aren’t you?” his cheeks colour, “not that I know much about women's dress sizes, but you are – well, you are tiny.”



What size am I? I’ve just been picking up what I thought looked like it would fit me. I nod. “Yes a size eight is perfect.” Then I surreptitiously begin flicking through the clothes I’ve got, checking the labels for sizes. Mainly eights and some tens. They’ll do.



“You got everything you need, then?”



I look down at my arms laden with clothes and nod. I follow him over to the counter where he proceeds to pay, which oddly makes me feel extremely uncomfortable.



“So you’re gonna need some shoes to go with all these clothes you’ve just got,” James says once were outside the shop.



I look down at the many bags in my hands. He’s spent what seems like a lot of money on me already. I don’t want James to spend all of his money on me because he feels like he owes me for saving his life, which I only did under fraudulent circumstances.