Confused, I close the door and set about emptying my bladder, washing my hands and face, then brushing my teeth. After running a brush through my hair, I study my reflection. I don’t exactly look great, but I have looked worse. The colour is slowly returning to my face, but still the half-moons under my eyes are deep and dark. I can’t help but huff out a weak laugh when I think how a cold shower will likely wake me up.
“So, what’s going on?” I ask as I leave the bathroom. Charlie’s at the hob, stirring the saucepan he brought with him.
“I helped myself to some chilli powder,” he says. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Sure,” I say as I move to my chest of drawers where I pull out a clean T-shirt, some soft jersey shorts and some underwear. I quickly change and feel a little bit better in clean clothes. But just as quickly as that little high comes, it fades. Fades into a huge wave of exhaustion that crashes over me. I collapse back onto the end of the bed, sitting on the edge and letting my body sink down.
“Mina?” Charlie approaches me holding a wooden spoon. “Are you okay?”
“Just feel like I’ve been hit by a tank full of elephants,” I mumble. “But I’m fine. Believe me, I feel so much better than I did earlier. In fact, although it was severe, it was quite a short-lived attack. But unfortunately, it may still take me hours or days to fully recover.”
Charlie nods. “I feel completely stupid asking this, but would soup help?”
A version of me is already shutting him down. A version of me has already told him to fuck off and is crawling back into bed. A version of me is rolling her eyes at the stupidity of him thinking a bowl of soup could help ease the pain that persists and the bone-deep fatigue that is now truly setting in.
I acknowledge that that version of me still exists, but I don’t want that version of me to override the other part of me that now wants an opportunity to be louder, to be stronger, to be a little brighter.
“A bowl of soup may help,” I say instead, and I use what little strength I have to push up and take the few steps required to meet Charlie in the kitchenette.
It takes him less than a minute to set up the table and chairs and lay out some cutlery and a couple of bowls. As I sit and wait for Charlie to dish out the soup, I can’t deny it certainly smells good. It also looks good once it’s placed in front of me and my stomach gives a surprising little rumble. When he places a glass of water near my bowl, I suddenly feel completely parched and I am quick to bring it to my lips and drain it of most of the contents. With a smile, Charlie picks the glass up as soon as it touches the table and he refills it.
At first, we sit and eat in silence. I’m aware of the many things we’ve left unsaid. Not only what I didn’t finish saying earlier but what Charlie was about to tell me before I went into the bathroom. Maybe it’s fatigue or maybe it’s the soup – because it is really fucking good – but I concentrate only on eating and I can tell that this pleases Charlie. When my first portion is gone, he asks me if I want more and I nod eagerly.
It's when I’m halfway through my second bowl that I finally feel able to talk.
“You know that we don’t really know anything about each other?” I tell him. “It’s been two weeks—”
“Mina.” He tries to interrupt but I hold my spoon up at him as a warning which he immediately understands.
“And you know that on paper, we are complete opposites. We shouldn’t work.”
“I don’t—” He tries again.
“But we do,” I acknowledge. “We do work. I don’t know why or how or if it’s only fluke and it will all fizzle out once I have a episode that lasts a whole weekend or you start leaving your socks on the floor…”
“Mina, I—”
“Fine, I mean, once I start leaving my socks on the floor,” I concede. “But my point is that I want to find out. I want to discover if this connection can last more than five minutes. I want to know what other ballroom dances you know. I want to know what you look like being a magical cleaning fairy. I want to know if you can make other dishes as delicious as this soup. I want to know if you always look so pretty when you’re sleeping. I want to know what noises you make when I put my mouth on your hole,” I pause to grin wickedly when I see him shudder at this, “and I want to know what your mother will say when you take me home as your girlfriend for real this time.”
“Shit, my mother…” Each one of Charlie’s features droops.
I frown at him. “You think she’s really going to be that bothered?”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. I just realised I have to tell her some… news.”
“What?”
“Well, I have to tell you first.”
“What is it?” I put the spoon down in my bowl.
“I handed in my notice today.” He tells me.
“You did what?” I gasp, my jaw dropping.
“I handed in my notice. And I’ve been put on gardening leave. So, I guess I no longer work at HNO.”
“But… but why?”
