The Affair

Chapter 11

The call comes in the dead of the night: my father has had a stroke. It's so severe that they don't know if he'll make it the next twenty/four hours and they needed to inform his next of kin. I'm surprised it was me. But then, I've always thought I was the most responsible one out of my siblings. I'm also the one most estranged to him.

I call my brothers and my sister, who are much closer to London than I am. Only Sebastian answers. It's early where they are. He says he'll go to the hospital now and asks if I'll be coming, to which I reply that I don't know.

Now, only a half an hour after receiving the call, I've booked a flight and am packing a suitcase. I bring enough clothes to last three days because I'm unsure of how long I'll be there. I call Theodora, but get no answer, which doesn't surprise me. She's probably fast asleep... next to Hugh. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth as I finish packing. I decide to send her a message saying I'm going to London and don't know when I'll be back, but don't tell her why. I do tell my agent where I'm going and why. If he passes, I know she'll be on the next flight.

I dress comfortably in sweatpants, tennis shoes, and a light, long sleeve shirt. It's easy to catch a taxi at this hour. There's very little traffic. People at JFK are sparse, which I expected, and there are even fewer people on the red eye flight that I get onto. I only see one other person in first class when we begin to depart.

I drink a glass of wine, followed by another, and then another. It makes me think of Theodora. We drink plenty of wine together, as well as vodka and martinis. She's so fun when she's all liquored up, but she's fun when she's sober, too. Fun all around and I know I'm going to miss her today.

In a half drunk state, after more wine and whiskey, I fall asleep. That's my intention because this isn't a pleasant flight and it's too long as this hour. But my dreams aren't pleasant. They're of my father, of him dying, intertwined with my mother and my sisters deaths. After I've woken up, they linger in my head, which throbs lowly. It's a combination of a hangover and a headache.

The airport is extremely crowded when we land. The last thing I want is to be around hoards of people like this and I decide to rent a car instead of attempting to catch a taxi.

There's paparazzi that snap my picture as I walk out. It surprises me and I instantly put my hand up to shield my face from the flash. They're shouting things, asking me about my father, and that surprises me even more. How did they find out about this so quickly? My first thought is a nurse or worker at the care home he was put in might have called them. Or someone at the hospital. Either way, they're quick with it, and they had to have known I was coming.

As I walk across the lot and find the Mercedes I've rented, she's calling me. She doesn't give me a chance to speak.

"I've been trying to call you for the past three hours. You're in London? Are you okay?"

I hold the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I put my suitcase in the car. She sounds very concerned.

"Yes."

"Well, why are you there? Seems like short notice. I was hoping to see you today. I hope you're not mad at me, I know I was-"

"My father has had a stroke. I'm here to see him."

She's silent for a moment.

"Oh god, Benjamin, I am so sorry."

"It's alright. I just wanted you to know I won't be home."

"Are you okay?"

I close my eyes and sigh.

"Yes. I'm okay."

"And your father? How is he?"

"Well... they don't think he'll make it. I haven't seen him yet. I've only just landed and am getting in a car."