Once again, thanks ever so much for all wonderful feedback in comments and PMs to the last chapter. Like someone said, more talking about mental illness is needed to decrease the stigma that still seems to be there. If me writing about it helps even one person I'm glad but it was also a great feeling to just get it out of myself and share it.

Just so you know, now is enough of the self-experienced stuff and going forward I'm just making things up. I also realised that the months are passing by a bit quicker than I had planned in this story with everything I want to fit in during a certain period. Instead of going back and changing the start of the story to earlier, you just have to excuse me for stretching this autumn out - creative freedom or whatever you want to call it.

Most chapters live their life in my head for a while before I write them down, but this one was not even there as an idea until in the car this morning. I felt I wanted an angst-free chapter after the two previous rather heavy ones, to describe the slow but steady progress of both CJ's health and their friendship. Enjoy and thanks again for R&R, especially the kind comments to the more personal parts.

X

Chapter 10: A modest birthday celebration

Charles has been home for two weeks now. He made great progress in the weeks before he was discharged from Headley Court and it has continued. I understand he is slowly opening up to the psychologist, one step at a time. He says it helped to talk to me first. He is also really fighting with his physio, both when he is there and at home, now often having a training session on his own both in the morning and in the afternoon. His mind has been set on ditching the wheelchair for crutches and a few days ago he managed. Not for long walks yet, but for shorter distances. It was a real victory and he was so amazingly happy, as was I. Not to mention Hutchins. I swear I saw tears in her eyes even if she mumbled something about dust as she tried to discretely wipe something away. It turned out to be the best present to himself for his thirtieth birthday.

I thought Charles was thirty already, based on the advanced mathematical equation that he was eight when Hutchins started here and she has been working for the James family for 22 years, but it turned out that his birthday is quite late in the year. Of course, Hutchins was on top of this information and told me some days in advance. We both knew that the last thing he would want was a party of any kind, but we still thought we might make the day special for him in the little things. On one occasion Charles complained about that he has been growing up on healthy breakfasts like oatmeal because his parents and Hutchins thought this was the best for him (which, considering how his physique turned out, might have been a correct assumption). But this day I spoil him with a breakfast in manner of the less health-focused Dawes home; cocoa puffs, toast with Nutella and raspberry jam and of course, his favourite Nespresso coffee, Rosabaya. Hutchins and I bring it to his room, singing Happy birthday and I think how great it is to for once come here without a knot in my gut at the prospect of an angst-filled encounter. He seems utterly surprised that we have thought of his birthday at all. Apparently, he had done his best to forget it but now that we are here he seems happy. After the song, Hutchins excuse herself that she has something to attend to in the kitchen but I sit down in the same armchair where I have slept before.

"Cocoa puffs!" he says with almost childish joy and anticipation. Sometimes he is very different from the stern man I met the first day in this house. "It can't be Hutchins that decided the content of this breakfast."

"Nope, that would be me. I thought that once a man has turned thirty it's not more than fair that he gets to taste cocoa puffs."

He dips a spoon in the bowl and takes a mouthful.

"This beats any gourmet meal I've had" he grins.

"You know you're probably old enough to decide yourself what you should eat for breakfast? I think that right comes at the same age as voting, if not before. Even females have the right to decide for themselves what they eat for breakfast these days."

He throws a pillow at me.

"Shut up, Dawsey."

"But seriously, can I ask something I wondered about?"

"Yeah?"

"I get that you live here now, after your injuries, but how come you did not move out before? To have your own place?"

He points at me with his spoon. "You didn't either, if I'm not mistaken."

"No, but I don't have the money to do it. On the contrary, my family has often needed what I earn to make it, so I had my reasons. But for you, money does not seem to be an issue?"

He puts down the spoon and take a sip of his coffee instead, seemingly thinking.

"You're right. I could have moved anytime. I did live away from home when I was at uni and before that I was at boarding school, so in a way I left home early. After uni came Sandhurst and then, with my job, it didn't seem worth it to bother getting my own place as I would be away so much anyway, either at the regiment or deployed somewhere."

Makes sense, which might mean that he is not a freak even though he has stayed home at mum's until thirty, because he has not really. I think of all the places he must have gone to on tour, his world so much larger than mine as I have never left UK so far and spent most of my days in Bath.

"What's your favourite place of all the places you have gone to on tour?"

The question comes out before I really had time to think about it and I hope it will not remind him of things he does not want to be reminded of. But he does not seem to mind. He has to think about it a while though.

"I think I would have to go with Nepal."

"Why?"

"First of all, it's amazingly beautiful. The mountains… that there are both very green areas and snowy landscape, beautiful lakes, clear skies and wonderful little villages. Then the people are so friendly. It was such a contrast going there after Afghan, where one had to be alert every second because anyone could be an enemy. When we went to Nepal, it was a humanitarian mission and our help was welcomed and the people were just fantastic. They were poor but still willing to share anything they had with us. And even when they had gone through disaster like earthquake, there is such a serenity to that country. Not only its beauty but the way their religion is entwined in everything they do. To them religion is not just a separate building you go visit on Sundays, but a part of everyday life and the mentality. There's such a calmness to it. You know, I even got to see a living goddess there."

"Was she hot?"

"Dawes! She was a child."

"How was I to know? I have only seen goddesses in the Percy Jackson movies. There they're pretty hot - and the gods too. I wouldn't mind a date with Poseidon."

"It's clearly impossible to have a mature conversation with you." He rolls his eyes at me.

"That's because you're old and boring now - and I'm not." I tease him. "But seriously, Nepal sounds nice."

"We should go there hiking someday… I mean, when I can walk again."

I know it is not really a serious suggestion, but still it evokes so many thoughts inside of me. Like that I really hope he will heal so well that he can go hiking. But if he does he will not need me working for him anymore. And then, besides that I need to find another income, would we be friends still so we actually might consider going hiking in Nepal? Oh shit, if we do I have to get a passport and I need to start exercising so I have a chance keeping up with those Sherpas, because now I'm not fit enough for sure. The capacity of my brain is amazing sometimes, I swear that loop of thoughts only took one second.

"This toast is great. Why haven't I combined Nutella and jam before? Anyway, will you leave me alone for the rest of the day now or will you keep annoying me?"

"I had planned to keep annoying you. Nothing big, but I thought we might just get out of this house, for a walk in the park to try your newfound abilities. We can bring the wheelchair so you don't walk too far, but a little walk. It's such a beautiful sunny autumn day out there."

I'm prepared for resistance because so far, we have never left this house together to go anywhere but to Headley Court, but he just smiles and says okay. What I love most about that smile is that it reaches all the way up to his brown eyes and I think it is enough to keep me warm through an entire day.

There is a park quite near the house, a beautiful one. Even if it is a regular weekday when one could imagine that people should be busy working, there is a lot of people strolling around. Alone, together, with dogs and with kids. I hope he likes this because I feel so very happy being here with him. It somehow seems like a giant leap in the right direction that we are here, out of the house, feeling the sun on our autumn pale noses for a while, breathing the fresh air. For most part of it he sits in the wheelchair, but he also tries his "wings" with a walk on the crutches. It is a little more of a challenge than the plain surfaces indoors but it works brilliantly. Proud of him I clap my hands.

"Now you have deserved a hotdog for lunch."

"You really know how to spoil me, Dawesy."

"I do, don't I? You can have any topping you like."

He goes for modest ketchup and mustard, despite all the other sauces, onions and pickles the hotdog stand can offer. We sit down with view of a pond where some kids cheerfully are throwing breadcrumbs to some ducks and breaks into fits of laughter when the eager ducks come too close, seemingly want to nibble their shoes.

"Do you want to have kids?" he suddenly asks.

"I haven't really thought about it yet. So far, I have had enough with my brothers and sisters you know. But I have never thought I don't want it, so yes, I do. Not as many as mum and dad, though. And you?"

"Yeah, I want kids. And I wouldn't mind as many as your mum and dad has. Growing up alone has made me want a big family. Our house was always so empty and silent. Except at Christmas when all my cousins came and it was filled with children and laughter. The house was magic then and I always used to wish it would be like that all the time, not only at Christmas."

"It depends on the kids... If you come to my house for one afternoon I think you will change your mind."

"I doubt that."

"Anyway, you'll have a challenge to find yourself a woman who is up for it. Not everyone is like my mum who produces babies on a conveyor belt."

"You really know how to put things in a romantic way, Dawes."

"I'm just saying, many of us are closing the shop after two or three."

Now it is him who bursts into laughter. Then his gaze falls at the kids and the ducks again.

"Next time we should bring some bread too. I like feeding ducks."

I'm not sure which I should choose to react on, the fact that he likes to feed ducks (seriously?) or that he thinks about coming here again. I decide for the latter.

"Next time? You mean you consider coming here again?"

"Honestly, Dawes, this was the best thing in a very long time."

"What, the hotdog?"

"No, all of it. Coming out, seeing people, feel the sun and get some air. Thanks for pushing me."

"I didn't have to push that much, you didn't even protest."

"Only because I didn't want to disappoint you."

Sometimes when he meets my eyes as seriously as he does now, I do not know what to do. I must look away because it is too much. I know that he hardly is doing things for my sake, but his joke plays on strings inside me which I'm not comfortable with. It stirs something, I do not know what, but I certainly do not want him to know.

"You're full of shit Charles James" I just say to break the spell.

For the afternoon tea I have baked a fantastic cake, with thirty candles of course. Hutchins places it on the kitchen island saying;

"Molly baked this for you."

He looks very surprised.

"Wow, amazing Dawes. Thank you! This is even nicer than the cakes that you use to buy Hutchins."

"I don't buy any cakes, it's always Molly who makes them."

"Sometimes you're really daft for someone so smart. Anyway, I'm glad you like it" I giggle.

"Why didn't you say?"

"Because I wanted you to eat the cakes, you seemed to need it, and I wasn't sure you would if I said I had made them. You know, before, when you didn't really want me in this house."

As I think he does now?

"I have always wanted you in this house. Why would I otherwise have hired you?"

"You know what I mean. You said you only did because your mum had you do it, remember? And you only wanted me to drive you and keep out of your way for the rest of the time."

"Okay, I remember saying that. The good thing about getting older is that you realise it's okay to change your mind" he grins.

My mind is a little bit conflicted about what he says. Did he change his mind, or did he only say that time that he did not want me here, despite that he wanted me here already then? I don't know why I bother with such thoughts, it does not really matter. I'm here, we are friends, sort of - and on a day like this life seems just perfect.

Before I go home for the day I accompany him up to his room, not that I need to as he is fully capable of taking the elevator himself, but it just feels nice to make sure that the birthday child gets there okay. When I'm already halfway out the door again, Charles says:

"Dawesy, I meant what I said before."

He sees that I'm not sure what he is eluding to.

"I like having you here... I like me better when I'm with you."

At that I can only smile and make an exit, because I do not know what to say.