Secrets of a Hoarder

Part Six

    "I just don't know Mr. Amador, I really think it might be good for her to stay on the top floor for a while.  Get some help, mentally." 

     Victoria could hear the female voice from the hall way.  Her door was wide open, they assumed  she was asleep.

    "My daughter isn't crazy!" he said. "And please do not call me 'Mr. Amador,' my name is Paul."

    "I'm sorry, Paul.  I'm not saying she is crazy.  It's just, the hospital received notice from the police officers and fire fighters on scene that Victoria's living condition didn't seam... normal."

   Victoria's insides knotted up.  She had never wanted anyone to find out.  The mess was her secret, her private life. 

    She thought she would be sick.

    "It was a damn fire!  What the hell do any of them know about normal when it's all been burnt up!"  Paul yelled from the hallway.

    "Sir, just calm down please.  It's a matter of safety.  With the quantity-"

    "Show me the law that says my daughter can't own lots of nice things! She works hard, these were her possessions and I know she is just devistated  So lets not go about bothering her with remarks about some phyc ward!"

    "The hospital can offer her counseling.  Someone to talk to." The nurse said.

    "I told you, she's isn't crazy!  Now my baby girl is coming home with me," he said. 

    Victoria could hear his footsteps coming.

     She kept her eyes closed. 

    She did not want anyone to know she had overhead the conversation. 

     She did not want to believe that she had over heard the conversation.

     Top floor? Counseling? Phyc ward?  Could they really think I'm crazy? 

    Keeping her eyes shut tight, she stifled the sobs growing within.

    Just go back to sleep.

     She wanted to. 

    Maybe it was all just a dream.  There is nothing wrong with me, and I most certainly do not need the top floor.

    Slowly, and with much determination, she finally drifted back to sleep.

                                             *             *             *            *            *

   Paul arrived home from the hospital late.  He had stayed with his daughter until visiting hours were up and they had finally made him leave.

   It had been so long since she had let him get close.

   After William's death, Victoria had pushed everyone away.  She had ignored his phone calls, never replied to emails or text messages.  Not wanting to upset her, he had not pushed back.  He had given his little girl space.  Now, of course, he realized what a mistake that had been.

   With an exhausted stride he marched up his own cluttered staircase and right into the spare bedroom.

   He knew what he had gotten himself into, but he really had no choice.  If he wanted his daughter close, he was going to have to finally clean out this room, and that meant, throwing things away.

   Opening the first cardboard box revealed clothes belonging to his runaway wife.

   A deep swell of pain rose within him.  He was tempted to shut the box and leave the room, just like he had every other time he had attempted to clean.  This time was finally different.  He was doing it for Victoria.