Chapter 4
Fiona let out a huff. What does he think I am, a child? I'm just suffering a little setback, that's all. She stood and carefully pulled the towel away from her hand. It stung, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. Her hand brushed the plastic bags on the bar, rustling them. After a lot more feeling around, she was able to figure out what Sam brought home, except for the items in boxes. Since she couldn't see the labels, she opened each one and sniffed or sampled. Cereal, some nasty sugary thing. She made a face and threw it on top of the fridge with a satisfying thump. The produce and yogurt she put in the fridge along with a gallon of milk. Eggs. Cheese. Something in a box that she couldn't detect a scent, but she felt the long pieces of linguine. This was actually starting to turn into a fun game, figuring out exactly what Sam bought at the store.
It took far longer than it should have to empty all the bags, but she did it without help. She hoped she had everything in the right place. When in doubt, she stuck it in the fridge to be on the safe side.
Next, she found the broom and dustpan. She should have done that the first time to clean up the pickle mess on the floor. By the time she finished that task, she was grinning at her ability to function without help. It didn't matter that it was already past lunch time and she'd only completed these two things. But time seemed to stand still for her when she didn't have access to a clock, and other than a little hunger pang, she didn't have a clue what time it was.
I'm kind of surprised that Sam didn't come back. He's such a softie, even with me.
She noted the harsh smell of vinegar and dill on her and realized that her clothes were covered with dried pickle juice. Better grab a quick shower! She crossed the room and went into the bathroom, got the water running and to the right temperature without needing to see. She'd lived in the loft for so long, she knew by heart the nuances of coaxing the right temperature out of the shower. She felt so much better afterwards. With one towel wrapped around her head and another around her body, she went back out to get dressed.
"Oh Fi, I'm sorry!"
"Sam!" He sounded as if he stood just inside the door. "W-what are you doing here? I thought you were leaving me on my own!"
"Yeah, well, I only got so far. Maddie reamed me out and threatened to come over here herself to take care of you." He let out a breath. "If you think I'm bad, you're better off not knowing what it's like being watched over by Maddie. Trust me."
There was that word again. Fiona realized that one of the things about Sam, an insecurity perhaps, was that he always found it important that people trusted him. She saw it as a weakness, but who was she to scoff at a time when she had her own shortcoming. Fiona held the towel close to herself and put on a contrite expression.
"Sam. I'm sorry I didn't answer when you asked if I trusted you. I do." She failed to add: to a point. "I'm just…this is all so much to deal with right now."
"I know, Fi. That's why I'm here to help. If only you'll let me."
She could tell by the sound of his voice that he was okay and that she was forgiven.
He asked, "You, uh, want me to pick out some clothes for you?"
"No thanks. I'll put together something, and you tell me if it matches. After that, I'm fine. And no, I don't need your help dressing." A slight smile crossed her face.
Sam laughed nervously. "I wasn't going to ask. You're on your own there, sister!"
While she dressed, Fiona heard Sam moving things in the kitchen. If he made it difficult for her to find something, just to prove a point…she would do whatever it took to find his face and give him a good right hook. She had to admit it to herself. When it came down to Sam Axe, she had trust issues. He didn't make it easy, with his constant playing the field, taking advantage of rich women just so he had a place to stay for free, a car to drive, and a full stomach.
What kind of life is that, anyway? Doesn't he have any self-respect? With his background, he should be self-sufficient! Hmmm, I wonder how he would have dealt with things if he were the blind one? A picture of him in his unmentionables, or less, lying in bed being waited on hand and foot by his latest tart came to mind. She shivered and almost needed another shower to wash off the disgust.
Fiona finished putting herself together by tying up her hair in a pony tail. It was the easiest thing to do for the time being. She emerged from the bathroom and strode across the loft, took a seat at the bar, and listened. Sam was being awfully quiet. Then she listened more closely, and she heard his breathing nearby.
"Sam? What are you doing?"
"Hmm? Oh just reading this prescription they gave you."
"Prescription?" She had no idea that she'd been given anything.
"Yeah. It's just some pain medication. Nothing really strong. I was checking out this material they sent along with it. Personally, after reading some of these side effects, I'd pass."
"Well, I'm not feeling any pain right now, so I guess it's useless." Her stomach growled. "I am hungry, though."
"No problem. I'll make something for you. What do you want?"
"What are my options?"
He gave her a long list and she settled for a salad and some fruit. "Okay, just so you know, if you're looking for a snack later, I arranged the refrigerator to make it easier for you to find stuff." As he cut up lettuce and vegetables for the salad, he verbally laid out the arrangement in the fridge.
Fiona listened, impressed that he took the effort. She felt a bit ashamed that she thought he was trying to thwart her when in fact he made it easier.
"Ow! Crap."
"What did you do?" Her head swiveled from side to side, as if she were hoping to see through a veiled curtain, but had no success.
"Nothin', if you don't mind a little protein in your salad."
"Ew, Sam! No!" Her nose wrinkled.
"Just kidding! I've got everything under control, just never mind." He cut up an apple for her, put it on the plate alongside the salad, and asked. "Dressing?"
"Just the vinegar and oil, please. And not too much, just a tablespoon or two."
"You got it." He poured it sparingly, tossed it up a little, and then set the plate before her. "Okay, your salad is from 6 to 12, and the sliced apple is fanned out from about 1 to 5."
She smiled. "It sounds very artistic, Sam. Didn't know you had it in you."
"Yeah," he flapped a hand. "I've been watching too many of those cooking shows with Maddie."
Fiona let out a little laugh as she felt along the surface for a fork.
"Oh, sorry. The fork is right here," he pulled one out of the silverware drawer and put it in her hand. Their fingers touched briefly, and his pulled away as if hers were on fire.
She ate in silence while Sam cleaned up the kitchen and nibbled on the leftovers from making Fi's salad. "This really hits the spot, huh?"
"Yes, it's quite good. You make an adequate salad, Sam."
"Adequate, huh." He put the last of the ingredients into the fridge and pulled out a beer. "Oh yeah, beer's in the door. But I think you might wanna lay off the alcohol while you've got the head issues. Know what I mean?"
She nodded wordlessly. Funny how something like that came naturally; yet if she were talking to another blind person, they would have no idea that she agreed. "You're right, Sam. I'l stick to water."
After she got something in her stomach, Fiona didn't know what to do. She was used to being on the go almost all the time. With no job, she would probably do her nails, except...she couldn't even see them to do them. She sighed heavily and rested her chin in her hand.
"Bored?" Sam didn't need to ask. He could see it on her face, but he verbalized anyway just for her sake. As a matter of fact, if she knew how forlorn she looked at the moment, Fiona would be downright embarrassed to let so much emotion show in front of him.
"Yes. Maybe I should take a nap." She got up from the stool and tried to navigate around the other one, but her foot snagged on it and she went down hard on the floor. "Dammit! Who left that stool sticking out so far?"
Without a word, Sam got down on one knee and gently touched her shoulder. She threw off his hand.
"Leave me alone! I can get up by myself. I'm not completely helpless, I just can't see."
"I know that. I'm just trying to help."
"You can help by leaving me alone for awhile, Sam. Please." She stood and made it to the bed without stumbling over anything. Even though she couldn't see, she could feel his eyes on her. "And stop staring! I'm not some kind of freak!"
"I'm sorry, Fi. I'll, uh, be up on the computer if you need anything."
She heard his footsteps fading away and she instinctively counted them. When he hit the steps, she had to listen harder, but she could hear every footfall. Even if she hadn't heard him walk away, she would have known he left her. The smell of Old Spice was a dead giveaway and as long as he was in the loft, it would always be there.
Fiona tried to sleep, but she wasn't tired. She tossed and turned on the bed. With every movement, she grew more and more frustrated. How long would she have to endure this? If this was permanent, she didn't think she could take it. She had a lot of unfinished business, and she didn't trust Sam to take care of it for her. When Michael returned, maybe he could tie up her loose ends. But then what? She would be a single woman with no income. Yes, she had a place to stay with Michael, but she didn't want to be the female counterpart to Sam, counting on Michael to be her sugar daddy and take care of her every need. No, she would figure out how to survive on her own if it killed her, and if it did, at least then she wouldn't have to live like this anymore. Fiona was too strong to let this defeat her. She would prevail.
Somewhere along the line she must have exhausted herself with the tossing around, because she sat up and felt well-rested. Paper rustled nearby. "Welcome back, Fi. Did you have a nice nap?"
"You...you gave me something to knock me out, didn't you?" She glanced around at nothing, trying to detect where he was. She knew where Michael's chairs were, but it didn't sound as if he was in any of them.
"Fi, before we left the hospital I talked with your doctor. He said you didn't sleep very welll, so he gave me a sedative to give you, just in case."
"You said he prescribed a pain reliever." She narrowed her eyes, for all the good it did.
"Yeah, and a sedative. I decided that was on a need to know basis, and at the time, you didn't need to know, because I suspected you'd never take it."
"So you laced my food with it. Sam, how could you!"
"You know, everything I've done here has been for you. I don't have to be here, sister, but Mikey's my friend. More than that, he's like a brother, and I love him like one. You, for whatever reason, are an extension of him, and so I care a...for you."
She heard him get up from the stool at the bar and come closer. "But you're making it nearly impossible. I don't know how much longer I can put up with your crap. If you really don't want my help, I'll tell Maddie to come over here and she'll smother you. I guarantee it. You'll be begging me to come back, but I'd be crazy to do that."
He dropped a newspaper on the table. She was proud of herself that she could distinguish the difference between a paper and a magazine. But right now that wouldn't earn her any points with Sam. She sat on the edge of the bed, knees together, hands clasped in her lap.
"Well, what have you got to say about that?"
"Nothing, Sam."
"I didn't think so." His footsteps started toward the door. "If your highness doesn't mind, I'm going to go out and get some fresh air for awhile. I'll be back later." The door squealed and thudded behind him.
Without a reference for time, such as light patterns or a clock, and with nothing to do, Fiona felt herself growing uneasy with the continued silence. She heard noises downstairs and hoped that maybe Sam returned. She waited for the sound of feet on the stairs, but there was nothing. A door banged, voices muffled, and before long, music thumped up through the floor. It was after nine, and Sergei's club was open for business.
During all of this, not once did she ask how Sam fared in the accident. He seemed to be okay. There was nothing in his voice to indicate he'd been injured. He probably walked away without a scratch, a sick and cruel twist of fate. Since he was the one who warned her to slow down in the first place, his reward was to come out of it injury free. So this is my penance for my lack of judgement. I will spend the rest of my life unable to see, because of one mistake. Not one to wallow in self-pity, she was getting too close for comfort. With a sigh, she got up and wandered around the loft, working off nervous energy to the point where she actually had herself so turned around, she suddenly couldn't make a step without worrying whether she would run into a post or something.
It was then that she heard footsteps coming upstairs. Maybe it was Michael! She heard the key in the lock, the bolt turned, and he entered the loft.
"Michael?"
"Sorry to burst your bubble, Fi. It's just me, Sam." He dropped his keys on the workbench and locked the door behind him.
"How was the air?" She pursed her lips, holding back the apology she knew she should give him.
"It was nice. It's a bit cool out there, but it feels good. Hey, would you, um, like to go for a little walk? You don't have to hang onto my elbow or anything, but it would help you get around."
"No, thank you. I think I did enough pacing around here while you were gone." She silently thanked him for the conversation, because it helped her get her bearings again. Although, she still wound up ramming her shin into the night stand.
"Oh hey, hey, hey, sit down on the bed."
"Why?"
"Why? You just knocked your shin and it's bleeding a little. So sit down, and I'll take care of it." He let out a long sigh and went for the med kit. He soon knelt down before her as she perched on the edge of the mattress. "Fi, until you get acclimated or you get your sight back, you have to acknowledge the fact that I'm going to be here acting as your eyes." He taped a bandage to her shin and patted her knee. "There you go, good as new. Now, how about we play some cards?"
"Cards, Sam? Are you serious? How cruel can you be!"
She could hear the humor in his reply. "Not cruel at all. Before we can play, though, you're gonna have to learn the dots."
"Dots."
"Yeah. Braille. I found a store that carries a lot of stuff for...um...challenged people, and..."
She interrupted him with a perturbed look on her face. "Oh Sam, don't sugar coat it. I'm blind! B-L-I-N-D!"
"Nice to know you can still spell."
She balled her hand into a fist and let it fly.
"Ow!"
Knowing she made contact with his shoulder, she smiled briefly, then sobered. "I'll have you know, brother, that I'm not challenged. I'm handicapped."
"Temporarily. But in the meantime, it wouldn't hurt for you to learn a little Braille. Tell you what, I'll learn it too, and then turn off the lights so we both have to play in the dark. What do you say?"
Fiona couldn't help herself. She burst into laughter. "Sam, you're crazy!" She grinned up at him. "But you know what? That's a challenge I don't mind."
"I can guarantee that strip poker's out of the question. It would be no fun in the dark."
"Sam," she growled and he laughed.
"Boy, you take everything so serious, Fi!" He got up and went over to the old cable spool that served as a table. "Come on, let's try this."
It took them awhile to master the dots, and they didn't get to play any cards that night, but at least they had something to do to help her pass the time. When she was tired, he put the cards away and she retreated to the bathroom to change for bed. She came out but didn't hear Sam. She shuffled her feet past the bed and toward the open doors leading to the balcony.
"Fi, you better stay inside."
"Why? It's not like I'll fall because it's too dark to see. It could be broad daylight and I wouldn't be able to see, remember?"
"I remember, I'm not stupid. I just think you better stay inside, that's all." He noticed the filmy negligee she was wearing, and it was better if she stayed in the dark until she crawled into bed. Despite how he felt about her as a person, always at odds with her, as a female, she didn't realize what wearing those skimpy see through outfits did to him as a man. This was going to be tough to bear.
Mike better get home soon. Between her being irritating and unconsciously flaunting herself, she's been a real handful! But he'd spoken with Mike while he was out on his evening shopping trip. He wouldn't be there for another three days. Maybe by then Fi would be back to herself. He wasn't looking forward to having Mike walk in and see her stumbling around. Sam wanted to tell him, but he didn't know how. Besides, Maddie made him swear he wouldn't tell, that she would take care of it when he got home, because he didn't need to be worrying about it on the trip back. She's right. Why worry him over something that might clear up in a few days?
Sam stayed outside until he was certain that Fi was asleep. Then he closed the double doors against the chill, walked past her sleeping form in the dark with only the light from below to illuminate his way, and headed upstairs to make a bed on the couch. It had been too long a day, and his own head was starting to pound. The cut on his temple had healed well enough to remove the bandage, but the lingering effects of the concussion made him feel queasy and in need of a horizontal position. He hadn't eaten much, that was the problem. Tomorrow he would be much better, and maybe if he was in a better state, Fiona wouldn't be so irritating.