A/N: Many thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter; as you know, your comments are always welcome.
Chapter FOUR:
"Grandma!"
The voice seemed far away and in all honesty, she wished it would just leave her alone. She ached all over and felt she needed the sleep. "Grandma, wake up!"
Suddenly it all clicked into place and her head snapped up, almost head butting Scott where he hovered alongside her. The eldest of her grandsons moved his head to one side, narrowly avoiding a nosebleed.
"Geez Grandma!" Scott exclaimed.
"Scott?" the elderly woman queried, still surfacing from her sleep. "What time is it?" she asked as she glanced at her watch.
Scott refrained from pointing out that her watch had made a perfect imprint on her forehead. "About a quarter to three," he told her.
"How is he?" Grandma asked, looking up anxiously at Scott. Her eyes soon turned to searching the room for her second eldest grandson.
"The doctor says he's going to be fine," Scott said, seeing her anxious gaze and knowing what she was anticipating, he went on. "They wanted to keep him in tonight though. Y'know for observation and stuff." He waved a hand, "But he's going to be okay. Dad's staying with him."
The elder woman nodded and studied her eldest grandson, "Are you okay Scott?"
"Hmm?" he seemed distracted as he replied. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired," he yawned. "I've got to go back and pick them up in the morning."
His Grandmother nodded. "How did he seem to you?" she asked carefully.
Scott shrugged and just from the one movement, she could tell he didn't want to talk about it. "Pretty out of it. I don't think he really knows what's going on."
"I take it, it's definitely carbon monoxide poisoning?" she asked as she gestured for Scott to sit down at the kitchen table.
Scott slipped into the wooden seat alongside her. He stretched his arms out in front of him, linking his fingers and nodding his head, "Yeah."
"Your father said he thought as much on the 'phone," she told him. "Said he was in quite a state by the time you reached him," she prodded. Deep down she knew it was more than fatigue causing his slumped posture and his haunted expression.
"Yeah, he was," Scott admitted. "Thank God Alan saw fit to tell us what Gordon was up to."
"He's feeling awfully bad about it too," Grandma tried to curve Scott's obvious upset at his second youngest brother.
"Good," Scott's harsh tone came back. "So he should."
"Now Scott…"
"Now nothing Grandma!" Scott spoke over her. "If he'd just let Virgil speak to one of us, none of this would have happened," he gestured in mid air. One glance up at her expression curved his rage, "I'm sorry Grandma; I didn't mean to be disrespectful by talking over you."
"Your little brother is more than aware of his mistake Scott," she said, ignoring his apology. "Believe me, he's been upstairs in that room stewing all night about what he's done."
She shook her head, knowing Scott felt angry with Gordon. Somehow though, she knew if Scott would just speak to his brother all that anger would quickly dissipate.
"How about your car?" she changed the subject, also knowing he was tired and that the fatigue was probably influencing his mood.
"Dad's going to call Antonio in the morning, get it towed to the garage. I would've driven it, but Dad wouldn't let me. He said it was too dangerous." Scott moped, thinking of his poor little car.
Stuck out on a lonely, isolated road so far away.
"I should never have leant it to him in the first place. If it hadn't been for Dad…"
"Scott Sweetie," she smiled at him, reaching out to cup his hands in hers. "You can't think about the 'ifs' and 'buts'. The important thing is that your brother's going to be okay." Scott went to speak again. "No buts!" she raised a finger to his lips. "Now, why don't you stay there and we'll talk about it."
Her reply came from the copper haired young boy who stood in the doorway, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Scott?" he was asking blearily. "Where's Virgil?"
The second Scott looked across at his anxious, younger brother all his anger was forgotten. "Gordon, what are you doing up?" Scott studied him whilst his Grandmother got up to make a drink.
"I heard the car," Gordon dismissed his brother's question quickly. "Where is he?" his eyes shot round the room, fervently searching for any sign of his second eldest brother. "Where's Virgil?"
Scott pushed himself to his feet, "Virgil's not here. The doctors wanted to keep him in the hospital tonight and Dad's stayed with him." He told the little boy, as he walked towards him.
"Keep him in the hospital?" Gordon was repeating, wide and fearful eyes turning to Scott. "He is okay though, isn't he? I mean, why wouldn't they let him come home if he was?" His voice rose as he spoke and the apprehension seemed to multiply.
"He's okay Gordy," Scott assured, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "The doctors just wanted to check, that's all. Now, why don't we get you back to bed hmm?" Scott's arm crept round his shoulders, "Grandma, don't worry about a drink for me. I've got to be up in the morning so I think I'm going to go straight to bed."
Grandma frowned, unsure whether that was such a good idea when there was still so much he hadn't talked about. "Are you sure?" she queried with a raised eyebrow.
Scott seemed to hesitate, as if maybe he was reconsidering. Then, with an air of certainty, he nodded. "Yeah, I'm tired and it's late. Thanks for the offer though." He turned back to Gordon, "Come on Gordy."
"Okay, goodnight boys," she called from the kitchen as Scott led his brother up the stairs.
As soon as she heard the footsteps on the stairs, she cursed to herself. Just like Jeff had done so many times, Scott carried his problems off to his bedroom and confronted them silently, on his own.
She tutted as she rinsed her mug out and placed it on the draining board.
Sometimes, she thought indignantly, that boy was too much like his father.
XxxxX
"Did you talk to him Scott?" Gordon was asking as Scott pulled the covers back over his brother. "What did he say?" The little boy didn't wait for an answer.
"He said; 'Wow! It was such a good drive, I think I'm going to forget about getting a truck and I'm going to buy a Porsche too.'" Scott grinned at his mischievous brother, knowing he would see the funny side and hoping it would lighten the mood.
Gordon grinned, but only for a few seconds. "No, what did he really say Scott? Is he mad with me?"
Scott shook his head, remembering just what Virgil had said. "He didn't really say very much at all Gords, just that he didn't feel too well," he said diplomatically. "He's not mad with you, but what you did tonight was a very stupid thing to do." He stopped to take in a breath, "Virgil was probably calling to ask for help, and you didn't even give him a chance to speak. Did you?"
Gordon shook his little head sadly. "I'm so sorry Scott, I never meant for any of this to happen. If only he'd said it was important…" he trailed off. "I was just so mad with him, for the way he's been acting just lately."
"Yeah I know," Scott nodded as he perched on the edge of Gordon's bed. "He's not been himself lately, but he's going through a tough time. It's not easy being a teenager. Trust me, I've been there, got the t-shirt and won't be going back." Gordon smiled at the attempted humour, but it was more of a gesture. "One day, you'll understand why it's so hard, because you'll have to go through everything that Virgil's going through now."
"Not one day, Scott." Gordon shook his head, "I'll be thirteen next; then I'll be a teenager too. And I can stomp around and ignore other people and spend all the time talking to my girlfriend."
Scott smirked, "You've noticed that too, huh?" He shook his head, "I know what Virgil said to you tonight wasn't nice, and I know you just wanted him to apologise. But you have to understand Gordon, that what you did tonight was totally irresponsible."
"I know that Scott," Gordon admitted. "You don't have to tell me. I know it was a stupid thing to do and I'm sorry. And I'm going to tell Virgil that when I see him too." He snuggled down into the covers and yawned.
"I think maybe we should both get some sleep," Scott suggested as he repressed the urge to comply with the infectious yawn.
"I don't want him to be mad with me Scott," Gordon repeated as Scott stood up. "I was scared," he suddenly admitted. "I thought maybe something real bad had happened to him and it was all my fault."
Scott sighed, reaching a hand out to tousle his hair. "Well there's no need to be scared now is there? I told you, Virgil's going to be fine. He'll be home tomorrow and you can apologise then. Okay?"
Gordon nodded and settled into the pillows again. "Okay," he agreed.
Switching off the light, just as his Grandmother had done earlier; Scott left his brother to sleep. Checking in on Alan and John briefly, he made his way down the hall to his own room. Every muscle in his body was taut no doubt due to the stress he felt. He rubbed at his gritty eyes as he shed his clothes and, without bothering to change, crawled between the sheets.
By the time his Grandmother checked in on him as she went up to bed, he was sound asleep. She could only hope that Jeff and Virgil were having just as peaceful a night, at the hospital.
XxxxX
It felt like travelling down a long tunnel, one that you couldn't see the end of. Constantly searching for a ray of light to hold on to; something to cling to and focus on.
It was clichéd.
The thought was surprisingly clear, considering the cotton wool that had muddled his thinking before. He pondered on how long 'before' had been. It felt like he'd slept for a week at least; any movement was slow and unsteady, and his head still ached mercilessly. However, despite this feeling of rousing from a long and deep sleep, he was exhausted.
He felt a hand smoothing over his hair and realised he must have made some kind of movement or noise to alert his father to the fact he was waking up. He was sure it'd be his father; it certainly smelt like his father. Opening his eyes would, of course, confirm it but his brain wasn't quite ready to make that connection just yet. And the prospect of trying to prize his heavy eyelids open didn't appeal.
The hand continued and he felt a thumb caressing his forehead.
Unable to ignore it any longer, he attempted to open his eyes; surprised when he succeeded. The first time everything was blurry and he had to blink to bring it all in to focus, but the second time was better. Sure enough, he found his father sat alongside him; his hand running softly over the top of his head in a reassuring gesture. Jeff smiled across at him but Virgil could see the fatigue in his father's eyes and the dark smudges that suggested he'd hardly slept.
His father's arm was carefully placed above the raised railings, the other hand resting between the bars.
Railings.
Virgil studied the bed railings, suddenly disorientated; he'd never thought to wonder why his father was in his bedroom. Nor why, for that matter, he was so softly stroking care worn hands through his untidy hair.
"Father?" his mouth was dry and he swallowed in an attempt to communicate. Pulling the oxygen mask that muffled his words away from his mouth, he tried to look around the room. Frowning at his surroundings, he fought to concentrate and tried to remember what he was doing here.
"Where am…" he trailed off, as he realised that was a stupid question. "What happened?" he asked, squinting at the light.
"Just relax," Jeff soothed seeing his confusion. "You're in the hospital but you're okay." He smiled, "What do you remember?"
Virgil frowned again: that was a good question but his mind drew a blank. He shook his head, ever so slightly. "I had a weird dream," he said, as if it was just coming back to him.
"Yeah?" his father was encouraging him. "What about?" Jeff smiled again; just to hold a conversation with his son brought a tingling of relief to his stomach. Seeing how weak he'd been, how disorientated and unsettled he was; Jeff couldn't bear to think about what could have happened.
"You," Virgil smiled inquisitively up at him, his eyes adjusting slowly to the light. "You were mad with me," he recounted slowly. "You were shouting at me, that I should've known better and that you were disappointed."
A light bulb switched on in Jeff's mind as he remembered his reaction when he'd found his, presumably drunk, son behind the wheel.
"It was horrible," Virgil knitted his brow together, he shook his head but soon realised it only increased his headache. "I couldn't tell you that I hadn't done it," the lines of anxiety on his features deepened. "I don't remember what it was that I hadn'tdone," he admitted, perplexed. "I just remember knowing that you'd got it wrong, but not being able to do anything about it and …"
"Don't worry about it now," Jeff sighed, realising Virgil was becoming distressed at the concept. "We'll talk about it later."
Virgil took a few moments to try to shake the feeling off. It was like being trapped; forced to watch the events unfold but helpless to have any influence on them. "I'm in the hospital," he stated, getting around to puzzling why he was here at all. "So, am I sick?"
"You were," Jeff told him. "But you're much better now. Do you remember driving Scott's car?"
Virgil racked his brains. Now he thought about it, he did remember that. "I think so," he replied vaguely. "I felt weird. I was really tired and I ached all over. Everything was going blurry, so I pulled up on the side of the road." He grimaced as he tried to pull non existent memories from his brain, "That's it. I don't remember anything else."
"What about before then," Jeff said, worried that the memory loss was a sign of unseen complications. "Do you remember the exhaust pipe falling off?"
Virgil frowned hard, dredging through memories and hallucinations to get to the truth. "I think so, it was raining," he said softly. "I got all wet and it was cold, it was really cold."
"You pulled the rest of the tail pipe off, didn't you?" Jeff watched him closely as he tried so hard to pull the random memories together into one long coherent one. Suddenly he brought his hand up to in front of his face and stared at the bandage there. "Is that how you burnt yourself?" Jeff followed his thought process.
Slowly Virgil nodded, "There was a bang." The words stumbled out, as the memories resurfaced at last. Flashes of himself in the rain, on the floor and under the car came back in quick succession. "The tail pipe was on the floor. It was trailing on the floor," he clarified. "I tried to pull it off but it was too hot." He waited for a few moments, "Then I found an old rag and used that to protect my hands. Once the tail pipe came loose, a big box fell off too."
Jeff nodded, encouraging him, "That'd be the muffler; it helps to quieten the exhaust noise a car makes."
Virgil nodded too, "Yeah that makes sense, because afterwards when I accelerated there was this noise. Like a heavy, growling noise."
"Did anything else come off?" Jeff continued to coax him on.
Virgil shook his head with a shrug. "It was all loose; it looked pretty unstable and it was making a weird rattling noise." He paused, "I thought it'd do more damage if it fell down and got caught on something whilst I was driving." The memories came more easily now, "So I pulled as much off as I could; loads came off." Suddenly he frowned and turned to his father, "What's this got to do with why I'm here?"
"Well, once you'd got the exhaust off, there was nowhere for the fumes that the engine was burning to go." Jeff looked at Virgil who shrugged sheepishly, "All the fumes were going straight into the car and you were breathing them in. You got carbon monoxide poisoning." Jeff told him with a sad smile. "You were very lucky, another half hour in that car and …" he trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.
"Did you find me? I tried to call home, didn't I?" Virgil asked, unsure whether his memory was failing him now. "But the 'phone battery…" he groaned, as he kneaded his head . "Man, my head hurts."
"Okay, just sit back and try to relax," Jeff frowned at him, concerned. "The doctor will be coming in soon; he said you'll be able to go home this morning." He paused, thinking back to the restless night he'd endured; Virgil continually muttering about going home in his sleep, despite Jeff's best efforts to soothe him. "I take it you do still want to go home?" he smiled at his son.
"Yeah, of course," Virgil shivered. He looked up at his father's fingers that, despite the fact he was fully awake now, still combed through his hair. Adding to that the way his father looked at him, he became suspicious. "Are you okay Dad?"
"Me?" Jeff queried, "Of course, why?"
Virgil shrugged. "You're acting weird," he said honestly, eliciting a chuckle from his father, just as the doctor made his entrance.
XxxxX
"Oh Scott!" Grandma held a hand to her chest as she entered the kitchen and then came to a dead halt. "You made me jump!" She shook her head and he passed her the orange juice carton in his hand, without being asked.
From where he stood with the fridge door open, the light was dim but he stilllooked pale. "I thought you'd be having a lie in after the time you got in last night," she said as she sat herself at the table, gesturing for him to do the same.
He complied.
"Couldn't sleep," Scott shrugged.
"Has your father called?" Grandma asked, unsurprised at Scott's response. "I thought he might call from the hospital; let us know how your brother is this morning."
Scott nodded, "Yeah, me too but he hasn't called yet."
"He will," Grandma replied positively. "Now, how's my favourite eldest grandson this morning?" She was pleased when Scott smirked up at her at the comment, but his eyes were still hollow. His hesitation in replying suggested to her that he needed encouragement. "I know something's troubling you Scott," she said astutely. "I know it's hard Sweetie, but your brother's in the best possible place. Try not to worry too much." She frowned again, "Heck, I'm worrying for the both of us. And deep down inside, I'll bet your father is too."
Scott smiled but shrugged. "It's not that Grandma," he suddenly realised what he'd insinuated and began taking it back. "I mean, I am worried. Of course, I'm worried."
"But…" she prompted.
"But you should have seen him. He was so out of it Grandma, I'm surprised he even knew who I was." Scott admitted sadly, as he played with the tasselled fringe of the tablecloth.
"Oh Scott, but he did know." She smiled at him, "He knew you were there. Judging by what your father said last night, you and he saved Virgil's life getting to him when you did."
"You know what upset's me the most?" Scott asked all of a sudden.
The pensive and sad tone was surprising.
He didn't wait for his Grandmother to answer.
"I understand that it was an accident and I can get my head around seeing him so …. so confused and vulnerable…" he admitted. "Just," he added with a grimace. "But the thing that really sticks in my gut is that he kept apologising. He could barely stand up, or keep his eyes open but he was so desperate to apologise to me about the car."
Grandma was confused, "I don't think I understand Scott."
Scott looked up to meet her gaze from where he had been playing with the table cloth ends. "If I was barely conscious the last thing I'd be thinking about is the state of his car." He paused to shake his head, "I mean, does he really think it's that important to me. I love that car," he explained. "You know that Grandma, and Virgil knows it too. But he's my brother. Compared to him…." he trailed off, swallowing. "Compared to him the car's the last thing I'm bothered about."
"Scott, I'm sure Virgil knows that," she smiled but the oldest of her grandsons remained unconvinced.
"If he knew that Grandma, why was it so important to him that I understood he was sorry?" Scott frowned, "He must've said it at least six or seven times before the doctors took him away. Does he really think I'd put my car before him?"
Grandma saw straight through to the core of the problem. She took his hands in hers, as she had done the night before. "Virgil knows you love him Scott," she told him firmly, squeezing his hands and waiting for him to turn his teary eyes on her. "Like you said, he was very disorientated and confused; he probably didn't know what he was saying."
"It bothers me that he might think that though Grandma," Scott told her. "He doesn't talk to me anymore, I don't think he realises what he means to us," he shook his head.
"Then maybe you should remind him," she replied, with her usual perceptive ability.
Scott shrugged, "Aw Grandma, you know how I hate all that stuff, maybe there's some other way we can show him." He looked up to her hopefully, but she only gave him an amused grin in return.
"Sometimes son," she said, rubbing at his forearm. "We all have to do things we don't like doing. The only way you're going to know for sure, that Virgil understands he's not more important than your car," she paused. "Is if he hears it from your lips."
Scott nodded sadly and was about to reply when the 'phone rang. Making a dive for it, he held it up. "Dad? How is he?"
Grandma tutted and shook her head. She doubted Scott's theory that Virgil thought he came second to the car, very much. Both Virgil and Scott knew exactly how the other, and the rest of the family, felt about them.
She had no idea why Scott had taken any notice of Virgil's incoherent ramblings, let alone why he'd taken such a thing to heart.
She stopped herself: who was she kidding? She had a very good idea why.
She'd noticed how Virgil barely spoke to anyone now. Jeff had put it down to his age but Scott thought otherwise. He was taking his brother's teenage isolation, personally.
The elder boys especially seemed to have developed this notion that if you didn't discuss how you felt, it was a sign of your maturity.
Scott had always been a carbon copy of his father and he dealt with emotions in the same way.
Virgil, on the other hand, was like his mother in so many ways and had outlets that Scott frankly, didn't.
In a male dominated family, open gestures of love and affection were rare. A simple slap on the back or a brief squeeze of a shoulder conveyed more than a thousand declarations of love.
Sometimes though, just occasionally, everyone needed to know they were loved and appreciated.
XxxxX
Jeff entered the hospital room to find Virgil dressed and sat atop of the covers of the bed. His arms were wrapped around his knees, tucked under his chin and he looked miserable. Jeff's attention was drawn to the way the played with the dressing on the back of his hand.
Virgil didn't look up as his father came back into the room and sat down in front of him on the bed.
"Scott's on his way," Jeff announced. He was hoping the news would cheer his second eldest son up, but instead Virgil looked up at him. He looked away sheepishly, before shrugging his shoulders.
"Is he…" Virgil stopped and then sighed before starting again. "Is he mad with me?" he asked anxiously.
"Scott?" Jeff laughed, "No, of course not." He smiled, hoping he was being reassuring, "Why would he be?"
Virgil seemed to squirm for a few minutes before he replied. "I just thought he might be cross, y'know about the car."
"He's more worried about you," Jeff told him seriously. "I think you gave him quite a scare." He stopped himself adding that Virgil had given them all a scare, "Is everything okay between you two?"
"Yeah, fine." Virgil shrugged, still playing with the tape on the dressing on his hand. "He doesn't like Sofia," he said sadly after a pause.
"I know," Jeff nodded sympathetically.
"I wish he did." Virgil closed his eyes, "Or I wish, at least he could pretend to like her, for my sake."
"Scott's concerned you'll get hurt," Jeff responded to his son's honesty. "He's only doing what he thinks is best for you, you have to understand that too Son." He tried to compromise by getting to Virgil to see the situation from Scott's point of view.
"I know and I do understand, but he's wrong Dad." Virgil didn't seem to want to discuss the matter any further and looked down to his lap.
They lapsed into amiable silence for a while.
"Sofia would never do anything to hurt me," the time it took Virgil to come to that conclusion betrayed the certainty of it.
"Don't do that Son," Virgil looked up to his father to see him gesturing at where he fiddled involuntarily with the dressing on his hand. "It's not going to heal if you keep prodding and poking at it."
Virgil smiled weakly and separated his hands. "I feel so tired," he yawned. "I just want to sleep."
Jeff smiled back at him, "Well as soon as you get home, you can sleep for as long as you like." He watched his son's behaviour carefully; Virgil nodded but dropped his gaze again. He seemed deeply saddened, and Jeff didn't seem to be cheering him up. He was about to comment on his son's low mood when Virgil spoke again.
"I'm still not really sure I understand what happened," Virgil tried to think through his actions. "How did the fumes get in the car anyway?"
"Well no car's a sealed unit Son; there are gaps where your handbrake and gear lever are for a start." Jeff tried to explain. "It's not difficult for a gas to get in, especially when there's a constant supply and there's nowhere else for it to go." He sighed, "And it was cold out too. Did you have the fans on?" When Virgil nodded, he carried on his explanation, "And where do you think the hot air comes from?"
"The engine," Virgil groaned in realisation.
"That's also where the majority of the exhaust fumes are now, since there's no exhaust pipes for them to travel along." He stopped, trying to think of a parallel, "It's like when you drive through smoke, even when you've got the windows closed you can still smell it and any other smells outside the car."
Virgil had trouble accepting his fathers explanation, "But only a little bit Dad. Surely, there'd only be a little bit of engine fumes getting in to the car. How come I got so sick?"
"Well a little bit of carbon monoxide is all it takes Son," Jeff replied. "You heard what the doctor said this morning; it's odourlessand it only takes a very small concentration in the atmosphere to kill. You were in an enclosed space so the gas was staying in the car; it wasn't circulating. If you'd managed to pull the catalytic converter offtoo, the fumes would be even more toxic.And you were exposed to it for what? Nearly three hours?"
Virgil shrugged, "I don't know how long I was there before you found me."
"Well, you never reached Rob's house did you?" When Virgil shook his head, he continued to voice his theory, "So, when the tail pipe fell off you'd been travelling about an hour?"
Virgil nodded, "Yeah, just over, it was slow going what with the weather."
"Okay. Let's say you'd been travelling for an hour then. You 'phoned home when it happened right?" Virgil hesitated before he nodded, "Say that was at eight, that'd mean you'd been in the car…"
"No…" Virgil shook his head. "It took me a while to get the tail pipe off before I could carry on. I turned back, but I started to feel weird so I pulled over. I feel asleep and then I remember waking up." He frowned as he recounted the memories, "I knew I had to get home so I tried to drive on but I couldn't keep my eyes open and I felt really sick. I pulled up again, and then the last thing I remember was wanting to go home."
"So you'd been asleep," Jeff concluded. "For arguments sake, lets just say you were back on the road for half eight. We left home at half ten; I'll bet it was quarter passed eleven before we got to you. And the engine was still running after you pulled over. That'd mean you'd been in the car for three hours!"
"It didn't seem like that long," Virgil mused.
"No, but you said yourself you were asleep," Jeff raised his eyebrows and Virgil nodded sceptically. "You'd travelled a good way back down that dirt track; you were nearly at the highway."
"Really?" Virgil seemed surprised. "It felt like I'd been driving for miles, that road never seemed to end," he paused. "I can't remember anything else…" he ground out with a heavy frown, trying to pull partial memories together again.
"None of it really matters anymore now," Jeff said after a pause. There was an air of decisiveness to his voice; a certainty that Virgil was willing to let himself fall into. "You're okay, that's the main thing," he said.
Virgil lapsed into pensive silence for a moment. "Has Sofia called?" he asked, looking up at his father again. "I thought maybe when I didn't turn up at Rob's she would have?"
Jeff hated to quash his anticipation. "Not that I know of, but I've been here all night with you. Maybe she called this morning?" he suggested. He noted the disappointment on Virgil's features.
"Yeah maybe," Virgil was clearly unsure.
If it had been Sofia that hadn't turned up, when they'd prearranged something; he'd have been worried.
Obviously, she wasn't.
He had to admit it hurt a little.
Then he realised why and groaned, "Oh God, she probably thinks I stood her up." He let his head drop into his hands as he voiced his opinions aloud.
"Son, I'm sure once you explain what happened, everything will work out fine." Jeff tried to assure him and prevent him from worrying. He really didn't look like he needed the extra stress.
"She's going to be mad that I didn't get there," Virgil groaned again, dreading the response he'd get. After her insistence that he get there on time and in the right vehicle when he'd managed neither; he knew the punishment would be severe.
"Virgil," his father was saying. "She'll just be thankful you're okay, like us."
Jeff wondered whether now was such a good time to voice his doubts about the young girl. Deciding against it, he said nothing. Judging by the way Scott had spoken in the car, it was about time he and Virgil had a little chat.
Virgil mulled over the theory that she would understand. She could be pretty selfish at times, he'd been told that on numerous occasion and he knew it. Yet no one seemed to understand how beautiful she was; she was perfect in every way and she understood him. She might have been older than him but she made him feel like he had a place again; as if he belonged.
And that was exactly what he'd been looking for.
XxxxX
Jeff's hand tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel; in time to the beat of the music. Virgil had been quiet since leaving the hospital and he'd just about managed to convince himself that it was because he was still not feeling well.
Scott's silence however, wasn't as easy to explain. Pulling the car into a queue of traffic, Jeff sighed.
"It'll be good to be home, huh Virgil?" he grinned, rubbing at his stiff neck. "That chair was mighty uncomfortable."
"Yeah," Virgil replied softly.
"What are you thinking Scott?" Jeff glanced across at his eldest son.
Scott bit at his lip in contemplation. "How did you know?" he asked pensively. "As soon as I said about the exhaust, you knew what was wrong with him." He shrugged, "I thought he was drunk."
"So I didn't dream it?" Virgil piped up from the back of the car, attempting to clear some of the confusion.
"No Virgil," Jeff admitted sadly. "You didn't dream it."
"But I would never…." Virgil replied; shocked that his father would think that and quick to defend himself.
"I know that Son."
"It seemed like the only explanation Virg," Scott turned round in his seat to face his brother. "I'm sorry; we know you'd never do that." He hesitated, "But then again, you've not exactly been yourself just lately."
Virgil frowned indignantly at his older brother. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." Jeff stepped in. "We both owe you an apology Virgil."
He shook his head, "We jumped to conclusions that we shouldn't have and we were both wrong."
Virgil nodded his acceptance of the apology and sat back, listening to the conversation as it continued. His gaze wandered to the street as they crept by. People seemed to be hurrying everywhere; a young couple caught his eye, walking hand in hand. They reminded him of himself and Sofia. Every so often the young blonde leant forward and kissed her partner, the same way Sofia had done to him countless times. He wondered why she hadn't tried to contact him, to at least check he was okay.
Meanwhile, Jeff continued. "And I owe you an apology too Scott," he glanced sideways at his eldest son again. "I didn't mean to snap at you, I was just worried about your brother."
"Yeah, I know," Scott nodded. "So, how did you know about the fumes?"
"Well," Jeff began. "When I was in the Air Force, a colleague of mine travelled half way across the state in a jeep that had a blocked exhaust. By the time we got to him, he was in a bad way. Slipped into a coma not long after." He shook his head, "Not something you forget."
Scott hung his head, feeling bad that he'd brought the topic of conversation up. "Was he okay?" he asked, in the hope that his father would give the tale a happy ending.
Jeff looked across at him sadly. "No," he replied. "He died. So you can see why it was so important we got Virgil to a hospital?" Virgil glanced up at them at themention of his name, but was quickly back watching the couple interact on the pavement.
The young man's arm was now snaked loosely round the blonde girl's waist, his hand resting comfortably on her hip; an outward display of the intimacy between them. They were laughing and joking with not a care in the world.
Virgil studied the young man; he was tall and dark haired, perhaps a bit younger than Scott but definitely older than himself. The young woman was slim, the same build as Sofia; curves in all the right places. Her hair was blonde and shoulder length, again just like Sofia's.
Virgil's quaint smile at the parallels faded to a frown as he got closer.
He tried to pull his eyes away, not wanting to witness the scene but it was impossible.
He had to watch as she giggled by his side and brushed her body against the young man's, just as she had done to him.
He had to watch as she snaked her arm round his waist, just as she'd done to him.
And he had to watch as she leaned forward and planted a kiss on the young man's lips.
The pit of Virgil's stomach fell away. For a secondall feeling drained from him and he felt hollow. Then, like a tidal wave,the emotionslammed in to him full force; shock, anger, humiliation, rage, embarrassment.
He wondered if his heart had actually stopped; it certainly felt that way.
Oblivious to his brother's discovery Scott sighed, understanding perfectly what his father was saying. "I know, it's okay Dad. I'm sorry I seemed so worried about the car; I wasn't at all." He turned to his brother. "So, Virg…" he trailed off when he realised he didn't have Virgil's attention. "Virgil?" He followed his brother's gaze through the darkened windows, seeing exactly what Virgil was seeing.
Virgil snapped his head round, pretending that it was his imagination playing tricks on him. It was too late though, Scott had already seen and he already understood.
"Yeah?" Virgil looked up at him, trying hard not to let his heartbreak show.
"Isn't that…"
"No," Virgil blurted out quickly, before Scott had a chance to finish.
It was one of those moments in their lives when no almost certainly meant yes.
Unable to keep his eyes from turning back, he watched the couple again. It was almost as if he had to keep checking that it was Sofia, his brain couldn't seem to process the notion.
"Isn't that who, Scott?" Jeff asked, turning to look down the street.
"Oh, no one," Scott shook his head. Virgil had made it obvious he didn't want to draw attention to Sofia's presence and Scott could only support his brother. "Virgil's right, it's not who I thought it was."
Jeff seemed satisfied so Scott risked a backward glance to where Virgil had rested his head against the cool of the darkened glass and closed his eyes. Scott huffed angrily, wanting nothing more than to give Sofia a piece of his mind. If it hadn't been for the fact that Virgil obviously didn't want to advertise the fact, Scott would have ordered his father to stop the car and done exactly that.
Deep down though, he knew how attached Virgil had gotten to Sofia in his absence. Though a part of him realised this was what his brother needed to snap out of his recent behaviour, he knew Virgil was struggling to hide his devastation. He could only hope that he wouldn't take it too hard.
Feeling like his world had just been turned upside down; Virgil let his eyes drift close against the harsh reality. Maybe this was a dream, he tried to convince himself but it was no use. A thousand questions flooded his mind, none of which he could answer. Silently, he sat back and tried to keep his desolation to himself.
The last thing he needed was more fuss.