Page 42 of Caffeine & Chaos

Nadia lay sprawled over him breathing hard into the bedspread next to his ear. She could still feel him pulsating inside her, each throb a testament to their shared perfection. He kissed her neck tenderly, stroking his hands up and down her sweat glistened back appreciatively. Suddenly wishing she had taken the time to undress him properly, she slid her fingers between the buttons on his dress shirt, needing to feel his skin.

“Nadia, I am sorry I left you out there alone.” Ryan whispered the words breathlessly into her ear.

“Well, I wasn’t really alone, your faithful servant Armand was with me,” Nadia said, feeling much more forgiving now. She nibbled at his ear lobe gently as she snuggled against him.

Ryan gently rolled her off him and propped himself up on his elbow to look at her. “I don’t usually wear my emotions on my sleeve.” He traced a light circle around her shoulder as he continued, “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

Nadia swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in her throat. Ryan’s candidness about his feelings was striking.

“Ryan, I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I shouldn’t have come in here guns blazing. I should’ve been more conscious of the state you might be in.” Nadia rolled into him to press her cheek against his chest. The soft lub-dub of his heart reverberated in her ear. She’d heard the sound a dozen times over, but there was nothing commonplace about the sound of Ryan’s heart. It was a drum beating constantly and reassuringly, each rhythmic thud a promise for the future.

“I asked you to come, I should have been out there with you, period.” He rested his head on the top of hers and relaxed into the pillow, indicating the discussion was over.

In less than ten minutes, Ryan had drifted off into a deep sleep. Nadia lay awake beside him, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. Despite the peacefulness of his slumber, she couldn’t shake the tight knot of anxiety forming in her stomach. The intoxication of their love making was wearing off, and his sudden explosiveness during the phone call at the hotel replayed in her mind, raising doubts and uncertainties.

Gazing at Ryan’s serene expression, Nadia searched for any clue of what lay ahead. The visit to Montana was bound to be tense, and it was evident that his mother’s stroke wasn’t the sole source of the tension. What if their newly formed relationship couldn’t handle it?

12

Him.

Ryan stepped into the harsh glare of the hospital’s fluorescent lights, a stark contrast to the gentle hues of Montana’s early evening. With a ragged breath, he approached the patient information desk, willing his voice to remain steady despite the chaos in his mind.

“I’m here for my mom, Clara McKellen. She was brought in this morning after a stroke,” he explained urgently, the words tumbling out with desperation. They felt unfamiliar, as if spoken by someone else. His heart raced and sweat formed on his brow.

The clerk simply nodded, held up a finger, and typed into his computer. Ryan tapped his foot impatiently as anger swelled inside of him. If his stubborn bull of a father would have just accepted some of the money he had tried to give them over the years, his mother could be receiving state of the art care in a private hospital, instead of the sub-standard care she was likely receiving in the county hospital here. At the very least the clerks in the private outfits weren’t as dismissive.

“Clara McKellen?” The clerk’s monotone voice cut through Ryan’s thoughts, drawing his attention.

“Yes, Clara McKellen,” Ryan replied tersely, his teeth clenched with tension. A touch on his forearm made him start, and he turned to see Nadia beside him. He had almost forgotten she was there. Her eyes held a gentle understanding, a silent acknowledgment of his fear and frustration. As he reached for her hand, he felt a warmth spread through him, calming his nerves.

“She’s in the ICU recovery area.”

Recovery area. She had made it through surgery. “Where is that?”

The clerk sighed heavily and pointed towards the sign on the wall. “Follow the blue dots to the first elevator, go to floor three and then follow the signs.”

Ryan fought back the urge to shoot a scathing glare at the clerk; he doubted it would have even registered. The man’s tired eyes remained fixed on his computer screen, oblivious to Ryan’s silent frustration.

As Ryan made his way toward the ICU, his tension mounted with each step. The relief of learning his mother was alive was overshadowed by the impending challenge awaiting him, namely, dealing with his family.

“Nadia, you need to know that my family relations are tense.”

Nadia smiled gently. “I gathered that from the phone call at the hotel.”

“My family is…” Ryan frowned trying to find the right words to adequately prepare Nadia. He didn’t want to scare her away, but he didn’t want her to feel blindsided by the hostility they might face. “I left the ranch to pursue a life in business. A yuppie city life, according to my father, and we haven’t gotten along since.”

“I understand family tension. I can’t remember a time when relations with my mother were good,” she offered, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “I can survive whatever turmoil may come.”

Ryan leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a slow, lingering, kiss. She was perfection for him.

“Thank-you. I will do my best to shield you from the brunt of it.” A bead of sweat began to form across his brow as he ran through possible scenarios in his head. If he was lucky, his father might be too despondent to fire his usual barrage of insults at him. Or he might be even more sour than usual.

As they rode the elevator, Ryan’s stress compounded with the worry that bringing Nadia might have been a selfish mistake. He couldn’t predict how she would handle any potential hostility directed their way. With each passing floor, Ryan clenched his teeth, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him.

The elevator chimed, signaling their arrival, and the doors slid open. Ryan hesitated, contemplating whether he should just turn around and escape the impending confrontation. Guilt and shame gnawed at him, underscoring what he already knew; he had to go in there. He felt Nadia gently tugging at his hand, urging him forward.

Stepping into the waiting area, Ryan’s breath caught at the sight of his father. The years had been unkind, aging him beyond recognition since their last meeting. His once thick, greying hair had turned entirely silver, and lines etched deep into his weathered face. Leaning forward in his chair, hands covering his face, his father seemed weighed down by the burdens of time. Even his hands, once rugged and calloused, now bore the marks of age—knuckles protruding, joints gnarled, skin weathered and speckled with age spots.

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