Fated Plans

Chapter 13

     Numbness, that was all Callum could feel.

DNR?!

He was sucker punched; breaths whooshed out his lungs as he tried to take it all in. But he couldn't. There's just so much a man could take in this kind of situation, no matter how tough he thought he was. How was he supposed to react? What was he supposed to do? Dammit!

How could a son just accept the fact that his padre is dying?

The formidable Callixto Reifsnyder is dying? Dio, that old man was as stubborn as a mule who wouldn't take no for granted, who wouldn't give up easily without fighting for what he wanted. Callum chuckled humourlessly. Of course, the man wanted his escape this time. The old man had a twisted sense of humour and righteousness. What was his frequent raison d'être again? Yup, "I did it for your own good."

Bullshit!

Merda! The man was clearly selfish and crazy! Callum was spitting mad and angry. How could the old man sign a Do Not Resuscitate form? How could he give up just like that? Callum needed answers to his pertinent questions that kept on nagging at the back of mind for freaking sake! The old man was just elusive whenever he confronted him about it.

But it seemed futile now.

How could he just demand a person with an ET tube shoved down his throat to talk to him? Callum gritted his teeth as he tried to control himself. Closing his eyes while grasping his hair with both hands, Callum slid down exhaustingly at the cold floor besides the door, outside his padre's hospital suite.

He could not look at him any longer. He could not dare see that the demanding sonofabitch Callixto Reifsnyder was now reduced to a pulp like a helpless man with only the help of a machine to keep him breathing because his heart couldn't pump enough oxygenated blood to his system. The menacing beeping he could still hear even when he was on the outside was like a ticking time bomb, ready to detonate at any given moment now.

It was Callixto's third attack and the doctor informed him it was fatal. A miracle would be needed for the heart to survive the third blow. Callum released a stuttering long breath. Where was the charm in the third time when you needed it the most?

He slumped against the unforgiving wall, he was exhausted. Where was that obstinate man who left him when he was just a child and he badly needed a father? Where was that strong wilful man who showed up one day in his doorstep and demanded that he took a business management major in the university? Where was that old man who whisked him away from his comfortable life in Italy and brought him to the unfamiliar jungle city of New York for him to unceremoniously manage his business? Dio, he hated that man!

A bad penny always turns up, right? So his old man should comeback, he did it twice; surely he could do it again? Callum was at a loss. He didn't even know what he should feel really. Callixto should comeback; that man had a lot of misgivings to make up for – for his son and his wife.

He closed his eyes, breathing hard against the myriad of emotions suffocating him at the moment.

Callum only wanted to get to know his father and when he finally had the opportunity, he was left with a shell of a man who was eaten by years of guilt when he abandoned his family in favour for his thriving business.

But it was too late now.

Callum gripped his hair in frustration, his hands trembling with unreleased emotions. He wanted to punch something; he wanted to shout out the horrible pain that was clawing at his heart at the moment.

Why? Is this all a nightmare? Would he find himself awakening still on the bed in Malibu with Andrea on his arms? Callum sighed feebly.

Andrea...merda, how could he show his broken self to her? His bella suffered already; she didn't need his shit for her to deal also. How could he be the real man for her if he himself was struggling to find his true self?