CHAPTER 27 - IMPULSES

"Have they completed the mall work?"

Eugene queried after a while, and this time his speech was more stable. He went on gently massaging my head, and even though it made every part of my body tense up from the excitement, I was experiencing a level of comfort I hadn't known existed before. It felt perfect. I had a sense of being part of something. Even if I didn't make a lot of physical contact with others, it was irrelevant at the time. This wasn't unsettling at all.

"Hmmmm."

I moaned while savoring his scent, which was laced with body wash and water.

"You didn't get much sleep last night, did you?"

He asked once more while flexing his fingers on my upper arm.

"I took a little nap. Right, how are you today? Any pain? How's the cough?"

I demanded, suddenly remembering that he was the patient. I missed the closeness as I pushed him a little too hastily, guilty for not thinking of his health before.

"Why did you go to the washroom alone? You could have lost your balance and hit your head."

He listened patiently as I reprimanded him and instructed him to sit on the bed before he started feeling dizzy. Eugene only looked at me after he was covered in the comforter.

"Come on, I already feel awful for making you go through all that. Do you realize how ashamed I was when I recalled everything that you did for me?"

Eugene was blushing hard and avoided my eyes, yet I was relieved that he was willing to be honest with me rather than trying to hide his genuine feelings.

"Oh, please! It's not as though I haven't seen naked men before. I work in the freaking film industry."

I remarked as a matter of fact, and I am not entirely sure whether it was something I said or did, but it seemed that the smile on his face wavered for a moment. Maybe he's thinking how much of a pervert I am. My mind did a reverse, suddenly wanting to bring back that glint in his eyes.

"And yet I must admit that you are the first guy I have taken care of, apart from my own family. The only men I have helped during sick times are my father, my older cousin, and now you."

Eugene smiled broadly, his face a mix of delight and pride? I am unclear as to why I felt the need to explain myself, but nevertheless, it seemed essential all of a sudden. When did I begin to consider what other people thought of me? Or, perhaps, it's just Eugene.

"Don't worry, you'll make a wonderful nurse. I seriously don't know what I would have done without you. Thank you for all your help."

He said it earnestly, and I winked at him, not having any particular response. He was being genuine, and the sincerity in his eyes overwhelmed me, as if I didn't deserve it.

"Okay, I'll go freshen up and fix something for the night. Take a nap till then, I guess."

I suggested, while collecting the tray of empty dishes and adjusting the thermostat before leaving the room.

It was troubling to consider the extent to which his presence had influenced me, and at the same time, I couldn't bear to fathom how I would cope without him. I mean, I can't just abduct him and confine him to a room for the rest of his life. I had to say goodbye to him soon enough.

I headed for a bath, my brain unwilling to refrain from thinking too much, and I even hit the wet, slick wall of my shower with my fist, failing to come up with some sort of solution. I cannot persuade him to sleep with me, at least not right away. And now I was petrified of his initial question. What if I realized that just a single night wasn't enough?

Maybe I should reach out to my therapist after all. She might be able to provide me with an answer. She was the one who disclosed to me that I couldn't be in an intimate relationship for a period of three months or more. It was she who identified my commitment issues. After that, I had two options to choose from. To go out with multiple people for the sake of dating and end each affair once I grow uninterested. Or just steer clear of dating and relationships. I decided to stick with the latter. It felt more rational and humane. I might lack the ability to catch any feelings, but nevertheless, I had to consider the other party. I cannot act like those who have hurt me and commit the same awful things to people around me.

Either it was real or give up on love altogether. Besides, I have never regretted where I was emotionally because my commitment problems helped me overcome betrayals and backstabbings. And I avoided spending so much time hanging out with people from the industry, which in turn resulted in far too many speculations and rumors about me. Everyone considered me a mystery, something that I preferred. Yet, currently, I am forced to wonder what could have happened if I weren't dealing with these struggles. Would I have dated Eugene? Would I have been happy?

I stepped out twenty minutes later, my thoughts becoming calmer yet still foggy. I dressed casually in pajamas and wrapped my damp hair in a towel to dry. As I entered the drawing room, I was able to hear conversations going on in his room and assumed he was on a phone call. Since it was a female voice on the other end, it was most likely his mother or sister. When he addressed her as 'phii saaw,' which means older sister in Thai, my suspicions were reinforced. However, I noted that he had been conversing in English with his mother the day before, implying that his father was from Thailand. I am curious where his mother is exactly from—probably England. Now that I think about it, I didn't know much about Eugene.

I prepared porridge again, but this time I included additional proteins, such as eggs and chicken, and I made some side dishes, consisting of sesame seaweed salad and eggplant roast. I also had some preserved radish, which I plated before serving them in the dining area. I then brewed some medicinal tea and beamed at the packed table. It looked wonderful, just as an appropriate meal table should. Lorraine was always conscious of her weight and only ate whenever I cooked for her. Even then, she munched like a snail on a diet, if that even makes any sense. And I was fine with whatever was in the kitchen since I was too lazy to plate it. I ate them right out of the heating pot or from the packets.

However, watching everything properly organized made me feel like I was back at home. My mother was serious about having an extravagant supper ready for dad when he returned home from work at night, and she made sure there was barely any room left on the kitchen counter. But while Mom did it out of her affection for her husband, why was I putting so much effort into Eugene merely because I had an attraction to him? Will an insignificant infatuation drive you to go to such lengths?

"Hmmm. It smells heavenly."

I was startled for a moment as I heard Eugene's voice from behind me, and I put my palm on my pounding heart, glaring at him.

"Don't ever sneak up on me like that."

I chastised him, and he flashed me a boyish grin instead of bothering to apologize. He looked worn out and disoriented, and his cheekbones protruded more than usual. He has probably dropped a couple of pounds over the past two days.

"Wash your hands first, and then come have food."

I motioned to the sink, and he complied like a kid who's eager to eat his favorite dish. Before starting, we said a quick prayer before diving in. The porridge was delicious, and despite the absence of spices, it worked as a comfort dish for me. It brought back memories of growing up. Sometimes they were pleasant, sometimes terrible, but luckily, this time it was good. I'm not entirely certain why, but I felt like I was building new memories with Eugene, and weird enough, I liked it.

"You have impressive cooking skills."

Eugene remarked, while his mouth was full, that a grain or two had slipped back into the bowl. He was actually a child on the inside.

"I know. I am just too gifted. God was really partial to me."

We both burst out laughing as I pretended to be so full of myself.

"Your future husband is going to be incredibly lucky."

For a split second, my grin waned. I considered remaining silent or changing the conversation, as I normally do when someone brings up the prospect of marriage. But something was different this time.

"Guaranteed, if I can stay with him for more than three months."

I retorted with a mocking laugh at the end. It was unusual for me to discuss such sensitive topics openly, but with him, I didn't find it difficult. I have never said anything like this to Lorraine. She's still unclear as to why I am staying a single woman. I didn't want anyone to empathize with me or give me advice, and I hoped Eugene wouldn't let me down, which he didn't. He, in fact, laughed.

"That's right. Who could possibly want to spend that much time with you?"

He said it jokingly, and I laughed along with him. He had no idea just how right he was, and I didn't want to ruin the grin on his face. He intended it as a joke, and I decided to leave it as a 'joke' for the time being.

"Don't be anxious. Your future bride is also fortunate. She will be married to a gentleman, after all."

I stated it matter-of-factly, and even though I was smiling, something tugged at the bottom of my heart. I recognized the feeling as envy. I couldn't picture him with another woman. But I am convinced he would be happy with anyone other than me.

He waved his hand as though I was exaggerating, and we continued to focus on our food, a healthy silence falling between us. He persisted in helping me clean up the dishes once we were done, but I declined and literally ordered him to go to bed after he took his medicine.

Instead of retiring for the night, I laid on the couch and watched Netflix. I must have been worn out because I accidentally fell asleep about halfway through the very first episode of a sitcom.

Something on the surface of my shoulders jolted me awake, and I opened my drowsy eyelids with difficulty. The television screen was emitting a red hue, allowing me to get only a glimpse of the lower half of Eugene's attractive face. His one hand was on the edge of a blanket, which presently enveloped one side of my shoulders, and his other hand was on the couch's armrest over the top of my head. He did not realize I was fully conscious yet and went on adjusting the blanket gently.

It must be the dim lighting. It must be the faint music echoing in the distance. It must be my lack of sleep. It must be the goddamn hour or his innocent eyes. Whatever freaking reason it was, it spurred me to lean in closer, alerting him to my presence, but just before he had a chance to react, I had glued my lips to his.

........