"What went into their minds?" Ray sighs. "Did some evil spirit possess them?" He rolls his eyes at me. I think I get what he wants to imply. I am no evil spirit, and I definitely was not the reason for the two going berserk. The cab we are riding turns left, but the driver seems too busy listening to his earphones that I am quite confident he won't hear the mention of Etheridge's name. We are on our way to the hospital. I will be checking out Dad's laboratory results one last time before we check out tomorrow morning. I still have yet to apologize to Eric for being too blunt a while ago.
"The animalistic instinct of the male species dominated them!" Ray continues to tease. "It was such a sight to see two guys fighting over you, Angel! It doesn't happen all the time."
"They weren't fighting because of me, Ray. It's just that both were onion-skinned and too egoistic to step back."
"Say all you want, Angel, but I saw something different," he persists. "My eyes did not deceive me. Are you still angry at Damien?"
Is that even a question?
"Perhaps you should consider hearing him out. Know his side of the story." Ray pulls out a brown envelope from his bag and hands it over at me. "Asked Carol to sneak into Damien's office. I genuinely think Damien spent more than what we can imagine creating this whole de Vere treasure. This is actually magnificent, Angel! I am no expert critique, but I think Damien did more than a good job. Here, he even put your name together with his in the cover page. That's sweet!"
"He's the reason I'm not graduating!" I blurted out. "And for heaven's sake, you stole this for what?"
"To let you know that Damien has some goodness in him... I think."
"My opinion about him will never change. Unless he does something to reverse my fate."
Well, that is something impossible. Damien cannot alleviate this. He's no God to turn the tables around.
The cab pulls in just outside the hospital's entrance. Ray leans over the open window of the cab and reaches for my arm before I could walk away.
"Do something about the hot doctor, okay?" He winks at me.
"I won't forget," I say.
"And will you promise me you'd take into consideration forgiving Etheridge?"
It seems like he won't release his grasp unless I give in to his request.
I nod.
"Promise me, Angel."
"Fine!"
"Then all is well. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning."
"Thanks in advance, Ray."
"Anything for you, dearest!" He smiles.
"But you know I hate surprises!"
"How did you know?"
Treading along the hospital corridor, I take notice of Eric talking to two male nurses at the station, probably discussing a case. He is holding an x-ray film which appeared to be an image of an impaled hip bone. I slow my pace as I get closer to him. The corners of his eyes slightly move to my direction, and he knows of my presence. To my utter surprise, he bobs his head as though acknowledging my arrival.
As soon as the male nurses leave, I halt in front of him, gathering my palms together as I feel my legs shake in fear of being ignored.
"Hi!" I greet, trying to sound joyful.
"Hi!" he greets back. His voice hiding a dismal guttural sound. His hands slide into both his pockets, and he stands there with his chin held high. He's gauging whether I am easily intimidated or wavered. I can't blame him. He was pretty hurt by what I did... hurt and embarrassed.
"I'm sorry for what I did a while ago." I feel my cheeks burning like fire. Eric's gaze is intensely taunting, I feel them eating my flesh and digging deep into my bones. I feel his eyes roaming over my already reddened face. If it's sincerity he's looking for, I'm pretty confident it's shown all over my face. "I feel awful, really."
My eyes try to avoid his, but his are demanding my complete attention.
"It's not a big deal, Miss Mohr."
Calling me Ms. Mohr than the less formal 'Angel' intensifies my guilt. This just means one thing: Eric might have been for real. If it isn't a big deal for him, he would still call me by my first name like he does with the family of his other patients. He calls Dad and Mom by their first name, why does it feel new and strange to me? Is it because I got used to him acting so close to me?
"I have given George his discharge instructions. He's okay for tomorrow. His latest lab results are normal in all aspects, so it's safe to say that George is doing fine as of now." There's not even a tinge of emotion in his voice. "I expect him to comply with his weekly treatment, Ms. Mohr." He then slightly bows his head before he leaves me.
A part of my conscience tells me to run after him and force him to forgive me by whatever means I could think of. But the other side just wishes for me to let it go. Perhaps this happened for the best. This is how I wanted our relationship to be â at a professional level. Nothing more, nothing less.
When I reach Dad's room, I am entirely taken aback. My insides squeeze and turn upside down at the sight of the very person who I despise at the moment, the one I swore to never forgive. What is he doing here? What is he doing in my father's room? After the commotion at Maxwell's, he's here for what?
My jaw dropped as I watch Damien Etheridge act all chummy with Dad and Mom like they have known each other for so long. Dad's face balloons as he laughs with all his might. It is the first time he is like this for a long. His illness has taken a toll out of him. Mom acts strangely around Etheridge, tooâstrangely calm and happy. Is it because Dad is recovering enough and that he can go home tomorrow? Or is it because Damien did something to make them happy?
"Angel!" Mom calls.
Suddenly, reality strikes me.
When my name rings in his ears, Damien quickly rises from his seat.
"I believe you know Damien here," Dad says.
Slowly, I walk closer to them, studying the situation and trying to figure out why Etheridge is here. I wonder if Dad even realizes that the man they are getting comfy with is the mayor's son. With the way they are interacting with him, it seems they are oblivious to who he is. What exactly is Damien Etheridge doing here?
"Yes, I think so," I answer stiffly. "Heard of him several times."
"He goes to the same college as you, Angel. Perhaps you have seen him somewhere in school," Mom adds.
"Can't remember," I lie, tracing with my eyes Damien's oops-she-caught-me face as it figuratively flushes with fire. His gaze doesn't even meet mine. If I were to judge the situation, I thought he is more than surprised to see me here. He looks unprepared and a little tensed.
"The university is kind of big for one to be familiar with everyone," Damien speaks. "Don't think everyone really cares about the Student Body President." He gives off a sly smile.
Mom and Dad laughs.
"Nobody passes over the son's mayor!" kids Dad.
"Well except for one," he hisses as his gaze travels from Dad to me. I feel the chilling sensation run down my spine to the very nerves that course through my peripheries. How could Damien Etheridge still joke about it after what happened?
Mom eyes me curiously as though she gets what Damien's hinting. I just hope she doesn't scrutinize me like hell later or worse right now in front of Dad or Damien. She's too bright to be fooled.
"Damien has been deluging us with his presence," Mom says otherwise. I freely breathe after she spares me her glare. Maybe not now. Later? I don't know. I can expect the worse from Sarah Mohr. However, I see a bright side to this. I can have all the time to come up with a good excuse â something too good to be suspected. The again, it's her we're talking about.
After Mom winks at me, she moves from the couch to the side table to continue packing Dad's clothes as if her little discovery is no news to her.
So I'm back to doubting Damien. Actually, doubting Etheridge has become a habit of mine. There's not a time when I considered him worthy of my trust â except the time I gambled everything. My opinion of him could have changed, if only he came to save me from Haynes. But he did not, and so the distrust continues.
Deluging with his presence? By deluging, does it mean overwhelming? Just how many times has he come to visit them without my knowledge?
Clouding my brain with thoughts too complex to justify, I slowly feel pain radiating from the back of my skull to my temple. Damien's rather peculiar acts never cease to baffle me. If it's true that all this while he's been paying my dad visits, then he must have done a great deal of hiding from me.
But why? Just why?
What's he really up to?
His phone rings and Damien slides his thumb on the screen to receive the call. After a few seconds, he turns to my parents and says, "Sarah, George, something came up."
"Don't say you'll leave so soon. You haven't even met my daughter." Dad's eyes shimmer with disappointment. No need to, my head's tells me.
"I have to. Got things to fix," he replies while returning his phone to his pocket.
"Urgent matter?" Mom walks closer to Dad to help him stand on his feet.
"Someone's life depends on it."
That melodramatic line creeps me out. Caring for someone doesn't fit his personality. I seriously doubt he genuinely cares for somebody. The emergency must be from one of his red district girls. Who would require his precious time at such time of the day?
"Too bad." Dad offers his hand for a handshake. "We'll we see more of you soon?"
"We always see him on TV, George," Mom says.
"He looks better in personal." Dad smiles. "Didn't know he's polite as well. The news don't do him justice."
What spell has Damien Etheridge used on my innocent parents? Is it only me who sees the real man behind the mask? For God's sake! Can't my parents see how he looks today? He has slight bruises on his face! Collin did a pretty good job ruining a pretty lad's pride. I thought Damien did all the beating but, looking at his slightly deformed face, Collin must have fought hard. As for Dad and Mom, it seems like looking like a beaten up mobster didn't matter that much.
"You know where to find me, George!" exclaims Damien as he receives the handshake and warm pat on the back.
He tips his head to Mom and briefly brushes his gaze on me before walking out the door. I swear its intensity pops every tiny vesicle in my chest that I quickly feel it tightening. Damien never had this effect on me, not until a while ago when he fought with Colin... over me.
"Angel, mind if you come with me to pick up something for dinner?" Mom grabs me by the arm.
"Where to?" I clear my throat.
"At the first floor. There's my favorite shrimp salad. You'd love it."
"I want one, too!" Dad interferes as he tucks into his bed. "Can't wait to sleep in my own bed," he murmurs to himself.
"Sure, Mom."
Surely, there must be something more than picking up a bowl of salad.
Sarah Mohr, prepare yourself for a ton of explaining, my head told me.