Max stood at the exit of the airport terminal. It was 7:00PM, the taxi's that pulled up at the curb were illuminated by the acid white strip lighting of the exit. Cab drivers lolled out of windows, smoking rollies and watching girls.
He had found a map of Saugatuck on his way out. He held it now, staring at it intently until he spotted the air port. He pinched where he was on the map with his fingers to hold it's place then looked for St Joseph's hospital. The map was small and the over head lighting was so bright it seemed to blind him every time he moved his eyes.
Eventually he found it, pinching the paper at that point so he had two clear markers, before circling them with his pen.
He had no idea of the distance between himself and the hospital, a half-recollection of map reading in the boy scouts not proving any use.
He glanced again at the clock. Wondering if he had enough money for a cab, he looked again at the map before folding it back into a neat rectangle and pushing it into his back pocket. He'd forgo the taxi he decided, stepping out into the street, feeling the wind rush against him.
The noise of traffic, of people, hummed all around him, the distant skyline glittered before him, sky scrapers towering, spearing into the sky like shining daggers piercing the earth, cars trailed along, following the lights with his eyes until they blurred out of focus on the horizon.
He tucked his hands into his pockets, very aware that he had no phone, no way of contacting anybody should anything happen.
A jogger overtook him as he kept a brisk pace along the side of the road, the music playing in her ears caught his attention, vaguely recognising the fuzzy beat but not being able to place it.
He was hungry, his stomach gurgled but the money in his bag had to be kept there. He carried on walking, the street lights leading his way, the wind running it's cool fingers through his hair and down his scalp, cooling the sweat.
A cab slowed down next to him, the driver shouted something at him but he ignored him, bowing his head and speeding up, his left shoe soaking up the rain from the puddles, his sock squealching uncomfortably against his foot.
Yells and calls from a group of teenagers on the opposite side of the road made him look up, the air was thick with the pumping of flour into an all night bakery, the flour seemed to be being forced into a grill in the ground outside the shop, the white dust never seeming to settle, making him cough as he passed through it.
'Butler Street', the name rang a bell as he caught sight of the sign high up on the corner of Bloomingdales.
He paused in their foyer, noticing as he did the staff just beyond were decorating an enormous Christmas tree with red and gold decorations.
He retried the map and traced his finger across it, 'Butler street...butler street...', he found it with a smile of satisfaction, marking his progress with his pen, glancing at the streets and streets still between himself and the hospital on 52nd Street.
Looking up he noticed the giant illuminated red 'M' of a Macdonalds, a group of people loitered at it's entrance. He crossed the road at the next crossing, his stomach murmuring in anticipation. Food would undoubtedly help him plan his next move.
Zoe had slept as if she were dead, waking suddenly without reason, staring at the ceiling overhead while she gathered her bearings.
It was dark outside, she wondered why Helena hadn't woken her. She reached for her bag and slipped out her phone, checking the time. It was 8:30. She felt relief in the knowledge that Henry would have already been and gone again.
She shuffled out from under the bed clothes and made her way to the door, opening it gently, hearing no noise of children she assumed them to be asleep already.
She moved softly down the stairs, glancing as she did to the sitting room door which had been left partially open, the sweet warm smell of a burning candle greeted her as she reached the bottom step. Moving closer she could see the dim orange glow through the door.
She pushed her hands against it, the door swinging easily into the room. Helena looked up , moving back from the woman who sat next to her, her expression caught like a woman who had realised she had forgotten a cake in the oven.
"Sorry..."
She apologised, unsure why, but feeling again as though she had interrupted something.
Helena hastily regained her smile and reached out for the glass of wine she had set on the coffee table.
"Come in!"
She greeted with false enthusiasm.
Zoe looked over to the other woman as she entered, feeling self-conscious, her make up worn and tired, her clothes crumpled.
"Zoe is our guest, the doctor I was telling you about...from England."
The woman next to her nodded, sipping her wine.
"This is Bette."
Helena introduced, offering no further information on the woman. Zoe smiled tightly, settling herself on the very edge of one of the chairs.
"All the way from England hmm?"
Bette spoke, her voice was softer than Zoe had expected, she was well spoken too. Her clothes hinted at her class, her hair, like Helena's was a rich chocolate colour that curled to her shoulders, in the candle-light she looked the colour of toffee, the hint of something different in her heritage.
"Let me get you a drink."
Helena announced, remembering her manners and moving to the cabinet in the corner where she retrieved another wine glass.
"So...you're working with Henry?"
Bette asked, she spoke to Zoe but her eyes followed Helena as she moved, filling up the wine glass and passing it to Zoe, settling herself back into the sofa, this time moving herself further away from Bette.
Zoe nodded ,taking a sip, feeling the warmth of the wine fill her, seeping into her aching muscles.
The awkward silence that had hovered above them gradually descended. Each woman finding something interesting to look at in the knots of the wooden floor.
"I might just use the bathroom..."
Zoe spoke finally, standing, gesturing uncertainly to the door.
"Just opposite."
Helena bobbed her head like a nodding dog as she spoke and Zoe wondered how much wine they had already drunk.
She escaped to the bathroom, not really needing to go but forcing herself anyway. She sat on the cool bowl of the toilet for longer than necessary, looking at the wall full of family portraits. She'd always hated family pictures in bathrooms, all the eyes watching. She changed the pad in her underwear, she was still bleeding.
Finishing, she looked at herself in the mirror, surprisingly she looked better, more awake than she had imagined. She ran her hands over her skirt to check it hadn't ridden up at the back and padded back to the sitting room, a whispering causing her to pause at the door.
She stopped just short of the door that had swung almost closed when she had left, through the crack she could see Helena's legs. She moved slightly, her eyes following the curve of her legs, the angles of her back, she twisted even more, her breath quickening as she watched the two women – Bette's hand on Helena's thigh, her fingers gently teasing her skin through the fabric of her jeans. She whispered something into her ear, Helena smiled and Zoe wondered if it was about herself. She watched as Helena shook her head and bit her lip, Bette's own mouth pressing against Helena's ear, her tongue darting over the gold of her earring, kissing a trail along her jaw.
Zoe turned, slightly giddy, and made her way hurriedly back to her room, closing the door firmly behind herself, flicking the lock closed.
I'm so tired! More tomorrow :) I know I keep saying thank you for all of the comments, but really, thank you! I'm now going to go and dribble over Jamie Davis in Casualty ;)