Stuck in the Middle

Chapter 33

The smell of bacon cooking woke me the next morning. For a few seconds, I forgot where I was, until I opened my eyes and saw the bare walls that I never bothered decorating. I never saw a point, considering I always felt like I never lived here anyway.

I forced myself out of bed and eventually made my way downstairs to the kitchen. Esmeralda was standing at the stove, making breakfast. If there was anything I missed about being here, it was her.

She was an older Mexican woman, a bit on the larger size, but nowhere near overweight - she always called herself "huggable", which was a pretty accurate statement, considering she gave the best hugs. My parents hired her probably around the time I was born. She was the one who taught me to walk and to talk, and was more of a mother figure to me than my own mother. Now, instead of being my nanny, she mostly did all the cooking for my parents.

"Spencer!" she cried when she noticed me walking in. "I didn't know you were here, mijo!"

Before I knew it, her arms were around me in a tight hug. I hugged her back, breathing in her familiar scent. Her hugs made coming home worth it.

"Mom called me last night, asked me to come home," I said, stepping out of the hug. "She was kinda drunk when I got here. Has she been getting worse?"

Esmeralda shook her head slowly, grabbing a plate stacked with pancakes and placing it on the island counter next to me. "She's just worried about your father."

I had a feeling she wasn't telling me the whole truth, but I didn't exactly care enough to push for the details. Instead, I eyed up the pancakes and the plate of bacon she was placing next to them.

"Why'd you make so much?" I asked.

If she thought I wasn't here, I wasn't sure why she'd make so much food for just my mother, who barely ate anything, especially pancakes and bacon.

Esmeralda winked, placing an empty plate and some silverware in front of me. "Maybe I just had a feeling you'd be here this morning."

I sat down in one of the stools at the island, eager to dig in to my breakfast. Esmeralda sat next to me, with her own plate.

"Tell me what's been going on," she said. "It's been so long since we talked."

I sighed, taking a bite of bacon. "Is it bad if I don't really care if my dad's in the hospital?"

She put a comforting hand on my arm. "You're allowed to feel whatever you want about this situation, mijo. Don't let anyone tell you that you need to care."

"Thanks," I said, giving her a small smile.

Then her hand went to my neck, pulling back the collar of my shirt slightly. "Mijo, what have you been doing at school? Who gave you this?"

I'm sure my face turned bright red as I leaned away from her. I can't believe I didn't even notice I had a mark there.

"Spencer, you can tell me. Who is he? Does he treat you good?"

Before I could even think about answering, my mother walked into the kitchen. She was dressed as fancy as ever, with a skin-tight blue dress and way too tall black heals. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her makeup was done so perfectly, no one would ever be able to tell she drank herself to sleep last night. Frankly, I was a bit impressed.

"Spencer, you're not dressed," she said, barely glancing at me as she stared at her phone. "Hurry up. We're leaving."

"Martha," Esmeralda said with a sigh. "Let the boy eat."

I shook my head, no longer hungry. "It's fine. I'll be ready in a few minutes.

Esmeralda gave me a pointed look, but I ignored it. Maybe I didn't want to go to the hospital with my mother, but I wasn't looking forward to telling my childhood nanny that I was dating both my roommates.

Ten minutes later, I was ushered out of the house and into the backseat of a sleek black car with one of my family's drivers who I'd known for years, Herman Greener.

"Spencer!" Herman croaked in his old man voice. "It's good to see you again. How's school?"

Before I had a chance to answer, my mother slammed the door shut and motioned for Herman to start driving, effectively ending our conversation before it ever really began. Unfortunately, it was a common occurrence whenever I went anywhere with my parents. Usually the only times I got to talk to the drivers was when I went somewhere alone or with Esmeralda.

By the time we reached the hospital twenty minutes later, I was grateful I hadn't eaten much. My stomach was all twisted into knots at the thought of seeing my father. I still hadn't been given too many details, and part of me was afraid to see the condition he was in.

I followed my mother inside and down the long, white hallways, the clicking of her heels sounded ten times louder than any other noise. Nurses and other people watched us go by, making me wish I was invisible. I kept pulling up the collar of my sweatshirt, even though I knew for fact the hickey on my neck wouldn't be visible unless I completely took the sweatshirt off. But I still felt like someone else was going to call me out for it.

Eventually, after feeling like we'd walked the entire hospital twice, my mother pushed open a door, seemingly at random, and stepped inside the room. I followed, only hesitating slightly.

My father had a private room, with his bed placed right in the middle. The first thing I noticed were all the machines next to the bed, beeping away steadily. Then I forced my gaze to my father himself, lying in the bed looking absolutely miserable, despite the fact that he was asleep. There was a large bandage wrapped around his head and dark bruising under his left eye. His right arm was in a cast up to his elbow. If he had any other external injuries, they were covered by the blanket that was pulled all the way up his torso.

But, despite his overall appearance, he didn't seem to be in as bad a shape as my mother made it out to be.

With a sigh, I sank down into one of the chairs in the corner, pulling out my phone. It was barely 8:30 in the morning, so I knew Marc and John wouldn't be awake yet, even though I really wanted to text them right now.

Sitting here with my parents, I didn't feel like a family. Marc and John did, even if we've only been together for a short time. I knew more about them than my parents. They knew more about me than my parents did. The only thing I haven't  told them much about was how bad my relationship with my parents really was. I was good at playing it off as not a big deal because I was never home. But sitting here with them, I felt very ignored.

Even when my father finally woke up, he didn't notice my presence for a while. When he did, he only made a short comment about taking my time to come visit my "old man on his deathbed". I still wasn't entirely sure if that was a joke or not. Was my dad really dying? Was it bad that I didn't care, either way?

Around 10am, I texted Marc and John in the group chat we'd made the other day: I really wish I didn't come.

I hit send before I could delete it. I trusted them with knowing everything else. I needed to be able to open up to them about my parents, too. I've said only a little bit, but I wanted them to know everything, especially because I was miserable not being with them.

Marc texted back almost immediately: How's your dad doing?

Then John texted: Miss us to much? is that it

I got up from the chair I was sitting in and moved to the hallway. Neither of my parents said a word when I left. They probably didn't notice.

I just want to go home, I sent back. Home meaning school. To you.

Part of me felt embarrassed to send that, but the other part of me didn't care. They knew I liked them both. They knew I wasn't super eager to come here. When I get back, I was going to tell them everything. I'd do it now, but it didn't seem like a conversation to have over text while I sat in the hallway of a hospital.

For now, I just had to be content texting them about anything else to distract me from my current situation. It was my only hope at staying sane for the next few days.