PBUY Chapter 09

 09

***

By the time she had grown accustomed to going to Chester's house for work, it had become routine.

There were days when he threatened to fire her several times, only to cancel it just as often. Naturally, Nellie had gotten used to that too.

Chester's fickleness was, after all, a familiar sort of thing.

Even Mrs. Hudson, in her final days, had been full of whims and irritability all day long.

At least Chester didn't curse at her or strike her, small mercies, perhaps.

Since the envelope incident last time, Chester and Nellie had agreed not to let letters pile up anymore.

They would open them right away and check the contents, a significant improvement.

As for Chester's panic episodes, they had an unspoken agreement not to bring them up.

That evening, Chester had been… very firm in saying that she should never speak of his illness, and that he did not want her to learn anything about it.

But Nellie already had a fair idea.

The hollow look of someone who never slept well, his mention of tending to George at dawn, the way he would greet her in the morning after sitting on the sofa for hours…

Still, that was another matter entirely from him admitting it himself. Chester's pride didn't seem to allow for that.

Either that, or he simply didn't trust her enough yet.

In any case, Nellie decided to go along with what Chester wanted for now.

There was no need to spoil his mood deliberately.

"Mr. Coleman, you've got mail."

Nellie took the letters from the mailbox, placed them on the coffee table, and went into the kitchen.

Her routine was to put them on the table, after which Chester would take them out, read through them all, and sort them into piles, those to throw away and those to reply to.

Most ended up in the fireplace.

But today… was different.

Chester took out a card with a snow-white ribbon attached, read it, and sank deep into thought.

Humming a tune as she made a pineapple cake in the kitchen, Nellie stopped mid-song when she saw his expression.

Had something happened?

She cut a slice of the finished cake and brought it over to him.

"What kind of letter is it?"

"Ah."

Chester came out of his thoughts and took the plate from her.

"Thank you, Miss McKay."

Taking a bite, he pulled at the corner of his lips. A small dimple appeared on his right cheek, his way of saying it was delicious.

Though he usually ate little, he seemed to have a surprising fondness for sweets and often enjoyed the desserts Nellie made.

"It's from a very close friend of mine. He's getting married soon."

"Oh my, that's something to celebrate."

Nellie placed her own slice of cake on the coffee table.

"It's his first marriage, but rather late. Most people marry in their early twenties…"

"Still, it sounds like good news. But… you don't look well."

"Do I?"

Chester ran a hand over his face as if trying to smooth away his expression, but his features remained tense.

"My friend is asking me to be his best man."

"Then you should do it. Is there some problem?"

"Not with these legs…"

Chester glanced down at his legs.

From the look on his face, he didn't think he could even attend the wedding, let alone stand as best man, with legs that couldn't walk properly.

"Do your friends not know about your condition, Mr. Coleman?"

"They probably don't. I haven't kept in touch since I returned from the war, especially after I got injured like this."

"……"

Nellie, watching his face, carefully voiced the question she'd been wondering about for some time.

"Mr. Coleman, may I ask… what happened to your legs? If my question makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to answer."

Chester spoke slowly. His gaze, fixed on his thin legs, seemed tinged with sorrow. Still, he replied evenly.

"My left leg was shot. My right leg was broken."

"Oh… that must have been very hard for you."

"There were… a number of things that happened."

His expression was complicated. Was he planning to just leave it at that again?

Nellie quietly set down her fork and waited patiently for him to continue.

"Well… let's see…"

It seemed today he was willing to tell her. Perhaps the sweet cake had put him in a better mood.

"I'm fine now. The bullet was removed surgically, and the bone in my right leg has healed completely."

"Then… that means you can walk again?"

"In theory, yes."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem walking, right? So why..."

Chester cut her off firmly. 

"Impossible. The muscle hasn't recovered."

"Why not?"

"Because it hasn't."

Nellie was silent for a moment before asking again.

"If the muscle hasn't recovered, couldn't you train and rebuild it?"

"In theory, I suppose so."

"Objectively, I think so too, Mr. Coleman."

"I know. But I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Just… because."

Chester clamped his mouth shut, clearly unwilling to say more.

"…Ah. I see."

"Let's drop the subject."

"…Alright."

Nellie answered with a reluctant look, thinking that if Chester had been younger than her, she would've smacked him on the head without hesitation.

Not just once, either, she would've done it three or four times already. "Hey, you idiot! You have to practice if you want to get better! Do you think things will just improve on their own if you sit around doing nothing?" she would have yelled.

"…Honestly, it all feels meaningless to me. I'm sorry. If having me like this makes you uncomfortable, perhaps it's better if you quit..."

"Who said anything about quitting?"

"……"

"You're always threatening to fire me, and now you're telling me to quit?"

"Well, that's…"

"This is my job. So stop trying to take it away from me, Mr. Coleman!"

When Nellie said it with a smile, Chester managed a faint one of his own.

Even as she debated whether to give him a few smacks, the sight of his defeated demeanor made her feel sorry for him.

She took his limp hand in hers.

"I'll help you, Mr. Coleman. If we work together, it won't be so hard. Okay?"

"Please don't trouble yourself. I don't want my friends to see me broken like this."

"Then what? You won't go to the wedding at all?"

"I won't be attending."

"So you're just going to stay in this house forever? Until you're an old man with white hair? All alone, never married?"

Chester said nothing.

"Someday George will leave too. Will you really be fine with being completely alone?"

"Dying alone is a universal truth, Miss McKay. Don't trouble yourself over me."

And then he added.

"I know very well that George will leave one day. And I know that day is not far off."

He had already accepted the idea that everyone would eventually leave him.

When he finished speaking, his face showed he no longer wished to argue. Quietly, he turned up the radio's volume.

Watching Chester gaze out the window with that melancholy expression made Nellie feel suffocated inside.

Yes, he was still handsome, no matter what.

But she hated his self-esteem, buried deep in some underground pit. It made her stubborn.

Why was someone tall, good-looking, and well-off wasting his life on such pitiful thoughts? She couldn't understand it.

She had always lived by giving her all in everything, so Chester's mindset was completely foreign to her.

Even with a large scar on his face, he was still handsome! That golden hair that shone and those eyes!

She even regretted never having seen Chester in his prime, driving around with friends and going to dance halls. How fine must he have looked?

And he had money, enough to overflow his drawers! 

Just one smile and women would line up for him…

A limp? That was nothing but a minor flaw.

And if even that flaw could be fixed, then she wouldn't have to watch him cooped up in a dark house listening to the radio all day.

That's why, even if it meant losing her job, Nellie wanted to help him.

"Mr. Coleman! I promise you this, you'll be able to greet your friends in perfect condition! You'll even be able to dance at the reception! And if, by then, nothing has changed, you can fire me."

"…That's impossible."

"You don't believe me? Do you think I'd suggest something impossible? What do you take the great Nellie McKay for?"

Chester still looked at her with doubt, an expression that said, How could you achieve in just a few months what's been impossible for years?

"You said you want to fire me, right? If by then your legs aren't better, here..."

Nellie took the key he had given her out of her pocket and set it down on the coffee table with a sharp thunk.

"I'll return it."

Professional caregiver Nellie McKay's competitive streak had been fully awakened.