Part Three – Love
Chapter 12 - Are You Lonesome Tonight?
Wheeler woke late the following afternoon to the painful sound of his telephone ringing. Groaning at the noise he dragged himself off the sofa, holding his head and swearing at his cramped muscles, he headed for his bedroom and the bathroom beyond. After using the facilities he stumbled to his bed and flopped down, covering his head with his pillow to block out the continuing peal and hoping his hangover would be gone by the time he regained consciousness.
The American felt like hell. The extra night's sleep had calmed the throbbing in his head but the recollection of why he'd downed so much whiskey in the first place had returned. She's gone.
Whilst a part of him wanted to stay where he was forever, the early morning light pouring through his window was making it difficult to sleep… that and the fact he had nothing to distract himself from some very painful memories. If she didn't hate me before she came here, she must now. I'll never see her again, I made sure of that, it's what I've wanted since she waltzed back into my life. Now if I could just stop caring…
A hot shower and a slightly unwelcome breakfast, did much to make him feel human again, and it was only then that he remembered the phone call. He abandoned the washing up and went into the lounge to check his answering machine. Sure enough the red light was blinking and the display said he had two messages. The first was from his mother, wishing him a Happy Christmas but his half-hearted resolution to call her back was forgotten when he heard the second.
"Mr Wheeler? My name is Joy Winters, I'm the Admission's Administrator at Stansted General. A Miss Orlova was admitted a short while ago and we found your card in her purse. We can't seem to find any other contact details for her and I would appreciate it if you would call me back to answer a few questions. Thank you, my number is…"
He didn't wait to hear the number but had already gone to grab his coat and car keys.
Wheeler waited impatiently at the reception desk while the woman there took her time with the person that had arrived in front of him. It felt like forever to the American, who was cursing himself for not answering the phone the night before, though he hadn't been in any condition to do anything. She needed me and I was drunk… oh God I hope she's ok!
"Can I help you?" The receptionist didn't smile.
"You have a Miss Linka Orlova here?" He swallowed, his heart was pounding in his chest as he tried not to think about what they might tell him. "Someone called me but they didn't say what was wrong with her…"
The woman checked her notes, "Oh yes, she was admitted yesterday after collapsing at the airport. She's in room 301, it's not serious." She pointed down a corridor, "That way."
The American was understandably annoyed by her casual response, "It was serious enough for her to collapse!"
"I can't discuss patient details with you," The woman was unimpressed. "She's awake now, and a doctor will be making rounds in the next hour."
Wheeler glared at her and headed in the direction she'd indicated, his insides twisting at the thought of Linka being there alone all night.
The ward was bright white and uninviting but not large and it didn't take him long to locate his friend. She was very pale except for red patches on her cheeks and an equally red nose. Her eyes were closed. "Babe?"
Linka opened her eyes and looked at him, and then closed them again. "Chort Voz Mi."
He cleared his suddenly dry throat, "How are you?"
"What are you doing here Jason? How did you even know I was here?" Her voice sounded thick and her eyes had been glassy, and it made him remember that she'd had a cold.
"The hospital called me, you still had my card in your purse." He sat on the side of her bed and took her hand.
Linka didn't try to pull away but she looked at him and said, "You should not get too close, I have the influenza… the normal kind, they have tested me for the more dangerous strains and ruled them out, but you still do not want to get it."
"Then what was that about you fainting?" He didn't move away.
She sighed, "My flight yesterday morning was cancelled because of the weather and I had to sit in the airport all day waiting for another one. I was not feeling well and not thinking clearly so I did not eat and by the time I was called to check in my luggage I…" She broke off coughing and he helped her sit up and sip some water before she could continue. "Spasiba."
Linka rubbed her chest and sank back against the pillows, exhausted by the effort. "They said the doctor will be around to check me soon and then I can be discharged. I will have to get a hotel room until I shake this because I gave up my apartment, but I will be fine. You do not need to be here."
Wheeler felt terrible, not just because she evidently didn't want him there, but because he couldn't help worry that her hasty departure when she wasn't well was also his fault. "I want to be here… I know things have been bad… and that's my fault. But you didn't need to leave!"
Before she could answer a man approached the bed in a white coat and began pulling the curtain around the bed. He had dark skin and a slight accent, "I am Doctor Gupta, I will be examining you." He looked at Wheeler, "If you will wait outside?"
The American stood his ground, "Don't mind me."
The doctor began to argue but knowing Wheeler as she did, Linka decided the quickest way to get out of the hospital was to let him have his way. "Please Doctor, let him stay if he wants to, and then tell me I can go?"
The check-up was no more than listening to her chest and feeling the glands around her throat but Wheeler hovered the whole time, and the Russian could tell he was tense which made no sense to her.
"You can be released, Miss Orlova." The doctor said at last, "But you must take better care of yourself." He looked up at Wheeler, "I trust she will be looked after?"
"Definitely." The American replied seriously, drawing a protest from Linka. Wheeler then appealed to the doctor, "Tell her she can't leave unless she lets me take care of her."
Doctor Gupta smiled and nodded, "You did not object to his staying during your examination, I think you cannot object to being in his care. You should not be in here, but you should not be alone and the airport will not want you back until you are fully recovered... you caused something of a stir, I hear."
Linka shifted uncomfortably. "I am not his responsibility… and he does not want me here."
Squatting down beside her bed, Wheeler took her hand and kissed it. "Yes I do. I was angry with you and I've been acting like a jerk, but I didn't want you to leave… even if I didn't work that out 'til you left, or I thought you'd left."
The Russian studied his face, a dubious expression on her own. "You feel bad because I am sick, but you do not need to, you had a reason to be angry. I should not have come here and I will leave as soon as I am well enough to fly."
Wheeler looked down at the hand he still held. "Then let's call a truce for old time's sake, and for Christmas." He looked back into her eyes. "Let me take care of you for the holidays and then, if you still want to leave, we'll part as friends and not… whatever we were two days ago."
Tears shimmered in Linka's eyes, she had a feeling the next few days would be very painful, but she didn't have the strength or the will to fight him. "Ok."
By the time they got up to Wheeler's flat, Linka was seriously flagging. He let them both inside and watched her sink gratefully onto his sofa, closing her eyes and leaning back, and then almost immediately sitting up again to cough.
Thoughtfully retrieving a box of tissues, the American sat down beside her and waited for the paroxysm to subside. She looked at him wearily and fell back against the cushions, "Sorry."
"Don't apologise!" he leant over to press his lips against her forehead, testing her temperature the way his mother used to. "You're still burning up, I'll get you some aspirin and then make the bed up for you."
She blushed but he was already heading for the kitchen. When he returned she said, "I need to call the airport and find out what happened to my luggage, is it ok if I use your phone?"
"You can use anything you want, Babe." He handed her the pills and a glass of water, "But why don't you let me call the airport, you'll probably just start coughing again."
Linka took the pills in silence but then said, "You are doing too much for me already, it is not right."
"Don't start that again, we made a deal remember?" He caught her eyes with his own. "As far as I'm concerned the last four years didn't happen , the conference didn't happen, we're just two friends who used to be Planeteers together… and we were friends then, right?"
"Da." Linka's voice sounded hoarse and she hoped he would put it down to her cold but it was his words that had made her throat close up. She knew he had meant it for the best but she didn't want to forget the time they had spent together as a couple and knowing that he was ready to, hurt.
Wheeler headed towards his bedroom to change the sheets on his bed, not realising the effect his words had had on her and after a couple of minutes Linka followed him, "Would you mind if I took a quick shower?"
He smiled at her, "I told you, you don't need to ask. The bathroom is through there, and there's spare towels in the closet. Call me if you need anything."
"Like someone to hold me up?" She replied wryly, thinking about how weak she felt, only to nearly trip on his carpet as he answered. "Don't joke Babe, I might take you up on it!"
Linka turned her head to look at him but he was busy with the covers, not expecting her to react. She smiled sadly and continued on to the bathroom.
Once Wheeler had finished getting the bedroom ready he returned to the lounge intending to call the airport. The first thing he saw was the half empty bottle of whiskey on the side table and he cursed softly, glad that Linka had been too tired to notice it. He washed up his glass and emptied the rest of the alcohol down the sink, having no intention of ever drinking it again.
Half an hour later the Russian emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel, with another wrapped around her hair, and wondering if she had the strength to make it back into the living room. Not only had the bed been made but a large baggy t-shirt had been laid out on top, no doubt for her to wear in lieu of her own night things. Not questioning the gesture, Linka quickly pulled it over her head and dropped the towel on the floor, before sitting unceremoniously in its place.
Wheeler found her there a few minutes later, trying to stay awake as she rubbed her hair dry. He sat down beside her and took the towel from her hands, "Let me. You look like you're going to pass out again."
"I am ok," She protested weakly but let him continue to work on her hair.
"Well you're in luck," He spoke gently, "Someone at the airport thought to get hold of your luggage and keep it so we don't have to wait for it to come back from Russia."
Linka made an attempt to say something positive about his news but she was swaying slightly with exhaustion.
"That's dry enough," Wheeler told her, "Let's get you into bed and then I'll go collect your bags."
He dropped the damp towel with the other one on the floor and scooped her up in his arms, pulling back the covers and placing her gently inside, tucking the covers up around her. The beautiful Russian sighed with relief at finally being able to lie down, and promptly fell into a deep sleep.
Wheeler stood there for a few minutes longer than necessary, watching her and worrying a little over her laboured breathing and the periodic cough. Finally he returned her towels to the bathroom, fetched a glass of water and the tissues to place on the bedside table in case she woke, and then headed out to get her things and do a little shopping.