Clarity 4: After the Storm (3 page)

“Please, sir,” I mumble, growing exhausted.
I can tell that the poor man is just afraid of losing his little
girl. I know he’s not evil, but his threats are not helping this
situation. “I have tried to convince Helen to reestablish ties with
you. I got her to talk to you, didn’t I? Things were going well
until she got that letter. That wasn’t my fault. I’m sorry, but
she’s very stubborn. Once she sets her mind on something, it’s hard
to dissuade her. I have tried my best, but I can’t control your
daughter in every way.”

“Liam, I have asked you to encourage my
daughter to speak with me. I have asked you to plead my case. I
have made sure you were financially comfortable—”

“I know you gave her all that money, sir,
and I appreciate that. It has helped us both a great deal,
but—”

“Break up with her, Liam,” the man finally
says. “This is my final request. Leave my daughter, and I’ll make
sure you get the grant.”

I pause before responding, lifting a hand to
comb through my hair. There is a sound in the break room, and I
assume that Jennifer has returned. I step deeper into the kitchen
for privacy. “Are you serious, Mr. Winters?” I say hoarsely. How
could he possibly ask me for this? It defeats the whole point of me
wanting the grant. If I don’t have Helen, I don’t even
need
to be successful as quickly as possible. Why am I being forced to
choose between my career and my lover? Why can’t I have both?

“Can you do that?” he asks me sternly.

No. Hell no. But maybe I can lie and pretend
that I will. Clenching my phone tightly in my hand, I grit my teeth
together. “Yes, I’ll do anything. I can’t lose that grant money. I
am just getting sick of these games. I can’t keep doing this to
her.”

“Just this one final task, Liam. Do as I
say, and I’ll make you a millionaire before you’re thirty,” Mr.
Winters promises. “Just break up with Helen and tell her that she
can’t stay with you anymore.”

“Wait a second. Let me get this straight,” I
say softly. “You want me to kick her out? You really think that’s
going to solve your problem?”

“It’s the only way. I need her to remember
who’s important in her life. I need her to remember that her
father’s always going to be there for her when the shit hits the
fan. I need you to make the shit hit the fan for me, Liam. Can you
do that? Don’t just break up with her—I need you to really hurt
her.”

I simply cannot believe what I’m hearing. A
little incredulous laugh leaves my chest. Is this man insane? “I
see. So you want me to break up with her in the worst possible way,
so that she’ll need her father? So that she’ll come running to you?
You want me to be a jackass to her, is that what you’re
saying?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. And if I do this, you’ll guarantee
that I get my research grant?” I ask in disgust.

“Yes,” Mr. Winters promises. “I’m sorry it
has to be this way, Liam. Maybe after I patch things up with
Helen...”

I find myself ignoring the rest of our
conversation, and just mumbling affirmative answers. I always
thought that my own father was the biggest asshole on the planet,
but it turns out that even really great parents with good
intentions can get twisted up into being monsters.

I thought that it was only a lack of money
that could make people cruel and bitter like my father. It turns
out that the affluent can become power hunger and and manipulative
by being so used to getting everything they want. I hate feeling
like a worthless pawn in his game.

I could never break up with Helen, but maybe
I could somehow lie and say that I have.

I’ll do anything for that grant. I’m
desperate.

Maybe if I can explain the situation to her
a little, she could actually help me.

Maybe if I play this game well enough, I can
still win.

I just want everything. Why can’t I have it
all? Why should I have to choose?

I deserve more than this. I deserve
everything.

I’m going to find a way to take it.

Now...

“Be careful!” I shout to the paramedics as
they lift her onto the stretcher. Helen’s body is bruised and
lifeless, and Snowball is barking at the men furiously.

“We’re going to need you to take a step
back,” one of the paramedics tells me. “Don’t worry. We’ll take it
from here. Go park your car and get a cup of coffee while you
wait.”

“I don’t need a fucking coffee!” I nearly
roar. “I want to stay with her!”

“We need to take her into surgery,” the
paramedic tells me as he pushes me away from Helen’s body. The
other men begin wheeling her away into the small-town hospital.

I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of
them. I consider grabbing this man’s arm and twisting him to the
ground so that I can follow Helen’s stretcher. But the kindly look
in his eyes stops me from doing anything rash.

“Just take a seat in the waiting room, and
we’ll be sure to update you on her condition soon.”

“I’m a doctor,” I inform him quietly. “Maybe
there’s something I can do...”

“Wait,” he tells me in a heavy voice. “Just
hope for the best and wait.”

“Is she—is she going to be okay?” I ask
him.

He hesitates. “I don’t know. I’ve seen
worse. On these icy mountain roads? It happens every day. It’s been
a really rough winter. Just take my advice and steal a moment to
relax. Take care of your dog; the poor thing’s shaking like a leaf.
There’s a motel across the street, but the rooms fill up quickly.
Grab one and get comfortable, because this could take a while.”
With that, the paramedic disappears back into the hospital.

This is what comes from wanting
everything.

You end up losing everything.

Lifting both of my hands to run them through
my hair, I draw a shuddering breath. Snowball whimpers softly, and
I can tell that the poor dog is scared out of her mind. “Come on,
girl,” I tell her, gesturing to the car. “Let’s get you to that
cozy hotel room. You’re probably freezing. Want to get warmed
up?”

Snowball looks at me suspiciously for a
moment, as if I am a stranger seducing her into my car for
nefarious reasons. She glances back toward the hospital where Helen
has been wheeled away, before letting out a mournful howl. Finally,
with her ears hanging downward in defeat, she softly pads toward
the vehicle and climbs in.

Sighing, I move back around the car to the
driver’s side. Before entering the car, I find myself taking a
moment to lean against the door and breathe the crisp morning air.
It is a bright and sunny day, and the careless wisps of clouds in
the sky seem utterly oblivious to my tragedy.

For a moment, I am filled with the urge to
ask someone for help. A higher power, the universe, or any sick and
twisted being that might have some control over my fate.

Please,
I say inwardly, to anyone who
will listen.
Please let her live.

My father’s voice immediately replies to me,
like an ancient lullaby:

God ain’t got time to listen to a worthless
little piece of shit like you. Be a fucking man, Liam, and do what
needs to be done with your own two hands. They say God helps those
who help themselves—but he ain’t never lifted a finger to help me
with jack shit in thirty years. He sure as hell won’t notice that
you’re even on this fucking planet. So who you gonna count on? God?
Or your own damn self?

As much as I hate to admit it, my old man
was right. Everything I've accomplished in life has been due to my
own hard work and diligence. I've never been a lucky person. I got
into this mess because I was asking Helen's father for a favor. I
was asking him to vouch for me, and to help me get ahead based on
his name and influence, not on the fruits of my own labor. I tried
to take a short cut, and this is where it's taken us.

I’ve hurt Helen so badly that I might lose
her.

Now, what can I do? The situation is
completely out of my hands. I could dig my way into the operating
room and keep an eye on the other doctors to make sure they're
doing a good job. I could bark out orders and try to take over if
they seem to be doing something even slightly less than perfect.
But I don't even know how to deal with brain injuries. I couldn't
help her with my own two hands even if I tried.

Sometimes in life, we are simply forced to
depend on other people. Even doctors need other doctors. And it
makes me fucking miserable.

All I can do is wait. And hope. And
pray.

All three of these things are about as
effective as farts in the wind.

Reaching down to my pocket with a shaking
hand, I retrieve my phone. I still have the app pulled up that I
used to trace Snowball's dog collar and find Helen at all. Now,
since Snowball is in the car with me, there is a big red dot in the
center of the screen and an icon which depicts a smiling puppy with
a wagging tongue.
You have found your dog!
the app informs
me. The adorable color scheme makes me feel a little sick.

Navigating away from this screen, I move to
my favorites and begin to dial the top contact without a second
thought. I place the phone against my ear, desperate to hear the
voice of my best friend. My only friend.

“Owen, here!” says the sleepy voice. “What's
shaking, Liamnator?”

“It's Winter,” I whisper with an unsteady
voice. “She's been in a car accident out in Pennsylvania.”

“What?!” Owen responds with concern. “Is she
okay? Dammit! I should have told you that she was leaving sooner.
And her eyes...”

“You knew she was leaving?” I ask him
hoarsely.

“Yeah. I ran into her yesterday—literally.
She overheard your conversation with her father, and made me
promise not to tell you for twenty-four hours so that she would
have a chance to disappear.”

“Fuck you, Owen!” I hiss angrily. “Whose
side are you on? I thought that you were supposed to be
my
friend, but then you fail to inform me that my girlfriend is
leaving me? For good? And that she's having serious health issues
while trying to do so?”

“God, man. You're right, I should have said
something. This is my fault. But I'm Winter's friend too! I didn't
want to betray her. I mean, haven't I already lied to her enough
for you? I like the little lady, and I didn't want her to hate me
for being a tattle-tale.”

“A tattle-tale? Owen, are you three years
old? For god's sake—she was losing her vision! You shouldn't have
let her drive like that.”

“What the hell could I have done to stop a
girl like that on a mission? I recommended that she not get behind
the wheel, but I wasn't going to call the cops on her or
something.”

“You could have called
me!”
I tell
him furiously. “You should have told me that she was trying to
leave me. You should have told me she was losing her vision. You
should have fucking
told me
that my girlfriend was an
emotional wreck.”

“And then maybe she wouldn't have been in a
physical wreck?” Owen jokes. Then he clears his throat.
“Sorry.”

I close my eyes briefly, overwhelmed with a
combination of anger and despair. “Just do me a favor, Owen. One
thing. Can you even do one thing right? Take over my shift at work
later. And talk to our boss and explain the situation. I might need
to stay here for a few days to take care of Winter.” I pause, and a
sadistic smile covers my features. “Unless she doesn't make it, in
which case I suppose I will be expected to return to work almost
immediately.”

“Liam...” Owen begins softly. “Look, man.
I'm sorry. But she's going to pull through, and you're going to be
fine. You two belong together.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I
snap at him. I know he's just trying to be reassuring and nice, and
I want to believe him so badly that it hurts. “You don't know the
extent of her injuries. How can you be sure she's going to pull
through?”

“Because she's a tough little lady with
nerves of steel and a head so thick that it must be made from
granite. I don't know how badly she's been hurt, but I know our
Winter. I think that she could get into a fistfight with an
elephant and somehow come out on top. Don't ever underestimate
writers, man. They’re creative sons of bitches!”

The smallest hint of a smile touches the
corner of my lips. “Thanks, man,” I tell him softly.

“No probs. Text me the hospital address,
Liam. I'm coming over.”

“Owen, you don't have to...”

“She's my friend, too. And I don't want you
to be alone right now.”

The line goes dead. I exhale in a
combination of relief and gratitude. Sometimes, I have no idea what
I would do without Owen. Turning around, I grasp the handle of my
car and climb inside. Snowball yips at me in annoyance at being
left alone for so long. She moves closer to me and shoves her wet
nose against my wrist, demanding that I pet her. I immediately
comply, and let my hand drift gently over the little dog's white
fur. She looks so dirty, wet, and sad compared to the way she
normally looks in New York. I wonder if this whole misadventure has
been a little too much for her.