Orlando, My Hero by Rebekah Jennings (management books to read .txt) 📖

information received from several callers to emergency services, she had run a red light.

“No, no I didn’t. I was careful. I...”

“Full name please?” The officer’s badge read ‘Const. Johnson’.

“Jennifer Hamil.”

We’ll need to take your statement.”

“No, I can’t. I’ll be happy to talk to you later but right now I must go. I have to be at the airport.”

Again, Jen moved from leg to leg. She had kept Orlando’s candle alight by cupping the flame with her hand. Not an easy task to manage while smoking.

“Come and sit in the car, Miss Hamil. It’ll be cooler in there.”

“Will you take me to the airport?”

“No.” He shook his head, uncomprehending; as though she’d spoken in a foreign language. “We need to take your statement.”

“No,” Jen shot out, like a bullet.

“Please, Miss Hamil, calm down.”

“You don’t understand. I must go now or I’ll miss my flight.” Jen leaned into Johnson’s personal space, crossing the boundary of comfort.

“What time is your flight, Miss Hamil?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What do you mean? Do you have a ticket?”
Johnson pursed his lips and took a deep breath, then eyed her candle.

“What’s this about?”

Jen recognised his expression; the familiar crease in his brow. It was the same as her sister’s face this morning; her mother’s on other occasions. Constable Johnson thought she was mad.

“You’ll have to extinguish that before you enter the vehicle.”

“It’s okay; I’ve decided I don’t want to talk with you now. If you won’t take me to the airport then I’ll walk.” Maybe I’ll hitch a ride she thought, but wouldn’t say this to Johnson, given it was illegal.

Another officer approached Jen and asked her to take a breathalyser test.

“This’ll only take a minute,” he reassured her.

Jen hadn’t been drinking so wasn’t worried.

“Let me help you with this,” Johnson said, taking hold of the candle. But Jen wouldn’t let go of it.

“This is Orlando’s candle,” Jen spoke firmly; seriously, “it cannot be extinguished. You see, it contains his soul; his essence. I need him here with me. To help me, help me through this situation.”

“Miss Hamil, are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied in a raised voice. “It would help me greatly, though, if you’d simply drive me to the airport.”

“Please put out the candle, Miss Hamil and come to the vehicle for your statement.”

“No.”

“Miss Hamil,” the other officer now spoke with a soothing tone, “I’m Senior Constable Skene. Constable Johnson has made a request of you and you’re not cooperating with him.”

“I’m happy to give a statement, just not now.”

“You don’t have a plane ticket, there’s no flight to miss.”

“I have it under control.”

“How is that, Miss Hamil?”

Jen took a deep breath. “Look, you won’t understand if I explain it to you, so I’d rather save my breath.”

“We’ll take the statement here then. Johnson, get what you need from the car.”

The statement took too long, having to explain her situation several times. Johnson raised questions she hadn’t even thought of, like was she aware she couldn’t take a lit candle onto an airplane? It seemed she was the only astute person open-minded enough to understand the minds capabilities. Skene and Johnson refused to understand, when you really loved a person, anything is possible, including the soul’s capacity to make contact through the ethereal gateway provided by the light of a candle.

“I need to make a call,” Johnson said finally, and retreated to his car.

Upon return, Johnson and Skene discussed something privately, and then addressed Jen.

“Miss Hamil, it’s my assessment that you’re not rational at this time. Frankly, we’re worried about your mental health.”

Johnson put through a call to the Crisis Assessment Team, who’d arrive shortly to assess the situation further.

“No, please?” Jen cried, “You said if I gave a statement I could go. Please? Orlando’s waiting for me.” Her cupped hand came away from the candle’s flame and Jen fell to the ground dramatically. The wind snuffed the candle’s flame immediately.

Jen cried hysterically into her lap, “Please, please just let me go.”

Johnson kneeled next to her, rubbing her back; calming her.


It was late Sunday afternoon when Gabriella’s phone rang.

“Gab, it’s Mum. They’ve found Jen. She’s been in a car accident and they’ve taken her to the Alfred.”

“Is she okay?” Gab asked; her eyes moist.

“Yes, fine. Just some cuts and bruises, but your car’s a write-off.”

Gab didn’t know what to say. She was glad she hadn’t reported her car stolen earlier. Jen was in enough trouble.

“Mum, as much as I love her, I’m frightened to have her back here. It’s been really hard living with her lately.”

“She won’t be back for some time.”

“Why’s that?”

“Jen refused the ambulance to the hospital. It was the CAT team who picked her up. The police at the scene had her committed against her will.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means she’ll be there for at least twenty-two days, apparently. I don’t know. I don’t know what it means.” Gab heard the uneven breathing of her mother’s quiet crying. “I’m heading to the hospital now. Do you want me to pick you up on my way?” Mum asked.


It had been a week since the accident. Jen sat on a bed in a room she shared with several others in the hospital ward. The staff were mean, particularly the brisk older woman who’d been Jen’s first duty nurse.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Jen had explained, patiently at first. But in no time at all she found herself yelling uncontrollably.

“Why do you think you haven’t been sleeping, Jennifer?” the Doctor asked. She couldn’t even pronounce his name. Jayawayawadana, or something like that.

“I’ve told you over and over, I’m sick to death of repeating myself. If I light a candle, Orlando Bloom’s presence will be near me. It gives me power and strength so that I don’t need to sleep. And, it guides me to him. Now I want my fucking candle back.”

“Calm down, Jennifer...”

“Jen,” she yelled, “stop calling me Jennifer and give me back my candle.”

The staff didn’t listen to her. They wouldn’t believe her. It was a conspiracy. Instead they tried to brainwash her into believing a ridiculous diagnosis.

“Bipolar Disorder,” the doctor said.

The Lithium Carbonate they’d prescribed made Jen feel weak and shaky. She was non-stop peeing and her stomach felt awful. Why was Gabriella perfectly fine and she the sick one?

Jen missed the presence of Orlando’s spirit. Mum brought in her 'Orlando' movie collection and portable DVD player, but Jen wasn’t allowed to burn a candle. It was another hot night but you couldn’t tell that in a hospital, not with the climate control. She sat on her bed with her glossy Cosmo magazine and gently ran her fingers over Orlando’s dark features. I’m with you always, Orlando; my hero. Imprint

Publication Date: 06-18-2010

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