Breaking Down Sydney (Sydney West #2) (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen

The hospital was too white and sterile, making me uncomfortable. There’s something about hospitals that bother me. My father said I got it from him because he hated them too, but mostly he hated them because his mother died in one from cancer when I was two. The irony hurt my teeth.

The nurse told me he was on the third floor, room 342. As I exited the elevator I made sure not to make eye contact with anyone. It was hard to resist the urge to peek into rooms. I was nosy, but I’d probably find something I didn’t want to see, like naked old people or people lying half dead.

Two doctors in lab coats rushed by me, muttering something about a code blue. They were going in the opposite direction as me.

“At least my father isn’t coding while I’m here,” I said to myself.

Room 342 was in front of me. It was like all the other rooms. It had a wooden door with a white erase board on it and all the trimmings. There was also a plaque with the room number in gold next to the door, and beside that was a hand sanitizer dispenser screwed to the wall.

Just take a deep breath. It’s just your father…your dying father.

“Excuse me,” a nurse said from behind me. I jumped when she touched my arm with her cold hand.

“Sorry.” I moved out of her way.

She hurried along, leaving me alone.

I licked my lips and forced myself to go through the doorway. The room smelled like bleach, and the television’s volume murmured on low. The room held only one bed. My father had no health insurance yet he landed a room to himself.

“Hey, Syd,” Father said when he noticed me lingering in the room like a frightened kitten.

“Hi, Dad.” My words were quiet.

He sat up, pushing away his meal tray. “You didn’t have to come. I know you hate hospitals as much as I do.”

I shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. It was unreal seeing him lying in the bed. He looked like half the man I saw before I went off to summer vacation. His skin was weathered and clung to his bones. He looked even more like my great-grandma before she died, fragile and like he’d turn to dust if touched too firmly.

“How’s school?” he asked, trying to pretend nothing was wrong, as if the world wasn’t falling apart.

I looked at the TV. A rerun of
The Dukes of Hazzard
was on, one of his favorite shows. “It’s good.”

He coughed, moving his pillow to sit up better. “You have a boyfriend yet?”

What’s with everyone and my love life?

I shrugged and glanced out the window. The curtains were a hideous shade of green, like barf. “Yeah, I do.” My mouth was dry, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

He chuckled. “Good, I’m glad you’re happy.” A cough attack hit him, making his body move like a fish out of water. In a few heartbeats, he collapsed against his pillows.

“My Mr. West, that’s some cough you have,” the nurse said jokingly.

I hadn’t heard her come in. She handed him a cup of water. He drank the liquid down like it was the nectar of the gods.

“Yeah, I hate when that happens. This is my daughter, Sydney.” He pointed to me. “Syd, this is my favorite nurse, Tess.” He pointed at the older plump woman wearing purple scrubs.

“Nice to meet you, Sydney,” she said. Then she looked over my father’s chart, not giving me the option to respond.

“Now, you’re scheduled for some more tests tomorrow, but don’t think you’re out of the woods just yet.”

“Dang it,” Father said, snapping his fingers. He was always trying to make light of everything.

She chuckled. “Your father is a fighter. You should be proud.” She clasped my shoulder, giving it a squeeze before she left.

Proud? I should be proud? Why? He never treated my mom right and left me open to countless dangers. It always felt like he cared more about everyone else than his own wife and child.

“You just missed your uncle. He gave me this.” Father lifted up a car magazine and under it was a dirty magazine with a woman basically topless. I rolled my eyes. Of course my uncle would do that. He was a joker, just like my father. That’s how they got along so well. My mom didn’t like it, though. Her brother and her ex didn’t seem like a good combination to her.

“At least you won’t be bored…” I trailed off, wishing I hadn’t said anything.

My father gave me a look, wiggling his eyebrows. He had such a dirty mind.

I grimaced, not wanting to picture whatever he was picturing. “That’s gross, Dad.”

He shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

Two strangers entered the room. Both looked like they were married to meth. The woman was missing her front teeth and had disgusting, straw-like hair. Did she know what a shower was? The man had dirt under his fingernails and a badly chipped front tooth. They were the after pictures of someone who was addicted to a deadly drug.

“Joe! Wendy! What’s up?” My father seemed delighted to see these weirdos.

“Nothing, bro, just comin’ to see ya,” the man replied, fist bumping my father.

When did my father start fist bumping people?

“We worried ‘bout yous,” the woman said, giving my father a wilted pink rose.

I couldn’t take it anymore. The people my father was friends with were addicts and couldn’t speak proper English to save their damn lives. Besides, the smell of urine came in with them, making my nose wrinkle.

“Listen, Dad, I got to go…”

He turned away from his friends to face me. “Okay, Syd. Thanks for stopping by.”

“No problem,” I said, taking a few steps backward toward the exit.

“You ain’t gonna give him a hug?” the woman asked, giving me the stink eye.

I swallowed hard. “Uhh, I guess.”

Quickly, I went to the side of my father’s bed that was empty and bent down to give him a hug. I noticed the IV in his hand was taped on and made his skin look almost fluorescent.

I thought my father would die in my arms just from one touch. He even felt like my great-grandma, like living fine china. His skin was papery, and he looked much thinner than I’d ever seen him. Images of him lying on this bed were going to haunt me. The man in this bed wasn’t the man who ruined my childhood. This man wasn’t my father.

“Bye, Dad.”

He waved me farewell and turned to joke around with his friends. I was gone from his life once again. It was like it was an option for him to be a father.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I made my way to the elevator. Once encased in the steel box, I cried alone, only gathering myself to exit the hospital through the lobby.

Inside my car, I fell apart. I cried until I ran out of tears. My eyes stung and my nose ran. What I needed was a hug. What I wanted was a strong drink. I started my car and headed toward the closest bar.

***

You’ll regret not visiting him, they said. Ha! Regret it my ass. I regret that I went!

I downed my fourth shot of whiskey as I thought about my visit with the lump of skin and bones that was supposed to be my father. I still hated him, but it was hard to lash out at someone who looked like a living corpse.

The bartender walked by. I flagged him down, telling him I needed another.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, little lady? Girls shouldn’t drink a lot. Bad things happen to them when they do.” The bartender was acting like some sort of saint or teacher, someone I didn’t need at the moment.

I slapped the counter and said, “You’re the bartender. Your only job is to provide alcohol to the customer.”

He shook his head, pouring me another. “This is the last one. You’re cut off.”

I licked the whiskey from my lips, ignoring him. If he wasn’t going to give me drinks, I could easily find another bar to drink my troubles away.

“Hey, sweet thing. Did someone break your heart?”

I turned to my left, only to find some buff, tanned guy leaning against the bar next to me. He smiled and had eyes only for me…or my breasts, I should say. His cowboy hat was on the counter in front of him and his boots even had spurs on them.

“Nothing like that. Just personal stuff,” I responded.

“I’d love to help put your mind at ease,” he purred. His hand was on my knee, making its way up.

“Leave me alone,” I snapped, pushing away his hand.

He leaned in closer. “But I can—”

“You heard the lady, cowboy,” said a voice from behind me.

“She could be…” the guy replied lowly, making me feel dirty.

“No, she’s mine.” Jason stepped in and pushed the man away. “Take your damn hat and hit the road.”

“Asshole,” the man said as he retreated.

“What is wrong with you?” Jason sat down where the man was, giving me a concerned look.

I shrugged, rising up my shot glass “Havin’ fun. Well, I was until that cowboy creep came along.”

“I’ll say. It looks like you’re getting drunk and having dirtbags hit on you. The Sydney I know has more dignity than that.”

My heart tripped over itself. I stared at the amber liquid in my shot glass. “Maybe you don’t know all the shades of that Sydney…”

“So, what? Secretly you’re an alcoholic? I thought you got that party-and-stay-out-all-night out of your system in California.”

Did he just call me an alcoholic? Funny, my father was one and look where that got him.
I was finally feeling all those shots.

I downed my drink. “I don’t—”

Jason took me by the shoulders. “What’s wrong, Syd? You can tell me.”

I brushed him off. “The bartender cut me off.”

He groaned. “That’s not a problem.”

I pouted, looking into my empty glass. “It is for me. I’m not numb yet.”

His eyebrows met in confusion. “Numb? Why do you need to be numb?”

I bit my lip. I said too much. “It’s nothing.”

Jason trapped my chin within his strong grasp, his eyes desperate to meet mine. “No. Damnit, Sydney! Tell me what the hell is wrong. Why are you having this fucking pity party?”

“I visited my father today…in the hospital.” The confession poured out of me.

“Oh,” Jason said, going back to the sweet, concerned boy. He gingerly ran the pad of his thumb down my jawline and let his hand fall back to his lap.

“I looked at him lying there in his clean bed in that white room and you know what I thought?” I narrowed my eyes at Jason. My anger bit through my veins like venom.

“What?” Jason asked, taking my hand in his.

He expected me to say my heart was broken, that my daddy was dying and I was a sad little girl. Only that wasn’t the case, it never was.

“I wished he was already dead! I want all this over with!” Tears poured out of me all over again.

He ran circles on the top of my hand with his fingertips. “Shh…you don’t mean that.”

I wiped away a tear and raised my head. “But I do. The man is an asshole. I hate him so much, and I want to scream at him for all he’s done to my mom and me. Only when I looked at him, I saw my fragile great-grandma and couldn’t say a damn word.”

“I think it’s time to take you home.” Jason took me off the stool and laid my arm across his shoulders. He paid off my bill and helped me to his Jeep.

“You’ll feel better soon,” he promised, kissing my forehead before turning over the engine.

I laid my head against the cool glass window and wished I never went to that damn hospital.

***

Being the romantic he was, Jason scooped me up and carried me into his apartment. Hunter and Amelia were out at the movies and were told to hang out at the dorm afterwards. Jason also told them to pick up my Charger from the bar.

After turning on some classical music, he left for a moment. I wasn’t sure if it was from my drunken haze or because I was in a guy’s place, but I started to strip off my clothes. Guys always wanted to fuck me.

“What are you doing?” Jason stood before me, giving me a puzzled expression.

I straightened my bra. “Aren’t we having sex?”

Jason shook his head, giving me the saddest look anyone has ever given me. It was a combination of grief, torment, love, and a pinch of pity.

“No, we’re not having sex.” He handed me back the clothes I’d shed.

After getting redressed, I looked at Jason in embarrassment.

“You need to be with a friend, Syd. I may be your lover, but I’m also your friend.”

All I could do was nod.

He pulled me into his lap, caring for me like I was a child. The old Sydney would’ve fought him, not wanting to give into the sorrow and reveal I did feel pain and grief. Instead, I wept on Jason and hugged him tightly. I cried until I fell asleep, feeling safe, warm, and cared for.