Zoe walked through the rain and sleet to her car. The day had been busy, and usually she would have been preoccupied with work, but she found herself glimpsing the tell tale burgundy t shirts of porters out of the corner of her eye and every time she did so, before she could realise otherwise, she assumed it to be Max. And when it wasn't him, she felt the pang of disappointment within her stomach.
She unlocked the car, the lights flashed briefly and she lowered her umbrella, folding it neatly and opening the door on the drivers side to drop it into the opposite foot well.
It was then, as she leant against the car that she noticed the carrier bag resting on the bonnet of her car, tilted up so that it was unmissable against the window.
She reached for it, drawing in a breath. She could guess who it was from...
She took hold of it and climbed into the car, pulling the door shut firmly behind her and turning the engine on to warm her hands.
She unfolded the wet plastic and pulled out the contents – a book. She turned it over in her hands: 'Orlando' by Virginia Woolf. If there was a reference that she was supposed to get...she was missing it. She looked at it, it was hard back, solid black in colour with the title written neatly in gold print across the front.
She opened it, and a piece of paper fluttered from it's pages, coming to a rest on the top of her shoe, she bent down and retrieved it, turned it over and read the words, written in Max's scrawl: 'Number five. The greatest love story ever written.'
He'd written it in red ink, the handwriting spider-danced across the page in the way only his handwriting seemed to do. It matched him, it was indisputably his. She found herself looking at his writing longer than she had meant to, and when she looked up the windows had cleared of steam and she found herself looking directly at the hospital entrance. She flicked off the light above her head and folded the piece of paper back inside the book which she set down on the seat next to her.
How long was he going to keep counting? She wondered as she reversed from the car park.
The drive home, though short, was difficult due to the rain and heavy sleet and hail that wailed about in the wind and dashed across her wind screen as though it may shatter it at any moment. She found herself blinking against it, despite being safely inside the car.
She finally exhaled and her shoulders relaxed as she drew up to her house. The windows loomed in the dark, speckled with white and as she stepped out of the car the heels of her shoes crunched on the ice that was already beginning to form on the ground.
She held her bag tightly against her chest and moved, head bowed against the storm, to the door, holding out the key before her. As she neared the door she tripped over something that made a soft dull rustling noise as she kicked it.
The sleet had now turned into snow, round clusters of it billowed about her, she could taste it on her lips and feel it sting her cheeks and flush against her eyelashes as she bent to pick up whatever it was.
She heaved it into her arms – a box of some sort, something clanked inside and she pushed the key into the lock, relieved to finally be home as she forced open the door, a flurry of warm air greeting her as she flicked on the light and slammed the door shut behind her.
She exhaled, tossed her keys onto the side and slipped off her shoes, being careful not to jolt the box that she held.
"Number six...?"
She murmured to herself with a sigh as she moved with the box into the kitchen where she sat it down on the work surface.
She placed her hands on her hips and looked at it. It was just a normal brown cardboard box, wet from the rain and sagging in places. One corner at the bottom had begun to give way and it was sealed with brow tape which she eventually began to pull off.
As she opened the box the smell of cooling food greeted her, and although she couldn't place what it was, it made her mouth begin to water involuntarily.
She pushed her hands in, the soggy cardboard stuck against her wrists and made her shiver. She pulled out a round Tupperware dish and placed it on the surface next to the box before peering again into it to find a bottle of wine and a smaller Tupperware container which she lined up next to the larger on.
She raised the wine bottle and squinted at it, smiled...he'd remembered...of course he would remember what wine she liked.
She set it down and prized off the lid of the largest container, no mean feat with fingers pinched with the cold and set with frost. It gradually gave way and warm air rose to meet her face. Inside was a china plate – plain white – and on it was arranged dinner for one. Some sort of pasta dish with a sauce that she dipped a finger tip into and touched it against her tongue. Despite being luke warm it tasted beautiful.
She turned to the smaller container, the lid of this one was easier to remove and within she found a cake, presumably home made, it was chocolate, and slightly lopsided, and the icing had begun to run from one edge but set in the top was a heart shaped chewy sweet – the kind you get in bags of Haribo – and next to it a little piece of paper, folded so that it stood up against the side of the Tupperware, and on it said, in the same loose hand writing , 'Number six – because I know you won't eat after such a long day.'
She drew in a breath and looked at the array of food in front of her, she let her hands fall to her sides.
"Oh...fuck."
She breathed.
More soon!
xxx
She unlocked the car, the lights flashed briefly and she lowered her umbrella, folding it neatly and opening the door on the drivers side to drop it into the opposite foot well.
It was then, as she leant against the car that she noticed the carrier bag resting on the bonnet of her car, tilted up so that it was unmissable against the window.
She reached for it, drawing in a breath. She could guess who it was from...
She took hold of it and climbed into the car, pulling the door shut firmly behind her and turning the engine on to warm her hands.
She unfolded the wet plastic and pulled out the contents – a book. She turned it over in her hands: 'Orlando' by Virginia Woolf. If there was a reference that she was supposed to get...she was missing it. She looked at it, it was hard back, solid black in colour with the title written neatly in gold print across the front.
She opened it, and a piece of paper fluttered from it's pages, coming to a rest on the top of her shoe, she bent down and retrieved it, turned it over and read the words, written in Max's scrawl: 'Number five. The greatest love story ever written.'
He'd written it in red ink, the handwriting spider-danced across the page in the way only his handwriting seemed to do. It matched him, it was indisputably his. She found herself looking at his writing longer than she had meant to, and when she looked up the windows had cleared of steam and she found herself looking directly at the hospital entrance. She flicked off the light above her head and folded the piece of paper back inside the book which she set down on the seat next to her.
How long was he going to keep counting? She wondered as she reversed from the car park.
The drive home, though short, was difficult due to the rain and heavy sleet and hail that wailed about in the wind and dashed across her wind screen as though it may shatter it at any moment. She found herself blinking against it, despite being safely inside the car.
She finally exhaled and her shoulders relaxed as she drew up to her house. The windows loomed in the dark, speckled with white and as she stepped out of the car the heels of her shoes crunched on the ice that was already beginning to form on the ground.
She held her bag tightly against her chest and moved, head bowed against the storm, to the door, holding out the key before her. As she neared the door she tripped over something that made a soft dull rustling noise as she kicked it.
The sleet had now turned into snow, round clusters of it billowed about her, she could taste it on her lips and feel it sting her cheeks and flush against her eyelashes as she bent to pick up whatever it was.
She heaved it into her arms – a box of some sort, something clanked inside and she pushed the key into the lock, relieved to finally be home as she forced open the door, a flurry of warm air greeting her as she flicked on the light and slammed the door shut behind her.
She exhaled, tossed her keys onto the side and slipped off her shoes, being careful not to jolt the box that she held.
"Number six...?"
She murmured to herself with a sigh as she moved with the box into the kitchen where she sat it down on the work surface.
She placed her hands on her hips and looked at it. It was just a normal brown cardboard box, wet from the rain and sagging in places. One corner at the bottom had begun to give way and it was sealed with brow tape which she eventually began to pull off.
As she opened the box the smell of cooling food greeted her, and although she couldn't place what it was, it made her mouth begin to water involuntarily.
She pushed her hands in, the soggy cardboard stuck against her wrists and made her shiver. She pulled out a round Tupperware dish and placed it on the surface next to the box before peering again into it to find a bottle of wine and a smaller Tupperware container which she lined up next to the larger on.
She raised the wine bottle and squinted at it, smiled...he'd remembered...of course he would remember what wine she liked.
She set it down and prized off the lid of the largest container, no mean feat with fingers pinched with the cold and set with frost. It gradually gave way and warm air rose to meet her face. Inside was a china plate – plain white – and on it was arranged dinner for one. Some sort of pasta dish with a sauce that she dipped a finger tip into and touched it against her tongue. Despite being luke warm it tasted beautiful.
She turned to the smaller container, the lid of this one was easier to remove and within she found a cake, presumably home made, it was chocolate, and slightly lopsided, and the icing had begun to run from one edge but set in the top was a heart shaped chewy sweet – the kind you get in bags of Haribo – and next to it a little piece of paper, folded so that it stood up against the side of the Tupperware, and on it said, in the same loose hand writing , 'Number six – because I know you won't eat after such a long day.'
She drew in a breath and looked at the array of food in front of her, she let her hands fall to her sides.
"Oh...fuck."
She breathed.
More soon!
xxx