Autobiography

As they reached the top and stopped, looking out across the hills, it began to rain. Not the slow patter building into a heavier shower that Margaux was used to — the heavens opened, and in minutes she was soaked through.

“I’m getting pretty tired of this weather,” she muttered, addressing no one in particular.

They started down the steps, now slick with rivulets of water.

“It shouldn’t last for long.”

“I hope not.”

Margaux’s foot slipped on a loose patch of moss, and she just had time to swear before she was sitting on the saturated ground, aching from her knee to her hip. Bill, walking a step behind as always, stood over her.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. My bum was already soaking wet, anyway.”

Bill smirked and extended a hand. Margaux took it and started to get up.

“Ah!”

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I’ve just banged my ankle.” She took a step and hissed.

“Sit down a minute. I think you’ve sprained it.”

“But it’s pissing it down, can’t we worry about this back at the house?”

“Never mind that. Sit down.”

He gave her a sharp look, and she knew better than to argue. Margaux returned to her seat on the cold, wet stone. Bill moved down a step from her and sat sideways.

“Your trousers will get wet.”

“As you said, Margaux, we’re already soaking. Give me your foot.”

She extended the offending limb, and he placed her foot in his lap. Bill pulled off her boot, then rolled down her sock — the wool was heavy, and clung to her skin. 

“Does that hurt?” He circled his fingers around her ankle and squeezed. She nodded. “How about this?” He pressed his thumb hard just beneath her ankle bone.

“ARGH! Yes, it hurts, you maniac!”

Bill raised an eyebrow, but let the comment pass. Margaux tried to pull her foot out of his lap, and he grasped her calf tightly. She held still. Bill pulled off her sock and stuck it inside the boot he’d removed. Margaux was slightly concerned by how much water was collecting inside it, but said nothing. “You’re not badly injured, but you should stay off this foot for at least the rest of the day.”

“But we’re still ten minutes away from the house…”

“Let me worry about that.” His fingers trailed over her painted toenails, and she jerked involuntarily. “Margaux…”

“I didn’t mean to!… It tickles.” She averted her gaze, embarrassed, and he laughed. When she looked back at him, she noticed that his blond hair was plastered down over his forehead.

Bill let her go and stood, picking up her boot. Margaux followed suit, trying not to let her bare foot touch the ground.

“I’m going to need to pick you up.”

“…Do you have to? Can’t I just—”

“Margaux, I’m only telling you out of courtesy. It’s not a request.”

“Okay…” She watched him with trepidation as he leaned down. He hooked an arm around her leg and lifted her over his shoulder. Suddenly she felt as though she were far too high up. “Please don’t drop me.”

“Hold still, or I will.”

Every step down was nerve-racking. It only took Bill a few moments to descend the remaining ten or so steps, but it felt far, far longer. When they reached the bottom, Margaux felt as though she had survived a run through a mine field.

He set her down on the path, and Margaux did her best to ignore the hand that lingered a little too long on her thigh.

*

When they got back, Robert was standing at the counter, making coffee.

“What happened to you?”

Margaux shrugged, limping her way to a chair. “It just isn’t my day.”

“Margaux had a little accident.” Robert looked at Bill. “An actual accident. She’s not to walk around today.”

“Noted.”

“Any calls?”

“No calls.”

Bill looked at Margaux. She was trying to pull off her remaining boot. He reached down, grasped the heel and pulled it off for her. 

“Thank you.”

“Put some dry clothes on.”

He dropped the boot on the flagstones and left, pulling off his coat as he went. A door in the hallway slammed. The human side of him was regressing again, and Margaux felt a strange sense of loss.

“Want some tea?”

She looked up at Robert. He was shaking an empty mug at her.

“Sure. Thanks. I’ll go and change, I guess.”

“Wait. I’ll take you.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

“Bill said you shouldn’t walk, so you’re not going to.”

Margaux sighed. “Fine.”

She stood, and Robert scooped her off her feet.

“To your room, milady?”

“I am really not comfortable with this.”

Robert started across the kitchen floor, and she hoped he wouldn’t bash her legs against anything.

“Tough luck.”

He turned sideways to carry her down the narrow hallway. A few moments later, he was setting her down.

“I think I could have walked that twenty feet by myself.”

“Well you’re here now. Yell when you’re done.”

Margaux opened the door and limped to the bed. “…Sure.”

She closed the door and listened to his footsteps moving back towards the kitchen. She didn’t begin to undress until she heard his boots tapping across the flags.