Tori and Tris - Chapter Twelve - Rising phoenix
Tris was awake for longer periods today. Her eyes were beginning to heal, she could open each one a little but not at the same time. She was more mobile, although still ginger, her muscles were still quite sore all over her body and her ribs remained extremely painful. Many of her abrasions and bruises no longer needed medical treatment which I slyly replaced with therapeutic treatment. Tris needed less help to use the bathroom, and was having semi regular sitting showers. I encouraged her to rest in the recliner in the sunshine.
I was beginning to experience an impending sense of cabin fever. This has nothing to do with the care I provided to Tris which I would not trade for anything, caring for her had become an expression of my love for her. I cannot remember ever having spent so much time in such a small space, I was missing the parlour, my fellow staff members and customers. It had been years since I had been a very regular bar fly but just knowing that it wasn't an option made me especially thirsty and surprisingly social. It didn't help that I was desperate for information about the outside world. Logically I know that it is unsafe and that I will be advised of anything I need to know. I have got to keep busy.
The boxes did indeed contain more than I had requested. More food; including some very hard to come by luxury food items, there was tea, coffee, sweets, as well as alcohol and tobacco. Someone was thinking of me, I raise the pouch to my nose and breathe deeply, either my mind is playing tricks on me or I can detect a rather pleasant rum scent. There was more medication; syringes, instruments, dressings and sterile bandages, salves, ointments and gels. Plus the stuff I had ordered through the black market. Much of this stuff would need to be redistributed at some point.
I hadn't requested weapons but curiously there we had been supplied with two rebuilt semi automatic handguns, a beretta and a glock, with customised belts and a butt load of ammo. Two pairs of fighting sticks. A stash of hunting knives. And, pièce de résistance, two near new velcro vests that housed an enormous number and range of throwing knives and throwing axes. Somebody had been sitting on these! I was staring open mouthed at the booty, still fingering the vests and eyeing the hunting knives. I looked up suddenly aware that Tris was slowly approaching, her eyes were as round as I have seen them since, well since before. I drag the back of my hand across my mouth in case I had been caught drooling.
I had yet to decide whether the enormous weapons haul signalled further threats to our safety or were a celebration of our safety. Tris, ever more clever than myself, seems to have already come to her unhappy conclusion. Tears sprang to her eyes, as she came closer, she reached out to touch the glock, the fighting sticks, she looked down at the other supplies. "They are coming for me," she said in a shaky voice. I didn't know whether that interpretation was correct or not and for that reason felt unwilling and unable to provide Tris with the mean sort of comfort that involved minising her logic and down playing her fear. And that left me feeling incapacitated; Tris however pressed her body to mine and pulled my arms around her.
It occurs to me that my unprecedented, unexpected withdrawal from work, and everywhere else, can not help but be associated with the assault of Tris and her own subsequent withdrawal from public life. I considered whether the general knowledge of the two of us being more or less incarcerated in this apartment added to or retracted from our safety. I have no doubt that the best strategy would be to discuss these things with Triss because she is always able to appreciate such issues more fully, but she is particularly delicate and I don't want to add to her already heavy burdens.
Whilst Tris was sleeping I alternately meditated and trained in order to keep my mind and body actively employed, I trained lightly so as not disturb the patient. I continued to check on Tris, tending to her nightmares, but still having more time on my hands than I am used to, I finally gave in and gave the kitchen and bathroom a much needed scrub. I hand washed the growing pile of smalls gathering in the bathroom hamper, there was a surprising number of pairs of long thick socks. I recall that Tris feels the cold and I don't begrudge her any number of socks. Regardless of how bored I felt, I was not prepared to do any more cleaning, rather I rewarded myself by indulging in a rather strong drink and a ciggie, close by the open window, and hoped I wasn't killing my patient.
The following morning I awoke with a start, looking around frantically. I tried to get my bearings, I am fully dressed, stretched out rather uncomfortably in the recliner, I peer over my shoulder to find an empty bed. I scan the room, the bathroom door is open so I know Tris is not in there. I hear movement in the direction of the kitchen and notice the delicious smell of coffee. I made my way to the kitchen to see how Tris is faring, she looked so much better and my heart gave a little flutter. The swelling and bruising around her eyes and nose had begun to subside and some of her normal colour was returning to her face. "Well, look at you," I say softly so as not to startle her, I could not repress the happy grin that spread all over my face. Tris looked vastly improved and was pleased to be handing me a strong cup of coffee.
Tris took hers back to bed, so I followed, watching her movements to see if I could identify the state of her injuries or recovery as the case may be. Her eyes were open this morning, not all the way, of course, but at least Tris could see now. Her actual eyeballs were still very bloodshot. I climbed on to the bed and sat at the foot enjoying my beverage. I imagine Tris was feeling pretty grateful for her independence, her new range of movement and especially her sight, because she was relatively chipper. She was smiling and chatting, her eyes darting all around the room. The coffee could not sustain her however and she fell into a light sleep.
We had real food for dinner, by which I mean food that requires chewing, unlike soup, we enjoyed a delicious green salad, fresh bread and hamburger. I was glad to see Tris enjoy her food and display a decent appetite. I notice her fingers increasingly worrying the little bald patch, thinking of it brought images of Tris clinging on to one of those blokes at the edge of the chasm and the other five fuckers trying pry open her fingers, pulling out huge clumps of her hair, in order to detach her from their comrade and get her over the edge. I wonder if, as she touches that spot, she thinks of similar memories? I touch the hand that clutched her fork and apparently startled her, she snatches her other hand away from her head.
"How about a treat tonight?" Tris looks suddenly like a child at Christmas, "Yes, please! What is it?" I shrug mysteriously, "I don't know," I announce, "Why don't you wait in the recliner?" "Really?" She looks at me doubtlingy. "Aah, yea of little faith," I pushed her gently in that direction while I gathered up the dishes and took them to the kitchen. While waiting for the kettle to boil, I find a pillowcase and fill it with some of the luxury treats we had received. I made two hot chocolates, and brought them to the big window. I sat against the wall under the window facing the recliner, Tris mirrored my position and slipped uneasily to the floor as well. She sniffed at her mug and looked at me like we were participating in something very naughty. I held the up pillowcase so Tris could randomly pick a treat.
We enjoyed our sweet evening together, it was lighthearted and easy. Unsurprisingly, Tris had rarely partaken in such luxurious food in her life, she can actually recall the number of times she had eaten chocolate! We each picked one thing from the bag, studied the wrappers, read the ingredients list out to each other and recalled every similar experience we could remember. We took our time unwrapping them, looked at the treats closely, describing it to each other, pointing out nuts, cherries or marshmallows. We sampled each other's treat and ranked them according to various criteria, moaning in raptures at how rich they were.