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The bland walls are beginning to feel like a prison, though I've never actually been inside one. I can imagine this would be the same. At least, the feeling of the same old four walls where nothing changes. Despite the changing weather outside and sometimes, there'll be different things in the fridge and one or two fresh faces... everything in this room feels the same.
It's been this way for over two weeks now. Eighteen days of the same thing. Eighteen days of waiting. Eighteen days of the same old sense of doom.
It might not be a prison, but it sure feels like one.
You go to prison when you've committed a legal crime. Maybe this is the prison for me, who's sinned: a religious prison.
"How are you?"
Nicholas.
I look up from my phone where the social worker has finally got back to me about Gabriel. I close the app and put the phone in my pocket, purposefully keeping my eyes off him as I do it. It's been two days since he left the cupcake, and while we've seen each other when he pops in to do his job with Joel, we've purposefully been avoiding each other. Or I have been, anyway.
"I'm okay, thanks, you?" I respond.
"Good," he says and sits on one of the chairs on the other side of the room. "Joel's at his physio appointment, right?"
"Yeah, but you knew that, because you're the one who booked it for him," I point out.
As he laughs, his dimple comes out. His eyes shine like gems in the sun, forcing my breath to hitch.
"I did indeed. You caught me out. I wanted to talk to you and assumed you'd be here," Nicholas answers.
My eyes fall into my lap. My fingers start mindlessly twisting with each other, and my heart slams against my ribs. Somehow, I know what he's going to bring up.
"Did you enjoy the cupcake I left you?" he asks, right on cue.
"I did, thank you. It was thoughtful of you," I say politely.
"Daisies symbolise a bunch of stuff. I looked it up," he says.
"Oh? You told me this the other day," I mention. I don't quite know what to say, because I know where he's going with this. I can tell we both feel the connection, the attraction.
But he's Joel's nurse.
I'm married to Joel.
Lust, temptation, cheating... is a sin.
"They symbolise innocence and purity, as well as a new beginning. I read somewhere that another one is that the sender can keep a secret, which ties into its other meaning of true love," Nicholas explains.
My eyes dart to my hands again, which feel clammy. They start wringing together, my breath speeds up.
"I read that a daisy is two flowers brought together in harmony. Apparently, keeping a secret is one way a person can show their true love for another," he continues.
I open my mouth, but it's drier than the Sahara Desert. We both know exactly why he's saying it. His note said, 'my daisy', and if he's saying this, he's basically announcing he thinks he loves me. My eyes dare to look into his. They're full of hope, pride, and love—or at least, something close to love anyway.
It's lust, it has to be.
We've known each other for two weeks, and though I've told him more than I would tell a stranger, he's still off-limits.
"You don't need to say anything back to that," he says. He hands me a piece of paper. When I take it, I see his number written there. "They're discussing when he can go home. Part of my job is to be there for that transition, so you might need my number as his carer."
"Do you give this to all your patients?" I ask quietly.
He grins, and a cheeky, guilty glint dances through his eyes. "Only the ones I consider important."
"That's a no then," I respond and pocket the paper. "I better go and wait for him to come—"
"Aspen." His hand engulfs mine as I go to walk past him.
I stop and let the feeling of blossom appear on my skin in time with the thumping of my heart at his touch. He doesn't let go, and I glance at him almost beside me. His eyes roam all over me—my legs, my thighs, my stomach, my boobs, my neck, my hair — and they linger for a moment longer on my lips. My skin sings with every inch those amber jewels cover until he finally lands on my eyes, and we stare at each other.
"Nicholas—"
"How are you holding up with all of this?" he whispers. I can tell by his voice that he was going to say something else, but he decided against it.
"I'm okay," I answer. I chance a small look at his lips as he licks them, ready to answer back. They're smooth, plump, and enticing. I can feel his breath on my skin—a warm, summer breeze that I could sit by the pool and relax in. If I could kiss them, I bet they would be like candyfloss.
'Let marriage be held in honour among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous.'
"He'll be back by now, I should get going," I whisper and look away from his tempting face.
He clears his throat when I step towards the door. "Doctor Daniels and I will come along shortly to discuss things with you and... your husband."
He's said 'your husband' on purpose and we both know it. I don't reply to him and walk out of the room.
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"How'd the physio go?" I ask Joel as he sits up for lunch.
"Tiring," he answers. I smell the horrendous stink of hospital food – you can't really get sausage, mash, vegetables, and gravy wrong, but somehow it manages to leave a horrendous scent in my nose. I watch him put the food in his mouth and not react to it – I imagine it's probably bland as anything. He's probably used to it after two and a half weeks in the hospital and no sign of coming home yet. When I go home tonight, I'll have to make him more homemade food.
His phone goes off beside his food. He ignores it. It goes off again.
"Any progress?" I ask.
"Hm, with what?" he asks. He's ignoring his phone, and I notice it's face-down on the table.
"The physio," I reply, giving him an isn't it obvious tone.
"My hand seems easier; I can do more without it bothering me." He notes it with excitement before eating another mouthful.
"That's amazing, Joel."
He nods in response, and I watch him slowly cutting with his troublesome hand. I want so much to lean across and help him, alleviate his trouble and pain. He's hiding it—the pain becomes obvious when he moves the silver knife back and forth against the food. But I know that he will be internally fighting himself to do it. He would rather starve than let anyone else do it for him while he still has use of his muscles. That's Joel all over – stubborn. I suppose I would be the same though – why not use what you have while you still have it?
"Oh... sorry, shall we come back when you're finished?" Doctor Daniels and Nicholas walk in.
"No, it's fine," Joel responds and puts his cutlery down. His phone beeps again, but everyone acts like it didn't happen.
I glance at Nicholas, his eyes fixated on me for a moment too long. Their glint hints a sadness in them, and it makes me want to stand up and hug him, but I know I can't. I shouldn't.
We're friends. We agreed to be friends. But he's taken the step over the line by basically all but saying that he's got a crush. Is it a crush? Is it more than a crush?
I don't know – all I've ever known is Joel. All I've ever known is this feeling of pressure and love as it's become one mixed bag of food that I never know what I'm going to pick at one time. I guess that's why when I look at Nicholas, I know I feel something, but I don't know what it is. I also know I shouldn't be feeling anything for him at all.
All at once, I'm aware of Joel watching me as I watch Nicholas. My eyes divert to the doctor on purpose.
"Mr Watkins... we'd like to try an anti-epileptic drug to get the seizures under control. It's called sodium valproate. Now, with the amount you've had in this short amount of time, we'd like to try it in a soluble solution so it can start working straight away," the doctor says.
Joel glances at me and then back at the doctor and nods.
The doctor carries on. "Because of the soluble nature, you'd have to take it twice a day. Now it can take a few weeks for it to have the full desired effect, but it should start working immediately."
I look at Nicholas. He's writing notes and doesn't look at me, so I look back at Joel.
My eyes close for a second. 'Dear Lord, be in the decisions I must make today. Open my ears to your guidance and steer me from temptation. Amen.'
I remember Mum praying that a few times before her bed, though to this day I have no idea what she could be tempted by; she's nothing but a 'perfect' member of the Church of England and makes everyone aware of the fact.
"If it works, I'm all for trying it," Joel says. "What do you think, Aspen?"
I glance at my husband and realise I missed out on a whole conversation while I was thinking. "I... if you think it'll work and help, then I say it's up to you, Joel."
"Let's do it, Doc," Joel says with a grin.
The doctor smiles and walks out after mentioning a new prescription to Nicholas.
"I'll be back when he's got it ready, okay?" Nicholas says to Joel, exiting the room without glancing my way again.
I perch on the seat beside Joel and his hand laces together with mine.
"I heard from the social worker earlier," I mention. He glances at me. "She said thanks for telling her, and because of the disease, she's told the adoptive parents. Just like we thought – it'll be up to them what they do with the information when Gabriel's older. But we've done the right thing, Joel."
He relaxes back in the bed as the caretaker comes in. Joel hands her his half-eaten lunch to take away.
"I guess we have." He sighs. "I... it's just... this is hard."
I don't respond – he knows my feelings on the matter. We've made plenty of mistakes and this is one of them. Now we're getting it back tenfold.
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"Joel—I think it's time you phone your mum about all this," I mention a few hours later. I grab my bag, ready to go home to freshen up, sleep, and cook some more food for him. He's started working on his uni work while he's in a good mood as well, so I don't want to intrude anymore. He looks up from his laptop and rolls his eyes.
"I told you to leave it alone," he warns.
"Yeah, it's been over two weeks. Joel—you're in the hospital for goodness knows how long, you're on anti-epileptic medication... I think it's time," I say.
"No."
"Joel—"
"No, Aspen. I won't do it," he snaps. "I know I said I would, but I thought about it more and I just... no."
"J—"
"Aspen, I swear to God if you carry on." His voice comes out like a lion's roar, forcing me to step back a little. "Leave it the fuck alone and go home."
"Joel."
"I'll swear if I want to," he reminds me, and I roll my eyes. "Just... leave it alone."
We both fall silent, his anger seething through his gritted teeth like the lion he's impersonating.
"I... Aspen, just go home. You need rest, and so do I."
"Joel..." I start, but it's no use. He's going through another mood swing and there's nothing I can say or do right now that will work. These moods are like tornados; they come in swiftly, rip apart everything they can, turn the world around and then leave as quickly as they arrived. But for now, I know I'll just make it worse, so I exit the room to go home for the night.
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I know I've done wrong when I hang up the phone from Joel's mother. I didn't tell her the whole news, just that he's in the hospital, and I think she should go and see him. She said she's going this evening, so I expect his mood won't be any better by morning, if not worse.
To continue my sinning, I fire off a text: 'Hi Nicholas, it's Aspen.'
Keep it simple, then I've done nothing wrong.
The response comes almost straight away: 'Hey, are you okay?'
I sigh and sip my wine before responding. 'I'm okay, I'm home for the night—needed a good night's sleep. How're you?'
My phone rings instead and his name pops up. For a moment, I consider ignoring it. If I hear that smooth voice, I know I won't want to stop listening.
My finger accepts before my brain knows what it's doing. "Hello?"
"Aspen." Nicholas' voice fills my ear, and instantly my body slumps with relaxation. "Thought it was easier to speak rather than keep texting back and forth. You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay, just tired," I admit. "How're you?"
"Yeah, I'm all right. How's Joel with the new drug?"
I take a quick sip of my wine before answering. "He's having another mood swing, but I guess that's normal, right? He did puke earlier, but you said that was normal as well, right?"
"Yeah, sounds about right. It probably won't help with his mood, but we can ask the doctor about that," he answers. "I wanted to ask you something."
"Go for it," I answer.
"Do you believe in God like your parents do, Aspen?"
I chuckle. "Why?"
"I just wanted to know," he says.
I stare at the blank tv, imagining his golden curls in front of me on the sofa.
'Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.'
Is Nicholas a trial? If I believed in God as my mother does, I might think so. But, if Joel and I aren't in love while we agreed we weren't, surely, it's not really a trial?
Why am I thinking about him as if I love him?
What I'm feeling is surely lust. A way of escape?
I realise he's still waiting for my response about God. "I don't know if I do. As I said before, I think I reach out to God when times are tough, but I certainly don't... I don't live by their rules. I never have believed to the extent my mother does. But I like to think there's something out there. I just... at times, I find it difficult to distinguish between their rules and mine."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, say I've done something wrong; my brain will think of quotes from the bible that my mum memorised. I'll think about it, and I'll feel guilty because to her it's a sin, but to me it's not, you know? I struggle with feeling guilty when I shouldn't because I'm my own person. Your words made me see that, but I'm just struggling to separate them," I admit.
He gives a light, awkward laugh. "I'm glad I helped. I understand, though. It'll take you time to do that 'cause you've lived so long under her rule, I suppose."
"Why did you want to know?"
"Well, I just thought about it," he says. He takes a long drink.
"Nicholas, is everything okay?" I ask when he sighs.
"I just... well, not me, but you know my parents adopted one of their foster children?" he asks weakly. I hum in acknowledgement. "Well, we just had some bad news about him. He's... well, he's sick."
"Oh, Nicholas, I'm so sorry. Will he be okay?" I gasp.
"I don't know. I hope so," he answers. "Anyway, I should go."
"No, go, be with your family," I answer.
"Bye, Aspen."
"Bye, Nicholas," I say before cutting the call and finishing my wine. The phone vibrates and I stare at it. 'I'll speak to you tomorrow, my daisy.'
I send back a smiley emoji and pour myself another wine. Technically, I have done nothing wrong. I haven't called him a pet name; I haven't led him on, I have spoken to him as a friend and nothing more.
'Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.' Yet, never have those words meant more to me than they do right now, and I know I need to stay strong.
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