In the silence

I close my eyes. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I open my eye and raise my arm. I shake my head, lower my arm and inhale sharply. I try to count as I breath out. ’This isn’t going to get any better,’ I tell myself. I decide just to keep my eyes closed. Maybe it will be easier that way. I raise my right arm, I reach out into the darkness, and let out the breath I was holding. I rap solidly on the door before me. I can hear footsteps approaching. I can’t face it. I should turn and go, but that would really defeat the purpose. As I hear the door unlock and the hinges start to creak, I lower my head ever so slightly but I open my eyes. As the door swings open, it’s almost as if motion is frozen in time. There’s a stillness, a shock, that neither of us has quite recovered from. I can hear the tremor in my voice as I quietly speak. Just one word. ‘Sir.’

He stands there with a tea towel in his hand, just looking at me. Was this a mistake after all? Should I not have come? I can feel the pleading in my eyes. He merely steps back and waves his arm to the side, ushering me in. Still, he hasn’t spoken. I try to find my voice. It comes out almost like a croak. ‘I thought you might have need of me.’ Still, no response. I approach, taking his hand in mine and gently pull him towards the sofa. He sits and just looks baffled. I take the tea towel from his hand and walk towards the kitchen.

I find a sink full of dishes, and boxes scattered all about the room. I roll up my sleeves and start washing up. Slowly, methodically, I make my way through the first mound of dishes, the only sound I hear is the clinking of the dishes as I wash each one. I pull the plug out of the drain and as I hear the water trickle out of the sink, I grab a clean saucepan, fill it with water and set it on the hob to boil. I look around, opening cupboards searching for what I need, realising that it may all still be packed. Eventually, my search proves fruitful as I find a mug. I reach into my backpack that I’d discarded earlier and pull out some proper tea. Once the water boils, I pour it gently over the tea leaves, waiting for it to brew perfectly. I strain Out the tea leaves and make my way back into the other room. He is still sitting where I’d directed him, looking thoroughly baffled. I give him the cup of tea and step back and kneel.

He shakes his head as if he can’t quite believe I’m there, in front of him. He reaches out and touches me, as if he’s afraid I might melt away into the realm of hallucinations. Okay, clearly it’s been a shock. A bit more of a surprise than I thought it would be. I still can’t tell what he’s thinking. cant predict what he will do next. He looks exhausted. No matter what he thinks, I believe I made the right move. He sips his tea and just keeps his eyes on me. I wait. It’s not my strength but it seems to be what he needs of me. As he finishes his tea, I gently take the mug from his hand and return it to the kitchen. I return to him. I do a quick assessment of the flat. I grab a pillow and toss it towards the arm of the sofa. I approach apprehensively. I place my hands on his shoulders and turn his body and gently push him down onto the sofa. I grab the blanket off the back and drape it over him. I brush the backs of my fingers across his cheek. ‘You do have need of me,’ I state boldly, wishing I was feeling more confident of myself. ‘Sleep? Please?’ With that, I turn and return to the kitchen.

As the sink refills for the next load of dishes to wash, I look around. It is a lot for any person. I reassure myself. It was good I came. I fall into a rhythm and between each load, I sneak a peek out into the lounge. He is sleeping peacefully. I move quietly.

From the kitchen, I move to the bedroom. I start unpacking clothes and folding them and putting them into drawers. Hopefully, he won’t mind my organisation of his things. I grab hangers and start hanging up the clothes that should go in the closet. I smile to myself as I remember his threats and his follow through of just what he could do with a hanger. I found it hard to sit down for the better part of a week after that encounter. I lose myself in my reminiscing.

I break down the now empty boxes and set them next to the front door in a neat pile. I make my way across to him. I sit on the floor and for a few minutes beside him. I listen to the reassuring sound of his breathing. Just seeing him there, resting, made the trip worthwhile. I lean forward and kiss his cheek. I look around. Right. Books.

I find his keys on a hook by the door. I let myself out and wander out to the street. I know what I’m looking for, I just have no idea where I am. I roam the local neighbourhood until I spot what I need. A few blocks away, behind a small shop, there is a stack of milk crates. Just what every book lover needs. I make several trips and bring them back to the flat, being painfully careful not to make a sound.

I go through the boxes, organising all the books in alphabetical and Dewey order, I am a librarian after all, I could hardly do less. I hum along to the songs in my head and as the light fades away and darkness begins to steal its way into the flat, I finish with the last of them. I add the most recent boxes to the existing pile. I look around, well pleased.

I sit on the floor by the sofa debating what to do next. He needs his sleep so badly. Do I wake him to feed him or do I let him sleep. In the end, he looks so peaceful that I can’t bring myself to wake him.

I curl up in a ball on the ground next to the sofa and I wait. Just wait. I drift off to sleep at some point and wake to the feeling of fingertips brushing lightly through my hair. I look up and smile. The early light is just breaking in through the windows. ‘I came to serve,’ I whisper softly. I move my face upward and kiss the palm of his hand. I still can’t quite read his face. Those doubts from when I jumped on the plane rose up in me again. Is he pleased? Annoyed? I scan his face, looking for any clue. Just as my fear that I may have displeased him by coming here with no word, no notice, starts to reach a feverish pitch, I see it. That slow smile spreading across his lips. He takes in all the progress I’ve made in the last day. He shakes his head, stands to his feet and takes my chin in his hand and raises my eyes to his.

‘I am a very lucky and very happy Master and I am well pleased.’