Stanton Unconditional

by T L Swan

Abbie takes a scull of her drink. “Run.”

  I spit my drink out as I laugh out loud. Where do we come up with this shit?

  The two un-kissing men start to chant to their friends to kiss and we are all in fits of laughter when I feel an arm come around me from behind. I turn as I feel lips on my temple.

  “Hey Doc,” Jesten smiles.

  I turn and smile broadly at him. “Hi Jes.”

  “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss,” the group chant from behind us.

  Jesten frowns. “What’s going on?”

  The curly-haired guy sits forward. “These girls are going to stack us on … if we kiss.”

  Jesten burst out laughing and shakes his head at us.

  “You girls are bitches.” Jesten laughs as he shakes his head.

  “I knew it,” the guys yell collectively as they point at us.

  Bridget, Abbie and I clink glasses as we laugh. “You guys were totally going to kiss,” Abbie laughs as she points at them.

  “Were not,” they start to scream. “Were not.”

  Jesten tucks my hair behind my ear. “I’m going to another bar. Do you want me to swing back and pick you up on the way home?”

  I shake my head and frown. “No, what for?”

  He smiles mischievously. “Hot sex Doc, what else?”

  Abbie chokes on her drink. “Yes, she’s coming. You’re going!” She points at me.

  I shake my head, smiling. “No Jes, for the ten-thousandth time, I’m saying no.”

  “You know all this resistance is just making you hotter.” He bends and kisses me quickly on the lips. “See you later.”

  I turn and watch him leave the bar with his three friends. His broad shoulders and muscular back look edible in that white t-shirt, not to mention the faded tight denim jeans around his cute tight ass. He has that thing. You know the thing, some men have it and others don’t. Like an X-factor. That very same thing that I find ridiculously attractive in a man. Only one other man I know has it and we are so not talking about him. I’ve been trying to analyse it—it’s the domination thing. After twenty-five years I have finally worked out that I’m sexually attracted to dominant men … too bad I have only ever met two of the bastards. Both hot, both players, one rich, one poor. Both way too dangerous for my sanity. Nope, not going there again, grown out of bastard-player-lover syndrome. If only I could get my body to keep up with my brain.

  “He’s so hot,” Bridget snaps.

  “If you don’t tap that you’re an idiot,” Abbie slurs.

  “Change the subject. Jesten is off limits,”I snap.

  “Good, I might go home with him then,” Abbie smiles.

  “Don’t you dare?” I narrow my eyes. “He’s on the bench.”

  “Ha, I knew you liked him.” She laughs.

  I roll my eyes. “Shut the hell up and buy me a drink, bitch.”

  The day after is always hell—why do I do it to myself? I have to wash clothes and grocery shop …hungover. Again. It would be such a great society if we just popped a pill to eat and threw our clothes out after we wore them once, or better yet went naked. No grocery shopping, no cooking, no washing, no folding or ironing … the very bane of my existence. I hate housework with a passion. I wish I was one of those Martha Stewart types who gets off on it. I just don’t like it. I like my house clean but, boy, it shits me doing it every damn spare minute I have. Imagine having messy kids living with me. I shiver at the thought. I’m in my local grocery store, trudging up the aisles with my trolley and my guard is at the front drinking his coffee. The aroma of the deli is rolling my nauseated stomach. Who in the hell eats that vomit- smelling cheese? I rub my face and try to stop myself from dry-retching—this is totally shit. I’m not drinking again. I start to perspire as I fight the wave of nausea. Kill me now. I pull out my phone and text Abbie.

  Call me an ambulance.

  She immediately texts back.

  Can’t. I’m in the mortuary. Dead.

  An hour later I am at home unpacking my groceries when my phone rings. I got one less problem without you! I got one less problem without you! Rihanna’s ‘Diamonds’ is out and ‘Problem’ by Ariana Grande’s is in. The words to this song somehow ring true in my life … wonder why?

  I used to cry when my phone would ring ‘Diamonds’ and now when I hear those words I smile.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi Tash.”

  “Oh hi Mum.”

  “Love, can you come with me to the hospital? Something is up with Gran.”

  I frown and immediately stop what I am doing. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know, she just rang me and said she needed to go to the hospital and could we take her.”

  “Oh … ok.” I answer wide-eyed. “I’ll get over to Didge’s house and you pick me up from there.” I start to panic and run around frantically to try and find my keys in amongst the shopping bags on the bench. Why do I only lose my damn keys when I’m in a hurry? I quickly put away the meat and milk and head to the car.

  Fifteen minutes later Bridget and I stand out the front of her house as we wait for Mum to pick us up.

  “So then what did she say?” Bridget frowns.

  I hunch my shoulders. “I don’t know. Just that. Gran needed to go to the hospital and she thought we should come.”

  “Yes. But what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know. For the tenth time!” I scream. Honestly I’m too sick for this shit.

  “Calm down, you crazy bitch,” Bridget snaps.

  “You know what, when we get to the hospital, book me in. I’m dying from alcohol poisoning and it’s your bloody fault. Stop making me drink so much!”

  She laughs as she looks at me. “You do look like shit actually, come to think of it.”

  I fake a smile at her as the car pulls up and we pile into the back seat. Gran is seated in the front seat and smiling calmly.

  I lean over her seat from the back and put my arms around her neck. “What’s wrong, Gran?” I ask. “Are you ok?”

  She nods and puts her two hands over my two hands around her neck. “Darling, yes, I have just been having these terrible stomach pains for a couple of days.”

  Bridget screws up her face to me in question. “What does that mean?” she mouths at me. I shrug again. I see Mum’s worried eyes flick to her as she drives. I sit back and worriedly assess the situation.

  We arrive at the hospital and are walking up the stairs when Gran doubles over in pain.

  “Mum, what’s wrong?” My mother frantically rushes to her side. Bridget holds her hand over her mouth in fear.

  “Go and get someone,” Mum snaps.

  “Right.” I run through the doors and up to reception.

  “My grandmother is in pain outside and can’t get in here.”

  “Ok, I will get someone.” She picks up the phone and makes a call as she smiles calmly at me. “Won’t be long, go back to her and someone will be out to help you.”

  “Ok, we are on the front steps,” I nod before I run back through the reception area where I see a nurse already attending Gran and helping her through the double electric doors. Bridget is as pale as a ghost and walking slowly behind them. They usher her into the casualty consultation room with Mum by her side and the doors close behind them.

  Bridget and I wait for three hours in casualty—where in the hell is Mum? Why doesn’t she come and tell us what’s happening? What is happening?

  “Why did we go out last night? I feel so bad,” Bridget groans.

  “You look worse,” I mutter.

  “You can talk.”

  Mum walks through the doors and we both jump up immediately and rush to her.

  “They are admitting her overnight to run some tests.”

  I frown. “What for?”

  “It seems her stomach and some of her organs are swollen. They have just called in an ultrasound person and we will know more after they do some tests.” She pulls out her phone. “I have to ring Robert ” She walks away
from us and starts dialling his number.

  “What do you think is going on?” Bridget asks.

  I shrug. “I’m not sure but I don’t like it.”

  For the next six hours Bridget and I sit in the waiting room with Mum, worried sick, and eating every hangover-treating grease-trap food we can find in the cafeteria. I’m never drinking again; this is intolerable.

  At seven o’clock that evening the doctor comes out. “Mrs Marx?”

  “Yes,” my mother answers as she stands. The doctor is about fifty, greying and kind-looking. He shakes her hand. “I’m Robert Walton. I have been looking after your mother today.”

  “Is she ok?” my mother asks.

  “Yes, we have sedated her and she is sleeping like a baby.” He smiles and gestures to the offices at the end of the corridor. “Would you like to come into the conference room so we can talk privately?”

  Bridget and I exchange looks—that doesn’t sound good.

  “Umm, sure,” my mother answers in a quiet voice. She looks nervously at us.

  The kind doctor smiles. “Are you girls Netta’s granddaughters?”

  We both nod. “You’re welcome to come too if you wish.” We follow him down the hall and into the conference room and we all sit nervously on the lounge.

  Mum swallows. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry, your mother and grandmother has advanced stage four cancer.”

  “What!” Mum gasps.

  Bridget silently grabs my hand as we sit still in shock.

  “We think it may have started as bone cancer but it has now spread to her pancreas,” the doctor says sympathetically. “We will make sure that she doesn’t suffer any pain but to be realistic I don’t think that she will leave the hospital.”

  Mum frowns. “But she has been so well—there haven’t been any signs. I am with her at least three times a week, surely there would have been some signs if she was unwell.” Mum’s voice is rising as the reality of the situation starts to hit her full force.

  “There must be something that you can do. Money is no object, my brother Robert Stanton is a very wealthy man. Some treatment, overseas?”

  The doctor sighs, shakes his head and pulls out the X-rays and puts them onto the light box. We all gasp as the obvious shadows cloud the screen.

  The doctor points and explains the shadows as the three of us sit in silent horror.

  “Please remember that your mother is eighty-four, her body cannot be cured of the cancer at this late stage of diagnosis. I’m sorry there is nothing we can do.”

  Mum puts her head in her hands and starts to weep. I feel like I am having an out-of-body experience and this is not really happening … I feel detached, with no emotion. This can’t be real.

  “How long does she have, Doctor?” Mum whispers through her tears.

  He puts his hand on her shoulder as he stands. “Not long … a few weeks, maybe less.”

  Bridget pulls Mum into an embrace and they both cry as the doctor leaves the room.

  I sit back in the chair, devoid of any feeling. More hurt is coming for my beautiful mother and sister. How much more can one family take? When is enough, literally enough?

  The next three days is a blur of waiting rooms in the hospital, only leaving to sleep. Robert and Margaret arrive with Wilson, Scott and his wife Alyssa. We sit camped in the waiting room outside the palliative care unit, the most depressing place on earth. I thought the intensive care waiting room was depressing, but at least people there have a chance of getting better. Every visitor has come to this ward to say goodbye to their loved one, there is no chance of getting out of here alive. Bridget is so tired she doesn’t care anymore and is asleep on the lounge, spread-eagled, perhaps even dribbling. I am sitting on the floor next to the vending machine with Wilson. My legs are curled up and my arms are around my knees. I am lost in thought. Margaret, Scott and Alyssa are on the lounges. My mother and Robert are in with Gran—they haven’t left her side. How do you say goodbye to your parent? It’s something nobody should have to do. Cancer. How many beautiful people have to die of this insidious disease before they find a cure? Why in the hell are the world’s leaders spending billions of dollars every year on space exploration when we have a disaster on the earth to explore? I know every taxpayer on earth wants a cure for cancer. The governments need to find one … quickly.

  Max is here, sitting in the corner reading on his iPad. It’s strangely comforting having him here. I think back to when he first starting guarding me at Joshua’s insistence and how much I hated it, but now I understand what poor Joshua deals with every day and why he is like he is and why Ben is so obsessive about Joshua’s safety. Apparently about three years ago Joshua’s company designed an app and sold it in a multimillion dollar deal to a major company who were in talks with another man about his app. Unbeknown to Adrian and Joshua the company dumped the other man and bought Josh’s app instead. The man then went berserk, claiming Joshua’s company stole his app idea and that in effect Joshua had stolen millions of dollars from him, costing him his wife and family. The man is mentally unstable and is obviously not taking his medication. Max said that not long after that the man broke into Joshua’s house and was waiting there when Joshua got home after a night out. Luckily he had Carson and the boys with him and a security guard. The man had a gun and was going crazy, threatening to kill him, but they managed to wrestle him to the ground and hold him there until the police came and arrested him. He was ordered into psychiatric care and an AVO was placed on him but then eighteen months ago Joshua was walking into a restaurant one Saturday night with Adrian and Ben and the same man turned up with a gun and fired a shot at them. Luckily he can’t shoot and he missed, but he escaped and is still at large. Max won’t tell me his name. I think he is scared that I can look up on the system or something. I can’t, mental health records are not accessible to just anyone. But I would love to see his psychometric testing so I could see how dangerous I think he is. They live in constant fear that he will turn up and try to kill again. He has since threatened to kill Adrian and I guess they think that I am in danger because I was photographed with Joshua … that and the fact that the world still thinks we are married.

  The carjacking thing in LA though is still baffling to me. If this man is so unstable, he probably doesn’t hold down a permanent job, which means he wouldn’t have the money to hire a hit man. I have discussed my theory with Max and he agrees with me. We think it’s highly unlikely that this is the same man but the police are sure it is … so I don’t know. The police have footage of the hit men that attacked Joshua in the petrol station that night and are just waiting to get a name and then they will be able to trace his bank accounts to find out any info or perhaps the person who hired the hit. Either way, my nightmares are warranted. My beautiful man has crazy people who want him dead and he is heavily guarded. I know he hates it. I am pulled from my nightmare as the doors at the end of the corridor open. My heart stops and I gasp when I see first Ben walk in, then another guard. Cameron walks in front, wearing jeans and a white shirt, his hair curled and unruly, and behind them Joshua.

  Two guards walk behind him. I feel like I am watching this in slow motion. He’s wearing a navy suit and pale pink shirt, navy tie. His height and stance dominate the men around him. His dark chocolate hair is super short which only accentuates his strong jaw line, dark skin and beautiful large lips … Dear god! My eyes close in pain and I drop my head.

  I had forgotten how beautiful he is.

  He walks gracefully down the corridor without noticing us tucked in the corner. My heart has stopped as I watch him from across the room. How can any human being hold so much sexual energy? It’s unfair. I am immediately overcome with a wave of affection for him and my eyes fill with tears. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Ben sees us and heads in our direction. I don’t know if I am going to wet myself or jump up and down and scream like a groupie. Bridget is now sitting sleepily in her chair and her eyes are about to bulge fro
m her head as she looks at me. Yes Bridget, I fucking see it.

  They walk over to us and Cameron immediately cuddles his mother and kisses her cheek. I am overcome with emotion as I scramble to my feet. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I stand at the back of the group like a child waiting for my turn. Joshua then turns and kisses my mum who has come out of the hospital room. He pulls her into an embrace and then Bridget, then Margaret. I stand still, frozen. My turn, my turn.

  Cameron walks over to me. “Hi Tash,” he whispers as he kisses my cheek gently and puts his arm around me but my eyes are firmly set on Joshua who hasn’t even looked in my direction. The family collectively hold their breath as I walk over to him. His hands are in his pockets and he is looking down at the ground.

  “Hello, Joshua,” I whisper as I lean up to kiss him on the cheek.

  His cold eyes meet mine and he turns his head to avoid my kiss.

  “Don’t touch me,” he whispers.

  Chapter 12

  I step back from him in shock and Bridget puts her arm around me gently in pity, as my heart drops. Don’t touch him … he told me not to touch him. I look at the ground immediately as I try to pull myself together, my world spinning on its axis.Robert, Joshua’s father, enters the room and laughs out loud at the sight of his two sons. He embraces them both. Bridget grabs my hand in support. I stand still, head down. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. Wilson and Scott walk over and the family start talking. Cameron is asking Robert about the prognosis when I see something catch Joshua’s eye over my shoulder. He runs his tongue over the front of his top teeth.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” he snaps as he brushes past me.

  I turn to see what he is doing and I see him marching towards Max on the other side of the large room. Oh shit. I take off after him and catch up just in time to hear him snap,

  “Leave, before I kick your ass.” Max narrows his eyes and glares at Joshua.

  “Joshua, don’t speak to him like that!” I gasp.

  He turns on me like the devil himself. “I will speak to him any damn way I want to, Natasha. I will not sit here in the same room as this,” he looks him up and down, “traitor.”