Murphy nods in agreement. “I think that’s for the best, sir. Over the years, I’ve done everything to ensure the best care for your family. Today, I failed.”
Dad turns his back on Murphy, and when Murphy motions to make his exit, I react.
“Dad, no,” I blurt. “You can’t do this. It’s not Murphy’s fault.”
Both men turn to me, perplexed.
“I know it’s sad, Vanessa,” Dad says. “I don’t want to do this, but I have no choice.”
“No, this is wrong,” I urge. “Murphy didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Miss Ashworth, I appreciate this,” Murphy says, “but everything that happens on this property is my responsibility.”
“But it’s my fault!”
With everyone’s eyes boring into me, regret squirms inside me.
Dad tilts his head, scrutinizing me. “Why would you say something like that?”
Mom steps forward. “Yes, Vanessa, why would you say that?”
Sweat beads on my skin, and my chest rises and falls. I pan across all their faces and glimpse my brother in the back corner. His arms are folded and his eyes are steely.
“Vanessa.” There’s a tremble in Dad’s voice. “Explain yourself.”
“She’s obviously trying to save Murphy because she feels loyal to him,” Mom says in an attempt to brush this off.
Dad nods at me. “Is your mother right?”
I tremble as my warring parents stare me down. One wants the truth. The other wants me to suppress it. Jitters scatter within me, contracting and expanding my stomach. My head pounds as I gag on the words I so desperately want to say.
I push myself, forcing out the words, but gag again. Attempting to take a breath, I instead hunch over, retching as my stomach gives in to torture. I retch loudly, puking the contents onto the floor. It splashes onto my shoes while the last of it strings out of my mouth.
My mother moans, cupping her mouth and walking away.
Dad sighs, pulling me into his arms. “Murphy, please get a washcloth?”
Murphy’s already leaving in the right direction. “Right away, sir.”
Dad rubs a circle on my back as I groan and wipe my mouth with my sleeve.
“Look what happens when you get worked up,” Dad says softly. “I know you love Murphy. We all do. But this was a huge violation. I don’t want you making yourself sick over it. You’ve been through enough.”
I pant for breath, still hunched and doing my best not to smell the vomit on the floor.
Murphy returns with a washcloth, and a housekeeper follows with a mop. Dad takes the damp cloth from Murphy, and walks me away from the mess. We sit on a bench, and Dad tends to my face. The warmth of the washcloth is soothing, and my body relaxes into normal function.
I take a long breath in and out, gradually taking in the rest of the room. My mother is stretched out on an antique fainting couch, fanning her face as a housekeeper rubs her temples. My brother leaves her and moves over to me and Dad.
“Can I sit with her?” he asks Dad.
Dad smiles, standing and patting Ash’s shoulder.
When Ash takes a seat, he asks if I’m okay, and I reply with a slight nod.
“What are you keeping from our parents?” Ash whispers. “Or does Mom already know?”
I swallow hard, wincing. “Please, Ash, don’t push it. Did you not just see what I did all over the floor?”
