「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(286) Consultation

Manhattan, 7th May 2003

Charles' POV

Traffic was smoother than expected and we arrived in the heart of Manhattan nearly an hour prior to the stipulated appointment duly arranged by Jean.

Swiftly, I pulled up into the lone vacant parking space just in front of the skyscraper that was our destination and promptly ceased the engines. I stepped out of the coupe, immediately heading towards the trunk to retrieve Lynn's chair, and quickly assembled it before rolling it up to her door.

Although a fortnight had whizzed past since we discovered her situation and it had been almost a month that her joint was repeatedly injured, the stubborn throbbing in her wrist still lingered to bother Lynn. Exertion was surely out of the question and Lynn graciously endorsed my assistance, albeit obviously piqued by the tremendous inconvenience.

I set her chair onto the curb raised several inches from the tarmac and carefully cradled her slim frame into the seat that was otherwise hard to reach from the roadside space that was evidently not adapted for handicapped users.

Adjusting herself comfortably, Lynn excitedly proposed to visit a cafe she spotted around the corner on our way and I gladly wheeled her towards the said establishment.

Her choice proved to be more than right for the quaint tearoom located off the main road equipped with a small but accessible entrance was pleasantly quiet, bearing an amazing ambience.

Triangular tables, sleeked in high gloss white, were topped with her favourite magazines and a queer embellishment of an emptied Coca Cola bottle occupied by a bunch of baby breath twigs. Their hypothenuses curiously lined the large glass windows proffering a view of a narrow yet seemingly bustling alleyway and Lynn could barely peel her eyes away from the entrancing scene.

I automatically pushed her up to the one in the corner and an observant employee conscientiously approached, removing one of the accompanying wooden stools. Settling ourselves neatly, we merely ordered a couple of signature brews, given that we already consumed a full breakfast at home, and soon, the same barista delivered two cups of steamy beverages to us.

The Earl Grey was fine, complementing the wondrous environment and excellent company impeccably. Soft music hummed in the background as I simply watched Lynn telekinetically flip through the thick pages of Vogue, enthusiastically raving about all the designs she yearned to own.

Eventually, the alarm on my mobile device buzzed, bursting her little bubble of indulgent imagination, and she dispiritedly, yet adorably, pouted.

"I don't want to go, Charles," Lynn whined in a disheartened tone, eyes stickily glued to her unfinished tea and the photo of that lace dress she was incessantly praising.

"You promised Jean you'll be punctual, my love," I reminded cordially, sneakily skimming my hand up her thigh.

"I'm not ready," she claimed sheepishly as she stared blankly onto the graffitied walls outside.

"Tell me, Lynn. How are you feeling?" I prodded deliberately but with a kind smile.

"Terribly nervous, if I were to be honest," Lynn mumbled in a timid tone almost inaudible to the naked ear but her body exhibited negligible signs of the anxiety she mentioned.

"But I think you're making progress already," I consoled earnestly.

Bewilderedly, Lynn glanced towards me, her eyes dancing with evident disorientation, as she studied me in utter puzzlement. I flashed her a loving smile, slowly guiding her gaze down, and her lips twitched into a modest curve as she stared at our securely interlocked fingers in shock.