Page 59 of Off the Rim
The screen of my phone is flashing. There are over two dozen notifications from both my mother and my father. I'm assuming Anderson called my dad, since they're apparently so close now, and that's why the phone started ringing the moment I stepped outside with Marcus. Deciding to turn the phone off and go back to bed, I see a text from my mother that makes me pause.
Mommy Dearest: Mimi is in the hospital.
Shit.
The look on my father's face when I finally show up at the hospital would make a lot of powerful people cower. I've seen it before. Luckily, I'm used to it enough that I'm able to feign ambivalence.
"How is she?" I ask my mother, looking over at the hospital bed where my grandmother is sleeping, hooked up to half a dozen different machines.
"Stable," Mom replies, kissing both my cheeks when I lean down to greet her. She's seated at the end of a padded chair, ankles crossed, and her hands folded in her lap. Her hair, makeup and clothes are all perfect, of course, but I can see the exhausted bags under her eyes when she looks up at me. "I take it Arthur was able to track you down? I hope you didn't give him too much trouble."
"I came willingly, Mom. Of course I did. I just didn't get the messages until this morning."
My father's lackey steps in right at that moment, as if he'd been summoned. He whispers something in my father's ear, then returns to stand outside the door. Avoiding his glare, I take a look around the hospital room, which looks more like a hotel suite than a medical facility. If there were no machines or florescent lights in the ceiling, it'd probably be impossible to tell.
I walk over to touch my grandmother's hand, the skin soft but paper thin and cold. "What happened?"
"She had a stroke," my mom answers when it's clear my father is going to continue giving me the silent treatment. "We're waiting on some test results to give us an idea of when or if she'll wake up."
The hospital bed, thick covers, and multitude of wires coming out of her mouth, nose, arms, and from under her shirt make her look small and frail. She'd be horrified by how old she looks. Like my mother, she's always a picture of perfection. I've never seen her without her full makeup and hair done, wearing heels even in the house when no one was around. What an exhausting way to live.
My eyes cut over to my mother, who looks to be counting the threads on the corner of a blanket or is simply lost in her own thoughts. I wonder if she's hoping Mimi doesn't make it, so she doesn't have to live under a microscope any longer. If she'd be happy to be free of her judgment and iron thumb. Does it make me a bad person that I wouldn't be that upset if she didn't wake up? Especially if what Marcus told me really is true.
I'm not sure if this is the right time to bring it up, but I spin on my heel to face my father. I have questions and he can't avoid me here.
Or can he?
"Do you care to tell us why you've been unreachable since eight o'clock last night?" Dad asks, before I can get a word out.
"The fraternity had an initiation party?—”
"One that you left early from, yes. I'm aware."
My father gives me a calculating look. Them calling last night might have been a coincidence, but I have no doubt in my mind he's been filled in on everything that occurred last night. He probably called Anderson Hearst to ask where I was and why I wasn't answering, and I'm sure Anderson had lots of interesting information to give him. He'd all but told me straight out that he would be telling my father what happened, at least the parts that paint me in a bad light and connect me to Marcus Vell.
I straighten my spine and brush invisible lint off the sport jacket that was waiting for me on my father's private jet. God forbid I show up to the hospital wearing a hoodie.
"It seems my Alpha Omega Psi brothers have a problem with myboyfriend. Apparently, the Hearst family is under the impression that I've been promised to Anderson's underaged sister? Which, even if I wasn't gay, has no chance in hell of ever happening."
My mother gasps. "Language, Ashton!"
"Which part do you take offense to, Mother? The boyfriend part, the gay part, or the part where there’s no chance in hell I'm marrying a teenager so Dad can collect a dowry, or whatever medieval bullshit he's planning."
"Ashton!"
"Keep your voice down, son."
"Why is that, Dad? Because if everyone finds out I'm gay, you can't marry me off for business connections? I hate to break it to you, I wouldn't do it if I was straight, either."
"No one cares about your proclivities, Ashton. But it's not something you parade around?—”
"That's right. I can be gay as long as I keep it to myself and marry an appropriate woman to bear heirs to your fortune, right?" I cross my arms and look at him dead in the eyes. "Then I can do whatever I want behind closed doors and her back because what’s she going to say? I’m richer than God and never get called on my bullshit. That’s how it’s done. Right, Dad?”
My mother clutches her pearls, as if she doesn’t turn the other cheek at my father’s indiscretions. I suppose it’s easier to be an uptight, frigid socialite if you look the other way and tranquilize yourself to sleep every night.
"If you think I'm going to accept this kind of disrespect from my own son?—”
There's a short rap at the door before a thin man with dark skin and a short, neat beard enters. He's wearing scrubs and a white jacket, with a name tag that says his name is "Doctor J. Zeiss".
