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“What?”
“You should take this seriously.”
I know he’s desperate not to be sued but I’m starting to think there might be more to it than that. “Jonathan, are you feeling guilty about what happened?”
He gives a worried little blink. “No. No. Why would I feel guilty?”
I decide to make it easy on him. “You know, because it happened in your shop and that. You don’t have to be responsible for me.”
“I think I do,” he says, sounding almost angry about it. “The doctor as good as told me I did, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone else who can.”
Wow, way to stick the knife in. “Look, I’m sure I’ve got a thriving social life and a brilliant support network. I just can’t remember them right now.”
“Which is why you’re stuck with me. And why I’m not going to let you pass out in the car.”
I can’t tell if I disliked Jonathan more back when he was trying to micromanage my work or now, when he’s trying to micromanage my recovery.
As we’re unloading the car, I’m still not feeling a hundred percent and I think Jonathan can tell because he orders me inside. I really want to argue with him, but I want to sit down more.
And then I lose a bit of time because the next thing I know Jonathan is standing over me with his hands on his hips.
“Clearly,” he says, “that was not good for you.”
“It was an eight-hour round trip on a Saturday. It’s not good for anyone.”
He makes a sound of frustration. “Sam, will you just accept that you’ve had a concussion and you’re going to have to take things a little bit carefully.”
I think I might hate this. I feel all pathetic and dependent, and I can’t tell what’s him being overbearing and what’s him being nice and what’s him pretending to be nice and if there’s a difference. “I’m fine,” I lie.
Jonathan sits down beside me. Then stands up again. Then brushes back that lock of white hair that won’t behave itself. “Look,” he tries. “I realise I…I realise that this isn’t an ideal arrangement for either of us—”
“Yeah, I got that memo when you were asking if you could dump me at the hospital.”
“Don’t interrup—I mean, yes…yes that wasn’t very… I’d hada very busy week and I’m a very busy man in general and I think my point is I’m aware that makes me hard to get on with.”
“Who, you?” I ask, forgetting I’m not supposed to know him. “But you’re such a ball of sunshine and rainbows.”
Fortunately, he’s not listening. “And I’m also aware that I can be a little high-handed sometimes because I’m used to being in charge. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be comfortable here or to feel that you can’t take the time you need to recover.”
As apologies go, it’s a D+ at best. But it’s also apparently the closest thing to one that Jonathan Forest is capable of. Then again hedidferry me to Sheffield and back to rescue my cat and Iamsort of on a mission here to get him to embrace his inner human being so it’s probably best to be gracious about it. “All right,” I say. “Thank you.”
He’s still struggling with basic good person talk. “And if there’s anything you…need. Or…want? Then.”
He runs out of steam completely. And somehow, he’s managed to sneak past infuriating and into endearing. He’s a bit like Gollum in that regard.
“Is it okay if I have a rest?” I ask, still kind of hating that I need to.
“Of course.”
And that should be the end of it except Jonathan Forest is one of them people who doesn’t think anything happens unless he makes it happen. So, while I’d be happy just being left alone on the sofa for a bit, he insists on bringing me a blanket and a pillow. And then a cup of tea and a hot water bottle. And, in between all that, he takes my stuff upstairs, lays Gollum’s bowl and litter tray out in the kitchen, and starts putting together the scratching post.
It’s a bit weird, really. I mean I don’t need all this but there’s a tiny little part of me that enjoys watching Jonathan doing things as long as the things he’s doing aren’t firing me or backing me into aNexa by MERLYN 8mm Sliding Door Shower enclosure. His idea of weekend casual is a suit without a tie, which gives everything he’s up to this air of importance it really doesn’t deserve. Like no scratching post in the history of the world has been constructed with this much gravity and focus.
Maybe I’m staring because he looks up and then we’re looking at each other. “Is there anything we need to do in particular for the actual animal?”
Gollum has been sulking in the carrier this whole time. He’s not at the vet’s, though, so I’m hoping he’ll be pleasantly surprised when he comes out.
“Well,” I say, “we’re introducing him to a new environment so we’re going to have to be a bit careful with him.”
