A Suitable Companion

Chapter 10: A modest birthday celebration

Charles has been home for two weeks now. He made great progress in the weeks before he was discharged from Headley Court and it has continued. I understand he is slowly opening up to the psychologist, one step at a time. He says it helped to talk to me first. He is also really fighting with his physio, both when he is there and at home, now often having a training session on his own both in the morning and in the afternoon. His mind has been set on ditching the wheelchair for crutches and a few days ago he managed. Not for long walks yet, but for shorter distances. It was a real victory and he was so amazingly happy, as was I. Not to mention Hutchins. I swear I saw tears in her eyes even if she mumbled something about dust as she tried to discretely wipe something away. It turned out to be the best present to himself for his thirtieth birthday.

I thought Charles was thirty already, based on the advanced mathematical equation that he was eight when Hutchins started here and she has been working for the James family for 22 years, but it turned out that his birthday is quite late in the year. Of course, Hutchins was on top of this information and told me some days in advance. We both knew that the last thing he would want was a party of any kind, but we still thought we might make the day special for him in the little things. On one occasion Charles complained about that he has been growing up on healthy breakfasts like oatmeal because his parents and Hutchins thought this was the best for him (which, considering how his physique turned out, might have been a correct assumption). But this day I spoil him with a breakfast in manner of the less health-focused Dawes home; cocoa puffs, toast with Nutella and raspberry jam and of course, his favourite Nespresso coffee, Rosabaya. Hutchins and I bring it to his room, singing Happy birthday and I think how great it is to for once come here without a knot in my gut at the prospect of an angst-filled encounter. He seems utterly surprised that we have thought of his birthday at all. Apparently, he had done his best to forget it but now that we are here he seems happy. After the song, Hutchins excuse herself that she has something to attend to in the kitchen but I sit down in the same armchair where I have slept before.

"Cocoa puffs!" he says with almost childish joy and anticipation. Sometimes he is very different from the stern man I met the first day in this house. "It can't be Hutchins that decided the content of this breakfast."

"Nope, that would be me. I thought that once a man has turned thirty it's not more than fair that he gets to taste cocoa puffs."

He dips a spoon in the bowl and takes a mouthful.

"This beats any gourmet meal I've had" he grins.

"You know you're probably old enough to decide yourself what you should eat for breakfast? I think that right comes at the same age as voting, if not before. Even females have the right to decide for themselves what they eat for breakfast these days."

He throws a pillow at me.

"Shut up, Dawsey."

"But seriously, can I ask something I wondered about?"

"Yeah?"

"I get that you live here now, after your injuries, but how come you did not move out before? To have your own place?"

He points at me with his spoon. "You didn't either, if I'm not mistaken."

"No, but I don't have the money to do it. On the contrary, my family has often needed what I earn to make it, so I had my reasons. But for you, money does not seem to be an issue?"

He puts down the spoon and take a sip of his coffee instead, seemingly thinking.

"You're right. I could have moved anytime. I did live away from home when I was at uni and before that I was at boarding school, so in a way I left home early. After uni came Sandhurst and then, with my job, it didn't seem worth it to bother getting my own place as I would be away so much anyway, either at the regiment or deployed somewhere."