Spilled Fuel

Vanessa's POV(Continued)

Hospitals have a horrible smell. And no, it's not in the disinfectant that makes you think of a toilet. It's in the despair, the desperate cling for hope in the air. Here, you expect the worst, hoping for the best. 

It's safe to say that I hated hospitals. All of my worst memories live here. Losing Shelly, my dog, when I was just ten. The following year, I broke my ankle when I fell from the tree in our backyard trying to retrieve my ballon. 

I don't remember much, only the agonizing pain, and the nausea when I saw the way my foot bent. Feet was never ever, supposed to bend that way. I almost passed out just looking at the unnatural angle. Oh, and I remembered the screams. As petrified and scared as I was, Rosa, my nanny, was more horrified than me. And let me tell you, screaming your anguish out in spanish does not help a kid with a broken leg. 

Thankfully, Romeo, my driver had more sense than Rosa. He got me in the car and drove me to the hospital. Someone called my parents, I think? Mum was out of the country at the time, visiting her aunt in Peru. Dad was at work. Being the daughter of a former senator meant I didn't have to wait in line to be treated. I spent the night at the hospital, and all I had at my bedside was a bawling Rosa.

The next afternoon, I was discharged, after my foot was put in a cast. The doctors and nurses assured me my parents had been informed since the previous evening. I understood why mum didn't come, but where was dad?

One hour. One whole hour after I was discharged, I sat in the reception waiting for my father to come pick me up. Romeo and Rosa eventually convinced me to go home, when it became clear I'd be waiting in vain for Shane Anders to show up at the hospital.

He came home though, six hours later. And lo and behold, he was surprised to see my foot in a cast. Spoiler alert; dad had forgotten about me.

Twelve years after that eventful day, I was back in the prestigious Clearwater Valley hospital’s reception. 

This time, I wasn’t waiting here for Shane Anders to remember his responsibilities and come pick me up. This time, I was standing still, trying to find some measure of strength to walk in that door and see my father for the first time in four years.

Silence. There was nothing but an eerie silence in the room when I entered it.

As a former senator and a self made millionaire, dad's room in the hospital was lavish, decked out with the fanciest of all get ups. But even the unnecessary frills -honestly speaking, what's the point of a damn aquarium- in the room couldn't disguise the fact that this was still an effing hospital ward.

However, I was struck dumb not by the over the top gadgets in the room, but by the two people in it. A man lay in the bed, and a woman sat by him. The man has brown hair that stuck to his head, looking limp and lifeless, nothing like the rich, vibrant brown with golden highlights it had once been. His hairline was also receding. His lips were chapped and his cheeks looked sunken. From where I stand, he appeared to have lost weight as well.

The woman next to him for lack of better words, is a blonde bimbo. She is tall, and blessed by mother nature with beauty. The kind of beauty that won her various beauty competitions. But for some reason, she has decided that she needs to edit mother nature's creation.

Now, her full pink lips were fuller, her nice C cups were double D's and her hips were more curved and protruded.

The man and woman are Shane Anders and his wife, Rebecca Anders. 

Oh, and they were both sitting quietly by each other, gazing at nothing. I repeat, my mother and father were inhabiting the same space, and there has been no uproar. No cutting words meant to reduce the other into a blubbering mess of hurt, accusations or implied threats.

The silence was so eerie and oddly comfortable that now I'm wondering if the pin up doll really is the woman that gave birth to me.

"Dad?" I whispered, unable to believe the scene I'm witnessing.

They both turned their heads and my mother jumped up in delight.

“Vanessa!”  She yelled, her acquamarine eyes brightening as she rushed to give me a hug. "You are here!"

I returned the hug, still feeling a bit disillusioned. It was sort of surreal. When I ran from our home in Guildford, Surrey down to California under the guise of going to the university four years ago, it had been with the sole intention of escaping the toxic air in our home. I wanted to make my own way in life without Shane holding it over my head that he handed me everything I ever got in life, and he would too, because that was just the type of person Shane was. But now, now I was back in the presence of both my parents, my father, the strong, domineering Shane Anders is now a wiltering flower, tons of machine hooked up to his body, and my mother is wearing a gown so skimpy, it was one step above being indecent, looking five years younger than me.

"You look…different mum." I commented in my nicest voice. Actually, I wanted to ask if she was having a midlife crisis.

"Aww. Thank you love." She preened, fluttering her eyelashes at me.

"She's trying to say very nicely that you look like a trashy whore." A thin voice rasped.

The smile on my mother's face froze, her eyes lighting with a familiar fire. 

"How dare-"

"Mum!" I interjected, stopping her before she could lay into him. "We're in the hospital. He's just had a heart attack, remember?"

"Yes, Rebecca. Listen to your daughter and show a little decorum." Father sneered, his frail form shaking.

Mum snarled, but her face barely registered the anger coming off her in waves. Might want to lay off the botox, mum. “I was born with a goddamn silver spoon. I have more decorum in my rump than you will ever have in your entire body you silly, over decorated con artist!” Con artist who? My dad?

Father gasped, the upper half of his body lurching up. He raised both arms, peharps to choke mum out. Inhabiting the same space calmly? 

Ah! That was the biggest joke of the century. The both of them were spilled fuel waiting for a match to lit ‘em.

“Enough!” I screeched, my octave reaching higher than I meant it to. They both turned to me, stunned. “He is sick, okay? For the love of god, just hours ago, you sent me a message stating that he's had a heart attack. Some part of you must have been worried about him, right? Why would you try to ensure that he does die by antagonizing him?”

“Yeah, think about someone else other than yourself for a change.” Shane, ever the instigator snipped.

You know, ususally when your parent narrowly escapes death, it’s a time to appreciate how much they mean to you. If I’d been expecting that his near brush with death would act as an epiphany for the both of them, I was sorely mistaken. 

“Today is an important day for Vanessa, so how about you do the only thing you’ve been good at your entire life? Smile and keep your brainless assumptions to yourself.”

“You filthy-”

“Mum please!” I grabbed her hand, dragging her away from the bed. I remember my parents being mean to each other, atrociously so, but it had never been this bad. Ever. Had something happened in the time I was gone?

“Dad, I’m glad you are no longer in danger, but you need your rest. Mum and I will leave now so you can relax. C’mon mum.” I gripped her arm firmly, ready to lead her out the door and away from him.

Getting answers out of her was an easier course of action than facing off with dad.

“Aren’t you listening? I have an important guest coming! You can’t leave!” Even on his deathbed he’s still working? “My son in law will be here in a few minutes!”

Huh, I think something other than a heart problem might be wrong with my father. 

“I’m your only daughter dad.” I reminded him patiently.

A disgusted sniff was my immediate reply. “I’m aware.”

“So where exactly did you acquire a son in law? Last time I checked, I’m not married.” This visit has been nothing like I expected. If it weren’t for dad’s pasty skin and raspy voice, I’d have thought the whole heart attack news was a prank.

“You will be married soon, by the end of the week peharps.”

“What? You are not even making the slightest sense right now.” I huffed. 

“What is so hard to understand in this? We must all make sacrifices to ensure our survival, child. I know you like to pretend that you are not a part of our family, but you are. Everything I have worked for will go down the drain if you don’t marry Clearwater. You are my daughter and I love you, but I will not allow you to ruin everything I have suffered to create. So if you know what’s good for you, you will shut your mouth and do as you are told.”

“What the hell? This is crazy!” I spluttered, the ridiculousness of his words stealing away every other objection I wanted to utter.

“No, it’s not. Arranged marriges are more common than you know. I reckon I would have had a better life if my parents were around to choose my bride for me.” I winced just as I heard mum inhale sharply. “This is not up for discussion. Mr Clearwater will be here in a few minutes and we will set a wedding date.” Clearwater? I thought we were Clearwater.

Mum spoke before I could reply.“The heart is a surprising organ Vanny. Even the most vile of humans have them. Only where they are concerned, it’s nothing but a piece of flesh, nothing more.” Mum declared in words that seemed rational but didn’t make a lick of sense.

“I won’t marry Clearwater, dad.” Whoever the hell he was.

"You will marry him!" Dad thundered, his veins bulging and his sickly pallor only enhancing how close to death's door he was. 

I was more worried about his health than this insane idea he was spouting, but. "This is the 21st century! You can't force to marry anyone! That's preposterous!" I wanted to yell several more words, to impress on him how absurd his demand was, but then the heart monitor started beeping loudly. A nurse and his hairless doctor rushed in. Mum and I were pushed out gently but firmly.