“Everything? I might need a few clothes.” she carefully tested the waters.
“Sweetheart, don’t impose on your brother.” Claire abolished her.
“No, that’s fine.” I quickly interjected, thankful for Ava’s unknowing assistance in having them occupied while I did what needed to be done. “I’m pretty sure I got enough for the both of you to get whatever you need, and our school supplies.”
“Of course, Honey. I’m sorry.” Claire immediately confirmed.
“Alright, that’s it!” I snapped at her. “Why the fuck are you behaving like I bought you on an Ukranian website and you can’t file for naturalization yet?”
This took her aback.
“I ju ... just...” she threw a look at Ava. I couldn’t tell whether she was looking for words or support. Then she continued in a quiet voice. “I just don’t know what else to do to make you happy.”
And then it dawned on me. That must have been the conclusion they reached on the sofa, after I had crept back into my room.
“You want to make me happy by playing the ... what? Submissive slave?” I asked incredulously.
“No. More like ... devoted wife.” Ava clarified.
“Seriously?” I asked, and they both nodded. Apparently, my joke about buying her on an Ukrainian website wasn’t so far off. “Okay, listen. Dial down the servant act. While I’m hurt, I need a caregiver, not a damn slave.”
Both of their eyes widened immensely as they stared at me open mouthed. I think they had expected me to simply tell them off, instead of asking them for something else. And they especially didn’t expect me to ask Claire to be exactly what she wanted to be for me according to her letter.
Suddenly, a massive bright smile spread across their faces, and while Ava skipped to the door to hold it open for me, Claire rushed to my side to help me get outside and into the car.
The shopping in the Mall went off pretty smoothly. Once Claire and Ava were looking for clothes, I hobbled out of the door and visited every store I could find that sold paysafecards and VISA Gift Cards for cash. By the time the two women were done, I had bought ten cards, charged with one-hundred dollars each.
Back home, I immediately went to my computer and got to work. I had developed and published quite a few browser AddOns and Apps over the past few years, and had the option to place a “Support the Developer”-button on my profile pages. My plan was to use that button to transfer the cards I just bought to my PayPal account, and then transfer the funds from my PayPal account to my bank account.
This way, I could safely include that money in my tax forms, and didn’t have to worry about anyone trying to track that money’s origin. I had previously dismissed the idea, since it was unreasonably time-consuming in relation to how little money I could clean that way. There were also only so many stores I could buy the cards from before they would start to recognize and possibly report me, especially with all my current injuries. Crutches and bandages left very lasting impressions on peoples’ memories, since it’s relatively uncommon to see it on people. Also, PayPal and similar services have a history of closing people’s accounts down for suspicion of fraudulent activities, if the accounts fill up too quickly.
By the end of the week, my PayPal account would be a thousand dollars heavier. In addition to that, I could deposit eight-hundred dollars a month directly into my account without exceeding the ten-thousand dollar yearly limit. There was only one other problem I needed Claire’s help with before I could put any of it into my bank account, but we could address that later. I wasn’t sure how she would react with the way she had acted the past two days. At least, when dinnertime came around, I could already tell that she had taken my request to heart. She was less of a catalog wife, and more like ... a mother, really. I wasn’t opposed to that.
We followed a pretty set pattern for the following two days, with Claire helping me in the bathroom, Ava helping me when cleaning the apartment, and both of them helping me in the kitchen. Until my next visit to the doctor presented me with the next catastrophe. After he had repacked my leg, which I really didn’t think was necessary but got overruled, he removed the stitches from my shoulder. Then he cleared me to start physical therapy.
According to him, there was a recommended rest period for wounds depending on their severity, but the earlier I started PT, the more effective it would be. When I told him about the place the Millers had booked for me, he was very eager to send me on my way. Apparently, they really were the best, and he had quickly confirmed with them that I could show up for my first session.
