Chapter 15: Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen.

Jennifer, after a series of signing documents and being assured that her bills had been taken care of and eventually getting her ring and white dress, the only properties she had left, well plus the deep blue oversized top and black jean trouser, left the hospital building.

Mark by her side, in silence.

She requested to have her cloth, hoping that it would help her remember what brought her into the ocean.

She looked sideways and studied Mark, his face was looking too serious, she hoped he was not a boring man. That would just be a disappointment to his fine face. His jaw clenched almost every second, and for a minute, she thought she would actually hear sounds of breaking teeth.

Mark turned his face to her, his pink lips staring at her. She smiled at him shortly and immediately looked in another direction.

She couldn't help but notice how bubbly things were outside the hospital gate.

She saw different colours of hair, bouncing as they walked by very closely to the walls that separated the building from the street.

As they walked a little further, she noticed, not just the people, the road was busy. Very busy.

It was a venue for cars, dashing off, honking at each other even though there was no hold of any sort. At the other end of the road, she saw traders with their markets places in front of at least five of the few buildings there.

"Get into the car." Mark said, shifting her attention from the sight she was seeing. She realised she had been walking but not watching. Well at least she did not fall.

She entered the passenger front seat of his car which to her, a man working in a jungle should be driving and did her seatbelt.

In a kick, they were out of the compound. Jennifer took a last look at the hospital, suddenly feeling grateful that she was alive.

She sat straight and wondered how she could start a conversation with Mr Serious.

"Thanks."

He looked at her briefly, his lips drawn into a thin line.

"Yeah." He murmured.

"You know, you act like you are being forced to accommodate me. If that is the case, I will drop and get a motel or something."

She just did not like the coldness she seemed to be reading from him.

"Well,according to Mike, I have to imagine you are my sister, and of course, my sister can not stay in a motel."

He turned right.

"Besides, I doubt you finding a motel,"

"Why?" Jennifer frowned.

"I am pretty sure you have no money on you. Except if King Neptune visited you while on the shore."

She nodded her head in agreement, her lips twitching for a second.

"Thanks again."

He did not respond.

Jennifer sighed and looked out the window. The scenery had changed within a minute.

It appeared to be a suburban area with bungalows of different sizes and designs at both sides of the street. And that, funnily was all that she was seeing. No extravagant houses, no mansions, no duplexes, just bungalows.

She wondered why, but decided not to ask Mark, he could ignore her again.

In front of most houses were people, in threes and fours and they all seemed to be looking towards their car which was quite disturbing that Jennifer frowned a bit.

She looked at Mark who looked busy with his driving, but he took a moment glance at the peering faces.

She felt the car halt. She undid the seatbelt and got down. She looked at the faces studying her, most of them old. She was about waving to them when Mark came to her side, making their circle disappear at once.

"Is this some old people district? Everyone I have seen here are pretty old."

He led her to a white coloured bungalow with an iron roof painted red. It had round corners at both ends of the front, the almost perfectly mowed grasses hugging the roots of the building.

"Not everyone, I am not old. And the young ones start a life around six in the evening or so."

Jennifer shrugged and followed him to the front door.

He unlocked the door and told her to enter.

As they entered through a not too big entrance, he told her to take off her shoes, she frowned but did it anyway.

He went in and brought some purple bedroom slippers for her.

She looked at his hand, and then his feet which had red bedroom slippers.

She collected the slippers and put them on, already concluding that he was a weird man.

He motioned to her to follow.

First thing she saw was a fairly large room covered with purple carpet. A couch, red in colour, was the only seat available, that made the room look scanty. She did not miss the fire place the couch was facing, which was dark but yet appealing with the mixture of tiny dark and light brown tiles decorating it tips.

Jennifer gave him a mental thumbs up for the nice work.

He led her through another door to reveal what was clearly the living room.

He told her to wait, so he could arrange her room- to - be.

She scanned the room with her eyes. The purple carpet was still present, two black armchairs beside each other, a red lovers seat , and a white couch.

She did not miss the fireplace, having the same design as the former.

She noticed the paintings on the wall.

One caught her eye, a lady holding a tiny baby, staring at it intently.

She moved closer to the drawing and stared at it in awe. She was wondering who had painted it, when she saw a signature with 'Mark' on it.

"I did that." His deep voice startled her, causing her to clench her chest.

He looked at her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to apologise.

But he did not.

"Well, that's awesome. You paint real good."

She scanned the room once again.

"And I must say, you have nice taste."

He nodded in response and told her, her room was ready.

She took one last look at the picture and was suddenly reminded, how badly she had wanted to become a mother.

But fate just had something else to dish out. She recalled what she was told in the hospital and tried remembering anything.

She noticed the white gown draped over her shoulder.

She just had to act fast, she had to remember something.

Anything.

But nothing came.

"Jennifer," She heard the faint concern in his deep, nonchalant voice.

She turned and smiled at him.

She knew what she had to do to help her predicament.

"Don't you have a television?"

--------

Mark almost laughed at her question. When last did he sight a television?

The one in the house had spent several years in the store.

"Why do you need a TV?"

She shrugged and moved closer, making him more aware of her curvy features in the  jean trousers  given to her at the hospital.

"Well, I just think I should know if there is a missing person report or something. I don't want to stay long here, especially when you are not comfortable with it."

He reasoned with her and decided to look to the television.

He went to the store, the last room in his home, and the first thing he saw, admist dust and cobwebs, was the TV.

It was a box television given to him by his grandfather. He hoped it still worked.

He dusted, cleaned it, and carried it out, its long antenna dragging on the floor.

When he successfully got it to the sitting room, he got a perplexed look from Jennifer.

He knew she would react somehow.

"Wow. What a TV. It looks like it's two hundred years. This should be somewhere else, an auction would be a better home." She commented, mockingly admiring the TV.

He plugged it in an available socket.

It made scratchy transmission sounds, showing flashes of rainbow colours .

He was surprised the thing actually worked.

He adjusted the antenna and placed it on the floor.

The TV still wasn't clear.

He sighed deeply, already dreading what he had to do next.

He excused himself and got two walkie- talkies.

"What for?" She asked as she collected it from him, quite surprised he had a walkie talkie.

"I am going to adjust the external antenna. So, you have to watch the screen carefully, and immediately it shows clear images, tell me."

She shook her head in disbelief.

"Don't you have a plasma TV or something?"

"No."

He answered sharply and walked out.

He went to the back of the house and secured his stand.

He attached the walkie- talkie to his shirt .

He touched the pole to which the antenna was attached.

He shifted it and spoke into the device.

"Is it showing?"

'No!'

He shifted it twice, already tired of what it was leading to.

"Is it showing?"

'No!'

He shifted again.

'It just...! It is not showing'

He shifted it again, telling himself that it will be the last time he would try it. She could get to watch TV somewhere else.

'Yay! It has showed!'

He smiled in relief and went inside.

He expected to hear voices from a box, but all he heard was the usual transmission sounds.

"I thought you said it was showing."

He almost yelled.

"It did not show anymore when you entered the house." She said cautiously.

Mark sighed and told her to follow him to her room.

As they walked in silence towards the door, Mark couldn't help but congratulate himself on having a guest.

As they got to the door, Jennifer gave what he believed was a smile of appreciation.

As he turned to leave, she stopped him.

"Don't you have internet in your house?"

He took a deep breath this time, shutting his eyes, trying to keep calm.

He opened his eyes on releasing it and told her no.

He murmured a goodnight to her, and all he heard in response was eighteenth century and something about walkie talkies.