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Chapter 22
Astrid
When I can stand up straight without feeling nauseous, I will discharge myself from my daddy’s hospital. But my heart sinks, looking at the cut-up T-shirt and shorts tossed on a metal chair. I’d have to walk through the hallway looking trashy. And though I hate Howland, I don’t want to make a spectacle of myself. I’m not anonymous anymore. I can’t slink out of here, and no one will care who I am or notice. They all know who I am—I’m Astrid Howland, the black sheep of the family.
Poor Dr. Howland; his daughter’s such a slut. No wonder he’s so mean. I frown and hold my indecent shorts up on the end of my finger.
“What’s the matter?” Sitting in a big recliner, Wyatt crosses his arms and eyes my movements. He won the coin toss to drive me home, and the others have left, including Nova.
“I hate sounding spoiled. You know that I’m not, but…” I look at my clothes that someone tossed onto the chair in a heap. Thankfully, I still have Mom’s leather jacket with me. I doubt she wears it anymore, but it has sentimental value.
Wyatt stands up from the heavy chair and stands beside me. He passes a hand over my lower back and pulls me toward his strong chest. “I’d like to see you in it, but I get what you mean.” He lets me go. “I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?” I spin around, holding the shorts in my hands as he walks to the door.
“To get you something to wear.”
Before I can argue or ask him to call Nova for clothes, Wyatt is gone. I pace the hospital room until a nice nurse comes in and suggests that I lie back down. “You might feel okay, but it will creep up on you later. You’re hyper because you’re still in shock.” She guides me back to the bed. “You’re very lucky. The asshole that did that to you could’ve killed you with an overdose.”
I wince and stare at the floor. I know what asshole did it. I go to school with his son. “You’re right,” I tell her, suddenly feeling weak, “I should lie down.”
The nurse may think I look depressed because of what happened last night. But everything is crashing down. She decides to give me a pep talk and places her hand on my shoulder as a warm smile lifts her apple cheeks. “Your father probably cares more than he lets on, dear.”
So, the whole floor could hear us through the closed door. I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed and glance at the door, hoping Wyatt will reappear fast. The nurse helps me back into bed, pulling the sheet over my freezing legs as I tug the back of the hospital gown closed.
“Dr. Howland is a tough boss, but fair. Things get done around here,” she continues. “You may have to have a little patience with your father. This relationship is new for both of you.”
I try not to give her side-eye, but I’d like for her to go away if she’s going to talk shit. “Is that what you really think of him? That he’s fair?”
The nurse hesitates and looks back at the door, which is wide open. She lowers her voice when speaking again. “I don’t know what your situation is like, but I’d try my hardest to play along until you can safely walk away. I’ve never heard him yell before. Raise his voice, but never yell. He doesn’t hit you, does he?”
The sincere look in her eyes touches me, and I trust where she’s going. “No, he froze my bank account. He’s always threatening to end my mom’s care.”
“Your mom’s care?” The nurse frowns with concern. “Where is she? What facility?”
“Attleboro in Massachusetts,” I reply.
The nurse eyes me like I just jabbed her belly with a live wire. This time when she looks at the door, she gets up and closes it. She sits on the edge of the bed and takes my hand, squeezing it lightly for emphasis. “Have you seen your mother since she was admitted?” she asks.
I shake my head. “They wouldn’t let me talk to her on the phone until the school intervened.”
“You need to go see your mother,” replies the nurse. “Attleboro has a reputation for keeping patients manageable and out of the way of their wealthy families.” She pauses and struggles with her thoughts but decides to reveal more. “That place is an upscale mental asylum, and your mother probably spends her days sedated. Your father gets what he wants every time.” She looks at the ceiling. “Oh, I could tell you stories.”
I pull myself up in bed. “Tell me one.”
The nurse checks the door again with her eyes. “Your father performed an abortion on his mistress, and she didn’t want one.”
I stare at her with my mouth wide open. I can’t even imagine it, but knowing Howland, it’s probably true.
“She was a nurse here and later worked in his practice,” she continues. “That’s what he does or used to do. If he wanted a woman, he’d give her a job somewhere where he could get her alone. He got her pregnant, and she wanted to keep her baby. Rumor has it that he was livid. Threatened her and demanded that she do it. But she was adamant; she refused.”
“So how did it happen?” I ask, hanging onto each word.
“She was scheduled for minor surgery. I can’t even remember what it was, just a one-day thing. Well, the anesthesiologist put her under, and when she woke up, it was done. She threatened Howland, but he accused her of making the whole thing up. But I believed her. A lot of us did.”
“And they covered it up for him?” I ask.
“Around here the doctors stick together,” she replies, flattening her lips in disgust, “They always close ranks.” The nurse stands and places her hand on mine. “Go see your mom and make sure she’s okay. And keep clear of your father until you can take care of yourself. He’s a controlling fiend.”
