Chapter 21
Hearth and Home
Shai's elation at sleeping soundly through the night into Saturday's mid morning is immediately eclipsed by the timpani section of hell's orchestra pounding away on either side of her head. She curls into a ball, pulls the duvet over her head, and curses her low tolerance to alcohol. She was so looking forward to today, like a child anticipating Santa's bounty on Christmas morning. Her new easel and art supplies are scheduled to be delivered this afternoon. Now she must deal with a host of hangover symptoms interfering with her plans. She makes a mental note to exercise better restraint when drinking with Dr. Moreau and the general and crawls from the security of her bed. She flicks on the light switch in the bathroom and cringes as the LED bulbs blare through their lampshades from either side of the mirror. She fumbles for a wash cloth from the glass cabinet and walks over to the sink to vigorously wash her face. Once finished, she continues on with the rest of her morning toilette.
She slides into black leggings and a colour block knit sweater sewn with patches of greys and blues. She leaves her hair down for a second day in a row, lacking the will or the energy to tie it up or weave it into braids. She slips on a pair of bulky, hand-knit socks and opens her bedroom door. Shai immediately hears activity coming from the den and tiptoes towards the door. Outside, dark clouds bloated with torrential rain blot out the sun and cast the world in dull greys. She is thankful the stormy weather has continued for its second day. Her eyes could not tolerate the late morning rays. She peeks around the door frame. There, to her left, stands the general with his back to her. He is rummaging through a cardboard box, pulling out hardcover books and leather-bound journals. Not wanting to disturb him, she withdraws quietly and walks down the hallway. She marvels at the general's resilience after a night of drinking. The thought brings a smile to her lips as she crosses the living area to the kitchen. Who is she kidding? After several glasses of wine, he was as sober at the end of the evening as he was at the beginning of it.
First thing, she turns on the kettle, setting the water's temperature to the perfect degree for green tea. Second thing, deciding what she can stomach for breakfast. The wise choice would be to eat oatmeal sprinkled with blueberries or make a spinach omelet, but Shai takes the path of least resistance and grabs a box of crackers from the pantry. She arranges seven saltines on a small plate, and returns the box to the cupboard. She then plucks an orange from the fruit bowl and begins to peel it until she is interrupted by the kettle beeping repeatedly. Shai pours the steaming water into a mug with a single green tea bag and lets it steep while she returns to peeling and sectioning the orange. She finishes up her breakfast preparations by placing a banana beside the crackers and a teaspoon of honey in her tea. She sits at the island counter and nibbles at her food, eating with one hand while holding her head up with the other. She takes her time, enjoying the whoosh of the pouring rain, a sound subtle enough to soothe her sorry condition rather than contribute to it. Once she finishes, she cleans up her plate, grabs an ice pack from the freezer, and, with her tea, walks over to the club chair by the fireplace. She can take pleasure in listening to the rain while watching the flames flutter behind the glass.
Shai keeps track of twenty minutes using the digital clock on the oven. The short amount of time seems to tick by agonizingly slow, like molasses in the thick of winter. When the bright green display finally advances to the next hour, she takes the ice pack and empty mug and walks into the kitchen, putting each item in its proper place. She opens the fridge and removes one bottle of water, pauses, then takes another. She moves to the far cupboards, opens an upper door, and takes out a bottle of aspirin. Shaking two tablets from the container into her palm, she tosses them into her mouth and takes a long draught of water. Clearly underestimating her thirst this morning and the dry, pasty feeling coating her mouth, she continues to drink until every last drop is drained. At this moment, water never tasted so good. She grabs another bottle from the refrigerator and leaves the kitchen.
She walks down the hallway to the den. Standing in the doorway, a bottle of water in each hand, she watches the general slice through packing tape with a box cutter. He opens the outer and inner flaps of the box and lifts framed pictures encased in bubble wrap from within. After setting the pictures on the sofa, he straightens and turns towards the door. He's dressed simply today in a charcoal grey T-shirt and faded jeans.
"Good morning, Shai." She steps into the den and sets the water on a bookshelf.
Good morning, general. She picks up one of the bottles and walks further into the den, glancing at boxes still sealed and ones half emptied, books and journals stacked into towers on the general's desk, and a new computer still in its factory packaging. Shai stops in front of Sephiroth and offers him the water. He takes it without hesitation.
"Thank you."
You are welcome. I thought you may need it after last night.
"Last night?"
The wine. Between the three of us, we drank four bottles.
"Oh, yes. Well, I have a strong constitution. It takes more than several glasses of wine to have an alcoholic impact on my system." Sephiroth hates deceiving her, but a little white lie in this case is necessary. To reveal the truth about his genetically altered metabolism would mean divulging certain aspects of his physiology that he is not prepared to discuss with her. He takes a long swig of water, his deep gulps causing thin rivulets to flow from his lips. As he dabs at his mouth and chin with the hem of his shirt, he watches Shai as she strolls around his desk, peeking into boxes and glancing over book titles.
"Is there something I can help you with, Shai?"
No, thank you. She walks over to the couch where a box sits open, filled with hardcover books. Without seeking permission, she reaches in, removes two, and begins a new stack on the general's desk. She turns and pulls out two more, but they are immediately plucked from her hands by Sephiroth. He tosses them back into the box.
"Absolutely not."
General?
"You have clear instructions to rest from Dr. Carlyn, and resting you will do."
I am able to help you unpack a few boxes. Shai reaches in, lifts out the same two books, but has them yanked from her grasp with quick efficiency once again.
"The hell you are."
General!
"You have my answer."
General, I am astute enough to know my limitations. It will not hurt me to move books from point A to point B. Sitting still will only serve to aggravate my back as well as my naturally cheerful disposition. And although I enjoy reading, there is a limit to my enjoyment. He stands with his arms crossed, deliberating whether to allow her to continue or adhere to his decision. Though she has raised several points in her favour, he could not forgive himself should something happen to prolong her recovery. She is staring confidently at him, patiently waiting for his reply, her turquoise blue eyes clear and beautiful. His resolve is waning.
"Alright, if you insist, but you are to lift no more than two books at a time, one if it is particularly heavy. I will organize the books on the higher bookshelves while you do the same on the lower. Have I made myself clear?"
Yes, general.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Shai spends the rest of the morning unpacking the general's library, piling books on every available surface. Sephiroth works beside her, dismantling one stack only to build another with the authors' names in alphabetical order. He is in the midst of sorting through the M's when his cell phone rings.
"General Sephiroth speaking. Yes...Yes, that is correct...Please bring them up immediately." He ends the call and turns to Shai.
"Your easel and packages have arrived." Her smile brightens the air, the midday gloom seeming to withdraw into the dark recesses of the room. She claps her hands excitedly and dives back into a half empty box with a lightness and cheer missing from her morning work. Sephiroth grins at her enthusiasm before resuming his alphabetizing. Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings. Her attention abruptly shifts from the books to the general before bolting out the door. He follows at a more casual pace. Shai opens the door to see two men in Shinra coveralls, one standing beside her easel, the other next to two boxes stamped with the name and address of the art store. Sephiroth walks up beside her.
"Gentlemen, please follow this young woman to her room."
"Yes, general." Shai leads them to her bedroom. She walks with a jaunty step and repeatedly peeks over her shoulder to make sure the men are close on her heels. They enter her room and she motions for the easel and the packages to be left in the center. As the men leave, they are given a handsome tip by Sephiroth. He walks back to the den and pauses at the entrance, listening. He hears the faint squeaking of the easel's wheels as she moves it into place between the armoire and the cheval mirror. He hears the tiny scrape of hinges as she adjusts the back support to an angle that allows her to create comfortably. But it is when he hears the hard thud of one of the boxes tumbling over and Shai's elevated breathing, that he springs into action. He enters her room to find her kneeling on the carpet. Her head bowed forward, gasping, her left hand is gripping the edge of her bed for support, her right hand clenching the box in front of her, knuckles white from strain. She raises her head, her eyes teary from the pain.
"Give me your hands." Shai releases the box, but immediately grabs a hold of it so desperately, her fingers dent the cardboard. She shakes her head no.
"Alright. Let's adjust our strategy, shall we?" He kneels down in front of the box and holds out his hand a hairsbreadth away from hers.
"Try again." Shai's hesitant. When she loosened her grip the last time, pain bloomed in all directions, taking her breath away. But she trusts the general and knows he only has her best interests at heart. She clasps his hand tightly, the pressure applied a direct reflection of the pain flaring in her lower back. They wait for her to calm before repeating the process with her left hand. With patience and strength, he helps her to rise from the floor.
"When are you going to accept your limitations, hmm?" Shai looks up at him, her eyes glistening, her expression penitent. Sephiroth sighs, unable to remain aggravated at her stubborn insistence on behaving like her body is whole and without injury. He leads her around the packages, sits her down on the bed, then walks to the dresser to pluck a couple of tissues from their box. He hands them to her and she dabs at the tears in her eyes. She crumples the tissue and tosses it into the trash.
I assumed kneeling would be harmless so long as I moved cautiously.
"Hmm." Sephiroth lifts the boxes and places them next to one another on the bed beside Shai.
"Now there is no need for you to manipulate your body in an unsafe way to unpack your purchases."
Thank you, general.
"You're welcome. Now, give me your hand."
What for? He bends to look her directly in the eyes and extends his hand.
"Give. Me. Your. Hand." Shai should have known not to ask questions when he has that tone in his voice: deep, smooth, and commanding. Females worldwide would likely scream at her to assert her inner feminist and not be dominated by a man, no matter who he is. But Shai knows something others do not; when the general's authoritative manner is directed towards her it is his way of showing she will be cared for according to his high standards. When he gives her an order, an act of kindness soon follows. When she places her hand in his, he grabs hold and pulls her to her feet.
"We are going to the living room so you may ice your back." Sephiroth gestures for Shai to leave the room first, then falls in behind her.
"Sit down here." He points to the club chair closest to the fireplace before walking into the kitchen to grab an ice pack. Shai gingerly sits down, leans forward, and lifts the back of her sweater. In no time, Sephiroth is standing behind her. It does not go unnoticed by the patient how her caregiver executes pinpoint precision positioning the pack so the surface does not touch her skin. She leans back, stiffens a bit when the cold seeps through the material of her leggings, then relaxes into the cushion. Sephiroth steps to the front to face her.
"Are you comfortable?"
Yes, general. Thank you. She looks up at him with a smile. The shape of her face - her narrow brow, small chin, and high cheekbones - are perfectly accentuated by her curls. But it is her eyes, a blue bright and ethereal, that test his resolve again and again. They draw him in, muddle his thoughts, and make the fire around his heart burn fiercely the moment his eyes meet hers. However, due to his prideful nature, he will hold their gaze, no matter how he feels, until she is the one to look away. On the very rare occasion when he averts his attention elsewhere, he is inevitably drawn back to her. She can be cleaning, cooking, eating, or icing her back, it doesn't matter to him. He finds her captivating.
"I will return in twenty minutes."
I will be here. He gives her a wisp of a smile and walks down the hall into the den. He resumes his work with renewed vigour, arranging the alphabetized books on the upper shelves. Twenty minutes fly by and he walks towards the living room. Hearing him approach from down the hall, Shai leans forward, and holds her sweater halfway up her back. When Sephiroth removes the pack, she feels the back of his fingers brush against her skin. It is only for a moment, but Shai bites her lip and closes her eyes and wonders what it would be like to have his fingertips caress her cheek, trace the hard ridge of her collarbone, or slide slowly along the length of her spine. By the time the general returns from the kitchen, she's standing in front of the chair, calm and composed with light pink cheeks coloured by her fantasies.
"Will you be alright now?"
Yes, general.
"If you should need help, please come to me. Do not risk further injury to yourself."
Yes, general. I will. I promise. Satisfied, he nods at her before striding down the hall and into the den. Shai soon follows, returning to her bedroom.
The first box she opens is the adjustable sit/stand stool. She picks up the assembly instructions and flips through the first few pages. She notices several illustrations show the need for a screwdriver. She frowns, closing the booklet. Shai has been through the utility closet thoroughly and has never seen a toolbox among the cleaners, vacuum, mop, and bucket. She sighs. She can't go out to the hardware store to buy one. She definitely cannot ask the general to run an errand for her. Dejected, she places the instructions back in the box and is about to fold the flaps closed when a ray of hope shines bright: Dr. Moreau. Shai grabs her phone and sends a text to Sybelline. Minutes later, her phone pings. Shai is overcome with joy when she reads that Moreau has the tool she needs and she'll be up in a few minutes to give it to her. She wants to start sketching the bouquet Sybelline gave her, and she'll need the aid of the stool to help her. When the doorbell rings, Sephiroth is one step ahead of Shai answering the door.
"Doctor, this is a surprise. What brings you here?" Sybelline steps inside. She's dressed in a pink t-shirt and jeans. Her face is free of make-up and her hair is held back by a floral print babushka. Shai smiles at the sight. The last woman she saw wearing one of them was her mother whenever there was deep cleaning to be done.
"Shai texted me. She needs a screwdriver to assemble her stool. I also brought a hammer, just in case you need it." She hands the tools over to Shai and turns to Sephiroth.
"What did I tell you the day you moved in? Buy yourself a toolbox and fill it with the most common tools used around the home. And what did you do?"
"Decided your advice was better suited for civilians with nothing else to do than weed their gardens and work on their golf swing."
"Not all your decisions are wise ones. You could have sent out a subordinate to purchase what you needed from the hardware store."
"And what use would I have for a toolbox?"
"You never know, but at least you would be prepared."
"Why have my own tools, doctor, when I can conveniently call you and borrow yours? It worked for Shai. Why not for me as well?"
"You can be very cocky, my boy."
"But you like that about me." Sybelline breaks out into laughter and gives Sephiroth a few pats on his upper arm. Shai smiles. She enjoys hearing their back and forth banter; a doting mother scolding her headstrong son.
"You're lucky I do." She addresses Shai before turning to leave.
"My dear girl, do not overdo it putting your stool together. Text me if you need anything else. Now, I've got to get back to my housecleaning. Take care, you two. Goodbye!"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Back in her bedroom, Shai walks straight to the open box containing the stool parts. She sets the instructions aside, and immediately sees another obstacle present itself; where to assemble the stool. The carpet has the most space, but that would involve Shai kneeling, bending, and reaching. She could spread out the parts on her bedspread, but that still involves the same risks to her lower back. She looks towards her open door. If you should need help, please come to me. Well, she does need help and he did offer. She walks out of her bedroom and pauses before she reaches the door to the den, listening to the general slice through bubble wrap. What if he minds her interrupting him while he is working? She's still pondering what to do when she hears Sephiroth address her from the den.
"Is there something you need, Shai?" He steps into the doorway, a framed picture in his hand.
Yes. You said if I needed help to come to you.
"And?"
Would you please help me assemble my stool? Shai's surprised when he doesn't hesitate with his answer.
"Of course."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
It takes Sephiroth approximately forty minutes from start to finish to complete Shai's stool, from methodically laying out each part according to size to attaching the base to the stool's column. The only task Shai was permitted to do was hand the general parts from the box and occasionally hold the screwdriver. Once finished, Sephiroth places the stool in front of the easel and, with a wave of his hand, gestures for her to try it out. Since it's too soon for her to sit on a surface without her cushion, she chooses to perch on the edge. She smiles wide, her heart beating excitedly. She hasn't worked at an easel for over six years. Six long years. It never crossed her mind to buy one while living in her studio. There was no space to accommodate one. Now, she's sitting in front of the easel of her dreams, bursting with anticipation. She swivels the seat to face the general.
Thank you so much! Sephiroth takes a step towards her.
"You are most welcome, Shai. Is there anything else I can do?"
If you do not mind, would you help me unpack the second box? It is rather large. He pulls the box cutters from his back pocket and cuts through the packing tape. He pulls out the two easel lights and hands them to Shai. She clips them on the top cross bar on either side of the easel's mast, uncoiling the cords until the plugs dangle centimeters from the floor. Next, he hands her the three drawing boards, one at a time. She tears into the shrink-wrap with her fingernails and places one board on the easel and leans the other two against the easel's frame.
Thanks again, general. I really appreciate it.
"Always at your service, Shai." Her lips part lightly and her breath catches for a moment as his deep voice lulls her, the fervour in his eyes disarms her. Does he know how he affects her? Has he seen into her heart? Is he deliberately acting this way to make light of her feelings? No. Not the general. He's a gentleman. That would leave the alternative; he's romantically interested in her. Shai gazes up at him, her eyes wide and innocent, and watches the soft glow in his eyes flare with unchecked emotion. Denying the evidence before her, she tries to rationalize what she's seen. No. No. Perhaps he finds her looks appealing, but attraction? To a lowly house cleaner? No. Not possible. He could have any woman he wanted. Why would he choose her?
"Have you an idea what your first work will be?" Shai grins.
The bouquet of flowers Sybelline gave me.
"I look forward to seeing the completed picture. I will leave you to your creative endeavours then." He pauses at her door.
"You're overdue for an ice pack. Please do it before anything else."
Yes, general. He nods and leaves her room.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Shai sits in the living room thrilled her hourly icing sessions end tonight. Beginning tomorrow, she ices three times a day alternating with the hot packs. How sweet it will be to feel heat warm her skin instead of the constant biting cold. It sent shivers up her spine and dampened her clothes, keeping her chilled throughout the day. This has been her plight for the past couple of days. She rises from the club chair, returns the pack to the freezer, and heads down the hall, but instead of going to her room, she walks into the den. The general is still opening framed pictures, medals, newspapers articles, letters of commendation from local and foreign politicians, and more. Shai wonders if the wall can accommodate all of them. Half of the books alphabetized this morning are now on the upper bookshelves, the rest still remain stacked on his desk. The space freed by the books has now been filled with a stack of journals and a large flat-screen monitor. She walks over to the box she was unpacking before her shipment arrived and begins to resume working.
"What are you doing?"
Finishing what I have started.
"Ridiculous. Your time is better spent working on your art. I can handle this by myself."
But you do not have to do this by yourself. I am here to help you. Together you and I can have one bookshelf unit done by dinner. He stares down at her, a brow raised in amusement.
"Thank you. Please finish that box and then shelve the remaining alphabetized titles."
Yes, general.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Their work progresses steadily throughout the afternoon. What was once a spare room with a bare, drab wall and empty shelves coated in thin layers of dust, is now brought to life with row upon row of books and framed pictures hanging on the wall. Behind the general's desk, journals are arranged by subjects and dates. On the right side of his desk, his new computer is connected and operating, while the separate components of a high-end home audio system sit on the left, waiting to be hooked up. Conversation is limited to Sephiroth telling Shai to remember her limitations. If her pace is too hurried, she is to slow down. If he feels she is lifting beyond her endurance, she is to put the object down immediately. If she feels the slightest pain, she is to rest and ice her back. She is thankful when silence falls in between his reminders, giving her mind the freedom to wander from thought to thought without interruption. She thinks about the last time she worked at an easel. It was in her old bedroom. Sunbeams slanted through the windows brightening the coloured textiles and stained wood, birdsong played on the breeze. Even then, she was drawing flowers, this time from her mother's garden. She looks forward to drawing Sybelline's bouquet, but that can wait a bit longer.
Her thoughts drift from fond reflections of the past to the events of the present. The last seventy-two hours have been the most exciting she has had in six years. Through illness and injury, conflict and recovery, more has been revealed to her about her new life and the people in it than she ever expected, particularly her employer. The scope of emotion shown astounded her: concern, frustration, jealousy, curiosity. But last night, in the kitchen, she glimpsed an emotion she never thought she would witness: fascination. The sensuous tone in his voice, his close approach, and his eyes aflame affected her like nothing has before. One more step, one more provocative question, one more glance at her mouth and she would have fallen completely under his enchantment.
"Pardon me, Shai." She jolts from her musings when the general extends his arm over her shoulder to place one more book on a high shelf. His close proximity makes a warmth spread from the roots of her hair to the base of her throat and her heart pound in her chest. Her blush would have deepened considerably if she had been able to see the slight tilt of Sephiroth's lips as he listens to each beat. He steps to the center of the room and begins to dismantle empty boxes with the box cutter. Shai walks over to help him.
"I can handle this, Shai. You should rest." She knows better than to protest and sits down on the sofa. Not knowing where to direct her attention, she watches him work. Her eyes begin with his hands and the way his long fingers wrap around the blade housing. They move to admire the length of his arm as his muscles tense when he draws the knife through the cardboard. They follow the subtle swaying of his fringe, notice his t-shirt pulling taut over his physique, and finally rest on his face. She takes a deep breath and prays he doesn't lift his eyes to see her gazing at him. Everything has changed. There is no point in pretending any longer. Shai has fallen for him, completely and irrevocably, and it terrifies her. How can this have happened in so short a time? Will it become an issue with their employer/employee relationship? Will he discern her feelings for him? What will happen if he does?
"Shai?"
Hmm? She tries to act casual like she hasn't been enjoying his facial features for the past several minutes, but given his roguish grin and sparkling eyes, it is obvious her effort is a waste of time.
"I'm ordering takeaway for the two of us this evening. What would you like to have?" She smiles wide. Last night's steak dinner was so luscious, Shai would have no problem having it again, but she decides to choose another favourite.
Thai.
"Thai cuisine? Hmm. Excellent choice. Would you mind bringing the menu from the kitchen? We can select our entrées while I finish up here."
Of course. The moment Shai inches forward, she knows she made a mistake sitting on the sofa. It's low frame and soft cushions may feel comfortable initially, but it offers no back support. When she gasps from the pain, it is clear she has sat still for too long. Sephiroth immediately drops what he is doing and rushes to her.
"Breathe. In through your nose, out your mouth. Deep breaths." Shai does as he instructs and the pain begins to subside.
"Now, sit back. Allow me to cut up this last box and we shall go to the kitchen together."
Alright.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Sitting on a kitchen stool, an ice pack firmly pressed against her lower back, Shai peruses the menu from the local Thai restaurant. She decides to go with a chicken dish, Kai Yang, and passes the menu across the counter to Sephiroth. He takes less time than her to make his decision and rings up the restaurant. She listens to him order her meal and a beef dish called Nuer Kraphoa. He gives his name and address and pauses.
"No, no, that is not necessary. Please treat me like any other customer...Yes, I insist...Thank you." He ends the call and turns to Shai.
"They are very busy tonight. Our wait may be up to an hour."
The idea of waiting for something makes it more exciting. Andy Warhol.
"Andy Warhol. Artist. Film director. Producer. A leading figure in the visual arts movement known as pop art." Shai's eyes widen.
You know who Warhol is?
"Yes."
Are you familiar with other art movements and artists?
"Yes. You seem surprised."
I am, a little. It will be nice to be able to discuss art with someone. That is, if you do not mind.
"I do not mind at all." Shai smiles, the expression lighting up her face. Sephiroth grins back, embers flaring to flame behind his eyes. He walks over to the stool and as per their routine, pulls the ice pack from behind her. As he places it back in the freezer, she stands and adjusts her sweater. He leans against the island counter.
"Why don't you take this spare time to break in your new easel?"
Alright. I will. Please come and get me when our food has arrived.
"Of course." Shai walks over to the dining table, picks up her bouquet, and walks towards her bedroom.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
A little over an hour later, Shai hears a knock and sees a smiling general leaning against the door frame.
"Dinnertime." She follows him into the living area. On the island sits a brown paper bag and empty takeaway containers. On the dining table sit two plates, one with marinated chicken arranged on top of spring mix and the other with jasmine rice heaped beside basil beef. A pitcher of water and two glasses sit in the center. When Shai approaches her seat, Sephiroth surprises her a second time by pulling out her chair. She smiles up at him before sitting down, her body tensing a bit as he pushes her to the table. He takes his seat, pours the water, and passes a glass to Shai. They begin to eat. He decides to refrain from conversation so she may enjoy her dinner without interruption.
Sephiroth finishes his meal first and sits back in his chair, watching Shai stab at the remaining leaves of her salad. He's noticed a change in her eating habits. She places the smallest portion she can onto her fork. She puts the fork neatly into her mouth, the food never touching her lips. She also chews much slower, savouring her food. But why? Surely it cannot be because of him. Is she mimicking how he eats? From the time they began sharing meals together, he could plainly see she had impeccable table manners. But she did admit she is still intimidated by him. Perhaps to set her at ease, he needs to show her a more casual side to himself at meal times. Despite what others think, he does possess one.
"Shai." She looks up from her plate.
"I've been giving some thought to how we are going to manage meals while you are recovering and I believe I have come up with a solution."
OK.
"We will sit together and compose a menu for Monday through Friday. We will keep the meals simple, nothing fancy, and I will assist you when it is time to prepare and cook the food. I will also do the cleanup afterwards."
What about the shopping? Who will do that?
"I will send a subordinate to take the list to the grocery store. When the food is delivered, you will instruct me where everything goes."
And the weekends?
"I will buy takeaway."
No.
"No?"
I will not have you buying takeaway food for the next four to six weeks. I insist on paying for half of the meals.
"You may pay for two and that is all." Shai opens her mouth, but quickly closes it. She hasn't the strength to argue right now.
Fine.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
After dinner, they return to the den to hang up the remaining pictures. The general tells her men from a local electronics store are coming on Monday to install a flat screen TV in the center of the wall. Well, that explains a great deal, she thinks. All afternoon she has been wondering why the pictures were being arranged in such a specific pattern. She smiles to herself. She doesn't know why, but she finds the idea of the general watching TV humorous. What on earth would he watch?
"What's so funny?"
Nothing important. Just a funny thought.
"About what?" Damn his curiosity. Does she tell him the truth? She hates lying. Besides, he would sense her dishonesty.
You. Watching television. Sephiroth raises a brow.
"And why does that tickle your funny bone?"
Since being in your employ, all I have seen you do is read. Today we unpacked box upon box of books, and there is more to come. I just assumed that watching TV was beneath you. Shai jumps when, quite suddenly, the general bursts out into laughter, but once he sees her startled expression, he composes himself.
"Forgive my outburst, Shai. I find it amusing when people presume that I do not participate in certain pleasures enjoyed by everyday civilians. It is true, I prefer to read, but I also like to watch the occasional film or documentary. In fact, I have a TV in my office to keep up with current affairs."
I am sorry. I should not be making assumptions.
"There is no need to apologize. It will be refreshing to have company while watching TV." Shai's eyes widen and a smile soon follows.
Thank you. I would like that too.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
They call it a night and retire to their rooms. Shai studies the sketch of her bouquet she drew while waiting for her dinner, and smiles happily at her work. Her excitement from using her easel is so great, her heart flutters behind her chest. She's always amazed how it's the little things that bring her joy. She gives one last pleasing look and walks into the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. At the other side of the condo, Sephiroth is stepping into his shower. He closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and lets the spray run like rivers down his hair and body. He allows his thoughts to roam over the day's doings, especially the time spent with Shai. He realizes it no longer matters their circumstance, whether it be eating dinner together, going to the market, or convalescing in his bed, he enjoys being with her. He sighs. Enjoy is not a suitable description. He revels in being with her. He adores her company. Having the opportunity to gaze on her at his leisure without the need for excuses, thrills him. The chance to speak with her whenever he wishes without explanation, makes him feel at peace. Everything has changed. He cannot return to his old life. He cannot be without her.
Sephiroth walks out into the living area with his astronomy book tucked under his arm. He settles himself on the couch and slides his fingers between the pages to the last chapter he read. He lasts an hour before the restlessness sets in. He is no longer comfortable. The crackle of the fire grates against his nerves rather than soothing them. His eyes have stared blankly at the chapter title page since he opened the book, his mind preferring to remember last night's dinner occasion with Sybelline. The three of them sitting around the coffee table eating dessert, conversation and wine flowing freely. It is obvious to him he has grown a dislike for being alone. He desires companionship, to share his space with another person. Of course, not just any person.
He sets his book aside, stands, and walks to Shai's bedroom. Unnoticed, he stands silently in her doorway. She sits at the end of her bed, admiring her sketch, her eyes shining with happiness. She is dressed in satin PJs dotted with tiny pink blossoms and fuzzy socks, a towel in her hands gently squeezing the dampness from her curls. Sephiroth knocks on her door. Shai startles and drops the towel on her lap.
"Pardon me, Shai, but I need to speak with you." He walks in.
OK.
"Starting tomorrow, whether it be in the morning, afternoon, or after dinner, no matter the circumstances, you are invited to sit in the living area with me. No where in your contract does it say we cannot be in the same room together in a social setting."
Thank you, general. Her icy blue eyes look up at him with innocent surprise, her face flushed red. He meets her gaze, his eyes brightening as the fire that burns around his heart rages throughout his body.
"Good night, Shai."
Good night, general.