Susan sat in her car in front of the ostentatious house and stared at it. She wished she didn’t have to go in. But she’d made the commitment, so she heaved a reluctant sigh and grabbed her makeshift medical bag.
As she approached the structure, which was reminiscent of the White House, she curled her lip in disgust. She’d hated living here as a child, and she hated it now. Her mother had insisted on a house that stood out, and she’d gotten her wish, setting the family in probably the most unimaginative mansion she could find.
Susan knocked on the huge carved wooden door, something she doubted most people did when returning ‘home,’ and half-expected a butler in a shiny tuxedo to answer, bowing his bald head as he admitted her. Instead, her mother opened the monstrosity. Susan hadn’t thought the tiny woman capable of moving something that large and solid.
“Hello, darling!” her mother gushed, spreading her arms, bracelets jingling. She hugged Susan as if nothing was wrong and wore a bright smile.
Susan patted her mother’s back with her free hand and backed away as quickly as possible. “How is Dad this morning?”
Her mother’s face fell into a mask of pity. “Oh, darling, I’m so worried!” She moved aside, and Susan finally stepped inside the marble foyer. Her mother’s voice echoed off the empty walls and vaulted ceiling. “He didn’t eat last night, and he was in so much pain. He’s done nothing but doze this morning since breakfast, and his breathing is raspy.”
Susan traipsed after her mother, whose hands fluttered as she walked quickly. Ever the drama queen. They climbed the winding staircase to the master suite, and Susan stopped dead in her tracks.
That couldn’t be her father lying in the oversized California king bed. Amidst luxurious piles of pillows, the man in the bed was gaunt, pale, and seemed frail enough to break a bone just by turning his head. The man Susan remembered was large, muscled, and intimidating.
“Dad?”
He turned to look at her, coughing, and she could see the yellow tint of his skin when she approached. Jaundice? She swung her head around to scowl at her mother. “How long has he been sick?”
She recognized her mother’s guilt instantly as the woman stuttered and refused to meet her gaze. “I’ve told him for over a week now he should see a doctor. But he insists he doesn’t trust any of them.”
Her father laughed behind her, the sound rattling his lungs.“They’re all drunks,” he wheezed. “They’re going to tell me it’s because I drink too much. It’s compromised my immune system, and I just can’t seem to kick the damn cold. That’s all, sweetcheeks.”
Horrified and angry, Susan shook her head and addressed her mother in a cold tone. “It’s not even nine in the morning. Are you really serving him booze at this time of day?”
“It eases his pain, darling. I—”
“You’re an enabler,” she interrupted. Her brow wrinkled as she studied her father again. “Just because you made mistakes doesn’t mean all doctors are going to risk their careers like you did, Dad. You need to see a doctor. This is more than just a cold.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “Write me a prescription, then. Give me some antibiotics and a couple of pain pills. I’ll be just fine.” His breath smelled like a distillery, stale liquor spilled on concrete floors and never mopped.
Susan blanched. “Christ, Dad, you need food, not alcohol.” Her rage settled deep in her chest. She would have thought that losing his license would teach him a lesson, but apparently, Dr. Steve MacGregor was his own man and intended to drink himself to death. Or maybe he truly believed he was invincible. It wouldn’t surprise her. “I can’t write you a prescription, Dad. I’m not a doctor yet.” And may never be. It was this behavior precisely that made her a joke in the medical community. Like father, like daughter. How many times had she heard that over the past few years?
“Isn’t there something you can do?” her mother asked. “He would be so embarrassed if he had to go to the doctor in this condition.”
Susan scoffed. “He wouldn’t be in this condition if it weren’t for you. Can’t you see what’s happening here? He drinks his meals, he’s lost too much weight, and there’s something desperately wrong with his health. Whether or not that’s related to the drinking is irrelevant. I can’t help him because I don’t know what’s wrong. We have to get him into the ER.”
She watched her mother’s expression shift to anger. “You think this is my fault? All I’ve ever done is take care of everyone! And in return, I become a horrible, sadistic person who ruins everyone’s lives.”
“Don’t play the victim here, Mother. And don’t pretend we’re talking about anything else. I’m only focused on one thing right now, and that’s the fact that Dad has to be treated or he’ll die, right here in this bed.” She was sick of her mother’s selfishness and self-absorbed attitude. Everything in the world revolved around her, and if attention was focused anywhere else, she’d find a way to draw it back to her. “Now, can you help me get him to my car? You don’t even have to come with us if you’re too embarrassed to be seen with him.”
But her mother just crossed her arms and turned away. “I’m not going to help you. My sciatica will act up, and then I’ll be the one in the hospital.”
Susan’s father flopped one hand on top of hers. “It’s fine, honey. I don’t want to go to the hospital. I’d rather just die here. Pour me another finger of whiskey, and I’ll drink until I’m not breathing anymore. Then your mother can call for the coroner to carry me, and neither one of you have to hurt your backs.”
Furious, Susan shoved her father away, stood, and stormed out of the room. She reached in her pocket as she walked away. Her mother skittered along behind her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m calling 9-1-1.” Susan was going to get her father the help he needed, regardless of his indifference and her mother’s neurotic behavior.
“Don’t you dare! I don’t want those people in my house!”
Susan whirled, and her mother nearly crashed into her. “Those people? I hate to tell you this, Mom, but I’m one of those people. And it’s my duty as a paramedic, not to mention as his daughter, to get him the help he needs. If you get in the way, I’ll lock you in a guest room until it’s done.”
Her mother huffed and puffed and made indignant noises but finally just went into the bathroom and slammed the door without another word. The operator answered, and Susan asked for an ambulance, reciting the address, as well as her credentials. The bus arrived in less than ten minutes, and it took Susan and the two large men to move her intoxicated father to the gurney, where they strapped him down tight.
Her mother came out at the last minute in a full face of makeup and with her hair done. She climbed into the back of the ambulance to accompany her husband to the hospital. Just before the doors closed, she shot Susan a hateful glare, and Susan turned away, closing up the house and climbing in her own car. There was no way she was going to stay at the house, especially since her mother would be calling Emma, Susan’s sister, any time now.
No, she’d go to the hospital to make sure her father was checked in, see that the doctor in charge knew the circumstances, and then she would leave. She had to work tonight, and she was already missing a class today that would leave her behind the curve. It was the last thing she needed. She’d check in later, when there were some test results or some kind of news to give her.
Instead of going home, she went to the station, deciding she’d rather sit there, with some of the firemen who actually liked her than stew for the next three hours at home alone until her shift started.