Fighting Love

♣Chapter Thirty Five

We wonder if a lie is still the same if told for good cause

TRISA'S POV

It was up to me, whether Janelle should live or die. It haunted me every time I went to the hospital and saw how pale she was. The blood bank still hadn't any such blood type, and Dr. Peters was begging me to call Troy's father. I too wanted to call him, but that would mean I had to lie to Troy. It would hurt him too much to see that man.

Letting out a burdened breath, I hauled myself out of bed and into the bathroom. It was mid-morning and Troy had already left for work. He looked so good in his suit; I bet all the women at the office swooned over him. The thought brought a frown onto my face, then a grin, knowing he wouldn't even spare them a second glance.

On my way downstairs, I met Marlon on his way up. He carried a knapsack he flung over his shoulder. "Hey, Good morning," He greeted. "I thought I'd come over and help."

"Oh, I'm just going to see Janelle," I told him.

He nodded approvingly, "I'll just leave this in my room and accompany you."

"Okay." With that, he continued up the stairs, and I stalked to the waiting jeep outside. I waited for about five minutes before he appeared. We drove in silence until the driver put on soft music. When we reached the hospital, the driver let us out at the door and drove away.

"It's through here," I told Marlon. It was the first time he was coming to see her. Troy had told him he didn't need to since she was in a coma and even then, he had to check on his own family after the storm. First, we met Dr. Peters in his office where he commissioned me to hurry along with finding a donor. Janelle didn't have much time left, so we needed to get someone fast.

We headed to see Janelle next. Marlon gave her a foot massage while I combed her hair, careful not to jerk her too much, but enough to make her look presentable. Marlon told me stories of times he had spent with her. Though a strict woman, he found she was very caring. He would know since he saw her as a second mother. That meant something; she wasn't as bad as people thought.

"You must call Troy's father," Marlon said.

"But he told me not to," I argued. "I don't want to defy his words, plus you know he won't be able to handle it, and he will be mad at me."

Marlon stopped just after exciting the hospital doors and placed both his hands on either of my shoulders, "We'll tell him I did it. Trisa, it will hurt a lot more if Janelle dies. He has to deal with this. We don't have a choice."

"I guess you're right, Marlon." It scared me to call him and his response worried me. What if he refused to help her?
We would be back to square one.

Oh, God!

The drive home was silent again. We didn't have much titter tatter to do as we were too sad to chat about anything. Even Spongebob couldn't make me smile.

"We'll get through this," Marlon let out. He held my hand and soothingly rubbed my fingers. I looked at him and smiled politely, a smile that faded the moment I turned my head and continued to look out at the houses passing by.

Troy came home for lunch where we updated him on his mom. He knew he had to find someone fast, but not his father. This was too late because the moment he left, Marlon and I retired to the library next to the living room. I dialed the number and set the call on a hands-free mode.

The phone rang two times, and a woman answered on the third ring. "Mayor Dolion-John Wilson's office."

"Uh, morning. Put me through to Mr. Wilson, please; it's urgent," Marlon stuttered. I hoped this would be a cell number but turned out not. He was a Mayor, and it pissed me off that he had more than time and chances to visit his family, but never did. Troy was right for saying he was an asshole. Too bad we were already on the call to change our minds.

"Who should I tell him wants to talk?"

Marlon signaled to me he didn't know what to say. The first thing that came to mind was to say it was Dr. Peters. I mouthed it to Marlon. He cleared his throat and answered the woman, "Dr. Peters."

"One moment, please," Classical music played on the other line, implying that she had put us on a hold. Soon after the music stopped, a rough voice answered.

"Speak fast," The man said. Marlon's eyes ballooned at the character of this man, but I ushered him to answer before he dropped the call.

"Uh, your wife is in a coma and needs your blood, or she'll die." Marlon rushed his thought, but it was still very clear. For a few seconds, the line went dead. Marlon and I exchanged looks. We figured he had left the line without hanging up or just didn't care to answer.

"See me at her house in an hour," Mr. Wilson finally said.

"The hospital, that's where I am," Marlon said, He had introduced himself as Dr. Peters.

Mr. Wilson let out a low chuckle then spoke seriously, "I will kill you if you are joking with me, boy. I know you are a but a friend of Troy." The line beeped as he hung up. We let out a long sigh. Best-case scenario, he wouldn't stay long and Troy wouldn't come and meet him. Troy would be back in a few hours, so we had to cross our fingers he didn't make it early.

"We are in so much trouble," Marlon and I said in unison. Hopefully, the guards didn't recognize or know him because they would most definitely rat on us. By the time the hour arrived, we were both asking ourselves, what did I just get myself into? Mr. Wilson didn't sound friendly. He seemed very mean and cruel.

We sat in the living room and waited. At exactly two o'clock, the guard on duty opened the door, and we permitted him to let Mr. Wilson in.

"Don't waste my time kids," He growled. His demeanor dominating and mannerless. He was the spitting image of Troy, only older with facial hair. His complexion was very fair and his hair as black as midnight. He stalked toward the armchair and sat next to us after fixing his suit. "Talk," He barked.

"Janelle is at the hospital. Dr. Peters said your blood type is rare. We couldn't find anyone else, so that's why we're begging you." Marlon rushed his words and I could tell it was because he was just as intimidated as me. This man had a towering figure.

"Please," I begged. Mr. Wilson shifted his gaze from Marlon to me, then back to Marlon. His face seemed emotionless, and I wished I could tell if he was thinking to assist us or not. His silence was unbearable. "Are you going to fucking help us or not?" I shot at him, instantly regretting it. Marlon stared at me with wide his eyes.

Mr. Wilson stood from his seat stepped toward me slowly. He studied my trembling features, then shook his head and smirked. "I won't."