enjoy it here because I plan on keeping you for a very long time!” he bellows as we enter the mansion/castle , sounding a little like the Mad Hatter from Alice and Wonderland. Maybe this is the brain damage, I really should be starting a log or diary of his behavior and maybe I should interrogate some of his staff to see what exactly his normal behavior is, if he’s ever been normal at all. Several people approach at once, closing the doors behind us and bustling about while we move through what appears to be virtually an empty foyer with a spectacular chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The staircase runs up the middle and branches out on either side to separate areas on the second floor. To my right there’s another set of double doors that I guess may be some sort of office. The left is open, flowing into an area that moves under the stairs and toward the back of the house. Continuing through rooms furnished with old English pieces, we turn to the right and pass through a living room with large floor to ceiling windows covered in deep purple, heavy curtains that drape into pools of fabric on the floor. In fact, there’s a lot of purple I realize, everywhere I look. Not a particularly feminine purple, the color makes me feel royal, which is the feeling I imagine the decorator was going for. Open double doors right off of the living room lead us into what must be the master suite of the house, Evan’s bedroom. A young Hispanic woman moves past us toward his bed, pulling back the covers and then she heads to the window to open the heavy white drapes that cover more floor-to- ceiling windows.
“That will be all Cecilia.” He dismisses the girl without a ‘thank you’ again, and I can’t help but notice his lack of manners, thinking that maybe we should start to work on that. The ambulance drivers lowers the gurney next to his bed and begins to attempt to move him over. “No, I’ll stand,” he quips.
“Ah Evan, it would be better to let them help you, you haven’t been out of bed on your own yet,” I recommend.
“I’m doing it myself.” The drivers look at me with question and I shrug and raise my hands in frustration.
“Let him try, but be right there in case he can’t make it,” I say, and Evan scowls at me. “What? I’m your nurse, and I don’t know why you want me here if you don’t plan on following my directions?” I explain, after that dark look he’s given me. No reply- just stubbornness all over his face. The driver lowers the rail and moves the gurney close to his bed. Evan swings his good leg over and puts his foot on the ground. I tense and begin to move toward him instinctually, and he looks up at me with a
“Don’t you dare!” look on his face, which makes me stop in my tracks. He uses his hands to guide his casted leg off the gurney, hops on his good leg turning and sits with unexpected grace on his own bed. Now he looks at me with total satisfaction at his self-sufficiency and raises the casted leg up onto mattress and the pillows that have been arranged by Cecelia. I am actually impressed. It’s as if he has done this before, or maybe it’s the absolute control he has over every muscle in his body? Either way, I’m enjoying seeing him move on his own, I didn’t think it was possible for him to be more attractive, but Evan in motion is living art. He could be in an anatomy book, the chapter on ‘Muscles of the Body’; every part of him is sculpted, hard and polished. He’s dressed in a long sleeved charcoal grey Henley that stretches across his fine chest in the most distracting way, and a pair of soft jeans with one leg cut off at the knee to allow for the cast.
Oh yes, I had done that when helping him dress, and if that wasn’t torture, I can’t say what is. Pulling that shirt over his head and helping him raise his hips to scoot the jeans on, my hands had trembled the entire time and he had loved it as usual. Mr. Saint stands quietly now, directing everyone
“That will be all Cecilia.” He dismisses the girl without a ‘thank you’ again, and I can’t help but notice his lack of manners, thinking that maybe we should start to work on that. The ambulance drivers lowers the gurney next to his bed and begins to attempt to move him over. “No, I’ll stand,” he quips.
“Ah Evan, it would be better to let them help you, you haven’t been out of bed on your own yet,” I recommend.
“I’m doing it myself.” The drivers look at me with question and I shrug and raise my hands in frustration.
“Let him try, but be right there in case he can’t make it,” I say, and Evan scowls at me. “What? I’m your nurse, and I don’t know why you want me here if you don’t plan on following my directions?” I explain, after that dark look he’s given me. No reply- just stubbornness all over his face. The driver lowers the rail and moves the gurney close to his bed. Evan swings his good leg over and puts his foot on the ground. I tense and begin to move toward him instinctually, and he looks up at me with a
“Don’t you dare!” look on his face, which makes me stop in my tracks. He uses his hands to guide his casted leg off the gurney, hops on his good leg turning and sits with unexpected grace on his own bed. Now he looks at me with total satisfaction at his self-sufficiency and raises the casted leg up onto mattress and the pillows that have been arranged by Cecelia. I am actually impressed. It’s as if he has done this before, or maybe it’s the absolute control he has over every muscle in his body? Either way, I’m enjoying seeing him move on his own, I didn’t think it was possible for him to be more attractive, but Evan in motion is living art. He could be in an anatomy book, the chapter on ‘Muscles of the Body’; every part of him is sculpted, hard and polished. He’s dressed in a long sleeved charcoal grey Henley that stretches across his fine chest in the most distracting way, and a pair of soft jeans with one leg cut off at the knee to allow for the cast.
Oh yes, I had done that when helping him dress, and if that wasn’t torture, I can’t say what is. Pulling that shirt over his head and helping him raise his hips to scoot the jeans on, my hands had trembled the entire time and he had loved it as usual. Mr. Saint stands quietly now, directing everyone
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