Divine Intervention

She laid in bed and listen to the faded sounds of passionate love
above her. Philipa wondered if Jim had stuck his tongue out at his
present lover as well. How could a grown man be so childish? she
wondered. She kept wondering until the sound of making love turned
to loud, raw, sex. She stuck her ear plugs in and covered her head
with her pillows.

Jim could not take it anymore. What was going on next door and
haven\'t they ever heard of a breather? The newly weds consummated
their marriage everynight. Now, enough was more than enough. Jim
got out of bed and started to skip with a rope that Ikaika had given
him almost ten years ago.

\"Perfect!\" Philipa screamed at herself as she flew down the stairs
with her hands filled with photographs and trying to put on her coat
at the same time. She was late for work. Again. The elevator was out
of service. Again. She yelled at herself for not remembering to set
her alarm the night before and she yelled at Jim for keeping her up
at nights. As she ran down the stairs, she missed as step. She went
flying in one direction. The pictures went in another.

Jim got up early but remembered that it was his week off. His mind
was still playing the sounds of the previous night in his head and he
needed to clear it. He got dressed in his jogging gear and headed
out. He swore as he saw the \'out of service\' sign on the elevator
and headed for the stairs. \"Fly me to the moon,\" a song that he and
Ikaika loved to sing together popped into his head and he began to
whistle.

At the second flight of stairs Jim heard a moan and dismissed it as
his head set on replay. He continued whistling and running down the
stairs. As he rounded the last bend he saw the body on the ground.
He ran up to it and knelt down beside the body, \"Philipa?!\" He
checked for a pulse, any broken bones then picked her up into his
arms.

\"Well Ms. Nichols,\" he said to the lifeless body in his arms, \"The
good news is that you don\'t have any broken bones. The bad news is
that you have a lump on the back of your head the size of Russia and
if I don\'t get ice on that angle, it\'s going to look like a pumpkin.\"

He took her to his apartment and laid her down on the sofa.
Routinely, he got two ice packs, placed one on her forehead to ward
off a fever and the other on her twisted ankle. He cleaned her cuts
and bruises and bandaged them then went to the kitchen to get her a
cup of tea. Jim also went back to the stairs to get her photographs.
He was sitting down to look at the models that she had been carrying
in the photographs, when she stirred and tried to get into sitting
position but he pushed her back to lay down gently.

\"Where am I?\" she asked confused.
\"You\'re in my apartment Ms. Nichols.\"
\"What am I doing here?\"
\"Relax, you don\'t need to start freaking out. You had an accident.\"
\"I-I have to leave.\"
\"You can\'t go anywhere until your ankle is better or the elevator is
fixed.\"

It was as though he could read her mind. Jim gave her a crooked
smile, \"Don\'t worry, I won\'t jump on you while you sleep. I\'m not
that kinky.\"

Philipa took a sip of her tea and closed her eyes to savour the taste
of it. Jim had made it just the way she like it but for some bizarre
reason, it tasted better.