Unwanted Fate (7 page)

“Yes.” She gets out and I quickly follow behind her. I look around on my way to Nate’s resting place, and I see the willow tree where I saw the man under during the funeral. I continue to walk but I’m not paying attention to where I’m walking and run right into my mom.

“Um. Sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” Oops.

“You’re fine. Well, what do you think?”

I look at it, and our family picture is in the center of the headstone.
Nathanial Kendrick Reed Janes, 23 years of age. He gave all serving his country
… I can’t read anymore as my eyes fill with tears, but my eyes advert to the name. Why is there
Reed
on there?

“Mom? Did they mess up Nate’s name?”

“No.” She doesn’t explain herself any further.

“Okay.” I notice there are fresh cut flowers on his headstone and I wonder if she brought them recently. “Pretty flowers you brought here.”

“Those aren’t from me. I haven’t been here since the funeral, because I haven’t been able to bring myself here.”

“You should have called; I would have picked you up.”

“It’s okay, sweet girl. I can make it here now. The grief is still here,” she puts her hand on her chest, “but it’s getting better.” She smiles through her tears.

“Oh, Mom.” I pull her into a hug and I swear I can feel Nate’s arms around us.
I love you too, Nate
.

“P
atrick, it’s Addison. Please call me. Dad’s awake. Love you.”
Message two.
“Patrick. Please call me. I love you.”
Message three
. “Patrick Harrold Matheson! Call me.”
End of messages
.

Ugh. She’s upset with me. I hate it when Addison’s mad at me—the one person who used to protect her. I throw my phone down on my desk and push myself into my chair. Shit. I don’t even know what time it is. Or what day it is for that matter. Squinting my right eye, I look at the clock with my left and see it’s nine.

I pick my phone back up to see the day, Sunday. Well, that’s good. At least I didn’t drink this day away too. I look at the empty bourbon bottle and glass on my desk and rake my hands through my short hair. I’ll have Kristin pick up more Monday.

I put my phone down, but I decide to call Addison now instead of later.

“About damn time you called me,” she answers without the phone even ringing.

“Hi.” I don’t even know what to say.

“Dad’s awake. I thought you should know. You really should come see him.”

“I…I don’t know about that.”

“Please, Patrick? I’m sure it will mean a lot to him,” she begs.

I chuckle. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Well, visit him for me then,” she pouts.

“Okay, fine. Give me an hour or so. I need to finish some things here and I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Patrick! I’m sure you’ll be surprised.”

Yeah, I don’t think it will be me. “See you shortly. Love you, Addison.”

“Love you too.”

I put my phone in my suit pocket and get my belongings together to go upstairs. I need to give Kristin a case of wine or two for always making sure I have everything I need, even when she isn’t here. I pull a clean suit out of the coat closet, pick up the small gym bag from the floor, and head to the showers.

The drive to the hospital takes thirty minutes. For a Sunday afternoon, traffic is heavy. I pull into the large concrete parking garage attached to the hospital, and drive around as if I’m really looking for a parking spot. I drive to the top of the structure and park in a spot near the elevators.

I hate elevators, especially hospital elevators. The last time my father raised his hand to me was at the hospital after my mother died. The next time I got in one, I relived the pain I felt that night. I try to avoid riding in them, but they are usually close to the stairs. I get out, lock up my car, and proceed to the stairs to exit the garage. Step by step, my feet feel like they are getting heavier and heavier. I’m not afraid to see my father; I just know what it’s going to be like when I see him. Stroke or not. The man hates me.

After what seems like hours, I finally make it to the front of the hospital, and walk inside to the help desk.

“Hello, how can I help you?” a younger looking woman who’s wearing a volunteer badge asks.

“Hi. I need the room number for Harrold Matheson.”

“Are you family?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She blushes at the use of ma’am.

“Okay, sir. He’s in room 308 in Critical Care. Take this bank of elevators to the third floor and take a right. His room will be the last room on the right,” she says with a smile.

“Thank you.” I nod as I shove my hands in my suit jacket and walk to the elevators.

All the elevators are on other floors and I look around for the stairs. I finally see a door with the stairs symbol a few feet from the elevators, and I take them to the third floor. I hope I run into Addison so I don’t have to go into my father’s room.

The CCU is hectic with activity when I arrive, and I walk around for a few moments looking to see if Addison is outside of my dad’s room. I don’t see her anywhere so I’m hoping she’s in his room.

I find the room labeled 308 and softly knock on the door.

“Come in,” a garbled voice replies from the other side.

I walk in through the door and there lies my father in his bed, completely alone in the room. I should have called before I came in. Too late now.

“Father,” I say clipped as I walk into his room.

“Patrick. I take it Addison called you.” Seems like his memory is intact.

“Yes. She wanted me to come and see you.”

“Well, you’re here. You can leave now,” he raises his voice.

“Gladly. I didn’t come here for you anyways.”

“You always thought you were too good for us. You’re sadly mistaken, boy.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I never thought that. I was worried about keeping Addison and Mom safe from your hands.”

“I never abused you.”

“Maybe the stroke did affect your memory. I often went to school with bruises on my face where you thought I needed to be taught a lesson.”

“You did. You were worthless growing up and a smartass. You needed to be knocked down a notch or two.”

“I worked and kept straight A’s, and while you were at the bar, drinking your check away or screwing bar flies, I made sure Mom and Addy were taken care of. I did a hell a lot more for them than you ever did.”

“You selfish son of a bitch, get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see your face ever again, you worthless piece of—”

“Enough! Both of you. I could hear you yelling down the hall. The nurses were calling security when I walked by. I told them I would handle it,” Addison says as she rushes into the room.

“I was just leaving, Addison.” I grab the door she just came through.

“I’ll walk you out,” she says as she grabs my hand.

I walk out the open door and apologize to the nurses standing outside of the door.

“Patrick, I had no idea…” Addison says, lost for words.

“I know. I tried to keep it from you. I know how much you love him.”

“He’s never spoken to me like that or even said anything negative about you to me. Actually, he doesn’t even bring you up,” she says as she wipes a tear from her cheek.

I pull her into an open conference room and hug her.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“But…he used to hit you?” The hurt shows in her face and I don’t want her to worry about what went on between my father and me.

“All in the past.”

“I don’t understand any of this.” Tears streak her face.

“Do me a favor. Make sure he’s taken care of, okay?” I lift her chin so she looks me in the eyes.

“Yes.” She sniffles.

“Good. Do you need anything? Hungry or thirsty?”

“No, I just ate.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Patrick.”

“Are you okay here by yourself?”

“Yes, our neighbor lady stays with him while I’m in class.” How did she grow up so fast?

“If you, not Dad, you need anything, call me, okay.” I look her in the eyes so she knows I’m being serious.

“I will. Thank you for coming.”

“Anything for you, Addison.” I hug her tightly and let her go. “Call me.”

“I promise,” she says, sniffling.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

We walk out of the room, and I head straight for the stairs, going down them as fast as I can. I need to get out of this stairwell, out of the hospital. I feel like I could hit something, anything, as the words
you’re worthless
keep running through my mind. He has always thought I was nothing. Like I was a huge mistake in his life and that’s exactly why I strive to be the best I can be. To prove him wrong. I’m not worthless—I’m worth millions.

Once I’m in my car, I rev the engine and speed toward the exit. I want to be away from here as fast as I can. I head to the one place that I can get lost in what I’m doing, and only one person there who knows about the kind of relationship I have with my father or how I grew up, my office.

You’re worthless...
echoes through my mind as I climb the stairs to the eighteen floor.

You’ll be nothing when you grow up…
plays in my ears as I sit behind my desk.

You hear me, boy? You’re insignificant…
booms in my head as I look at my credentials and awards on the credenza.

His words play on a constant loop in my head and they haven’t stopped since I left the hospital, and working hasn’t snuffed them either. My father will not break me—I refuse to let it happen. I look up at the clock on the wall; it’s a quarter till midnight, I’m sober, and I have been since I left here earlier today. I should have gone home to drown out his voice, but I didn’t. Instead of pouring a drink, I poured myself into work.

The veteran’s project is looking like it will help a lot more people than I originally thought after running the numbers most of the evening. I think I can work out partnerships too, making the money go even further. With Emily’s input, I’ll know for sure.

Emily Janes… She’s the drink I need.

The young beauty has to be right out of college. She doesn’t look like she’s had to face the harshness of the real world, other than her brother’s death. Probably grew up in a two parent home in the suburbs. She seems dear and innocent but someone I could see writhing under me in pleasure. Emily Janes would never have someone like me.

I would be too demanding of her.

I’d take away her enchantment, the light in her eyes…and scare her away.