The Rebirth of Henry Whittle

HOME

It's early evening when I discharge us. I've never felt so relieved, to be home with a breathing Phoenix. I turn up the heating whilst Phoenix turns the lights on.

"Hungry?" I ask.

"No. If anything, I feel sick. I'll have to put a bin beside the bed; I've never felt so shaky and nauseous in my life."

"That'll be the drug you were injected with."

She looks at me; I wonder do I scare her, now she's seen what I'm capable of.

"Jesus Henry; I'm so sorry for dragging you down with me."

"Do you love me Phoenix?"

"Your brain is obviously addled. If I didn't love you, I wouldn't care about dragging you down; I'd just use you for sex."

She sways into the kitchen, to the fridge, to the chocolates.

"We need a sugar rush." She grabs the box. "Come on, bed Mr S.A.S."

She takes my hand, pulling me up the stairs; slow and unsteadily.

"Would you prefer to sleep in your bed – alone?" she asks painfully like the words tear at her throat.

"No. Come to bed and hold me. I'm tired, in considerable pain and I need you."

It's the first time I've trusted someone to be vulnerable with.

***

"I have to shower Henry. I've got...Jacobs on me."

I tuck Henry in.

Downstairs I shower, washing my hair until the water no longer runs red.

Upstairs Henry remains awake. I pull on a soft nightshirt, blow dry my hair a little then clamber into my hero's bed.

"Do you believe in fate Henry?"

"I'm not sure."

"Imagine Trish lived, I went to uni, and had a simple love affair. After a while we'd move on from each other. I'd meet lovers at work or in bars; maybe they'd muck me about, and it would be painful. Maybe, I marry easy-going jobsworth Darren. Could I be happy? Or would I never be happy or satisfied because none of them were you. Or would I be happy because I didn't know better?"

"Do you wish we'd never met?" he asks.

"Absolutely not." A short silence falls. "Were we destined to meet? Would our names be the same? Is that what sparks off conversation; we're both Whittles?"

***

"We can only base decisions on what's real. We met. We fell in love. There was no choice, our emotions decided for us."

"I'm sorry. Ignore me. I don't know what my point is," she admits.

"You're in pain, tired and overwhelmed."

She nods, but a dilemma edges around us.

"What else...I feel there's more?"

"Luke might know. I foolishly shared info, when he was deep in a coma, only for him to awaken around that key time.

"Luke loves you. He'd never jeopardise that. Give your heart and that brain of yours a rest," I say pulling her in tightly. I savour the feel of her in my arms, watching the sun cast shadows across the room. Eventually, worn out, we succumb to darkness.

***

I wake up; my face flat against Henry's back, my saliva on his skin like I want maximum transference. My arm is around his slender waist and like jigsaw pieces we are slotted together in the foetal position.