Chapter Nine
Rogue
I woke up in the morning in a fucking good mood. For my first night out of prison, it wasn’t half bad. I didn’t think that Claire could be so fucking amazing and I was looking forward to us living together from now on.
My good mood lasted up until I stretched my arm out, and felt nothing where there should have been a warm, soft body.
With a frown, I blinked my eyes open and squinted. The room wasn’t all that bright with the curtains still drawn, but my eyes still stung. It was pretty clear, though, with a single glance that I was alone on the bed.
“Claire?” I called out, frowning as I pushed myself up.
I listened out, but I couldn’t hear her anywhere else in the apartment. I got out of bed and went to check. After going around the whole place, I was sure there was no one else in the apartment.
“What the fuck?” I muttered, heading back to the bedroom.
Where the hell did she go? I was exhausted after last night. I’d been pretty pent up, and I’d used her to my heart’s content, not that she’d complained once, asking for more every time. I wouldn’t have minded going a few more rounds in the morning, which was why I was kind of disappointed to find her gone in the morning.
Couldn’t she have woken me up and told me that she was fucking leaving? What was I supposed to do alone at her apartment? Did she lock the door? I went around again, stopping by the kitchen, and noticed the food in the fridge and the keys on the counter. Probably to the front door. When I saw them, though, I didn’t even feel like going out.
I had been locked up for three years, and this wasn’t an area I was familiar with. I also had absolutely no cash on me, so if I went out, I would have to walk, and it would be a pain if I got myself lost.
It wasn’t the first time I’d woken up to find a woman had walked out on me the morning after sex. Usually, it was me doing the walking, since we either ended up in a hotel or the woman’s home. The only reason I wasn’t hunting her down was that I knew Claire would have to come back.
As to why she left in the first place? When I saw the time on my phone and realized it was a weekday, I remembered. This wasn’t a prison anymore. Claire had a job to go to, so if she’d waited for me to wake up, she might have been late to work.
A job. When was the last time I’d even though of the concept of a job? I knew if I needed money of my own, I would need to find one eventually, but I decided to be lazy for a while.
First, I went back to the bedroom and jumped into the bed. I moved to lie down where Claire must have been sleeping, breathing in as I pressed my face to her pillow. I smiled a little, thinking it smelled like her and closed my eyes to take a nap.
When I woke up again, it was lunch. So I went to cook, and then I ate, and then I was bored again.
Shit.
Television? Who the fuck cared about that. When I wanted entertainment, it was always found on the outside, so I didn’t do stuff like watch TV or listen to the radio very often. I needed to get out of the house. But still, no money. I figured Claire had to have some in the house, so I looked around until I found it in the drawer in the kitchen.
“I can use this, right?” I mused, staring at the cash.
It was a lot more than what I’d expected. But if I wasted it all, she’d probably find out and get mad, and try to get me to pay her back.
Whatever. I’ll just look for a job or something later; she had to understand I had jack shit, right?
There was no other option. I took the money, what I thought would be enough, then I took the spare keys and went out. I ended up on the street and walked until I found a taxi.
I went to the hospital my dad should be at. I hadn't asked, but Claire would get mad if I bothered her while she was at work, and I didn’t have Hannah’s number, either. It was the nearest hospital that should have the facilities Dad needed, so I didn’t think I was wrong.
“Here you go, kid,” the driver said when he stopped in front of the hospital.
I looked up. Shit, I hadn't even noticed when the car stopped, because I was suddenly wondering if this was a good idea. My Dad was in there, most likely dying, and I wasn’t sure it was something I wanted to see. When I last saw him three years ago, he had been healthy and disappointed. I didn’t doubt that the only thing would have changed the healthy part, and that would probably hurt.
There was no point in sitting inside the taxi, though, so I paid up and got out. I walked slowly inside, looking around. It was a pretty big hospital, and there were a lot of people going around. I found the reception and walked up. I waited until the nurse behind the desk looked up from her computer. She was a bit older, so she acted professional. It was pretty usual for me when women reacted to my appearance, but right then, I appreciated it.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“I’m looking for Richard Rest. I’m not sure if he’s a patient in this hospital?”
“Who are you to the patient?” she asked.
I flattened my lips grimly, hesitating for a second. “I’m his son.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Ah. Let me check that for you.”
She sat back down, and I waited as she checked through her computer. After a minute, she looked up.
“We do have a Richard Rest admitted, what is your name and I will see if you are on the visitor list.”
“Rogue. Rogue Rest,” I swallowed as I said my name. I`d never been so nervous about saying my fucking name.
“Yes sir, you are, I have it right here.”
I nodded my head as she stopped typing after a few seconds and said that my name was on the list.
I fucking didn’t recognize my voice as I asked, “Does he have cancer?”
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. I knew Claire wouldn’t necessarily lie to me, but I had to have the nurse confirm if it was true.
She sighed, “Yes, he does. I’m sorry to say.”
I avoided her stare as she confirmed that Dad was dying.
“Can you tell me what his room number is?”
I didn’t know what expression I had on my face then, but the nurse looked sympathetic as she gave me the room number, and I went on my way. She’d given me clear directions, so I went into the elevator, and down a few halls, until I stopped in front of the right door number. The door was slightly open, and I took a slow step forward.
Beyond that door was my dad. I hadn't seen him in so long, and I hadn't been prepared to see him this soon once I got free. I didn’t think he wanted to see me, anyway. But I remember the last words he said to me, and that look on his face when I ended up going to prison. I didn’t want that to be the last thing that passed between us. No matter what happened, or how unreliable he’d been when I needed him most, he was still my dad.
Slowly, I raised my hand to push the door open further, but I stopped when I heard someone speaking inside. The voice was too low for me to catch any words, but it sounded familiar. I shifted forward a little to peek through the door.
I didn’t see the bed, but I did see her. Claire’s mom, Hannah. She was on a chair by the bedside; hand outstretched toward the bed.
Whatever piece of courage I’d managed to muster died just like that. It was chicken shit of me, but I backed away because there was no way I could go in. I couldn’t face her any more than I could face my dad, and the two of them there made things even harder for me.
I left without getting to see him and hurried back to the apartment. All the way back to the apartment, I kept telling myself to go back. I’d been to jail, I was supposed to be fearless. That was a fucking myth about ex-cons. The thing was we were more scared of everything including going back in the slammer.
Why?
Because, there were some dudes in there who had been in there so fucking long that they were scared to come out. So much had changed on the outside and their reality was to stay in the slammer.
None of us wanted to be one of those. We wanted to come out and stay out, not be good, just not be caught again.
All the way back to the apartment, I kept thinking about going back the slammer, could be an excuse to not accept what was going on, on the fucking outside. Once, I reached the apartment I knew that there was no turning back and I felt like a fucking chump. So, I went to lie down and slept the afternoon away.
When I woke up again later, there was still some time before dinner. I still had nothing to do, but I did perk up because at least Claire should be about ready to come back. I didn’t know anything about her work hours, but she could only get back so late, right?
After taking stock of the kitchen, I picked out a few ingredients so I could cook dinner. Something that I missed in the slammer. Not being in the kitchen and cooking, it was my cooling agent when I was drinking and gambling.
I worked slowly, while feeling a burning in my chest. Freedom was the best. When was the last time I even cooked? It wasn’t something I particularly liked doing, but just the fact that I could do it made me feel…not necessarily happy, but comfortable. I’d learned to cook pretty early on after Mom died because Dad was always busy and we weren’t so well off that we could hire a maid. It was one of the few things I was good at.
I cooked and waited for a bit for her to make it back. I only managed twenty minutes before I got so hungry I sat down to eat.
Another hour passed, I’d already washed my dishes and covered her share so it wouldn’t cool, but I was starting to get angry. She was late. It was past nine already; she should have been back. Even more, time passed, and by the time I heard a set of keys jingling outside the door, I was pissed.
What the fuck?
Past eleven and she hadn’t even call. Then again, she snuck out this morning. I should have taken the hint that she didn’t want to spend time with me. Let alone to sit down and fucking eat with me. I fucking shouldn’t have done it. As I threw it in the trash and then got a drink and passed out on the sofa. I should have done that the moment I came home and thought about Dad instead of fucking cooking like an idiot.