Page 31 of Trusting His Heart

Reason to live

Geoffrey awoke to the noises in his head beating drums in time with his heart. Another wicked night ended drinking alone with his thoughts and fears.

He was too old to live and too young to die this way – alone with an empty bottle for company.

Not even in his years of grief had he found solace in alcohol – it was always women, many women.

He grunted with disgust at his previous self, he didn’t want women anymore – he blew his second chance with Bec by being the same cold bastard she thought she met on the plane. He didn’t want women, he didn’t want his own company and so he continued to drown in amber fluid. Waking only to start the day again.

The pounding on his head seemed louder this morning, surrounding him. Then he heard glass smashing and high heels on his polished floorboards.

“Professor!” Trust Layla, to be the pounding in his head.

“Go away,” he yelled at her. How dare she invade his home, “Can’t you see, I’m not well.”

“Professor, you had me worried sick that something serious happened to you. Your doctor keeps calling, he needs you to contact his office urgently.” Layla picked up his trousers from the floor and threw them at him, then opened his blinds. Geoffrey winced as the late morning sun blinded him.

“Go away, Layla, for the love of, leave me alone.”

“Professor! The Vice Chancellor asked me to come and check in on you and told me to tell you, excuse my language, but he told me to tell you to ‘get your flaming ass back to work,’ and then he told me to wait until you are dressed and bring you in.” He heard Layla talking from the kitchen, then he heard the coffee machine being turned on.

Coffee! What he wouldn’t do for a strong macchiato and fresh breath. It wouldn’t hurt to have a shower and clean his teeth – perhaps Layla would be gone by the time he got out.

Layla, bless her, was far more persistent than he ever gave her credit for. Not only did a coffee await him, an omelette was finishing off in the oven.

“Thank you, seen you soon,” he heard her finish up a call.

“Don’t let me keep you,” he grumbled, making an attempt to collect the empty bottles together for recycling realizing for the first time how much he had drunk.

“I’m not going anywhere until you eat something. Then, you are going into the office to prove to the Vice Chancellor you are still alive and ready to terrorize your students again.”

He chuckled and then grabbed his head, “Who has been looking after them while I’ve been gone – and what week is this?”

“Professor Phillips took most of your classes,” Layla couldn’t hide her amusement when Geoffrey snorted his distain.

“Phillips! The old goat wouldn’t know macro from micro – why would Rigby let Phillips loose on my class! Even my worse students deserve better than Phillips!”

“Professor, I might agree with you, but unless you get dressed and back to the university for this afternoon’s lectures, the last your students will learn before their semester break will be about his 1983 research paper.”

“He wouldn’t!”

“He made me publish the slides.”

“You work for me – not him. Remember that!” Geoffrey demolished the coffee and omelette in his anger.

“Professor, if you aren’t back at work, the university will assign me to someone else,” she shrugged. Damn woman knew exactly how to play him.

Another coffee, water and pain killers and Geoffrey felt almost ready to face the world again.

He still needed to call his doctor.

“It is Professor Geoffrey Swains here, I understand Dr Brook Davis wanted to talk to me?” Geoffrey’s curt tone to the receptionist tried to hide his fear. He saw what cancer did to Rachel and knew he wasn’t as strong as his beloved wife. He had no reason to fight as hard as she fought.

“Geoffrey, glad you called.”

“Well? Have you got my results?” Geoffrey looked longingly at a half full bottle of scotch – he should have been more prepared before calling his doctor.

“Perhaps, it would be best if you came into the office,” the doctor started before Geoffrey cut him off.

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