Unbound - Rachel's Story
Copyright© 2025 by A Kiwi Guy
Chapter 4
Thankfully for Rachel, life settled down the next day, the hours filled with the usual small necessities — checking emails, marking student work, and wrangling a stubborn spreadsheet that refused to format properly.
When lunchtime came, she glanced automatically toward Matt’s usual corner. The seat was empty, the little table bare except for a discarded sugar packet. She felt a flicker of disappointment — a surprise, because they barely knew each other. Still, she caught herself glancing back again a few minutes later, as if he might have materialised while she wasn’t looking.
Then her phone buzzed, and his name lit up the screen. A small smile tugged at her lips. She quickly looked around before answering, to see whether he was pulling the same joke on her as yesterday. No, no sign of him.
“Hi Matt,” she answered. “Are you not here today?”
“Well, I’m here,” he replied, “it’s just not the ’here’ where you are.”
“That could make a good title for a song.”
“A very sad song for me.”
“Oh?”
“I would much rather the ‘here’ was sitting next to you, sharing a coffee ... or has it been another mochaccino day?”
“I’ll never turn down a mochaccino, but life’s been a bit more stable today, thankfully. But how come the ‘here’ is not here?”
“Something unexpected came up at work,” Matt said. “An emergency call from a client in Ashburton, and I’ve had to dash down to sort it out. I’d pretty well got the Ara problem back on track, so the boss packed me off post-haste. Sadly, it’s not a quick fix, and I’m going to have to dash back to Christchurch to pick up some parts and then straight back again. I should be back home Thursday night. So, can I book you in for coffee Friday?”
Rachel shifted her phone to her other ear, trying not to let her disappointment show, even to herself. “I think I can find a slot in my packed diary.”
“No ... I’ve got a better idea. Will you be able to prise yourself away from your multitude of admirers to have dinner with just me on Friday night? My treat, of course.”
“Oo, hold on a minute while I consult my calendar.” She stared at the desktop clock, counting to ten in her head before announcing, “You’re in luck. I’ve just had notification of a cancellation from the president of my fan club, so I can squeeze you in.”
“Whew, I can breathe again. What kind of food gets your juices going, so I can book an appropriate venue?”
“I really am easy to please, Matt. But I’ve heard good reports of Tutte Bene in Merivale.”
“That’s a coincidence. A friend of mine was a waiter there a year or two back, and he was always trying to persuade me to try it. He’s left now, but it sounds like a good choice. It’s silver service, so be prepared to be spoiled.”
“Sounds wonderful. Shall I meet you there?”
“No way. If you give me your address, I’ll pick you up at 7.00.”
“Can your car manage a wheelchair?”
“No, but can I suggest a compromise? Sarah told me you have a mobility-fitted car, so how about I come to your place, and you drive us to the restaurant? Then we do the reverse at home time.”
“That’s do-able. But you’re going to have to sit in the back seat, because the chair takes up both front and rear passenger sides.”
“Oh rats. No holding hands.”
Rachel gave an involuntary laugh, shaking her head at the image that conjured. “Watch it, mister, you’re pushing things way too fast. I may have to activate the obnoxious-passenger-ejection seat if you try anything.”
“Whoops, sorry. I’ll be on best behaviour.”
“That’s better. Now, I’d better get going, I’m due back in class.” She lingered half a second before adding, “But I am looking forward to Friday. And give my regards to Ashburton.”
As she ended the call, she caught herself smiling at the empty corner table again. She slid her phone back into her bag and wheeled herself towards the counter for a mochaccino to go.
The rest of the week passed in its usual patchwork of activity — a couple of one-on-one tutoring sessions, an afternoon spent refining a landscape for the exhibition, and the inevitable round of household jobs she could never quite keep ahead of. By Thursday night, she felt she had earned a quiet evening with her paints, yet even as she cleaned her brushes, she caught herself checking the clock, calculating how many hours until Friday. It wasn’t nerves exactly, just a restless curiosity about what dinner with Matt might hold.
By the time Friday rolled around, the day seemed to stretch interminably. Somehow, morning lessons went by in a blur, and her afternoon errands felt like filler scenes in a play she already knew would end at curtain rise. Around six-thirty, she gave her hair one last quick brush and checked her outfit in the mirror — neat without being fussy, comfortable without looking as though she hadn’t tried. She wheeled into the lounge, glancing out the window for Matt’s car, and found herself grinning at the thought of their arrangement: she would be the driver tonight, but he would still be the one taking her out.
...
By ten to seven, Rachel was ready, her handbag hooked neatly over the back of her chair, keys resting in her lap. She’d run a comb through her hair twice in the last quarter hour, more from nerves than necessity, and now sat angled toward the window, eyes on the street.
Seven o’clock came and went. The street outside stayed stubbornly empty. She checked her phone — no messages — then told herself not to be ridiculous. He was probably just caught by a red light. But as the minutes crept toward ten past, the old unease pricked at her. She’d known people to make promises with a smile and vanish without warning.
Just as she reached for her phone, headlights swung across the driveway and Matt’s hatchback pulled in. She let out a slow breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.
Matt jumped out before the engine had properly died, jogging to the door with an apologetic grin.
“Sorry, sorry — my battery decided to give me a scare. Had to get a jump-start from a neighbour. Not exactly the grand entrance I’d planned.”
Rachel smiled, tension melting away. “I was about to send out a search party.”
“Wouldn’t have been hard to find me—just follow the sound of me muttering under my breath.” He stepped closer, giving her outfit an appreciative once-over. “You look fantastic, by the way. I’m glad I made it in time to see this in person.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you. You’ve scrubbed up pretty well yourself.”
He walked alongside her to her car, not crowding her but ready if she needed him. While Rachel opened the driver’s door and transferred into the seat, Matt quietly folded her wheelchair, placing it beside her seat so the larger rear space was left free.
Once they were both in, she turned the key. “Right, you’re in the back seat tonight, remember?”
“Cruel and unusual punishment,” he sighed dramatically. “I’ll survive—barely.”
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