Heller’s Decision

by JD Nixon

  And that was when the burning itch began. I didn’t notice I was scratching at first, until the urge became uncontrollable, only matched by the pain that followed each rake of my fingernails across my skin.

  “Oh God! Oh God!” I screeched. “It itches so badly, but it hurts!”

  I pushed Heller so hard out of the way in my bid to escape the room that he fell back into one of the chairs. I rushed to the kitchenette sink and splashed my face with water, grabbing some paper towel to wet and mop over it, hoping to dilute the awful cream, and the pain.

  “Get me some ice or something,” I begged Daniel, on the point of tears. He flustered around, not really knowing how to help, but credibly managing to tie some ice cubes up in a tea towel. He assisted me to one of the two chairs nearby and held the impromptu icepack to my fiery cheeks.

  “Does that help?”

  “It’s numbing the pain a bit. Thank you,” I said, my voice a bit wobbly.

  “The doctor will be here soon, Matilda. Let me take you to your apartment.”

  He swept me up like a sack of potatoes and for once I didn’t complain about him carrying me upstairs, too miserable to worry about trivial matters like my dignity. After all, when you’re as lumpy as me, nothing else seems to matter much. Daniel anxiously followed along behind us. Sid and Clive ran away.

  Heller deposited me gently on my bed. He held the icepack on my stinging parts, moving it around to help alleviate the pain a little. He instructed Daniel to pull together another icepack, so they sat on either side of the bed providing me with some pain relief.

  “I think you have a very bad case of hives, Matilda. What happened?”

  With my voice breaking, I told him about Elise and her ointments.

  He was the epitome of long-suffering affection. “My sweet, after the last time, you let her experiment on you again?”

  “I thought of saying no, but I wanted to help her out. She’s pregnant and she has these eyes that just make you say yes to anything.”

  He brushed my hair back from my burning face with his hand, his eyes tender. “I know someone like that.” But then he shook his head. “You really have to stop trying to help people. It always seems to land you in trouble.”

  “Will these hives last forever?”

  “No.”

  “I just want to scratch everywhere.”

  “You must be strong and resist. The doctor will give you some antihistamines and probably some topical cream to soothe the itching.”

  “I don’t want a cream! I’m sick of lotions, potions and massage oils.”

  “Potions?” His eyes narrowed. “When have you ever had a potion?”

  And despite my extreme physical discomfort at the moment, I inwardly groaned. I’d promised Niq not to say a word about that misadventure to Heller and I wasn’t going to break that oath.

  “Never,” I lied. “It’s just an expression.” I hated lying to him, but sometimes he just didn’t need to know the full truth.

  His eyes narrowed even further until they were the merest slits and his luscious lips pursed. “Somehow I think more happened with that silly man and his ‘magic’ than you’ve told me.”

  “Heller, please. Not now. I’m in agony here,” I tried.

  “You’re stronger than that. We will talk more about this when I return, Matilda.”

  “I may not have survived by then.” I pulled my most pathetic face, which really didn’t take much effort or acting.

  We were saved from any further discussions on that tricky topic by the breathless arrival of Dr Kincaid, his clothes rather crumpled, his usually beautifully tended hair carelessly whisked into a fuzzy grey ball. He looked down at me and shook his head in sorrow.

  “You. It’s always you. I’m going to start charging you personally. Heller shouldn’t have to pay for me running here all the time. Especially as I’ve now had to go out in public looking like this.”

  “I like it,” I managed to joke. “You look like a dandelion fluff.”

  “Excuse me,” he huffed. “It’s called a dandelion seed head, not ‘fluff’. That’s layman’s science that any nine-year-old knows. And anyway, my hair doesn’t look like that.”

  “Who cares about science? Nobody, that’s who. Especially lumpy, bumpy, itchy people. Just give me something to make it all go away,” I pleaded.

  “You’ll care about science when I give you a remedy.”

  He took his time examining me, wasting precious minutes asking a million pointless questions and taking my pulse and blood pressure, despite my frequent and increasingly strident interruptions reminding him that I was lumpy, itchy and burning. He ignored me. I guess they teach you to zone out from whining patients when you do doctor training.

  “You have urticaria,” he finally diagnosed.

  “Oh, my God! Did you hear that?” I asked Heller and Daniel, upset. That probably meant I was going to die.

  “That means hives, Matilda,” Heller informed me.

  “Oh,” I said. That news was a bit of an anticlimax after my last dramatic minute. “Why didn’t he just say so? That’s treatable, isn’t it?”

  The doctor rolled his eyes. “Yes. I’ll give you a corticosteroid injection now and leave you with a prescription for a course of antihistamines. I’ll also recommend a common soothing skin balm –”

  “No way! I don’t want to put anything else on my skin. That’s what started this whole mess.”

  He sighed. “It’s pH neutral, especially made for skin conditions. Someone will have to go to the chemist for you to get these things.”

  “I won’t be here tomorrow,” Heller said, only reminding me of what we’d been arguing about. “So Daniel, research after-hours pharmacies for me, please. I’ll go tonight before I leave on this assignment. I don’t care what part of the city it’s in, no matter how far from here. Matilda must have her prescription filled.”

  “Thank you, Heller,” I said gratefully. I expected him to kiss my forehead, but he didn’t.

  “My sweet, this is our last night together for a while and I’m afraid of hurting you.”

  “And touching me,” I snarked.

  “Of course not. You’ll always be beautiful to me. As I said, I’m afraid of hurting you.”

  “None of you should worry about this,” said the doctor. “The inflammation is just topical. You can see that by the limited range of the effects. It’s not affecting her entire body. Miss Tilly was affected by that ointment she applied.”

  “Will it be gone tomorrow? I have a job interview,” I asked hopefully, trying not to flinch when he jabbed me with the needle.

  He tried to be tactful. “Maybe you should postpone it?”

  “Maybe . . . I’ll ring her tomorrow. I hope she’s the understanding type.” I shot Heller a look. “Most bosses usually aren’t, in my experience.”

  He sighed patiently. “Matilda, must we go through this again? It was my decision to make, no one else’s, because it’s my business and I care about what happens to it. It’s an excellent opportunity for me, for us. And I really don’t want to argue in front of the doctor.”

  “As if I care,” that medico muttered to himself as he scribbled a prescription. He handed it to Heller, not me, I noticed with great indignation. “There. Make sure she sticks to the doses. I don’t want to have to come back.”

  “I know how to take medicine,” I butted in rudely, my itchy fieriness starting to make me irritable.

  “Make sure she doesn’t miss any antihistamines for the next week,” the doctor instructed Daniel, pointedly ignoring me while he packed up. At the door, he stopped to address Heller. “And I certainly hope you and Miss Tilly are heeding my previous directions about safe intercourse.”

  Daniel groaned in disgust and it probably wasn’t obvious to anyone except me, but I darkened at least three shades of red.

  “Yes, of course,” Heller told him. “Although there was that one other incident in the bathroom. I think we’ll avoid that room from now on. Do you
agree, Matilda?”

  I mumbled something indistinguishable, unsure if my burning face was a result of the hives or my utter mortification. I didn’t know why I continued to be surprised about how open Heller was about his sex life. Ever since I’d know him, he’d always been very frank about his sexual activities. I couldn’t explain why I’d never considered the personal ramifications of that particular character trait of his when we became lovers.

  The doctor lingered at the door. “I only hope that safe intercourse includes prophylactics as well.”

  “What do artificial limbs have to do with anything?” I snapped. I just wanted everyone to leave. I wanted to itch in peace.

  “Prophylactics, my sweet, not prosthetics,” Heller explained, then to the doctor, “I have nothing to worry about from Matilda.”

  Dr Kincaid snorted inelegantly. “It’s not your health I’m worried about. It’s the young lady’s. I’d bet my house and all my retirement savings that you’ve had a hell of a lot more sexual partners than she has.”

  “Naturally. But when I had sex with other women I always protected myself, except for that one worrying time. And this is despite the difficulties you know I have finding condoms large enough.”

  “Yes, well. I’m sure you feel very smug about that, but there’s no need to rub it in with the rest of us mere humans in the world,” the doctor sniffed before stalking off. Must have been a touchy point with him.

  I ran to the hallway after him. “How long until this injection kicks in?”

  “You’ll start feeling better overnight,” he threw over his shoulder. “If you take your antihistamines strictly as I directed, you’ll be back to normal within a week.”

  “A week?” I asked in despair. “I have that interview tomorrow.”

  “Sorry, Miss Tilly. I’ve done what I can.” He headed for the stairs at double clip. Maybe we’d interrupted a special date or something to bring him here. “And you’re welcome.”

  “Sorry, doc. Thanks for your help,” I yelled after him, ashamed of my lack of manners. Though in my defence, I was red, itchy, bumpy and rather self-occupied at the moment.

  Without looking back, he held up one hand in a wave before disappearing down the stairs.

  “I have no choice but to wait it out, but I’m so itchy,” I complained, flopping down on my lounge, misery incarnate. I badly needed to tie my hands to my legs to stop me from scratching.

  “I’ll go research those pharmacies right now,” Daniel said, tearing out of my flat.

  Heller sat next to me on the lounge.

  “Why do you have to leave me? Especially when I’m so miserable at the moment,” I asked, saddened.

  He took my hand. “Matilda, we went through all this.”

  “I’m worried something will happen to you.”

  “I can’t tell you there’s no risk. I’m not as young as I was when I previously did this type of work. I have the advantage of experience, but I might come across someone younger, sharper, more skilled. Someone luckier than me. So far the luck has always been on my side, but that can never last forever.”

  “Whatever you’ll be doing, it sounds dangerous. I can’t believe you talk about being hurt, maybe even worse, so casually. Please don’t do this, Heller. You don’t need the money.”

  “I don’t need it, but we do. I’m doing this for all of us, for the business.”

  “But especially for you,” I said bitterly. “Because you’re bored.” Bored of me, was what I thought.

  He leaned down to kiss the top of my head. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer so that my head rested on his neck, his other arm around me. “I’ll miss you so much while I’m gone, my sweet.”

  “I’ll miss you too,” I whispered into his neck. He kissed the top of my head again.

  Daniel flew back into the room, thrusting a piece of paper towards Heller. “This one’s the closest, but it shuts in twenty minutes.”

  Heller snatched the prescription up from the coffee table and left quickly, not saying another word.

  Daniel took in my miserable face and sat next to me, sliding his arm around my shoulders. He also kissed the top of my head. I guess nobody dared to kiss my inflamed face. “He’ll be all right doing these special projects, Tilly. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “I hope so.”

  “We’ll look after you while he’s gone.”

  “I don’t need looking after. I just need someone to stop me from becoming lonely without him.”

  He smiled a little. “I’ll volunteer.”

  I slipped my arm around his waist and squeezed. “Thank you, darling Danny.”

  We remained in the same position until Heller returned, clutching a paper bag. He handed me the cream and virtually forced me to the bathroom, watching over me as I applied it to my blotches. It was cool on my skin and instantly soothed the insane itching, though that may have also had something to do with the injection kicking in.

  Heller stayed with me long enough that evening to see me off to sleep. We didn’t have sex, but laid in bed, holding each other in the deep darkness.

  “I won’t be here in the morning,” he said quietly.

  “I won’t have a chance to say goodbye.”

  “I don’t want you to say goodbye. It’s not goodbye. I’ll be back soon enough.”

  “It won’t be soon enough for me. I’ll worry about you the whole time.”

  His arms crushed me to his chest and when he spoke, his voice was slightly hoarse. “And that’s why you’re the best thing to have ever happened to me, my sweet. I’ve spent the last ten or so years worrying about other people, but now I have someone to worry about me.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. “Heller . . .” I said, my voice breaking. “Please don’t do anything that will make me worry.”

  “Shh. Don’t upset yourself. You know me – I’m always careful.”

  “Will I be able to contact you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What if any of us need you?”

  “Clive will look after you for me.” Would he? I thought. “Go to sleep now, Matilda. It’s getting late.”

  Though I thought I’d never be able to sleep, I did, perhaps as a result of that injection. Nestled in his arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart lulled me into losing myself in that world full of dreams and peacefulness.

  And when I woke in the morning, he was gone.

  Chapter 28

  My face didn’t look much better in the light of the day. As soon as the hour was decent, I rang Miss Petunia to see if she’d accommodate me in arranging an interview for later in the week when I hoped the antihistamines would have cured me totally.

  She wouldn’t.

  “You’re not the only person I’m interviewing for this position,” she informed me haughtily, all signs of her previous friendliness evaporating. “Either you’re interested enough to make an effort to be prompt for your interview or you’re not. I’m a terribly busy person and I must say that I find this phone call rather disturbing. If you’re making excuses not to be at work before you’re even employed, I can’t imagine what you’d be like as a staff member. I won’t tolerate unreliability in my girls. My ladies trust in them to be honest and dependable.”

  “No, you don’t understand –”

  “I understand perfectly. My time is invaluable and I won’t waste it on people who aren’t serious about their duties.”

  “I’m serious!” I hastened to assure. “I’m very serious about work. It’s just that –”

  “Then I’ll see you here at 11:30 as arranged.” She slammed the receiver down on me.

  Shit! I raced to the bathroom again to peer into the mirror at the wreck of my face. The hives had subsided, but the red rash remained, though perhaps mildly improved from yesterday. I pulled out my concealer, which I hadn’t needed since I’d stopped working for Heller, and applied it liberally to my face, neck and chest.

  When I finished, I stared at myself,
my heart sinking. The final result wasn’t pretty. Instead of looking like someone with a hideous rash, now I looked like someone who’d tried to cover up her hideous rash – unsuccessfully.

  I tried to compensate by plastering on makeup, but only ended up looking like a drag queen with bad skin. So I tried to overcome that obstacle by dressing in my nicest skirt suit that Heller had bought me. It was a little tight and I could barely do up the zip, and the buttons strained against the material. I really had to go on a diet.

  Just great! I thought in despair, checking out my reflection. Now I looked like a slightly chubby, well-dressed, drag queen with bad skin. After desperately applying more foundation to the inch I’d already applied, I decided there was nothing more I could do about my appearance. I could only hope for the best and try to have the most successful interview possible. I’d been through nightmare interviews before – number one including my original interview with Heller. And I needed a job – I couldn’t afford to be fussy. So I threw back my shoulders, sucked in my stomach and hoped that Miss Petunia was more tolerant in person than she’d been over the phone.

  When I turned on my car, the red fuel light came on. I’d neglected to top up the tank last time I’d been out.

  No! I thought in despair, banging my head on the steering wheel a couple of times, leaving a greasy smear of makeup behind.

  Slamming the door, I immediately thought of taking one of the Heller’s fleet vehicles, even though I wasn’t allowed. Heller would never know, I justified to myself. He wasn’t even around.

  But when I went down a floor to the bottom basement, all the fleet vehicles had already been taken, even the oldest tank-like 4WD that nobody chose unless they had no option left at all. Stomping back up the stairs, I briefly considered taking Heller’s Mercedes, but it was also gone. He must have driven away in it. That was probably a mercy for me, because he didn’t allow anyone to drive his personal vehicle. It would have been kind of awkward trying to explain to him afterwards.