A/N: Finally! Chapter 3! Sorry it's been taking me so long to get these out… eeeesshhh…
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I stirred sleepily as the smell of disinfectants and air purifiers hit me with full blast. This was definitely not my warm bed with my blankets.
"Morning," a familiar voice whispered in my ear.
Oh boy, what kind of pain killers had I been on last night? I was sleeping curled up against the boy-who's-a-little-more-than-friends, in plain sight of anyone who was…
Here.
What was Girardi and Rove doing here? They were curled up in a similar fashion on a couch across from my own. Rove was snoring lightly, and Joan was twitching her foot in a catlike manner. Luke's jacket was draped across my body yet again, and I sat up and looked at my watch.
8:30.
Where was Dad? He said he'd drop by… or I told him he'd drop by. This wasn't exactly something you'd forget because you were working too hard. It had been almost 10 hours since I'd talked to him on the phone, and he still wasn't here. Maybe he'd just decided to sleep at home, then come. But he was always up at 6, so I didn't know exactly how to justify that.
But one thing I did want justified was the fact that Girardi2 and Rove were here. They did not need to be here. Neither did Girardi1, for that matter.
"You okay?" Luke's breath touched my ear. I was not feeling lovey-dovey, or romantic. I stood up and stretched my legs.
"No, I'm not okay." I paused to survey his reaction. "You invited Girardi and Rove to our little get together?"
"They're your friends too… they deserve to be able to help you out."
"Remember the confidentiality agreement? I don't remember releasing you from that."
"Who says I need to be released from anything?"
I opened my mouth to bite back at him. But then I shut it. Screw him.
It was my turn to leave him. And I wasn't coming back either.
I came home, dropping my jacket on a familiar chair. My dad wasn't in his office, and he hadn't left a note either. It was a school day, but fat chance I was going to go to school in this state. I went upstairs to my room, and looked at the whale that Luke had gotten so excited about. And then our discussion of the lobster – that was great too. At that moment, everything seemed to click into place. We'd found a common thread that wove us together.
"Originally released under the name "punchers." Retired in 1987, which briefly inflated the price to over $5,000. A classic lesson that any economic system is subject to the whims of human emotion."
His face when he'd said that. It was priceless. He was so excited about a little sack of cloth and a bunch of beans. But the human emotion part – he had no idea how much he controlled my emotions. Just thinking about him could send me into a high or low.
Right now I was pretty low.
I mean, we were still bonded by the contract. And I'd kept my end of the bargain. Five minutes every day. But he totally violated the entire contract by a) me sleeping on his chest, and him allowing it and b) having Rove and Girardi2 there. Did he not see what damages he had caused? What was I now going to have to go through with his sister?
Whatever Luke thought, there was no way him and I were going to be one of those lovey-dovey couples who walk through the halls going "I love you," and then the classic "No, I love you more," and then the conversation ending by the two people duking it out over who loves who more. Not exactly my idea of fun relationship.
Any relationship at all at this point wouldn't be fun.
I spent the rest of the day straightening up my room, cleaning the kitchen, getting some groceries – all the housewively stuff I'd never do when I lived alone. Right now I just felt obligated because… well, I didn't know. But I needed to do something, and washing the dishes was actually quite therapeutic.
I stepped outside to take the trash out when a car pulled up. Joan's car, to be exact. She stepped out of the car, and turned and looked at me with a piercing stare.
I dropped the garbage can.
"What are you doing here, Girardi?" I said, clenching my teeth. "Aren't you late for your snuggle session with Rove?"
She stepped back, bitten. "I'm not even going to reply to that. I know you didn't mean that. Let's get you inside, and let you have some tea."
"I don't need tea. I need to get the house tidied."
"Those are words I'd never thought I'd hear. Why the sudden cleanliness?"
"What do you mean, sudden. I'm clean. Get over it. Go home."
"No. You hurt my brother."
I gasped, and then looked down the street. "Can we talk about this inside?"
She smirked. "Sure."
We went inside, me slipping off my shoes to put away that one last pot. I thought I could just ignore her while she was here. She could make tea or whatever, but I was not discussing anything with her.
"Why did you leave the hospital, Grace?" I looked up from where I had been washing the counter.
"Why are you here, Girardi?" I resumed scrubbing an invisible spot.
"I asked you a question first. Answer my question, and then I'll answer yours."
"I left to find my dad."
"Doesn't look like you're looking for him very hard." She crossed her arms, leaning against the counter behind her. Ooh, I hated it when she got so smug.
"No comments from the peanut gallery." I threw the wash rag into the sink, then turned to face her."
"You hurt my brother really bad back there."
"Yeah, well, he violated our trust. My trust," I said, putting a pot of water on to boil.
"He wanted what was best for you. He felt that you should be surrounded by friends. When Kevin was in the accident…"
"I don't need to hear the sob story of the super jock, ok? I just want to clean and wait for my dad to get home."
"Can I help you?" Joan reached out for the spaghetti I held in my hands. I handed it to her.
"Where's the other Girardi?" I searched in the fridge, and put a bottle of Prego on the counter.
"Still at the hospital."
"WHAT?" I wheeled around and stared at her. "What is he doing there?"
"Finding out what he can about your Mom – I left him with my cell phone. He was still making calls to see if he can find out where your dad is when I left."
I sat down. My hands were shaking. I gulped, then tried to regain my dignity.
"He's… still… there?" My voice cracked. Emotions should be shot.
Joan nodded. "Of course. He loves you, Grace."
I gasped.
"Girardi… are you inept or something?..." I couldn't finish the sentence. I couldn't play the Cleopatra game anymore. Queen of Denial. Well, I'll play another game.
"Fine." I said, and I pointed towards the back door. "Go."
"What about your dad?"
"He's a grown-up. He can take care of himself." I pointed more hastily towards the door. "Move in that general direction, Girardi."
Oh, the spiteful…
She just clicked her little heels and went and stood by the door. "I'm here."
Could no one just leave me alone today? Was I not allowed to just wallow in my self pity and eat chocolate made by slave workers in Europe?
"But Grace…" That evil voice echoed in my head again. "Make up your mind. You want Girardis 1 or 2 there, you don't want them there. You want your dad, you don't want your dad. Or you can just not care and go upstairs."
Not caring was definitely appealing. But I was definitely beyond not caring now. My mom was hanging between life and death, and my father was AWOL. But I really wanted to sleep.
I ignored the intruder and went and plopped down on my couch, remote in one hand, phone in the other. When I thought of someone to call, I decided, I'd call them and ask about my dad, then tell them about my mom.
The phone rang. I muted the TV and picked up the phone.
"Grace?"