The teams start to leave about 4:00 am. They’re tired and want some sleep. Each hits on Vickie and Jane, and not one of them got the time of day. We will discuss this later.
I go up to bed at 5:00. Vickie strips her clothes off and sleeps in front of me. My hands are placed on her large breasts, I squeeze them like I used to do, and she giggles. I love hearing that giggle. I quickly fall asleep.
Now don’t think she is forgiven. I’m just trying to make a very stressful day a bit better. I’m also a male, and touching breasts is almost always good.
+++++
I wake up at noon with everyone in my room. My friends are going home, and it seems they traced the attackers to the German organization and a whole bunch of them are now in jail. My buddies want to go home.
As I gingerly and painfully hug each guy, I hand them my card with the number for our HR department. I guaranteed each man a job here with me or near their home with one of our companies. They all are married or have girlfriends; none are coming back; they all accept the jobs.
I thought everyone had left. At dinner time, DAD came down the stairs. He had been up with Sophia all day. I’m guessing they have a bit of history together. Interesting. I never met Vickie’s father, and she never talked about him. I never prodded, and I’m not going to start now.
I thought dinner was terrible with my friends; it was worse with DAD. He knows everything about me, and he was at least decent enough to tell a good story between embarrassing stories. My arm hurts, I take another pain pill. Nobody looks happy with me. I don’t give a shit; I feel terrible as well. A few hours later and I am on my way to the ER. A circle with a tail developed on my bad arm, and that’s supposed to be a clear sign of an infection.
Because of the wound, they’re not taking chances. Vickie wants to take me, but because of her mother, she is overruled by Jane. DAD drives me to the hospital. They drew enough blood from me to feed a vampire for a year. X-ray and other tests reveal that I have an infection. Then I have surgery because now that the swelling is down, they see more metal in my arm. Swell.
The next time I see Jane, she’s different. DAD has been talking too much. He’s told her things that were hidden, and I wanted them to stay that way. I am in a sour mood now and have decided to sleep. Because I am in the hospital, they can give me a more potent antibiotic. Between that and the pain killer, I slept like a log for twelve hours. I wake up to Vickie and mom in my room. DAD and Jane, I guess, went home.
Vickie is sitting on the side of the bed, one hand on my thigh and one holding my hand. Mom has a smirk on her face.
I announce, “I’m hungry and ready to go home.”
Wrong!
Vickie is tenacious as she makes my decision for me, “You have twelve more hours of antibiotics dripping into you. You … are NOT … going anywhere. They will bring you lunch and dinner. When Jane comes back, she will have some black-market food. Your mom will make a cafeteria run for you. I will not have you starving on this pathetic food. After twelve hours, the doctor will tell you what happens next. Do you understand?” She’s breathing heavily. Obviously, she’s angry.
If I had a white flag, I would have raised it, “Ok, I surrender.”
For the first time in a long time, I see a smile of satisfaction on her face. She stares at mom.
After a few minutes, mom gets up, “I will see if I can’t find you something to eat here. I’ll be back in a bit.” She looks at Vickie, “Don’t let him run off.”
Once mom left, she stared at me.
I ask, “What? I didn’t say anything.”
Her eyes look down, unable to face me as she says, “I’m sorry. Sorry for saying yes to you when you asked me out. Sorry for the way I treated you. Sorry for the club. I’m sorry you and your friends had to risk your lives because you know mom and me. As I lay in bed thinking of you, I sometimes wish I was never born or born to a different life. I’m sorry for having a mental illness. Most of all, I’m sorry you’re enduring so much pain because of me.”
What do you say to that? I don’t love her anymore. I do like her still. Is there a chance? Can I ever trust her again? Oh, this hurts so much.
As I sit thinking about this, she asks me, “Do you care at all for me still?”
I smile at her, “Yes. It’s not love like it once was.” That wounded her. “But no, I don’t hate you anymore. I understand your mental issues; Jane HAD a friend that did as well. For me, it’s the lies, deceit, and cheating that I can’t deal with very well. How can I ever trust you again?”
Mom is back amazingly fast with a bag containing a small cheeseburger, pasta salad, soda, and chocolate cake. My eyes light up.
Vickie teases me, “So that’s the route to your heart, food.”
I didn’t like the conversation we were having, and I didn’t want to make her feel worse. I won’t lie, and I don’t want to make her hurt more. I know she regrets what she did; I get it; she made some big mistakes. I even know this is more about me not accepting her shortcomings and expecting everyone else to have the same level of commitment.
After hiding the evidence, a lunch delivery arrived along with a nurse. The nurse is not happy; she can smell the cheeseburger.
Vickie is aggressive, “He’s out of here in ten hours. Stuff it about his diet. Take a good long look at his body; he knows what he can and can’t do. So don’t you worry your pretty, little head about him having a black-market lunch. He is worth billions and not used to the crap they serve here. Sorry for being a bitch, but we have been stressed and not slept well for a few days.
I went back to sleep; the lunch was dreadful.
I wake up six-hour later, and Sophia is in my room, holding my hand.
To my surprise, she says, “I am progressing well. They wanted me to start walking and moving about now. There was so much noise at home that they allowed me to come here. There is a lot of repair work going on, and your mother and sister need to be there. Vickie is finally getting some sleep.
“The doctor was by. Your infection hasn’t cleared up as much as they would like. You’re staying an extra day. Sorry. It’s probably for the best. You need sleep, and you won’t get any at home. How do I say thank you? They were financed well enough; I could not hide anywhere. They were coming after me. You and your friends were willing to fight to the death. Because of you, your friends and the others show up and save us. Anywhere else they were thinking of, my daughter and I are dead.”
I help her out, “Many years ago, I took an oath to protect our country and its people. I can’t and won’t undo that. It’s who and what I and my friends are about. We could have died any number of times; we were lucky, our luck still held out, so we live, and they die. It’s life and what we signed up for many years ago. I don’t see you needing to thank us, I see it as doing my duty.”
Her eyes are smoldering at me.
I relent, “Yes, my service days are over. Before, I had no choice, and this time I did. Even though I don’t have the same feelings for your daughter that I once had, it doesn’t mean I hate you two. You have been awesome with me and allowed your daughter and me to have six good months, and I felt like I owed it to you. Besides, I am working for you and your company, it’s bad form to let the customer die. I wouldn’t get paid!”