A/N – Man, I love this ficlet! Enjoy and review!
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Chapter Ten – No Good With Words
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Portia rushed over to Tom's still body sprawled across the floor. "Oh, my God," she breathed. The sunlight was drifting in from the glass windows and it made him look even paler. She noticed the broken glass littering the floor and the almost empty bottle of whiskey. Kneeling next to him, she cradled his head in her lap. "Tommy, wake up!" She shook him a little, but there was no response.
"Someone call 911!" she shrieked, hoping someone would hear her. Footsteps scurried down the hallway, pausing at the door to the sunroom.
"Miss Portia?" her maid asked quietly, curtsying.
"Call an ambulance, Sharla!" she ordered. The maid nodded and hurried away. Portia returned her attention to Tom's unresponsive body. "Wake up, Tommy. Please. Wake up," she begged him. Off in the distance, she could hear sirens approaching.
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Portia paced the waiting room anxiously. Tom was getting his stomach pumped and her nerves were getting the best of her. Brigitte was at home with her grandparents and all Portia had told her was that Daddy was going to the hospital for a little while.
"Miss Mills?" Portia turned to face the deep voice calling her name. A middle-aged man stood behind her, clad in scrubs with a clipboard in hand. "I'm Doctor Schwartz." He held out his hand and she shook it briefly.
"How is he?" she asked impatiently.
The doctor chuckled. "He's fine. The procedure went well and he's just a little woozy."
Portia nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."
He smiled warmly at her. "You can go see him now, if you want. Fifth room on the right."
"Thanks." She started down the hallway, but a familiar voice stopped her dead in her tracks.
"Portia?"
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Tom opened his eyes slowly, the room coming into focus. White ceiling. White walls. Cold metal. Rhythmic beeping.
His heart skipped a beat and he looked around, quickly regretting the sudden movement. His head pounded its resentment and he groaned. Memories coursed through his mind.
Amber liquid. Glass bottles. Bright sunlight. Jude's still body attached to countless machinery.
Tom shut his eyes, hoping everything was one really bad dream. But as his eyelids open again, he knew it wasn't.
He really had a daughter. He really had hurt Jude. Jude really was in the hospital. He really had turned He really had turned to alcohol as the answer—something he promised himself he would never do again.
Was he ever going to stop doing things he was just going to end up regretting later?
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Portia spun around and spotted Kwest and Sadie standing in the doorway to the cafeteria. "Hi…"
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"It's Tommy. He…locked himself in the sunroom and drank almost a whole bottle of whiskey. He had to get his stomach pumped." She swallowed hard, trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.
Sadie scoffed. "What? Did he want to share a room with her that bad?" Kwest shot her a look and she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Sorry."
"Is he okay?" he asked. Yeah, Tom got on his nerves. Yeah, he tended to yell at him. But Tom was his best friend. And had been for a very long time.
"He'll be fine. I'm on my way to see him, now." Portia left the invitation open.
Kwest nodded. "I'll go see him later."
"I'm sure he'll be glad to see you." She gave him a sad smile and continued down the hall.
Kwest turned to Sadie and gave her a stern look. "I know you're mad at Tom right now, but Portia is obviously hurting. Could you show a little concern?"
Sadie's eyes widened and she laughed maliciously. "My concern is for my sister, who if you don't remember is on the verge of dying right now. If you want to throw a pity party for the reason my sister is unconscious on a hospital bed right now, go ahead. But I'm not gonna join you."
Before Kwest could even think of a response, Sadie turned on her heel and stalked back to the waiting room.
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Portia stopped outside Tom's open door, taking a deep breath. She and her daughter had finally completed her family and Tom had to go and almost destroy it. But he didn't, she reminded herself.
Stepping inside the door, her voice caught in her throat. "Tommy," she breathed. His face was a shade of off-white and he had a couple scrapes on his face and arms. Other than that, he looked completely calm and comfortable.
When Portia walked in, Tom looked up and half-smiled at her. "Hey, Portia. I'm so sorry."
Everything that she had thought about saying—everything that seemed reasonable—left her head. "What if 'sorry' won't cut it, Tommy? You have a daughter now! You can't just go and drink your problems away. There are consequences to your actions now. You screw up, your daughter's gonna know about it. You screw up, she's gotta deal with it too, okay?"
Tom ran his hands through his hair. "Okay! I'm new at this, okay? I've never been a dad. I've never had a dad. So, I'm learning as I go. Okay!"
Portia threw her hands up in defeat. "Well, you better learn fast. Because you don't get a lot of room for mistakes anymore." Sighing, she stormed out into the hallway, a surprising sight in front of her. Brigitte was standing by the door, a distraught look on her face.
"Mommy, I thought you said Daddy was going to stay around. And we were gonna be a family..."
Portia knelt next to her daughter. "Brige, honey. What are you doing here?"
"Grammie dropped me off. She's in the waiting room. I wanted to see Daddy." Brigitte looked up at her mother, a sad look in her eyes. "Mommy, is Daddy going to die?
Portia's chest tightened. "Oh, no, sweetie. Daddy's coming home tonight."
"Are we really gonna be a family, Mommy?"
Portia sighed and wrapped her arms around Brigitte. "Yes, Sweetie. Daddy made a mistake and he's sorry. Do you want to go in and see him?" The little girl nodded and Portia picked her up, carrying her on her hip. She walked into Tom's room, a smile on her face. "Look who I brought to see you!"
Tom's face brightened at the sight of his daughter and he held out his arms. Portia set her down on his bed and Brigitte wrapped her arms tightly around him. Tom grunted with the force, grinning at Portia. "Hey, Brige. How are you?"
"Fine, Daddy!" she replied, voice chipper. "Are you better?"
"Yeah, I'm all better. Ready to go home with you," he said, kissing the top of her head.
"Good. Will you read me a bedtime story tonight?" Tom stole a look at Portia, who was smiling at the two of them.
"Of course, Sweetheart." An uncomfortable coughing at the door broke up the moment. Portia looked up and saw Kwest standing in the doorway. She motioned for him to come in and Tom's face fell at the sight of his best friend.
"Brigitte, let's give Daddy and his friend some time alone, okay?" She nodded and Portia picked her up, carrying her out of the room. Kwest strolled over to Tom's bed, lips pressed together.
"So…" he said, searching for the right words.
Tom looked away. "Look, I know what you're gonna say, okay? You can save it..."
Kwest shook his head, a furious look on his face. "No, I can't save it. Tom, you're my best friend, and you have to know I'm saying this from the heart, okay? If you want to stay here...if this is where your heart is...then, fine. But...God, man! What's wrong with you? You think this how a good father acts?" He scoffed. "You're more like your father than you'll ever realize."
"Kwest, I...I screwed up..."
"No. You can save it." Kwest sighed, turning around and walking out.
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A/N – What did we think? Leave me a review! I'll try and get an update soon!