Housekeeper (Lavens Family, part 1)

17. What if?

(Dave)

The wait for Vanessa stretches on, far too lengthy for my liking. I'm seated in the waiting room, nervously biting my nails. A nurse recently placed a cup of water on the table before me, yet it remains untouched. With restless legs, I've noticed that at least 19 out of 35 passers-by have recognized me. A few dared to approach or inquire about my presence, but my unwelcoming demeanour deterred them, prompting a swift retreat. I check my phone again, finding no missed calls or messages. Suddenly, my attention snaps upward as the doctor emerges from Vanessa's consultation room, casting a worried glance my way.

"Sir, Lavens?"

"Yes?" I respond with anticipation.

"Could you step aside with me for a moment?"

"Certainly," I reply, rising swiftly from my chair, jacket in hand.

We proceed down the corridor to the last door before the window. It's a modest room furnished with a table and several chairs. The doctor faces me. "This wasn't a conversation for the hallway. Vanessa and I have considered some options for her to stay over, given that returning to her flat isn't wise at the moment." 

I give a nod of understanding, anticipating the direction of our talk, yet I remain attentive. 

"Her friend is away, and her family isn't an option. Vanessa needs a safe haven with someone trustworthy. She thought of your place, but was uncertain. So, I must ask, would you be willing to have her stay at your place?"

"Of course, she can stay at my place. There's a spare room," I assure.

"Good," the doctor responds with a smile. We exit the room; I return to the waiting area while the doctor heads back to the examination room. As I take a seat, I return the nod to the woman who had first greeted me with one.

Vanessa emerges shortly thereafter. Rising to my feet, I can't help but notice her eyes, red and puffy. She casts her gaze downward, and a hush falls over us. I'm uncertain of how to proceed. Should I offer consolation, perhaps an embrace? Would she even welcome it after her ordeal? Anger bubbles up within me; my cousin bears the responsibility for her state. He will come to rue his actions when I confront him. My hands ball into fists, yet a gentle touch on my arm brings me back to reality.

"Dave? Is everything okay?"

I lock eyes with Vanessa, my expression one of confusion. She's asking about my condition? After what she's been through, her concern is for me? I respond with a weak smile, "Shouldn't I be the one inquiring about you? You've just..."

Vanessa shakes her head gently, cutting off my sentence. In a hushed tone, while rubbing her arm, she says, "Can we go? I need to wash away this experience and forget it as quickly as possible."

"Absolutely," I reply, taking my jacket from the chair. We leave together in silence. The drive home is just as silent. I'm at a loss for words. I sneak peeks at her, but she keeps her gaze on the scenery passing by the passenger window.  I miss her in my embrace, like before the hospital visit, but give her her space. I don't know what happened there, but I can imagine that it is truly confronting.

Once we arrive home, I offer Vanessa something to eat, but she declines, expressing a desire to head straight to bed. Leading the way upstairs, I guide her to the guest room, even though I know very well that she knows where it is. 

"Vanessa, do you need anything before tonight? Maybe a toothbrush or a T-shirt?"

"No, I'm good, thanks. I really need to shower and get some sleep," she pauses at the doorway, adding, "Dave, I appreciate you letting me stay at your place. I just couldn't be in that flat right now."

"Stay as long as you need."

I gaze into her tear-filled eyes before she diverts her gaze. A barely audible "thank you" slips from her lips. I feel a pang of sympathy and wish to embrace her. But before I can act, she has already stepped through the doorway. The door closes gently before me, and I wait for the handle to settle back into place. Then I turn and make my way to the kitchen.

Seated at the kitchen island, I stare into the abyss of my laptop's darkened screen, pondering how to address the situation. The woman who has inadvertently stolen my heart is suffering, and I have contributed to her pain.

I exhale deeply and ascend the stairs. In my bedroom, I collect a few items I believe she might need. I tap on her door but receive no answer. Anticipating she's in the bathroom, I gently open her door and survey the room. Vanessa is nowhere to be found. I place the items on her bed and linger in the solitude of her room. Her faint cries from the bathroom reach me, and I approach. I pause before her bathroom door, hand hovering mid-air, a knot forming in my throat. I refrain from knocking, fearing it might startle her. With a heavy heart, I retreat to my room, my gaze fixed on the ground.

That night, sleep was beyond my grasp. Despite the quietude of my room, my mind was tumultuous, filled with "what-if" scenarios. What if my actions had been different? What if I had disclosed those photographs? What if I had exposed Kevin and Sara's duplicitous plot? Was all of this meant to occur?

What if I had never hired her as my housekeeper?

What if I had taken after my parents more? Resolute with staff and the world at large. I endeavoured to emulate them: professional, strict, and authoritative. To avoid forming attachments to my employees. To eschew starting relationships with staff. To render my heart invulnerable. Yet, Vanessa is the exception. In the short time she's been here, she has etched herself into my heart. Had I not flirted with her, we wouldn't have kissed, and she wouldn't be in this predicament. The blame is mine, and I find myself unable to self-forgive.