/* I would like to thank all of you for liking this story and adding the same to your favourites. A big shout out to tangent832 for your time and effort in providing constructive feedback. Would request new readers to pls start your read with My Almost Brother Ch 1&2 and follow it up with My Almost Brother Ch 3&4 before you peruse this installment of the series. And all characters, events, names, places and designations depicted are fictitious. Any resemblance to a person living or dead is purely coincidental All rights reserved*/
Chapter 5 O Brother, where art thou!
For the rest of the day, I did not see him. I was pulled into surgery for a couple of critical cases of the pile-up. By the time I finished, it was late.
Returning to the common room, I saw a message from Helen saying they were all leaving. At the end of the message, there were kissing emojis tagged, which I found strange.
Whatever the outcome of the morning's bedroom incident between us, she was not the type to send emojis.
Their leaving ahead of me was normal, but tonight as I didn't have my car, I was dreading the hassle of finding an Uber. I changed from my scrubs into a jumper and leggings and came down in the lift to the Atrium to check with reception if they could help me get an Uber.
There I saw Ralf. (Guess I was not going to pronounce his name the English way anymore) Seeing me, he approached and in heavily accented and broken English managed to convey that he was here to give me a ride home. On my enquiry, he replied that Mr. Larsen had left sometime in the late afternoon as he had other duties to take care of. And then he led me to the same Black Mercedes parked in the car park.
As he ushered me into the back seat, Ralf offered me a can of cold lemonade which was wrapped with a slip of paper. Unwrapping the slip of paper, I saw that there was something written inside. I opened the paper in anticipation and found that inside there were just four words written in a neat hand.
/Take Care. Be Safe/
That's all. Nothing else. No emojis. No byes. Not even the mention of his name or mine anywhere
Now I was just Fuming. After our verbal dance in the cafeteria, I had a ton of things to talk about with him. Okay, he had work to do, but if he could write four words, couldn't he write more? And how could he just go away without even a call or a message? When he wanted to cadge an invitation for some tea and scones, he could trouble himself by making a call. So couldn't he even leave a message now to say when he would be back or when we could meet?
And that was the first time it occurred to me that I didn't know where he was staying while he was in England. Obviously not with Andrew.
I asked Ralf and he replied that his instructions were to drop me off at my home and then drop this car back at the office in Epping. But he had no idea where Mr. Larsen was staying.
By this time, we had reached my house, and he dropped me off. I had decided that I was going to leave behind the can of lemonade and the slip of paper in the car, but at the last moment I decided to keep both with me.
As I watched the black car drive off into the night, there was a catch in my throat that I could not explain. Was it a huge disappointment that I was setting myself up for? He had clearly announced to the cafeteria that we were step-siblings, but I refused to believe that we were just that. Wasn't there something more, or was it all in my imagination? When he nodded in response to my declaration, hadn't he acquiesced to that? I could not find any satisfactory answers to these questions and with a pained heart and a tired body I entered the house.
The wafting smell of Sweet Peppers and Chicken Roast hit me as soon as I opened the door and that meant Afreen had cooked. Which meant that I was the lamb who was being fattened up before the slaughter.
In the sitting room ottoman, I saw glasses with red wine and some chips laid out. Brady was bringing in some plates from the kitchen. He saw me and smiled "Come in. Relax. Have some wine and pot roast. We know you could not meet or talk to him. So, you can rant out to us."
"How did you know I could not talk?" Even to myself, I sounded so insecure and needy. "We met Ralph" was his succinct reply. "But Ralf couldn't tell you if I was going to call him or not!" I persisted. "Helen asked Ralph for his number! Ralph could not provide it" said Brady in a there-you-have-it tone. I bristled. So that's why she sent me those heart emojis.
In a huff, I turned towards the stairs where I met Helen coming down. "We are your oldest mates. You and I may have our differences, but one thing I won't do is take away your man!" that was Helen's way of being contrite. "As if you could!" was my sharp retort.
"So, we all agree he is your man! The guy you want and not just as a brother" was Brady's conclusion in his sing-song voice.
"Brady! Just stop, will you? Give her some space to sort out her feelings!" surprisingly it was Afreen who came to my rescue. And I was further surprised to see that she was still wearing the Hijab from work. Normally she would just claw it off her head as soon as we got home. Then I remembered my banter regarding asking Afreen to lead him a Burqa. But as Afreen had come to my aid, I decided I wouldn't needle her about it. Just not yet.
I changed into pyjamas and came and sat on the rug near the ottoman. After we all had toasted to our health, I just went bottom up with my wine. It was Helen who stopped me midway and taking my wine glass away from me commanded "Eat something now! Afra (that was Helen's way of calling Afreen, whenever she wanted to make a point) has cooked a nice chicken roast with sweet peppers for you. Eat before you perforate your stomach with alcohol"
So, I ate dutifully. The food, as with all dishes cooked by Afreen, was really good. But still, I craved alcohol. Specifically, my brand of single malt. Glenlivet So, I fetched my above-mentioned poison and deposited the bottle in the centre of the ottoman. Brady and Afreen started to protest but Helen shushed them, rightfully anticipating that I wanted liquid reinforcements to start talking.
After I had downed two fingers of the same, I felt the buzz and the warmth spread through my body. The food I had eaten helped to distribute the warmth evenly. I took out the slip of paper which had come with the lemonade can and passed it around. "He left this for me" I clarified, already feeling a little sad from the effects of the alcohol. "But why does this make you sad?" Afreen asked "Doesn't this show he cares about you?" was her rejoinder.
The single malt was loosening my tongue. "Am I a child that has to be reminded to stay safe? And if he is so concerned about my safety, why doesn't he come and see to it himself" In my anger, I didn't realise just how contradictory my opinions sounded.
"You are smitten bad, girl!" This was Brady, proving that he was the wisest of us all. "Ok! I am smitten bad. I am pining for him like a lovesick puppy." The alcohol had also brought back my temper. "But at least I am true to my feelings. I am not hiding behind made-up stories"
"What made up stories?" Helen asked quietly "The bugger all he mentioned about that Scandinavian league or something. Bet you it all was fake" I desperately wanted to discredit him. But why? How had he harmed me?
"It isn't! We checked! I guess many of the girls at the hospital did the same. All of them wanted his contact details. Couldn't find it there" was Afreen's postscript.
"See!" I shouted triumphantly "If he was a Bonafide person who was working or heading such a league, his contact details would be there on their website" was my convoluted reasoning.
"We all know that the Queen is the head of state of not only the UK but of many other nations as well. How many of these official govt. websites carry the Queen's contact details?" Was Brady's way of correcting me. "He is no King!" I responded in a huff.
