Mr. Beast

by Nicole Elliot

  Nightmares.

  Hayden was having nightmares about his accident.

  I wanted to cry. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and hold him close. This man, who had taken over a billion-dollar family business and stretched it to new heights, was struggling. This strong man who was so obviously used to keeping up with his body and walking tall down the street couldn’t even get the night’s rest he needed to get back to that life.

  I looked back at Hayden and saw him staring at me, his eyes focused and his mouth pursed into a thin line.

  “Get out,” he said.

  “Let me get your sheets back on the bed,” I said.

  “Leave.”

  “When I fix your bed, I will.”

  “Leave it,” he said.

  His voice sounded so defeated. Like a small boy who had lost his favorite pet and searched the entire block to find it.

  “They probably need to be washed anyway,” I said mindlessly.

  I ripped them off the bed and gathered them into my arms as his head turned back out the window. I made my way for the door and looked back at him, taking in his longing reflection in the window. He wanted to be outside. I knew he did. He wanted to be well and back at work and at full strength again.

  But he was stuck in that chair, and every time he looked into the mirror, he was reminded of it.

  Reminded of that damn accident he was in.

  I silently closed the door behind me as tears rose to my eyes. I ached for him. I wanted to help him get better. I wanted him to open up to me so I could talk with him and get to know him and put him on a better mental path so his body would follow. As I walked the sheets to the laundry room and stuffed them in, tears dripped down my cheeks.

  I sniffled and rose my hand to wipe them away before I reached for the detergent.

  Nightmares were the last thing he needed. With his poor mental state and his frustrations always getting the better of him, he needed that sleep. He needed those eight or nine hours to replenish his body and give himself ample time to heal. It was the most important few hours of his entire day, and he was being robbed of that as well.

  The man had no reprieve, and I didn’t know what I could do to fix that.

  I wasn’t sure if I could.

  He didn’t come out of his room all morning. I brought him lunch and set it on the side table and noticed his coffee hadn’t been touched. I took the mug back to the kitchen and poured it out, then placed the mug in the dishwasher to be cleaned. We weren’t traveling down this road. If Hayden refused to eat, I had ways of making sure he got the calories and nutrition he needed. I.V. bags I could hook him up to and hospitals I could admit him to if I felt it was necessary. I could handle the anger and I could handle the distance. I could even handle the nightmares.

  But I wouldn’t allow him to handle not eating.

  If he wasn’t going to sleep and he wasn’t going to open up, then the only other thing I had to keep him on track was his nutrition.

  “Mr. Lowell! I’m headed to the grocery store again. We’re out of milk. Do you want anything?”

  I knew he wouldn’t answer me, but I wanted to proceed as if things hadn’t changed. Sometimes, a solid routine for patients like Hayden was a necessary evil to keep their heads above water. I stood there for a few seconds to see if he would answer me, then I grabbed my things and headed for the door.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes!”

  The truth was, I had been doing some research. Combing through the books in his library and making my way upstairs whenever he napped after his physical therapy. I saw pictures of him and an older man that looked a little like him. The smile on his face lit up his eyes, and I would stand there for what seemed like hours staring at those pictures. I saw pictures of him and his sister and him with his mother. Family vacations and beautiful scenery pictures of the beaches and places he had visited.

  But there was always a common element.

  Flowers.

  He was an outdoors kind of guy, and I couldn’t imagine what this type of injury was doing to him.

  I ran to the grocery store, yes. But then I made a stop by my old floral shop. I hadn’t resumed the flower arrangement deliveries because I wasn’t sure what kind of space we would be working with. Some picky apartment complexes in the city didn’t allow certain types of arrangements to be delivered to their places because of allergies or other rules. But now that I’d gotten a feel for the place I had an idea on how to make Hayden feel better.

  “Grace!”

  “Hey there, Emilia,” I said with a smile.

  “Oh, my gosh. Come give me a hug.”

  I embraced my friend and held her tightly as I breathed in the scent of the flowers around me.

  “Job that hard?” she asked.

  “How could you tell?”

  “That sigh of yours. It’s always telling,” she said. “Come. Sit down and talk with me.”

  “I can’t, actually. I have milk in the car and I need to get back soon.”

  “That man giving you a run for your money?”

  “I don’t think there’s a statement to describe the type of difficulty Mr. Lowell is,” I said.

  “That’s what happens when you strip a man of his ability to showcase his strength. It’s that fragile male ego.”

  “It’s more than that, but I don’t have enough time to get into it. I do, however, want to resume the floral deliveries.”

  “That’s great! That means I can see you more often,” she said with a grin. “Where to?”

  I rattled off Hayden’s address before Emilia looked beyond her glasses and into my eyes.

  “You know that place has a strict ‘no exotic flowers’ policy, right?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  “So that mean no orchids.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “What kind of arrangements do you want then?” she asked.

  “Is it possible for you to deliver floral arrangements of daffodils and carnations?”

  “An odd choice. Any reason why?”

  “I’m trying to find a way to cheer my client up and he strikes me as an outdoors kind of guy.”

  “So you think flowers will help?” she asked.

  “His father and him planted and cultivated an entire backyard garden as his parent’s home when his father was still alive. They had daffodils lining the outside and the area around a hot tub they installed and carnations are what lines the walkways that weave throughout the structure they landscaped.”

  “Wow. Okay. Sure. How many arrangements and how often?”

  “Two arrangements every other day,” I said.

  “You know daffodils and carnations will last longer than that.”

  “I do. I want to slowly fill some spaces he enjoys sitting at more than most with the flowers, then change them out as you deliver them once they begin to wilt.”

  “Creative, to say the least. How do you want to pay?”

  “I’ve got my card you can charge. Heaven knows they’re paying me enough for this job. Might as well put that money to work for me,” I said.

  “Perfect. When do you want the first delivery to be?”

  “Can you make it tomorrow? Or is that too soon?”

  “If it means I get to see you again tomorrow, then it’s not too soon at all.”

  “Thank you so much, Emilia. Really.”

  “Don’t have to thank me. Thank that cranky patient of yours. He’s bringing me in all sorts of business,” she said with a grin.

  Then I paid for the arrangements, put the recurring order on file, and left.

  I wasn’t sure if my plan was going to work, but it was worth a shot. If he didn’t enjoy it or the flowers kicked up some sort of reaction, then I’d simply toss them out, clean the place down, and stop the orders. But I was desperate to bring some light into his world so he would cheer up and help himself when it came to his recuperation.

  Because with the mental state he was in, his hip surgery was going to be
torture on all of us.

  Especially him.

  Chapter Nine

  Grace

  I grew tired of watching him mope. Of watching him slowly debase himself into this sad sack of skin. The flowers were being delivered like I had scheduled, but he still wasn’t saying anything. The distance had gotten rough. He was locking his door so I couldn’t get in to help him and the only interaction we had was the drawing of his blood and physical therapy. He was cold. He was angry. And he was closed off.

  “He still not coming out?” Emilia asked.

  “I don’t know what to do anymore,” I said. “I’m hardly his nurse. I interact with him twice a day for maybe an hour, and then the rest of the time I can’t get to him.”

  “Where do you want these flowers?” she asked.

  “There’s a bouquet wilting in the kitchen. We can replace that one,” I said.

  “So if he isn’t coming out to see the flowers, why are you still having them delivered?”

  “Complaining about business? That’s not like you,” I said with a grin.

  “I’m just saying. What’s your end goal here?”

  “To get him on a proper mental health track.”

  “But you aren’t doing that since you don’t see him.”

  “I was hoping these flowers would bring him out of hiding,” I said.

  “Can I give you some advice? Woman to woman?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “You’re his nurse. His licensed physician. If he isn’t listening to you, he’s technically a danger to himself, right?”

  “I guess. Technically he could be,” I said.

  “So, if he’s a danger to himself and he’s not capable of residing in his own home, you could technically admit him to a hospital. Right?”

  “I’m not admitting him anywhere, Emilia. He doesn’t need a straitjacket. He needs help.”

  “I’m not telling you to admit him, Grace. All I’m telling you is to… you know… give him his options.”

  “You mean hang the hospital over his head to get him out of his room,” I said. “That sounds like a dirty tactic. I don’t want to use something like that.”

  “Well what’s he giving you? Besides heart attacks.”

  I took the vase from Emilia’s hands and set it on the table near the window. She was right. I was technically his part of his physician team. And if he was doing something to himself I didn’t agree with, I had the capability of stepping in on his behalf and doing what was necessary. But I didn’t want to admit him to a hospital. I knew recuperating in his own home was the best choice for a man like him. Especially if he was developing some sort of phobia regarding people seeing him in his wheelchair.

  I didn’t want to put him through anymore turmoil.

  But I was desperate.

  “So you think I should threaten him with admission to the hospital to get him to follow my guidelines,” I said.

  “I think that if the man isn’t eating or bathing properly, then he’s a danger to himself as well as his recuperation. Which I know isn’t what you want,” Emilia said.

  “When did you get so smart?”

  “How long have you been questioning this fact?”

  I smiled and embraced my friend. It had been wonderful, seeing her during all of her drop offs. Flowers were everywhere. They were in the kitchen and up against the windows of the living room. A couple of fresh vases were in Hayden’s room. I was able to sneak them in there while he had been bathing. His penthouse home smelled of delicious, decadent scents.

  But they weren’t drawing him out of his room, or even making him easier to live with.

  “It’s just a thought. You don’t have to do it. But remember, you have the final say here. Not him,” Emilia said.

  “Thanks,” I said with a smile. “I’ll remember that.”

  “And I’ll take these wilting flowers and go press them. Did you know there’s a market for that sort of thing?”

  “I would’ve never dreamed,” I said with a grin.

  “You knew, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe a little bit.”

  “I really do miss you and your ideas at the shop,” she said.

  “And if things keep going as well as they are now with Mr. Lowell, I’ll be right back there after he’s recuperated.”

  The two of us giggled as I escorted her to the door.

  “Don’t let him take away something you love, Grace.”

  “I won’t. He’s just being difficult and it’s wearing on me,” I said.

  “I know you care about your patient. But sometimes, the only thing you can do is strongarm them out of their stubbornness.”

  “Thanks, Emilia. For everything.”

  I hugged my friend one last time before I opened the door for her, then I relegated myself to the silence.

  She had a point. If none of my tactics were working up until this point, then I had to try something new. But I didn’t have any other nice tactics to try. They were all steeped in aggression and based on empty threats. And there was a chance that if Hayden knew it was an empty threat, he still wouldn’t budge.

  Which was why I had to stand my ground if he combated against me.

  I wanted to make him coming out of his room worthwhile, however. There was no point in him coming out of it if he was simply going to roll over to the window and continue staring out at that one. I needed a reason for him to come out. I walked back into the kitchen and sat at the table, putting my head in my hands.

  What would entice a man to come out of his room?

  Then, it hit me.

  “Mr. Lowell?”

  I knocked on his door, but no sound emanated from behind it.

  “Mr. Lowell. It’s me. Grace.”

  I jiggled the doorknob to see if his door was open. And of course, it was locked.

  “Mr. Lowell, this is getting ridiculous,” I said. “I need to get in there and check on you to see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  “I’m your nurse and I need to chart it with my own eyes,” I said.

  “Then learn to take me at my word.”

  I gritted my teeth as my forehead pressed into the firm wood.

  “Mr. Lowell, you hired me to take care of you.”

  “No, I hired you so my family would release me from that house and leave me alone.”

  Wait. Was that true?

  Furrowing my brow, I lifted my head from the door. Was Hayden being serious? Was that really the only reason why I was here? To be an excuse to get away from his bickering mother and sister? I felt tears rise to my eyes as my hand fell from the doorknob. I wasn’t even here to help him. I was here as a distraction. A fall girl, so Hayden could coop himself up and drown himself in his own self-pity.

  I felt anger bubbling in my gut.

  “Mr. Lowell-”

  “Go away.”

  “No, now you listen to me. You’ve been moping and depressed and being an all-around genuine asshole since I got here. And I can understand being angry at your predicament, but as your nurse I have full medical intervention. If I can’t survey you eating and if I can’t help you bathe, then I have to assume those practices are not taking place. Which means you’ll be admitted back into the hospital underneath my direct supervision.”

  I heard the wheels of his chair squeak as I drew in a deep breath.

  “If you don’t want to cooperate and let me do my job, I’ll have the hospital do it for me. And I’m sure your mother and sister would love to be at your side helping you every step of the way while you’re there.”

  I could hear him drawing in a deep breath as I cleared my throat.

  “Dinner is at six. You don’t have physical therapy today.”

  Then I marched down the hallway and left him alone.

  I went into the kitchen and started poking around at what to fix. I wanted a well-rounded meal that would give him a lot of the nutrition I knew he needed to be taking in. I pulled out two fresh slabs of salm
on with the skin on the bottom as well as some fresh vegetables. A red pepper. A head of broccoli. Some carrots and parsnips. And a beet to give everything a bit of color.

  Then, I grabbed a couple of sweet potatoes and got to work.

  I cooked the salmon in a pan with a bit of oil, salt, and pepper. Squeezed a bit of lemon onto it in the end and made sure the skin was crispy on the bottom instead of limp. I chopped up and tossed the vegetables right behind the salmon and let them sit, then I got to work on the sweet potatoes. I peeled them and divided them up before I boiled them. I was going to whip them up with some butter, a bit of honey, and a dash of cinnamon.

  I plated everything and looked at the clock, then drew in another deep breath.

  It was five until six, and I wasn’t hearing the faintest sound of Hayden moving.

  I had my phone pulled out and ready to go. I had to keep my word if he didn’t show up. I would need help getting a man like him out of his home and back into the hospital, and my heart ached that it had come to this. But it was the truth. I wasn’t sure how clean he was getting himself and I was having a hard time keeping tabs on the food that was going missing.

  Which meant I wasn’t sure what he was really eating and when.

  I walked the plates over to the kitchen table and sat them down. Flowers surrounded the table and it almost felt like I was eating outside. I went over to the juicer and grabbed the oranges, then ran them through the juicer until I had two very large freshly-pressed orange juices.

  Two minutes until six, and not a sound was heard.

  I went and got some silverware and a couple of napkins. I wasn’t giving up on him until my promise forced me to. I sat down with my phone at my side, my finger ready to press down to call the nearest hospital. I had already alerted them to the troubles I was having with Hayden, and they were on standby in case I had to call them.

  And I sighed with relief when I heard his door open.

  I clicked my phone closed and slid it into my pocket. I could hear his wheelchair rolling down the hallway and through the living room, and I watched as his shadow began to appear. First his head, then his body, then his wheels.