She sighed with relief as she recognized her crabby neighbor. He was walking towards her carrying a package. As he stepped in front of her, he handed it to her.
“Your mail came to my address again. Did you ever call them to fix this problem?”
“Um. Yes, I did.” She glanced down at the postmark. “It looks like this was sent out before I made the phone call, though. I’m so sorry to have disturbed you again, Monsieur Boucher.”
He was looking strangely over at Jimin, who was standing slightly behind her as he tried to look inconspicuous while hiding his head within her jacket.
Monsieur Boucher threw his chin towards Jimin. “Is your friend all right? He’s acting strange, and he has blood all over his face.”
“Oh! Yes, he’s ok, but we need to get him cleaned up. He fell down and cut his face open on the curb. So sorry! We must be going! Thank you for my mail.”
She rushed Jimin towards her front door, worrying that they would once again be overtaken by an angry mob of crazy, French-manicure-wielding fans. She quickly unlocked the door and gave Jimin a slight shove to encourage him to walk inside first. He stepped several feet inside and then came to a sudden, amazed stop. His eyes traveled up, up, up to the extremely high ceiling. He looked in wonder at the walls surrounding him. Works of art had been painted on every wall. As his gaze descended towards the floor, he noticed white drop cloths surrounding him. Was this woman a painter? He turned curious eyes towards her face.
She met his questioning gaze and promptly instructed, “Stay here. I’m going to go get my first aid kit.”
She returned a few moments later and beckoned him to follow her to the kitchen where she found him a chair to sit in. Also seating herself in a chair opposite him, she leaned over to wipe a disinfectant cloth across his torn skin. As it contacted his raw flesh, he winced and made a hissing sound through clenched teeth.
Her eyes left his cheek to meet his pained gaze for a moment. “Je suis désolée. I’m sorry,” she whispered before repeating the painful action that had caused all the trouble to begin with. After a few more strokes, she had cleansed all the blood from his cheek, so she began to cover it with a bandage.
“Thank God, it has stopped seeping blood. It’s all cleaned up now. And covered with a dry bandage. It should heal nicely.” Her Irish brogue was fascinating.
Jimin met her eyes. “Thank you. I should be going.” He stood up and stepped forward before cringing and sitting down again. “My ankle didn’t hurt this bad when I was running towards your car.” Must have been all that adrenaline coursing through my system.
“Your ankle? You hurt your ankle?”
Jimin nodded. “That woman shoved me off the curb. When I fell, my foot slid over the curb. I must have landed funny. I’ll be ok.”
“Let me take a look at it.” She knelt down in front of him and reached for his foot.
Jimin couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was in this position. He gazed down at the stance of the ultimate servant, kneeling before another to minister to something as unlovely as a foot. She gingerly lifted his foot, holding him delicately by his left heel as she peeled his sock down to expose his ankle to her view. She looked up at him.
“It’s beginning to swell. I’m going to wrap it.”
She untied his shoelace and took off his shoe. Jimin gaped at her. He hadn’t felt this cared for since he was a tiny child being attended to by his devoted eomma. He was sure he hadn’t been doted upon in this manner for many moons. Yet here was a young woman attending to him like he was an infant. She peeled off his sock and began to wrap the ace bandage around his foot and up his ankle. Already it was feeling better. He allowed himself to relax, and he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes momentarily.
She slipped his sock back on and then his shoe, loosening the laces a little bit to give his ankle a bit more room and to accommodate the thickness of the bandage. She tied the laces and carefully lowered his foot to the floor.
“Does it feel ok?”
He nodded. “It’s much better. Thank you.” He opened his eyes, making contact with her emerald orbs once again.
“I should call Tae and let him know I’m ok.” Suddenly, he sat straight up. “Oh, my goodness! Tae! I hope he’s all right! We got separated right after the mob found us.”
Jimin reached into his pocket for his cellphone. It wasn’t there. His hand patted around his pockets. Nothing. They were all empty. He had lost his phone! It must have fallen out when he’d gone over the curb…or when he’d run into…
That was when he realized that he still didn’t know her name. He looked up at her.
“You lost your phone?”
He nodded.
“Oh, no! I’ll go back and see if I can find it,” she responded.
“No! I don’t want you going anywhere near there! What if the crowd’s still there?”
“Surely they’re gone by now. They saw us drive away. Oh, dear.”
“What?”
“What if one of them wrote down my license plate number? We had better leave my apartment soon.” Changing her mind, she shook her head and contradicted herself, “No! I’ll go move my car. Stay here. I’m going to drive several blocks away. Then I’ll walk back. Do you need to borrow my phone?”
That was when Jimin realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he didn’t know any of his friends’ phone numbers. They were all in his phone. He never dialed them. He just hit the Favorites list and tapped their name, and his phone did all the work. He could call the hotel, but everyone had been headed out for the evening. No one would be there. Unless Tae had circled back. He glanced up at the girl. Oh, yes! What was her name?
But she was already walking out the door. She’d left her phone on the table near his hand. He picked it up and tapped the home button. Only to realize that it was locked. So much for calling the hotel. Or reaching Tae.
