I met Mr. Carlson right in front of the door, my key already in hand.
“Oh—Miss Goodman.”
“Good morning, Mr. Carlson.”
He looked rushed, his hair less tidy than usual and his coat only half on. He clutched his black leather case and a scarf in one hand, about to close the door with the other—only to hold it open for me instead.
“I’m late,” he blurted out—needlessly, since it was obvious. He was usually gone before I arrived. “Vivienne is sick, and my wife had an appointment, and I had to help Benjamin, and… well… I wrote a note. I really have to fly.”
A flutter hit my stomach. Vivienne was sick… meaning Benjamin was alone.
“Oh—okay, Mr. Carlson. No problem.”
He shot me a grateful look and tried to loop the scarf around his neck, his briefcase wedged under his arm. “Thank you, Miss Goodman, a thousand times. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
“It’s really no problem,” I repeated, although I still wasn’t sure what exactly I had agreed to. I had classes later—I hoped he didn’t expect me to stay any longer than it usually took to clean the house.
He checked his watch, jolted, and hurried off, waving. I watched him go, sighing softly. I liked him despite his chaotic ways and was grateful for the job he’d given me last semester when he’d been my Geology professor. The hours fit perfectly around my schedule, and I desperately needed the money. Since then, I’d been cleaning the Carlsons’ house twice a week, always early in the morning before my classes.
Inside, in the wide entry hall, I pulled off my boots, hung my coat, and peeled a sticky note from the mirror.
Miss Goodman,
Vivienne is not here today. Please clear away the dishes after Benjamin has had breakfast.
Thank you.
E.C.
I shrugged. That I could manage.
Benjamin sat at the table when I entered, a spoon in his hand, milk dripping from it.
“Good morning!” I said. I’d seen him eating breakfast many times. Usually he was up before I arrived, and his aide, Vivienne, helped him. On bad days she fed him, but usually he managed on his own.
Benjamin swallowed—slowly—and then smiled. “Hi… Lea.” His speech tended to drag and catch whenever spasms interrupted him. Today seemed a good day. “What’s up?”
We usually only talked for a few minutes when I finished cleaning, that short window when he was set up at his computer and Vivienne was in the next room. He had a PhD in mathematics and worked for an insurance company. He’d tried explaining what exactly he did, but I’d never managed to understand. It sounded important, though.
“Mathematics for Engineers later,” I groaned.
Benjamin laughed, his body shaking against the supports of his wheelchair. His laugh always sounded slightly breathless, as if he might run out of air. “Professor Cooper?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’m not sure I’ll stay awake. He could make the zombie apocalypse sound boring.”
Benjamin grinned. “Rough night, huh?” He winked.
I blushed. Fair. The semester-start party had lasted well into the morning. “Uh-huh…”
Benjamin nodded toward the counter. “Make yourself an espresso. It’ll w-wake you up.” His head jerked back several times as he spoke, tripping up his words more than usual.
I hesitated. My job was to clean, and time was already short—the house was huge, and dust collected in every imaginable corner. Usually the look Vivienne gave me if I lingered in the kitchen was enough to send me scuttling upstairs to start my routine: bathroom first, then the Carlsons’ bedrooms and Benjamin’s, then the night nurse’s room. Only after that did I tackle the living room while Benjamin and Vivienne went upstairs. The kitchen was always last.
“The dragon is out of the house,” Benjamin added with a wink.
I blushed deeper. Vivienne didn’t like me, though I had no idea why. I was fast, thorough, and always tried to stay out of her way. I had even reorganized my entire cleaning routine around hers so we wouldn’t clash.
I pushed away from the doorframe and went to the machine. I’d cleaned it often enough to know how to use it. “Want one too?”
Benjamin watched me. “I would. But… you’d have to help me drink it.”
My stomach fluttered again. “Oh… of course. Okay.”
He dipped his spoon into the cereal, milk splattering on the table as his arm jerked. “You don’t have to,” he murmured, gaze dropping.
“No, really—no problem.” I turned quickly, trying to hide how fast my heart was beating. Get it together, girl. It’s just helping him drink. That’s all.
By the time the espresso was ready, Benjamin had finished breakfast. I brought the tiny cups to the table, setting them down, then took the chair to his left—the one where Vivienne usually sat.
“You don’t get along with Vivienne, do you?” he asked.
I sighed. “She hates me.”
He blinked and made a sharp movement with his head—maybe a shake. “Hmmm… she’s very protective,” he said.
That didn’t explain much.
I tasted my espresso—cool enough.
“You want yours?” I asked, unsure how to do this. Should I let him hold the cup? Bring it to his lips? Use his specialized cup with a straw? But espresso in a lidded cup would cool instantly, and I wasn’t sure a straw would even work with so little liquid.
“Yes, please,” he said. He made no move toward the cup. His left hand rested curled in his lap, his right lightly on the table. The delicate porcelain cup looked impossible for him to hold.
In the end, it wasn’t hard. My hand definitely trembled, and he probably noticed, but he didn’t say anything. Sip by sip, we emptied both cups, talking about math (the bane of human life, in my opinion) and what I wanted to do after I finished studying (no clue). I tried not to stare at him, sitting so close for the first time. His long eyelashes, the soft, dark-brown hair, the refined angles of his face—handsome whenever his features weren’t tightened by spasms.
I had found him attractive from the first morning. I’d come early because Mrs. Carlson wanted to show me the house. We ran into each other in the hallway between the elevator and kitchen, and I froze at the sight of the power wheelchair—no one had warned me.
“Hel-lo,” he’d managed, his head snapping to the left, legs kicking beneath him.
“Hi…” I’d squeaked. “I’m, uh… I’m Lea.”
He’d tried to answer, producing a strained sound I couldn’t understand. I knew I should’ve stepped aside and acted normal, but I stood frozen, staring at his twitching hand by the joystick.
“This is Benjamin,” a sharp voice cut in as a young woman stepped between us—Vivienne. Tall, a little older than me, short red hair. “And you’re in his way.”
I’d blurted something unintelligent, stumbled aside, almost tripped over a bucket, then grabbed it belatedly. Vivienne leaned down to ask Benjamin something before adjusting the wheelchair herself, guiding him to the kitchen. He didn’t look at me again—whether by choice or because he physically couldn’t, I didn’t know. Vivienne, however, gave me a look sharp enough to slice steel.
I avoided her after that. Which unfortunately meant avoiding Benjamin too—except for the few minutes before I left.
And today.
“Thanks,” Benjamin said now, glancing at the empty cup. “If you ever need help with math… you know who to ask.”
I stared. “Oh—wow. Thanks.” I might actually take him up on that; I already had nightmares about midterms and the semester had barely started.
Benjamin grinned. “I love talking to you, but… shouldn’t you be heading to Professor Cooper?”
I followed his gaze to the clock—and jumped. “Shit!” I bolted upright. “Thanks! Sorry—I have to—” And I dashed out to grab the cleaning supplies.
I heard him chuckle as I sprinted upstairs, broom rattling behind me.
I flew through the rooms—dusting shelves, scrubbing floors, making beds. By the time I reached the living room again, I was panting and sweaty, but at least I’d made up for the lost time.
I stopped short.
Benjamin sat on the couch, his wheelchair parked empty beside it. I’d never seen him out of it. I hadn’t even known he could get out of it on his own. With Vivienne gone, it seemed he wasn’t working today either.
“Is it… okay if I clean in here?” I asked, unsure. It felt strange to clean around him.
“Sure,” he said, smiling, his head bobbing lightly. “If you help me get this thing off first…” His hand tugged weakly at the napkin tied around his neck. He looked apologetic.
I felt heat rise in my cheeks. I hadn’t even considered whether he could remove it himself. “Of course,” I said, setting the cleaning supplies down.
He straightened a little, arms flailing for balance while I bent to lift the napkin. It wouldn’t slide over his chin.
He chuckled. “Tried that already.”
“Right. Okay.” I found the knot at the back of his neck and tried to loosen it. “Damn, that’s tight.” I knelt properly on the couch cushions, needing both hands.
“Sorry,” Benjamin said, trembling with the effort of sitting unsupported. “I probably made it worse trying to get it off.”
“Tsk,” I clicked my tongue, laughing as I worked at the knot. “You’re lucky I have long fingernails.”
Finally it loosened, and I slipped the napkin away. When I stood, I felt warm all over—and warmer as he beamed at me.
“Thanks so much,” he said, leaning back with a sigh. “If you could…”
“Yes?”
“Hand me the remote?” He jerked his arm toward the black controller on the table, far out of reach. “Forgot. Sorry.”
I laughed. “Sure. Anything else, monsieur, or can I get back to work?” I tapped my foot in mock impatience.
“No,” he said, sheepish, grinning. “That’s it.”
“Voilà.” I tried handing him the controller, but his hand jerked and nearly knocked it out of mine.
“Maybe… just put it on my knees,” he murmured, looking away, his mouth tightening.
His mood had dipped. I carefully placed the controller on his knees, holding it steady until his right hand found it.
“All set?”
“Hmmm. Thanks.”
I wondered how many times he said that in a day.
My thoughts kept circling around him as I cleaned. I could feel his gaze on me—at least, I thought I could. Whenever I turned, though, his eyes were fixed on the animal documentary playing on the TV.
I wondered how his days looked. Whether he went outside. Whether he had friends. Did he go out for drinks? Parties? Did he have a girlfriend? I suspected the answer to most of that was no. I’d seen one coworker visit once. Other than that, only his parents and aides.
Had it always been like this? Even during college? He knew plenty about campus life—but maybe only in theory. Had he attended classes? Clubs? Parties? Any of the million things students did?
I stretched up on tiptoe on a chair to clean the top shelf, my short top lifting at my hips, when I heard a soft sound behind me. I glanced back, but Benjamin was facing the TV, still except for the usual twitches.
Maybe I was imagining things.
I finished the living room just in time, put everything away, hung the wet cloths in the basement, and poked my head into the living room to say goodbye. Benjamin turned, smiled, and waved, his legs kicking out a little.
“Bye! Good luck with math.”
I grinned. “Thanks! Bye!” Then hurried out, unlocked my bike, and pedaled down the street—only to realize halfway to campus that I had forgotten to clean the kitchen.
Shit.
I slammed the brakes, skidded on the asphalt, turned, and pedaled back as fast as I could, tossing my bike onto the grass and rushing to unlock the door.
I headed straight for the kitchen, ready to at least wipe the table, when I heard a sound from the living room. The door was cracked open, a sliver of light spilling out. As I stepped closer, the sounds grew clearer—painting a vivid picture in my mind before I even saw him.
I shouldn’t have stayed.
I especially shouldn’t have looked. But the very fact that I shouldn’t made it almost impossible not to.
Let me know if you want me to expand this story!
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