I love the way a slight smile appears on his lips at just the sound of my voice even though he's dozing. And the way his shoulders visibly relax when he knows I'm near. I'm his home and his comfort... his safe place.
I watch him and enjoy looking and just appreciating that he's back here with me and he's gonna be alright and think about how lucky I am not to be mourning someone else that I love.
This handsome, kind and brave man came back to me and watching his peaceful sleeping form feels like heaven. That is until PTSD rears its ugly head and steals him from me again. Steals his peaceful sleep turning it into a place he no longer feels safe. His relaxed body now rigid with fear as his grip tightens on my hand in a bid to cling on to what he knows is safe.
I mop the sweat beads from his forehead, brushing away a stray curl. He looks like a little boy for a moment. Vulnerable and in need of a level of care I'm not sure I'm equipped to give him, but I'm certainly going to try.
I gently shake him from that scary place and it kills me that I have no control over it. It's the only thing I'm powerless to help him with.
"Good morning" he whispers with his gruff morning voice and I'll never tire of hearing those words each day. He reaches for my hand and presses every knuckle to his lips and I watch the colour return to his cheeks as he realises he's safe.
"Mornin' you" I flash him my cheesiest grin, hopeful that I can at least lighten the mood now he's awake.
I plant kisses on every inch of his face because I've missed him over night. Hopefully today is the day I can bring him home.
"How are you feeling?"
I survey the fading tell tail signs of trauma on his face with my fingers. All cuts, bruises and swellings now on the way out. The only thing lingering is the issues with that sodding leg but I can help with that. Helping takes away some of the guilt I feel for walking away no matter how briefly our now seemingly forgotten spilt lasted. It's all I can do to prove myself.
"Like I've been hit by a bus. Headaches and aches and pains... and well you know the rest"
I smile sympathetically before we're interrupted by the alley cat who once again looks like she's about to spray all over him.
"Good Morning Charlie. I'm going to do your observations now"
She turns to glare at me so I glare right back. What she doesn't know is, I'm fantastic at this game of who's got the hardest face... Been playing it all my life.
"Can you give us some privacy please?"
If it had been any other nurse, I would have done and had no issues with giving them privacy. But as it's her, I stay firmly in my seat.
"She can stay" Charles says, half panicked by the thought of my absence.
"I need her with me"
I can't hide my smugness. Small victories and all that and she doesn't look best pleased as she starts tending to him.
"How's the leg today? Thought any more about trying to walk on it?"
I hear her breath hitch as she pulls back his cover to reveal the fabulous art work I got busy with yesterday – he hasn't washed it off.
"What the hell is this?" She barks in her most commanding army voice and it would appear she's talking to me. It would also appear that she doesn't frighten me like she wants too.
"It was just a bit of fun, a little message to make him smile"
She rubs her fingers across the bold black 'I love you' written down the side of his bad leg and I even used some of his scars to decorate it... turned 'em into flowers, did I?
"Get this cleaned up ASAP"
Charles quietly reminds her of her rank vs his and she's momentarily back in her box.
Once again she pushes for him to get up on his leg and he hesitates and I know he's not ready to try but she doesn't seem to get the hint and pushes him.
"Shall we give it a go? It might surprise you by cooperating. I stand right here... just in case"
He needs my reassurance and he'll get it even with madam in the corner giving me evils.
"If we do this, they'll let you come home" I whisper into his ear and I can see that my voice and the proximity of my body which is now slotted between his legs is having quite an effect on him... A good one at that.
He uses my shoulders to steady himself and I watch as he tentatively lowers the offending leg towards the floor. I can see the pain in his face, he doesn't need to tell me but Harte seems to be missing the vital clues that something isn't quite right here but who am I to interfere?
She rushes towards him when it becomes apparent that he can't or won't hold his own weight and attempts to help him back into bed only to be met with his frustration.
"You know Charlie, you should think about my offer. Mum and Nonna would be so happy to see you and you could recover in comfort. You know Elvis would want you to be taken care of"
I feel an instant knot in my gut. Where does she think she's taking him? And why hasn't he told me?
"I'll get us some coffees"
I excuse myself on the pretence of getting the coffees and feel the bravado slipping the further down the corridor I get. With my past coming back to haunt me at every turn, will I ever be free of the ghost of Elvis?
I take my time to gather myself and make sure there is no evidence of the upset she caused me. Whether intentional or not, I'll never allow her to see that she can get to me.
She does exactly as I had done earlier and pushes a stray curl from his forehead as he sleeps, much more peacefully this time. There is worry and concern in her face as she watches him sleep and the knot in my stomach starts to form again as I watch her stroke his cheek with her thumb and place a gentle kiss on his forehead. She loves him.
I clear my throat to make my presence known but don't let on what I've seen.
She collects herself quickly and is back to army stiff and makes herself busy tidying up.
I've never been one for awkward silences but humour fails me with her. I have no intention of getting to know her or being friends no matter what she means to Charles or more importantly what he means to her.
"If you could talk him into some proper care then I'd very much appreciate it"
Her voice is the softest it's been since I've met her and the same concern she showed earlier has made its way back onto her perfect face.
"I may be talking out of turn, but by the sounds of it you home isn't suitable for his current needs. Ours is"
I'm dumbfounded that she could be so forward but I know she's right. A pokey bedroom up a large flight of stairs isn't what he needs to contend with right now.
"I can look after him, been looking after people all my life" I snap in my defence.
"But can you though Molly? What's to stop you walking away again? He spoke to me... he needed someone and you broke his heart. I can't let you do that to him again"
It's as if she knows that I'm queen of self-deprecation and is reading me like a book and grabbing onto my own doubts and fears about myself and using them against me.
"We have a beautiful home and he'll be well cared for. My mum would love to see him too... she misses him since..."
She stalls and I can feel the sadness radiating from her.
"Since Elvis died" I finish for her.
Her eyes widen at the mention of his name and I'm certain she feels the same stab to the heart that I've felt for so long.
"How do you know about Elvis?"
It only takes a second for the penny to drop.
"You're Molly? His Molly? You're Elvis' girl!"
