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“I’m sure that Lindsay’s medical care needs have been adequately met at this point,” Mom says, glaring at the doctor. “You do understand that her father is running for president. The car crash may very well not have been an accident.”
My eyes fly open and I look at Mom. Is she defending me? Or is she defending Daddy, and his right to continue questioning me?
“This can wait.” Drew jumps into the argument, taking the doctor’s side. Taking my side. Now I have two people who are for me, and two people who want to continue questioning me.
The irony that the two people who want to continue questioning me are my parents does not escape anyone.
“Patient care before investigations.” The doctor snaps my chart shut and turns, speaking to Drew. “You’re the security detail?”
“Yes.”
“Then as far as I’m concerned, you make the decisions about who stays in this room.”
“But we’re her next of kin!” Mom shouts.
The doctor’s eyebrow raises. “According to her chart, Lindsay is twenty-two years old.”
“And your point is?” Mom has a way of using condescension as if it were a scent. A weapon. Something tangible that you can taste. If condescension had a flavor, it would be my mother’s pheromones.
“My point is that Lindsay is an adult. She can assign power of attorney to whomever she pleases.” The doctor gives me a look that manages to be both compassionate and challenging, yet also remaining firm. “Do you want this room emptied?”
“Yes.” Both Drew and I say the word at the same time.
“That’s all I needed to hear.” The doctor looks to Daddy and says, “I’m sure you want to avoid media attention.”
“Are you threatening to kick me out of my own daughter’s hospital room and then go to the media about it?”
“I wouldn’t have to go to the media about anything. They’re five feet away, clogging my hallway and compromising my other patients.”
“Sir.” Drew leans over and whispers something to Daddy, who frowns, then nods.
“Good point.” He walks across the room, kisses me on the cheek, and leaves without another word.
“Sweetie,” Mom says, playing it up for the crowd. “If it’s best to let you rest, then we need to go. I know you wish we could stay, but you need to follow doctor’s orders.”
She has this way of turning someone else’s “no” into my problem, as if I were an errant child disobeying the doctor. But if it means she’ll leave, then I’ll play along.
She air kisses my cheek and leaves.
My shoulders sag with relief.
“That bad?” Drew asks.
“You know the answer already.” I look at the doctor. “Thank you.”
“I’ve dealt with lots of celebrities. Politicians aren’t that different, other than having the power to pass laws.”
“Tell that to my dad.”
“I think she just did, Lindsay.” Drew walks out of the room, says a few sentences to someone in the hall as the doctor checks my pupils, and returns.
“I’ve got Silas outside.” He reaches into his jacket pocket. “And here’s your phone.”
I remember that my phone buzzed with a text, right after the crash. I take it from him and check my texts. One from Mom, one from Stacia, and—
“Drew.”
He’s assuring the doctor that he’ll watch over me. She leaves.
