The Firefly

5°

Under the weight of all that paperwork I tried not to show any signs of having second thoughts.

Mrs Holland gave me a set of instructions, meticulous details that should guide my role.

-The gardener will come twice a week, prune the plants and water them.- She explained once we were outside, and with a nod of her head she pointed me towards the interior of the facility.

-And there will be ladies in charge of cleaning.- She added, delegating a task that would relieve me of the burden of domestic details.

-Read the papers this evening, along with the others.- She recommended, a request that carried with it the expectation of careful preparation.

-Remember to avoid, except to lead him somewhere, any form of physical contact, he hates it.- She added, reaffirming a fact I had already noticed in person.

-Furthermore, I hope you know you don't have any days off.- I nodded, unfortunately perfectly aware of that fact.

I knocked on his door before entering.

There was no voice telling me to come in, but neither was there one ordering me to stay outside, so I entered the room.

His figure was lying in bed, his eyes closed and his breathing deep.

He was asleep.

I watched him in silence for a moment, his peaceful face in sleep seemed to convey an innocent sweetness.

Approaching him I placed the tray of food on his bedside table, but when a hand grabbed my arm I barely spilled it.

A scream escaped me.

He wasn't sleeping at all.

His head was turned towards me, eyes half-closed and one hand holding my arm firmly.

-Em... Mr Hale?- I hoped he understood that I wished he would let me go.

-What are you doing here?- He whispered in a slurred voice.

-I brought you something to eat.- I replied, glancing at the tray I had just saved from falling.

-I'm not hungry.- He retorted, in a tone that suggested he would rather not be disturbed.

-You didn't eat this morning either.- I insisted, trying to remain firm.

His grip loosened, his hand fell dead weight between the sheets.

-Get out.- He ordered, turning his head away as if he wanted to shut the world out.

I sat down on the edge of the mattress and picked up the tray, which I placed on my lap.

-Are you deaf? Let me sleep.-

-Sit down and eat.- I ordered him, trying to assert my role.

I could not let him win on every front.

He wrinkled his forehead and the small scar at the side of his eye rippled.

-Who are you to give me orders?

-The one you yourself hired as Mrs Holland's replacement.- I replied with a certain resignation in my voice.

It was difficult to argue with someone who refused to see his own need for help.

He turned his head away like a wayward child.

I looked down thinking of the poor woman's distraught expression that morning.

-Why don't you want to see her?- I asked without receiving an answer.

He did not seem intent on eating or even having a conversation with me, there was little I could do.

-You're acting like a spoilt child.- I started to tell him as I stood up.

-I'll leave everything here on the bedside table. I won't stand here watching you.- I said trying to respect his need for solitude, then I headed for the door.

-Ah, brat.- He called me, forcing me to turn around in the hope that he had changed his mind.

-And anyway, I prefer blondes.- His lips, bent in a gesture of mockery, formed a chilling smile. But who asked him?

I went out and made sure to slam the sliding door properly.

I listened for a while, hoping to hear some movement that would make me think he was eating, but it was quieter than a cemetery.

Back in my room, I let myself fall on the bed, running a hand over my forehead.

I had to hold on, I had to be patient.

What if he had starved to death?

Oh God, I couldn't allow that, or I could have said goodbye to that wonderful salary.

Besides, I couldn't force-feed him, or could I?

The phone began to ring, Leda's name flashed on the screen.

I sighed, putting the phone aside.

I would answer it later, now I needed a moment to myself.

I hoped she would have eaten the next day once she got off.

I was beginning to feel guilty.

After all, he had not chosen to lose his sight and maybe it was normal to be so angry at the world in his situation.

On the other hand, however, he had been lucky to lose his sight and not his life, whatever had happened to him.

Perhaps if I had informed myself about what had happened I would have saved myself any embarrassment.

I reached for my mobile phone, the temptation was strong.

But then I put myself in his shoes for a few moments: I wouldn't have liked it if someone had gone looking for information about me behind my back.

And maybe, in time, he would find the courage to share his story.

I shook my head, that guy didn't seem the type to open up to anyone.