It stopped ringing, and then immediately, it started up again from the same number.
“Just answer it, or turn the damn thing off, and tell me what happened!”
“Fine,” he grumbled, choosing to answer the phone rather than address what had happened. “Hello?”
With my arms crossed, I waited for him to get off the line. How could Grant have sustained that kind of damage? How had he had sex with that kind of bruising? I was gradually falling from anger into panic. Was he okay? Did he have internal bleeding? Did he need to go to a doctor? Oh God, how had I let him drive?
Then, the next thing Grant said pulled me out of my troubled thoughts, “Dad?”
“Hey, son.”
The world stood still. I forgot about the motorcycle accident, the feel of making love to Ari, the desire to avoid the conversation about what had happened. I forgot everything. The only thing in that moment was the sound of my old man’s voice on the phone.
“How the fuck did you get this number?” I demanded.
“Grant, I’ve been trying to reach you.”
I lost it. “Don’t fucking say my name!”
I stood up off the bed and paced my room. All I wanted to do was slam my fist into the wall, but I was already too banged up as it was. Plus, I didn’t want to scare Ari.
“Grant,” she whispered, fearfully looking at me.
I held up my hand and shook my head. This could not be happening right now.
“Just give me a minute to explain,” my dad said. “I’ve been trying to reach out to you since I…since I got out of prison. Randy told you I got out, right?”
“I don’t need or want any of your explanations. I know bullshit when I hear it. So, let me fill you in. I don’t want you to contact me. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you talking to Uncle Randy or bringing anyone else into this.”
“I’m not dragging anyone into this. Stop, and listen for a second,” he snapped, dropping immediately back into his military tone of voice.
It was like a light switch when he talked to me. Suddenly, I was ten years old again.
He was standing over me, demanding obedience, always pulling the authority figure over my head. I saw him holding the gun out in front of him. I ran to my mother, but it was too late, and he pulled the trigger. I felt her blood on my hands.
I wiped my hands on my bare legs after reliving it. I’d relived it a thousand times in my nightmares. And here was my nightmare, coming to haunt me once more.
“You don’t deserve a chance for me to listen to you. Did you give her a chance?” I growled.
“Don’t bring her into this.”
That was it. That was the end. As it was, I couldn’t believe I had been on the phone this long with a raving lunatic.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want! I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not a ten-year-old you can blame for murdering your wife!”
“Is that how you feel?” he asked. His voice was deadly cold and devoid of emotion, showing me truly how much of a complete and total psychopath he was.
“You don’t care about how I feel. I was there. I saw you holding the gun and pointing it at my mother before you killed her. So, whatever the fuck you have planned in that fucked-up head of yours, stop now. I want no part of it. I want you to leave me and everyone else I care about alone. If you get anywhere near them, I will not hesitate to kill you.”
I hung up the phone and threw it on the bed. I wish I had lost the damn thing off the embankment. At least then, it would have saved me from that phone call.
My breathing was labored, and suddenly, all the events of the day came crashing back over me. I collapsed onto the ground.
Ari screamed and lunged for me. She placed my head in her lap and brushed my hair back. “Grant, oh my God,” she murmured before kissing my forehead. “Everything will be okay. Tell me what happened.”
I struggled to sit up, but she gently tugged me back down. I relented only because I had no energy left in my body. Her fingers trailed down my arm, over my bruised side, and to my hip. She brought my hand up to her face and kissed each and every inch of damaged skin. I lay there, mentally and physically immobilized.
“Grant, I love you. How can I help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?”
She sounded near to tears, and I felt like a douche for pushing her to that.
I finally sighed and prepared myself for her anger. “That was my dad on the phone. He wants me to listen to him or some shit. Also, I got in a motorcycle accident.”
“You did what?” she shrieked.
Then, she covered her mouth and shook her head. I could tell she was warring with herself on her reaction.
“Did you go to the hospital?”
“No, I was driven home by a couple who had found me.”
“Found you?” she whispered.
“Yeah. I was thrown off the bike and fell down an embankment. The bike didn’t fare as well.”
“Oh, Grant, why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you go to the doctor?”
“I’m fine,” I repeated mechanically.
“If you weren’t already bruised beyond belief, I would beat the shit out of you right now. Come on. I’m taking your truck, and we’re going to the emergency room.”
“Ari, no. I don’t like doctors. I hate the ER. So much blood, and…” My skin felt clammy, and I thought I might throw up or black out.
Blood reminded me of holding my mother as she died. Blood ran thick and heavy between my fingers as I tried to save her. Doctors rushing around, trying to save a dead woman. Nothing could be done. The sound of the flat line. The questions. The nightmares.
“Grant,” Ari breathed again, “I’m going to be there. If you die from internal bleeding, I’ll never forgive you. So, we’re going to the doctor. Now, get up. I’m driving.”
“Princess—”
“I’m not taking no for an answer. You got into a serious car accident and need to get medical help—now.”
There was no arguing with her. Everything I wanted to say about the accident, about my mother, about my dad…she’d sidestepped like a fucking pro. We were going to the hospital if she had to drag me every goddamn step of the way.
And I loved her even more for it.
Two broken ribs, eight stitches, and a concussion.
The doctor didn’t look half as exasperated at me as Ari was. When she’d heard the news about the accident, I’d thought she might actually give me another concussion.