I bring my head down a little to try and see her face. "I would like you to eat." I stop when I feel her hand on mine.
“Can I leave the table please?”
There are so many answers I could give to that question, but I know there is only one she wants to hear. “Yes,” I whisper. She gets up and leaves; I hear her footsteps above me, as she walks to her bedroom.
Throwing the fork on her plate, I lean back and take today as a loss. There has to be someone that can give me some answers about her. I tap my fingers on the table as I think and that’s when it hits me.
I take my phone out. “Jackson, be here at six, don’t be late,” I tell him. I have a feeling I’m going to need my lawyer because there’s a very big chance I’ll break the law.
“And do I get to know why?”
“No.” I end the call, collect the plates, walk into the kitchen and place them in the sink. I turn and walk to the stairs heading for my room, but stop in my tracks and go back to the sink. If she had a shower in cold water, does that mean she’s washing the dishes in cold water? I decide I’m going to wash them and that will help keep her hands warm, I hope.
* * *
Leaning on the door frame, I watch Hope sleeping, again on the floor. I hear the front door opening and lean back to see Jackson walking up the stairs toward me.
“What’s so important that I needed to get here at this hour?”
“Shhh.” I point to Hope sleeping.
“Seriously, this is how she sleeps?”
"We're going to have a chat with her doctor today. Someone gave her the medication, and I want to know what else they know about her." Pushing myself off the door frame, I walk over to Hope and kneel in front of her. This seems like the only time she lets her guard down, but even when she's asleep, there's still that tension flicking through her eyes. She's dreaming and fighting something. I take a blanket from the bed and place it over her to keep her warm.
I leave the room and go down to the kitchen to make us both some coffee.
“Are you sure you want to do it this way…”
“Jackson, she had a shower in cold water. I need to know what happened to her.” I hand him a mug of coffee. He locks his eyes with me and stares into them. Whatever he’s looking for, he’s looking very hard for it, but even I know that Jackson can’t read me.
"Let me start up my laptop and see if I can find where the doctor is." Jackson turns to go sit down in the sitting room but stops when we both see Hope running towards us where we are in the kitchen.
She stops dead in her tracks and puts her head down. "I'm sorry," she says quietly, and I look over at Jackson who's frowning as if to ask why she is saying sorry, and I mouth the words"I have no idea."
She walks over to the cooker. “I…can bake…”
“Hope, we don’t need anything to…” I stop when I see her hands are shaking. “But I think Jackson might be hungry.” I peer over at him looking for his support in this. There’s something programmed into her, a need to make me happy or a need to do work around the house and that is what I have to break.
Jackson walks over to the counter and sits on the stool. "I would love something to eat." Hope walks over to the fridge, and she gets things out.
Walking closer to her I ask, "Would you like some help?" I stop at arm's length and I take the milk from her. "Did you take your medication?" I can see her hands getting weaker, or they're getting more painful and if she doesn't talk to me I don't know which one it is.
She places everything on the counter and I ask Jackson to go get her medication for me. While he's gone for a few minutes, I get her a glass of water. She starts mixing eggs and milk together. Jackson walks back in and I take the meds from him. I pass the bag to Hope, and she takes out what she needs before putting the bag back onto the counter.
"I can stand here all day, so you might as well take them," I tell her, and I see her hand reach out. Her skin has been cracking up again and I think that she needs stronger medication.
She takes them and I walk over to Jackson as he starts his laptop up. Hope gets back to making whatever she’s making.
"Are we still on for tonight?" I ask him, and tonight I'm planning on taking my time. I want to enjoy it; I want to see the fear in his eyes.
“Yeah, seven. I’ll text you the place.”
I look up at Hope walking around the kitchen, again not once looking up from the floor or the stove. I wonder what her face looks like when she smiles, or how she sounds when she laughs.
"I can serve this. Your wrists are hurting." I get off the stool and help her put everything on the plate. I take out a third plate for her. I need to start getting her to eat.
“What we got planned for the weekend?” Jackson asks, as I sit back down and point to the stool for Hope to sit.