Two years ago I was called out to an old-age home. When I got there, this guy, Peter was his name, was having a severe heart attack. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t make it, he already had a pacemaker and underlying cardiac issues, and I’m sure he knew that too. Just before he died—it must have taken him every last ounce of his strength—he grabbed my arm and told me to make sure Chloe was taken care of. I didn’t know what he was talking about until I found out who Chloe was. He didn’t have any family. He was all alone, except for her. So . . . I took her. I knew nothing about parrots, didn’t even think I liked them, but here we are. Two years later and . . .” He gave Chloe a scratch and she tilted her neck back, almost all the way round. “I love her. She’s a cutie. Don’t I?”
Chloe whistled and bobbed her head up and down again. “Love you! Love you!”
“That’s very sweet of you,” I said, slightly in awe of Noah’s obvious kindness. “To take her in when she needed it the most.” On the surface, I was taking about the parrot, but really, I was talking about myself, and Noah knew it because he turned and met my gaze.
“Pleasure.” Our eyes zoned in on each other like arrows to a target and, after what felt like an incredibly awkward second, I went back to sipping my coffee. I walked around the room again, not on Chloe’s side, though, noticing for the first time the things I hadn’t seen last night.
“What’s this?” I pointed at what looked like it had been a pot plant in a previous, more hydrated life. I scanned the room. “And another one. And another.”
“I’m not very good at keeping plants alive. People and parrots are far easier.”
“But that’s because they’re in the wrong places.” I put my coffee down and started moving them around. “This one needs sun. You can’t have it in the shade like this.” I moved what looked like it had been a snake plant, once upon a very long time ago, to a sunny spot on the windowsill. “And as for this, too much sun. It needs semi-shade. And as for this succulent, just because it’s a water-wise plant doesn’t mean it never needs water.” I walked to the kitchen, filled a glass up and gave the thirsty plants some water.
“Likes coffee. Likes plants,” Noah said, and it took me a moment to realize what he meant.
“Oh! Yes. I guess I do.” I stood back and admired my new plant arrangement. Although three plants didn’t really make an arrangement, it was more a vague scattering of foliage.
“I’ll try and look after them better.” Noah walked over to the snake plant and ran his hand up the leaf. He held it up, revealing the dust on his fingers.
“You need to wipe them. They can’t photosynthesize with dust on their leaves,” I said quickly, as this fact seemed to jump into the conscious part of my brain.
“I’ll remember that.” He wiped the dust onto his pants, and that’s when I noticed what he was wearing: a pair of navy sleep shorts and a plain white T-shirt. And it was also at this time that I noticed what kind of body he had under all of that fabric. I’d vaguely observed his build before, but now I was really registering it. Noah was very muscular. I was sure he must be more muscular than other men, except I couldn’t really picture many in my head. Other than some actors from TV shows, I didn’t have many real-life men to compare him with. I did another “turn about the room”, as Jane Austen would say, and then that piece of paper on the wall caught my attention again. I moved towards it and read.
“I can’t believe you haven’t watched True Detective. It’s brilliant. Matthew McConaughey gives an amazing performance. He deserved all the awards he got for it.”
“I think you watch a lot of TV too,” Noah said.
“I think I do.” I scanned the list again. “So why do you have time off—to watch all these?”
“I’m changing careers,” he said.
I swiveled around. “But you’re an amazing paramedic. What will you do?”
“I actually want to study further, I’m doing nursing. I’ve quit my job, and I start nursing school in a month. I officially have a month off to sit on my ass and