Shouldn't Have Dealt

by Mara Lynne

  Honestly, I am worried to death.

  “Excuse me,” I say upon arriving at the nurse’s attention. The nurse seems busy writing something, but she quickly attends to me.

  “Yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?” Her smile reaches the ends of her lips.

  I set both my hands on top of the polished wooden counter and lean forward so I could talk to the nurse more effectively. She’s quite short, and I feel that tiptoeing after a hectic day is not an easy job for her.

  “Dr. Martin’s secretary said I could find Dr. Martin in the ward. I would like to talk to him about Dad’s discharge plans,” I say.

  “Dr. Martin is currently occupied right now, ma’am,” she says. “He’s seeing a surgical patient in the outpatient department. When he gets back here, I’ll tell him you’ve been looking for him.”

  “Thank you, Nurse.” I am about to turn away from her when my inquisitiveness begins to cross the line again. “Uhm… I would like to ask you a little favor.”

  “What is it, ma’am?”

  “You see, I have a friend whom I believe got admitted to this hospital,” I say. “The trouble is, I lost communication with him. Hence, the difficulty to confirm if it’s indeed him I saw in the lobby.”

  Her face turns from curious to an expression shaded with doubt.

  “I’m sorry. I understand you are not allowed to divulge information about your patients. I might as well just ask the information desk about him,” I respond.

  Her lips form a timid smile as though agreeing with my statement.

  “Thank you anyway.”

  “Ma’am?”

  I look over my shoulders.

  “What is the name of your friend?” She is already holding a tablet which presumably connects to the Hospital Information System.

  I quickly march toward the counter and place my hands back on top of it.

  “Damien… Damien Etheridge.”

  I just have to confirm the disturbing theory I have here. In the deepest corner of my mind, I would like to have this answered. Aside from Hunter’s mysterious absence, it’s the thought of Damien back in New Jersey that distressing me.

  The nurse types the name on the screen, and after a few seconds of sliding her fingers up and down against the touch-screen, her eyes enlarge, and her head shakes lightly.

  She sees something in there. I just know it

  In a little while, she puts down the tablet and directs her sole attention to me.

  “I’m sorry, but there is no person of that name currently admitted here.”

  “Oh!”

  “Is there anything you need, Ms. Mohr?”

  “None. Thanks again.”

  I heave out an air of disappointment.

  What a stupid thing to do! I know it’s just the build up of emotions—surprise, agony, and even anger—that forced me to act impulsively. I could have been wrong from the start. Truthfully, I am not disappointed with the nurse’s answer. I knew from the beginning that I could be wrong again. It could be another person who looked just the same as Damien, and the desperate Angel Mohr mistook the poor man to be the object of her latest crusade. I just took the risk of asking because I want the uncertainty to end, and it ended rather painfully.

  A part of me wished Damien was here—that he was the man I saw on the first floor. There is still anger and bitterness after our fallout, I would not deny that. However, they have dramatically died. Perhaps, if Damien had shown himself to me a few weeks ago, I would have hurt him, shouted at him or even cursed him with a painful death. I could have done anything to punish the man and make him feel my wrath, but now, I think I can control myself very well. Maybe, I have reached the point of acceptance. Perhaps, I have realized that fostering anger against someone who is unlikely to return is a big waste of time, effort, and energy. I must have grown so tired waiting and hoping to get even with him.

  I just want peace now.

  I want a new life with my parents and with the new people I will meet in the future. Unfortunately, I am not yet ready to be friends with him again. Yes, I would like to see him. I would like to know how he’s been doing but not forgive him entirely to the point of letting him into my life again. That would be the biggest blunder of my existence.

  No.

  I just want to set aside our indifferences and talk things over.

  I just was to forgive and forget… and perhaps say goodbye to him forever.

  How will I even do that when he’s not here?

  When I get back to Dad’s room, I see a couple of strapping men in black suits guarding the entrance. They nod their head at me as they recognize who I am.

  Is Hunter back?

  Thrill rushes through my legs, and I find myself scuttling into the room, only to be disappointed once more to see Paul’s cherubic face grinning at me and not Hunter’s iceberg cold façade. My eyes catch Mom enthusiastically fixing Dad’s clothes and putting them into his bag.

  “What a pleasant surprise, Paul!” I force myself to sound excited, but I am afraid my voice sounds as dry as the desert. “It seems that you have good news for us!”

  He purses his lips as though containing the good news to himself while he positions himself in a more comfortable place.

  “Yes!” he exclaims. “Mr. Mohr had never looked so happy when he heard about it.”

  Dad’s face glows.

  “Your father’s allowed to leave this forsaken place, Ms. Mohr,” Paul continues.

  “And who told you that? Dr. Martin?” My arms cross over my chest.

  “Of course, Ms. Mohr!”

  I just went to the nurse’s station to look for him, and yet I had not found him there.

  “And who told Eric that Dad can go home now?”

  “Why of course, Mr. Stone! Who else?”

  So Eric’s been waiting for the man’s order. I know Dad’s recovering very fast, and I found it quite suspicious to keep Dad in the hospital for more than the agreed time frame. Even if his location is kept secret from me, even if he’s in the North Pole, Hunter still managed to manipulate things. Just when will he stop doing this on me? He’s acting on things alone as if I am not an important equation in this whole mess.

  Paul reaches for something inside his jacket and hands it over to me.

  “These are Mr. and Mrs. Mohr’s tickets to Colombia,” he says.

  “Colombia?” Dad’s voice raised a bit. “What Colombia?”

  I rush to Dad to keep him from pulling his body off the bed. I raise the head of the bed higher. “Now, you don’t want another night in here, do you?” I say.

  “What is he talking about, Angel?” he asks, his forehead wrinkling.

  Mom freezes for a moment while Paul turns pale as if he is taken aback by my dad’s reaction.

  “I’ll explain to you later,” I say, turning from Dad to Mom. “But I promise, it’s not going to compromise anything.”

  “Maybe we should talk privately,” I told Paul.

  We find a place at the emergency stairs just a few walks away from Dad’s room. Paul’s hired bodyguards stayed with my family as I dragged Paul away from them.

  “You could have given Dad a heart attack!”

  “Well, how was I to know that the man is entirely clueless about Colombia?” he retorts. “I bet my life that your family does not even know about your marriage with Mr. Stone!”

  “Well, Paul, how would I even break that kind of news to my father who’s been battling death for the previous days? You don’t think that if I told him, it would not hasten his death sentence?”

  He gulps.

  “Then you should have told me earlier,” his voice starts to crack.

  “Then, maybe, you should have told your master to try consulting me sometimes! At least he should have called me.” The last part ends with an odd uncertainty and silence.

  “I have told you many times that Mr. Stone is quite busy these days,” Paul replies

  “That he can’t even set aside a portion of his time to cal
l me?” I’m fuming with rage, and I know Paul is bewildered to witness my reaction.

  “But, miss, you cannot simply demand things from your employer.”

  I know that. Doing so would mean breaching the contract. However, is it really that much of a demand? I would like to think of it as a simple request. He clearly has no compassion for my emotions!

  “Paul, if I were to become his wife,” I say, “Hunter will have to know that I am no ordinary wife who he can easily order around.”

  I will be his wife though just a pretend one, and not his slave.

  “Ms. Mohr, your issues with Mr. Stone is no longer my trouble. If you wish the man to know about them, why don’t you tell him?”

  “I don’t even know where the hell he is!”

  The music of the Bee Gees reverberates across the confined space, and I instantly recognize it as Paul’s cell phone ringing.

  “If you’ll excuse me, miss.” He takes the phone from his inner pocket. “Mr. Stone, sir?”

  Paul turns away from me and walks a few steps to the corner of the stair landing. He’s muffling the conversation from my prying ears.

  “Yes, sir. She’s with me, and she doesn’t look impressed,” he voices out with a few nods. “Ms. Mohr already has the tickets, and Dr. Martin has issued Mr. Mohr’s discharge. Perhaps tonight I can get the plane ready.”

  “Paul?”

  He holds his point finger in mid-air as if signaling me not to disturb him.

  “Yes, Mr. Stone, sir. I see no problem with that. I will tell Ms. Mohr.”

  “Give me the phone, Paul,” I say in one breath. “Let me talk to Hunter.”

  “Sir, Ms. Mohr wishes to speak with you.” He grunts after a few seconds, probably disagreeing to Hunter’s response. “I’m sorry, miss, but Mr. Stone does not want to speak with you.”

  He does not want to speak to me?

  What now? I only want a word with him, that’s all!

  “Why? Tell him, don’t be such a baby!” I am literally gritting my teeth now.

  “Er—” Paul stammers. “I can’t say that to my boss!” he whispers while he takes his phone in a considerate distance from his mouth.

  “Tell him!”

  “Mr. Stone, sir?” Paul’s hand is visibly shaking now. He might get more than just a reprimand if he submits to my favor.

  “Give me the phone, and I’ll be the one to tell him.”

  Paul exhales and breathes in a huge gulp of air. “Sir, Ms. Mohr says that you should quit acting like a baby.”

  I’m shifting the weight from my right foot to the left and vice-versa. My arms are still crossed against my chest while I wait for Hunter’s rebuttal.

  “What did he say?” My eyebrow is arched and is almost touching my hairline.

  “That you are rude to call your boss a baby, miss.”

  “Then tell him he’s even ruder to… avoid the woman he’s going to marry. For Christ’s sake, why wouldn’t he even talk to me?”

  Paul relays the message, and not so soon, I receive the answer.

  “What is it you want to tell Mr. Stone, miss? I’ll convey it to him.”

  An annoyed laugh escapes my throat.

  “So we’re playing message relay here?” Is he actually taking the baby-thing seriously that he wants to play this childish game?

  “Well, it’s what Mr. Stone said. I am but a mere courier now,” Paul mutters.

  “You know what!” Putting down my arms, I breathe freely. “Enough of this! Tell Stone I am not playing his game. I don’t care anymore if he wants to talk to me or not. Why would I even bother myself with worrying over him, when in the first place, the man is impossible?”

  “You heard that, sir?” I heard Paul say over the phone. He nods then finally hangs up the call. “If you really want to talk with Mr. Stone, Ms. Mohr, I could take you to him. He wants to talk to you personally and not on the phone. That’s why he’s acting a little irritating. He said your purpose for seeing him better be important or he wouldn’t give into your future demands as your loving and thoughtful husband.”

  Chapter 28: Ridding Doubts

  Dad places a kiss on my cheek. “I can’t believe you’re not coming with us.” He is sitting in a wheelchair being pushed by one of Hunter’s hired bodyguards.

  “And how long will this arrangement last, Angel?” Mom asks from beside Dad.

  When I broke to them the news of my marriage with Hunter Stone, they were not happy about it. Nonetheless, they kept silent and did not say anything save for asking me a dozen times if I was indeed sure about it. Mom and Dad know that I have to do my part of the contract and of Hunter’s hard work to keep us safe and sound during the time Will was pestering us. They are well aware that I am marrying the man who gave Dad his second life.

  “I don’t know, Mom.”

  We have entered the lift now. It will take us to the uppermost deck of the building where a private helicopter is waiting. The helicopter will then bring them to the airport where Hunter’s private airplane awaits.

  I can’t tell them the arrangement might last for years. It might kill Mom.

  The elevator’s door opens, and our tired eyes feast on a silver helicopter with Stone’s name painted on its body. There are a bunch of bodyguards near the entrance. Two men in white uniforms get into the helicopter and sit in the front seat. They must be the pilots. Then, the bodyguards that accompanied us from the hospital take all our bags, loads them onto the helicopter, and flank its entrance.

  “I guess this is goodbye, for now,” I say, my eyes all misty.

  Mom’s fingertips softly touch the corners of my eyes, wiping the tears away.

  “Now, call us whenever you need to,” she whispers to my ears. “And tell Hunter Stone our deepest gratitude.”

  “I will,” I answer as I step back.

  “I am going to miss you, sweetie.” Her voice starts to break.

  Before I burst out crying, I give Mom one last hug.

  “You take care of yourself and Dad there, okay?”

  She nods.

  “Dad?” I get down to my knees and face him.

  He seems to be on the verge of crying as well. I could tell he is stopping the tears from erupting with that forced smile on his face.

  “I wanted you to marry for love, Angel,” he says as he reaches for both my hands.

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “Your happiness is all I want, darling.” His hands grasp mine.

  And yours is all I want, too, I thought to myself.

  “This is all my fault,” he adds.

  “No, Dad. I just did what I deem is right to do,” I wholeheartedly answer. “It’s nobody’s fault.”

  He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead.

  “Always be strong, my angel,” he says one last time before Hunter’s bodyguards wheels him into the helicopter.

  Paul meets me at the lobby of Hunter’s apartment. The helicopter left as soon as Mom and Dad were settled in. Ray is in the lobby too after he retrieved his things from Hunter’s apartment. He could not be happier when he learned from me that he’s leaving Hunter’s place.

  “You don’t know how much I prayed for this. Imagine the nights I missed with my co-workers. You know I hate curfews,” he says.

  Now, he’s free as a bird to do whatever he wants, much to his pleasure.

  I think our troubles with Will are finally over.

  On a rack is a long, white, Grecian dress with a crystal and pearl encrusted waistline, and I presume it was set like this for me to see.

  I meet Hugo at Hunter’s flat. He comes with his set of friends, the same people who transformed me into a swan not so long ago. The only difference is, he only has a single dress and a small bag filled with his beauty equipment this time.

  Hunter is attending a special event in which he is invited as the primary guest. I am actually given the option to decline the invitation. However, I have set my mind on seeing Hunter Stone, so I take the trouble of sitting in front
of an overly lighted mirror and inhaling the sickly sweet scent of the hair sprays. I presume they would make me fit for the beautiful dress Hugo has brought for me.

  My hair is fixed in an elegant low bun with tiny crystal flowers along the side braids.

  “It’s not every day you get to wear Vera Wang, sweetie,” he says while pulling me to the divider.

  “You have really good taste, Hugo,” I reply while my eyes follow the silhouette of the almost perfect dress. It’s flowy like a waterfall, and I could already feel its velvetiness raising the hair on my arms out of pure awe.

  His two lady friends pick up the dress and carefully slip it through the opening of the divider.

  I take off my clothes and slither through the dress. Indeed, it feels smoother than what I imagined it to be. When the skirt’s hem touches the floor, I quickly adjust the built-in bra to fit my breasts. The paddings are rather small. I’m afraid my breasts might burst out of the dress anytime soon.

  “Hugo, I think the chest area is a little bit uncomfortable.”

  “Step out, dear, and let’s see what I can do,” Hugo answers.

  “Err… the part here doesn’t feel right.” I step out for Hugo to see, still trying to stretch the fabric on the chest area to meet in the middle and cover a bit of my breasts. I have to make sure they won’t cause me problems later.

  “But it’s perfect!” he exclaims, his eyes sparkling. “The dress is made to flaunt your skin. I see no problem with it.”

  Flaunt my skin, yes! But not bare my soul in public!