Chapter Seven : Waiting
1502 Words
The hospital was not too quiet today; there was a family crying very loudly outside a room and while a girl brushed past me in a hurry, a woman was cursing out her husband who was rushed into the emergency unit because he had an accident with his mistress in the front seat.
Velazi walked a few steps ahead of me, his shoes echoing against the polished floor. The fluorescent lights above us hummed softly, and the smell of disinfectant clung to the air.
I slowed my steps, watching as some staff hurled her away, her grief reminding me of my own mother when she found out about Mark and his mother. For a moment, I considered turning around.
Mark wouldn’t know I was there. The doctors had said he was unconscious since the morning he was attacked.
Velazi stopped walking and turned to look at me.
“Sir,” he said quietly.
I knew that tone; it was as if he could read my thoughts. I sighed and kept walking.
The ICU waiting area appeared at the end of the corridor, and I could see them before they saw me. Grandfather sat in the center of the room like a statue carved from iron, his cane rested beside his chair, his hands folded over the handle.
A few men that worked for him stood near the wall, speaking in low voices. They fell silent when I stepped into the room.
Then Elena turned.
Her eyes widened slightly when she saw me and she stood up as if in shock, as if she had been waiting for me. Grandfather followed her gaze and when it rested on me, his expression hardened.
“So you remembered where the hospital is,” his voice was deep.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, “I heard you wanted me here.”
Grandfather studied me for a moment, the silence stretching longer than necessary, “Where have you been?”
I shrugged, “Out.”
A faint murmur moved through the men standing nearby, Elena shook her head in misery and Grandfather continued, “Your brother has been lying in that ICU for days.”
“He’s unconscious,” I replied, stone cold. “He wouldn’t know if I arrived yesterday.”
Elena inhaled sharply, “Rod…”
I glanced at her, “What?”
“If the situation were reversed,” she said quietly, “Mark would have been sitting in that chair all night waiting for news about you.”
Something in my chest tightened but I shoved it down immediately. “Well, I can't be in that bed to start with.”
Grandfather’s eyebrows drew together. “It could have been any of us.”
“They probably wanted the heir.”
Elena shook her head slowly. “You are being cruel.”
“No,” I said. “I’m being honest.”
I gestured toward the ICU doors, “Mark is the future of the company. Everything is about him, Grandfather loves him, in fact willed a greater percentage of my father's wealth to him even when he is not the legitimate son, it is only normal that the assassins attack him…”
Grandfather’s cane struck the floor with a sharp sound.
“That is enough.”
But I wasn’t finished.
“You want to pretend this is about family?” I said. “Fine. But we all know the truth.”
Elena’s face had gone pale, “Rod, stop.”
“Why?” I smirked. “No one else will say it.”
Grandfather rose slowly, with very great effort and studied my face for a bit, “He is your brother.”
“Half-brother,” I corrected.
The silence that followed felt heavier than anything said before, even the men in black suits looked at me like I had lost a nut or two.
Elena pressed a hand against her temple. “That has never mattered to him.”
I looked away, “Well, it matters to the rest of you.”
Her voice softened, “If Mark were awake right now and saw you standing here, the first thing he would do is ask if you were alright.”
The image flashed through my mind without permission; Mark sitting up in the hospital bed, asking about me before anyone else and my jaw tightened.
“He’s not awake,” I shot at her and before anyone could respond, I turned and walked out of the waiting area. Without thinking, I ventured to the restroom, pushed the door open and walked straight to the sink. I gripped the edge of the counter and stared at my reflection, counting one to a hundred under my breath to clear the tension.
A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. I wiped it away angrily; angry that they had gotten this part of me, angry that they almost got emotions out of me, angry at myself for being soft to them. Mark deserved it! His mother deserved it too. Even Grandfather.
“This is stupid,” I muttered. But the tears kept coming so I leaned heavily against the sink and brawled my eyes out. Mark had never treated me like a half-brother and yes, he would have visited me at the hospital everyday if it were him.
My chest tightened painfully.
“Damn it,” I whispered as I splashed water on my face.
Now, my reflection looked slightly better. I straightened my shirt and left the restroom. As I turned the corner toward the ICU waiting area, I immediately sensed something had changed.
The quiet tension from earlier had vanished. People were standing anxiously; voices overlapped on one another's and nurses moved quickly past the doors.
I frowned and walked faster.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I reached the group.
Elena looked at me, her expression bright and hopeful. For the first time, I noticed that tiny bit of makeup she had applied.
“He moved,” she said.
“What?”
“One of the nurses saw it,” she continued. “Mark’s finger moved.”
My heartbeat quickened.
Through the glass window of the ICU doors, I could see doctors gathering around his bed. Grandfather stepped closer to the glass, his eyes almost watering.
“Is he waking up?” I whispered.
A doctor came out briefly and spoke to Grandfather in a low voice. He mentioned increased neurological response and possible sign of recovery before disappearing back into the ICU.
Inside the room, one of the nurses lifted Mark’s hand and we all watched, my chest feeling tight again.
A moment passed.
Then the monitor beside his bed began beeping faster, a nurse spoke urgently and another screamed orders while a doctor moved to the head of the bed.
Elena grabbed my arm and I felt her shaking from shock so I held her to steady her and looked at Mark again.
Inside the ICU, Mark’s hand twitched again. I stood there, unsure whether to move or stay still as everyone watched him carefully, like a funny specimen from the lab.
His face tightened slightly, like someone struggling through deep sleep.
Then his lips moved and a weak barely audible sound formed.
“…Sta…”
The doctor leaned closer.
“What was that?”
Mark’s brow twitched.
“…Sta…cia…”
A whisper dragged from somewhere deep inside him.
“…Stacia…”
The doctor straightened slowly.
The nurses exchanged confused looks.
“Who’s Stacia?” one of them murmured.
I turned to Grandfather and Elena and from the confused look they gave me, they too had never heard that name before.
And Mark said it again, still with his eyes closed, “…Stacia…”
One name.
A name my brother had whispered like it mattered more than anything else, the first thing his subconsciousness fought hard to say.
“Stacia.”
- Writer
