The Return

Chapter Forty Nine

Scarlett

Saturday May 24th 2018.

Scarlett sat patiently in triage.

At the front desk, Robert Lawler signed her discharge papers.

Regardless of Jenna-Sue's decision to unsubscribe from her life, Scarlett was determined to talk to her.

Out the window, she could make out a motley host of nurses gathering on the pavement by an ambulance.

She kept a fractious eye on the elevator doors.

Her chest felt tight. She shot to her feet.

It was all over the news.

She felt a sudden urge to walk over to the metal doors herself and pry them open.

Icy fingers trace down the length of her arm. "Ready?" 

She shook her head. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Her eyes squeezed shut. "It's going to be fine." Nathan said.

"Is it?" Her voice had a cold edge. She pulled away.

The corners of his mouth drooped.

She went quiet. Each minute felt like an hour.

Weakness tinged with worry rippled through her.

Her belongings from that night still sat haphazardly in a plastic bag.

"Wanna talk about it... him?"

She stood eerily still. Did she want to talk about it? She wrung out her hands. Her mind was in a tailspin.

She shook her head. Not with him. All she wanted was to tell Jenna-Sue about it and leave.

"When was the last time we talked, Scarlett, really talked?" She shot him a look expecting him to drop it.

"We talk all the damn time." She fumed.

"I know how tough everything has been, but you know you can trust me, don't you?" He tipped her head up.

She winced.

"I do trust you." She said lamely.

"Then why does it feel like you're lying to me?" His voice broke.

She twiddled with his car keys in her hands.

Was it lying? She was simply leaving out unnecessary details of why she ended up at the hospital. She didn't mention the rape. Or Farida's arm.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course, you don't." Where was this coming from? "Let's go home, she'll see it on the news." Nathan said carefully.

"You wanna talk, let's talk about this. My mother was a woman that dotted on me as a kid. And now I have to sit here and ask why... how could she forget about me like that?" Tears billowed in her eyes. She spread her hands out in a helpless gesture. "I am waiting like any other patient to see her and tell her about my father." Her bottom lip wobbled. "I should be here with my boyfriend, but guess what, I'm here with my fucking English teacher."

"Did you...relapse?"

"How can you even ask me that?" She growled.

People were staring.

"Answer the question, Miss. Leighton? Am I wasting my time spending hundreds of dollars on rehab?"

She tried to make her voice calm and gentle. She couldn't. "I never asked you to spend a dime on me."

The doors slid open. Jenna-Sue whizzed past in full regalia; gloves, scrubs, and a surgical mask. "Mom?"

She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, startled. She snuck a peek at the entrance, debating. 

Scarlett swiped her cheeks.

She was craving a gin and tonic. Something... anything keep her from barreling through those doors and shoving past the nurses on her way out.

"How are you, Mom?" She smiled weakly.

"Surviving. It's one sick baby to another. And I love kids I do, but they're so fucking fragile."

So, she hadn't heard.

Scarlett's heart sunk.

Nathan placed a cold hand on her shoulder. She wriggled it off.

"When was the last time you left work? The last time you saw the sunlight?"

"Honey, you know I'm doing everything I can to pay for your father's lawyer."

A rustle, squeaking of sneakers against polished tiles.

"The trial has already taken a lot out of me."

Scarlett scuffed.

"You can stop." Her voice didn't sound like her own. "He doesn't need it anymore." She held her breath. She was trying not to puke. She was the only one the penitentiary thought to call to identify his body.

"What do you mean? We've talked about this; I'm helping him whether you think he's innocent or not."

Scarlett's blood boiled. "When was the last time you went to see him?" She prodded.

"Yesterday,"

"Then you would know that he's been dead two days and I still haven't had the balls to go and identify the body."

Silence.

"No," Jenna-Sue said like it was unfathomable. She slapped a hand over her mouth. She kept shaking her head.

"He stepped on the wrong toes when he was out here. Mr. Corrigan, the man that died because of Dad, had a brother serving time. One day things got heated and a fight broke out. At least that's what the coroner told me. It was the only way to explain how much of Dad's face was disfigured."

She felt numb. Empty. Nothing hurt. She made the phone calls to the funeral home and got everything set up for the morning after prom night.

She debated telling Jenna-Sue how much the funeral arrangements cost. It wouldn't change a thing.

A fucking phone blared.

"You've been going to see him?" Jenna-Sue swallowed with visible effort. "I thought you hated him?"

She did. Until she mustered up the courage to go beyond the front doors of the penitentiary and through security all the way to the visitation room. From then, she sat with him on the weekends and she didn't tell him anything about Malcolm, Lucas, or Farida. Only one person knew about that. And even he couldn't save her from them.

"You thought wrong. I already handled everything, the funeral is this Saturday, try not to miss it. It's a closed casket." She felt her insides plummet. "Have a good day at work, Mom."