Figuring You Out

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I vaguely make out Dad's figure from the foot of the hospital bed, he's standing with his jacket draped over his arm and a coffee in the other hand, "Hey, bud," he smiles, his face softening, "Your mum's in the foyer, I was just going to get her," he says.

"You go, you know what she's like with directions," I manage to break through the roughness of my throat, the internal battle is clear in his face, "Go, I'll be fine,"

"My boy," he whispers, squeezing my shoulder and leaving from our private cubicle. The porters that pushed the bed nod me a quick goodbye and go to draw the paper curtains back, "Can you leave them open?" I ask, they push them back open and step out into the corridor. I take a glance around and see a small reception area where a group of nurses are bustling around an oval desk, opposite me is an empty bed whose side table is decorated with magazines and a watch. I can't see beyond that and so huff my head against the pillow, closing my eyes in a moments boredom when a certain voice catches my ear enquiring about a "mister Oliver Chapman?"

"Red?" I say, he turns his head and immediately proceeds to my bedside.

"Oh my god," he says, as his figure crashes into me. I hold onto him, my cheek against his chest as his hand caresses my hair, "Fuck," he breathes, his voice wracked with emotion, my voice catches in my throat at the vulnerability of him, he pulls away and breathes for a moment, "What the fuck happened?"

"I can't remember," I admit, nearly crumbing. Nearly.

He sits down on a chair that was previously occupied by my father and then immediately stands back up, "Relax, I'm breathing, aren't I?"

He gives me a sharp look, "Not funny," but a small smile slips through his pissed façade, just as my Mum comes whizzing through to my other side.

"Olly," she mumbles, her ringed fingers pressing my head under her chin, "What on earth?"

"I know, I'm sorry," I mumble.

"I can go get coffee, leave you guys for a bit?" Red says.

"Thank you," I say, he turns to leave but I grab his wrist gently, to which he turns and plants a swift kiss on my pouted lips, I release my grip with a rather smug smile.

"Oliver," Mum whispers, sounding almost broken, I angle my head towards her again and see tears streaming down her blushed face, "Oliver," she repeats, her voice weighting with every word.

"Mum-" I start, but Dad shakes his head at me, he wraps his arms around his wife as I avert my eyes fairly quickly. I hear them whisper for a few moments before Mum switches on her client voice.

"Right," she says, clapping her hands together, "We need to get your story straight,"

"My story?" I ask, as Dad retracts his hands from her back.

"Claire," he warns.

"For the police," Mum answers shortly, pulling a pen and notebook out of her handbag.

"No, you are not turning this into a-"

"I'm protecting our names, James," she snaps, "Do you really want your name dragged through the mud a month before your film premieres, hm?"

"I don't want my son to be beaten to a post, nor do I want the culprits walking around scot free," he replies, his voice as cold as Mums, "We are being honest with the coppers and the tabloids for once, Claire, end of story,"

"Excuse me, Mr and Mrs Chapman?" a doctor appears at the door, "I will ask for the sake of your son and other patients to take this argument outside,"

"You have our sincerest apologies, doctor," Dad replies, the doctor gives a stiff nod and cloaks the curtain back.

"Have either of you thought to ask me what I want?" I snap, finally getting a word in edgeways. I can see Mum physically bite her lip to stop herself from replying, "I want to speak to Red and I will speak to the police alone,"