Fiction

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It was 1:15am the first time he called. I remember because the shock of hearing his voice on the other line had impaled the red numbers on my bedside clock radio into my brain.

“Aundrea?”
I place my hand on my chest in a futile attempt to slow my rapidly beating heart.
“Yea I’m here.”
“You’re asleep. I’m sorry-..” Jordan began apologetically.
“No, no, I’m awake.” I was more awake now than I had been all week. Sitting up in bed, I cradle the phone to my ear, not knowing what to do next. What do you say to the love of your life, after almost three years of silence?
I hear Jordan breathing on the other end of the phone and I wonder if he is having as much trouble speaking as I am.
“Is everything okay Jordan?” I ask. Something strange is happening in my stomach and I have the instinctive feeling that Jordan is not calling to catch up.
“He’s sick,” he says unsteadily.
The nervousness in my stomach turns into a huge knot.
“Who?”
“Daddy.”
I feel like someone has placed a weight on my chest and for a moment I cannot breathe. Now I understood why he has called.
“Where are you now?” I ask already out of bed and grabbing clothes from the drawer.
“St David’s.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

I met Joseph Carlyle long before I even knew Jordan. We had liked each other instantly. And when he had found out that my father came from the part of St George that he did, he was convinced that our families were meant to be together. Even after Jordan and I split, Joseph never left me. I had not seen him in a couple of months, but it did not matter. I could not have been more scared had I been going to see my own father.

By the time I pull into the parking lot of St David’s Memorial hospital my hands ache from gripping the steering wheel too tightly. Though I could not recall having seen Joseph sick before, the truth was, he was almost sixty, and any number of things could go wrong.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find Joseph Carlyle’s ward?”
The bored looking receptionist at the circulation desk types something in on the computer and then looks at me over the top of her glasses.
“I’m sorry Ma’am this patient is under restriction. Only close relatives are allowed to visit at this time,” she says, pursing her lips at me, “Are you -…”
“Yes she’s family,” A strong clear voice responds from behind me.
I turn around and for a split second I forget why I am here. As I stare up at Jordan I realize that it is the first time in years that I have stood so close to him. It is having a powerful effect on me. I have to remind myself to breathe.
“Of course Mr. Carlyle,” the woman says with a smile, her demeanor completely transformed, “You may go right up miss.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, and head after Jordan towards the elevators.
Apparently I am not the only person who Jordan has a strong effect on.


I always forget.
As I follow Jordan’s 6” 1” frame down the corridors to ward 8, I realize that I can never remember him just the way he is; which is why I find myself desperately memorizing every feature of his frame. And as I do, I remember why, after the break up, it had been necessary for me to avoid him like the plague. Though guilt tugs at the corners of my mind, I cannot help admire his strong shoulders and confident gait. I should be thinking about Joseph, not how good Jordan looks. Or how his cologne is making me light headed. As soon as I step into hospital room however, all thoughts of Jordan leave my mind.
“Oh Lord.”
I cannot help but stare at Joseph’s massive frame, buried in the white sterility of hospital bedding. He is Joseph Carlyle, but not the one I remember. I fight back the hot tears which sting my eyes as I step closer to the man who, for so many reasons, is my father too. I slip my hand into Joseph’s free one. His eyes open and he tilts his head towards me.
“Aundrea?”
“Yeah it’s me,” I say. I try to smile but feel instead the tears chase their way down my cheeks.
“Oh not you too,” he groans softly, “all of you out to start a river in here. Where were these tears when Jord’ crashed the truck last year?”
I laugh in spite of my self and am rewarded with Joseph’s warm smile.
“That’s my girl,” Joseph says. As I slip into the empty chair by his bed, I brush the tears from my face and clasp his hand in both of mine.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” Joseph says rolling his eyes, “Just trying to get a little rest. You practically have to fall over at work before those guys let you take any time off.”
I smile at his attempt to pass off his hospital stay as nothing. We both know that he is a workaholic, and that even though he owns his own renovation company, he rarely takes a day off.
“So tell me what’s going on with you. I’ve been asking about you for the past three weeks but it looks like I have to end up on a stretcher before someone goes and finds you for me,” Joseph says, looking purposefully over my shoulder. I glance behind me and see Jordan leaning against the doorframe, staring at some point across the room that has become fascinating.
“Well, I’ve been doing quite a bit lately,” I say turning back to Joseph. I tell him a little about my job at A&R Communications and how my father is doing. He is about to press for more, when a nurse, followed by Theresa Carlyle, enters the room.
“Okay Joseph, I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night,” the nurse says kindly but firmly, as she checks the monitors by his bed.
“Its time for you to get some rest.”
“I’ve been sleeping all evening and they want me to get more rest,” Joseph says to me in mock annoyance.
“I’ll see you later,” I say kissing him on the cheek. I glance at Theresa Carlyle who has taken a seat on the other side of her husband’s hospital bed. She pretends not to see me.
I am not surprised. She never liked me.
“Don’t wait so long to come next time,” I hear Joseph say as I close the hospital door behind me.
As I take a seat in the waiting area, I let out a breath I did not know I was holding. Jordan sits down in the chair across from me. He seems to have slipped into silent mode again, and I realize that I will have to be the one to initiate conversation.
“Where’s Courtney?” I ask, referring to Jordan’s oldest sister.
“I think she’s down in the cafeteria with Nigel.” There is another long silence between us.
“Anyone know you’re here?” Jordan asks, glancing up at me for the first time since he sat down.
“I left my mother a note.”
“Oh”
More awkward silence.
The last time Jordan and I were alone together I was eighteen years old. Now, four years later, it seems we have forgotten how to relate to each other.
“What happened…with him?” I ask quietly.
Jordan looks around the empty waiting room and rubs the back of his neck tiredly. I can feel the tension radiating off him, from across the room and I fight the urge to reach for him.
“Let’s go outside,” he says standing to his feet. He allows me to walk ahead of him, and we head down the corridors out into the cool early morning air.

It is almost 3am and activity outside the hospital is slow. The morning is quiet, and I can hear the gravel crunch under our feet as we walk in silence towards the parking lot.
I hoist myself onto the trunk of my car and Jordan leans beside me. His closeness is less intimidating in the darkness.
“I was at work, today, and at about 6pm, I get a call from one of the guys at the site with Dad.” Jordan’s voice is the epitome of calm. It is scary, because I know that it’s the exact opposite of what he feels. He continues without looking at me.
“They tell me that he collapsed on the site, and they had to take him here to the hospital. When I got here, they told me that he had a heart attack.”
“Oh god…” I whisper into the darkness. The tears are back again and I am glad that we are in the dark.
“When I told mommy, she just started crying and wouldn’t stop. When she got here a nurse had to give her a sedative to calm her down. The doctors say, the heart attack damaged his heart, and they have to do some tests to see just how bad the it is.”
The moonlight bounces off the angles on Jordan’s face. I can see his tightened jaw, the lines in his forehead, and the pulsating vein at his temple, but his eyes say nothing. Even now he still will not let anyone see inside.
This time I do not resist. I slip my hand around his upper arm and squeeze it gently. He does not pull away or even look at me.
“Remember when we all went to Blue Mountain, and that tree fell on Nigel’s leg?” I ask. “Your dad lifted the tree trunk off of Nigel, and Latoya called him superman.”
Jordan smiles slightly as he remembers.
“Yeah, she was about three then,” he says.
“I think she kinda got it right. He is really a bit like Superman. He always had that mustard seed kind of faith. But it was always enough to pull all of us through” I say reassuringly. “You got to believe that God will get him through this.”
Jordan looks at me and my heart breaks at the uncertainty in his eyes. He nods slightly. For his sake I hope I am right.

* * * * *

The clock in the reception area says 5:17 when I walk past it on my way to Joseph’s room. It is a week after the heart attack and today will be the fourth time I am visiting him. The doctors will let him go home in two days, with an appointment for a check up the week after.

If nothing else the heart attack has served to demonstrate just how popular Joseph Carlyle is. On my last two visits I had to wait 20 minutes for a group of his church members to finish praying with him before I could go in. I am fortunate today, as Nigel is the only one there when I get to the room.
“Hey Mr. Carlyle,” I say shyly from the door. He is sitting up in bed, looking as if his hospital stay really is an excuse for a vacation.
“Aundrea!” he says, waving me over to his bedside. Nigel grins at me from the other side of the bed.
“Hi Aundrea.”
“Hey Nigel,” I say, laughing at his boyish smile. He is only 15 years old, but he has already mastered the Carlyle charm.
“So, what are the Carlyle men up to today?” I ask, taking my regular seat beside the bed.
“Daddy is whopping my ass at chess that’s what,” Nigel responds, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture I recognize.
“You should know better than to play with him,” I say as I notice the chess board for the first time.
“Yeah you’re right. You win again daddy,” Nigel says getting up and stretching, “I’m going down to the caf’. See you in a bit.”
I watch Nigel exit the room before turning back to Joseph.
“So what’s today like?” I ask
“Better than yesterday,” he replies smiling. All our conversations start this way. He then launches into a mini diatribe about the doctors and the hospital food and how his company must be in shambles by now. I roll my eyes and humor him, knowing better than to take him seriously.
“So who’s the man in charge now that you’re not on the site?” I ask.
“There’s a guy I work closely with, and he knows what to do,” Joseph begins, “all the plans are pretty straightforward so things basically run themselves. Jordan stops by every now and then to see what’s happening, but we both know he only does it for my sake.”
“Yeah construction was never Jordan’s thing,” I say in agreement. Jordan had made it very clear from early on that he had no intention of following his father down that career path.
“He’s getting married you know,” Joseph says after a moment. I see him watching me, waiting for my reaction. I am used to people expecting me to fall over when I hear that particular piece of news. I have trained myself to do otherwise.
“Yeah, I heard about that,” I respond conversationally. When Casey had related the news the first time, an instant wave of nausea had hit me and I had lost my lunch down the office toilet. Jules had sent me home instantly. Joseph, however, did not need to know all that.
“Congratulations. You must be proud. Now there’s only Nigel left.”
Joseph glances at the wall ahead of him, a wry smile on his face.
“Its good to see him getting settled,” is all he says. Instinctively I know that I will spend the rest of the week wondering about all that he is not saying.
Talking about Jordan is not something I want to do with Joseph. No one was happier than Joseph, when Jordan and I were together. And even though years have past, sometimes when Joseph looks at me, I get the feeling that he still wonders why Jordan and I never worked out.

“You must be so proud of your children. I hear Nigel is doing really well in school,” I say trying to move to another topic.
“Yeah he’s doing alright.” His eyes shine as he tells me about the Nigel’s scholarship to a school in New York. His spirit is contagious and I cannot help but smile with him. Our conversation falls into a comfortable silence and I see Joseph looking at me strangely as if contemplating something.
“Are you happy Aundrea?”
The question comes out of nowhere and I fumble for an answer. I end up shrugging helplessly.
“The Lord knows I can’t complain,” I say.
Joseph sighs as a serious look crosses over his face.
“All I want in this life is for my children to be happy.” He looks at me strangely, as if trying to tell me something, “You too Aundrea.” He sighs again.
“It’s not worth it to do things just because you think you ought to do it. If it’s not God’s will, then it will never bring you any peace.”
I nod without saying anything
“You remember that okay?”
“Okay.”
He leans back against the pillows as if he has accomplished something, and the old teasing grin returns to his face.
“Now look over there in that gift basket and get the chocolate before the nurses steal it.”
I roll me eyes.
“Like I’m going to give you chocolate after you just had a heart attack.”
I reach for the basket anyway.
* * * * *

As I head out the hospital after visiting Joseph, I run into Jordan in the hallway.
“Hey you,” he says smiling at me. I am blown away. It is the first time I have seen him smile since the heart attack. As I think about it a little more, I realize it is the first time he has smiled at me in three years. I guess we are not mad at each other anymore.
“Hi,” I say. I cannot help but smile back.
“Coming from seeing Dad?” he asks. He tucks his hands in his pocket, in a move that someone who did not know him would mistake for shyness. I nod.
We stand in the corridor staring at each other.
“Well I’ll see you…”
“Aundrea,” he says, stopping me before I can walk away. I turn around and look back at him. I watch him weighing his words before he says them.
“Thank you…for being here with him.”
“I was just on my way home from work,” I say waving it away.
“No, I mean all the time,” his golden-brown eyes are piercing through me in that familiar way that keeps me from moving.
“He- we really appreciate you visiting him. He likes having you here.”
“I don’t mind it. But thanks,” I say. He nods and is off down the hall to Joseph’s room. As I head in the opposite direction towards the hospital exit, I give in to the temptation to look back at Jordan. When I do I am surprised.
I catch him looking back at me.

* * * * *

It is 12:30am when he calls this time. My cell phone rings twice and then stops. I do not bother to pick it up. I already know who it is. Slipping my socked feet into slippers, I walk through the house to the front door without turning on any lights. When I get outside he is already waiting. The car door opens and I quickly slip inside to escape the cool night air.
“Hey.”
“Hey Jordan.”

We have been carrying out this routine for the past three weeks. He comes to my house in the middle of the night, and I come outside to him. He never comes inside. We sit in the car and talk for hours until the sky lights, or until one of us falls asleep. When I first told Casey about his visits (about a week and a half after they began) she chewed me out properly about it.
“You know he’s using you right?” she asked
“He is not using me. His father is sick, and he just needs someone to talk to,” I say pathetically.
“That’s what his family is for, and his friends, and his fiancé! My god ‘Drea do you even realize that what the two of you are doing constitutes cheating? And you all call yourselves Christians!”
“Casey, please!” I exclaim as I watch her cutting carrots in her kitchen, “how is it cheating? We haven’t done anything. I haven’t even hugged him for Pete’s sake.”
“Oh no, what you’re doing is much worse. Your giving each other your souls.” I roll my eyes. Casey always had a flair for the dramatic.
“Think about it ‘Drea,” she continues, “you guys spend about three hours talking during the night, for about three nights a week. That’s nine hours!”
She throws her hands in the air in exasperation.
“You probably know every single thing that’s going on with him. Probably more than that poor clueless fiancé of his.”
“Casey...”
“Don’t Casey me. Why can’t you guys talk to each other in the daytime? Why hasn’t he introduced you to his fiancé? My goodness ‘Drea, you’re usually the cynical one. Doesn’t the term ‘thief in the night’ mean anything to you? And I won’t even mention Jed.”
“Casey it’s not a big deal, its just talking,” I say unconvincingly.
“Maybe for him,” she says softly, with pity in her eyes “but ‘Drea babe I know you. And I know that you’re still hung up on this dude, even though you say you’re not.” I get an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. I know that she is right.
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt. What happens when his father is better and he doesn’t need you any more? How are you going to handle that?”

As I sit here in the car with Jordan I hear Casey’s words ringing in my head, just like they have every other night I have been out here. And just like every other night, I push them away.

It has been almost a month now since Joseph’s heart attack. The damage was minimal and the doctors say he will be fine as long as he adjusts his diet and gets proper exercise. They also told him to stay in bed for a couple weeks. Of course, Joseph has been sneaking into work for the past week and a half, claiming that the company would fall apart if he was not there watching; at least that’s what Jordan says. He keeps me up to date with Joseph’s recovery.

At first the visits were mainly to talk about Joseph, how he was doing, and how Jordan was coping. Somewhere along the way we stopped pretending that they were only about that. Now we were talking about everything. He told me about getting transferred to his company’s head office, and I told him about my promotion at A&R. I talked about Jed, and he talked about Shauna and the wedding plans. I probably would have made Jordan stop coming a long time ago, but I was too weak, and the feeling of him needing me was too addictive. I could not help myself. I was drowning and I did not care.

As I sit in the car, it begins to rain. The conversation tonight has gotten really intense, and I feel like the rain has trapped me.

I hear Jordan sigh heavily beside me.
“What happened with us ‘Drea?”
Jordan has not called me Drea in 3 years, and the sound of my nickname on his lips is a bit to intimate for my comfort.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, “I can’t remember.”
A silence falls over us as the rain beats rhythmically on the car roof.
“Are you happy?” I ask. I cannot help it. It is a dangerous question, one that will only serve to complicate an already twisted situation. But ever since Joseph asked me I could not get it out of my mind.
Jordan sighs and seems to struggle for words.
“I thought I was,” he says and my heart beats a little faster.
“But it’s like…” He pauses and rubs the back of his neck nervously
“Casey thinks you should be talking to Shauna like this instead of me,” I say, in a false show of backbone. He sighs. Again.
“I can’t. Not the way I talk to you,” he mumbles guiltily.
“Why?” I ask, “Have you ever tried”. He looks out the window his side, then turns to look at me.
“You know how sometimes, I’ll say something, and you’ll understand what I’m saying before I even finish?” he asks.
I shrug silently
“With her it’s different,” he says looking away.
“And then….a lots of things are not so clear anymore...”
“Oh God,” I whisper, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. The knowledge that I am not the only one on this emotional rollercoaster does not bring me as much comfort as I thought it would.
“This is bad, isn’t it,” he asks quietly. I sigh heavily, wishing I had not allowed the conversation to go in this direction. No good could come out of this.
“I don’t know Jordan. I’m the worst person to ask about relationships. Look at me. I have boyfriend who worships the ground I walk on, and I’m out her in the middle of the night with you.”
“This is really screwed up,” Jordan says turning to look at me.
When my eyes lock with his, my stomach tells me what is going to happen next, and so I am not surprised when Jordan’s lips touch mine. It is a kiss that has been coming for three weeks, and the anticipation is so great that I literally feel like I am losing my mind in the very instant. He cradles my face in his hands, and my brain goes numb. Later when I tell Casey about it, I will say I knew it was wrong. But right now, as my lips are connected to his, I don’t even know my own name.

My head is spinning and I stumble backwards out of the car into the pouring rain. Jordan gets out almost as quickly.
“Aundrea...”
“No Jordan. You can’t… It’s too late. We’re with other people. I can’t…”
My tears mix in with the rain which has gotten heavier and which is now soaking me to the skin.
“Aundrea…”
His voice is pleading with me and I know that if I stay out here and listen to him, I will be lost forever. That was always the problem. I could never resist him. I could never say no.
“Go, Jordan,” I say with the last bit of composure I have, “and don’t come back.”
I stumble into the house and pull the door closed behind me as the rain continues to pour. I do not hear his car leave.

* * * * *

It has been two months since the Jordan fiasco (that is what Casey calls it). Life has pretty much gone back to normal, except that every time I see a silver 2005 Honda Integra, my stomach does flip flops.
“A&R Communications, Aundrea Davis speaking.”
“Hey girl have you seen today’s paper?” Casey asks across the phone line.
“No, why?” I ask reaching for the newspaper that has sat untouched on my desk all morning.
“Open up to page 3.” I quickly scan the page, and my blood runs cold as my eyes stop on the third paragraph of the society ie gossip section.
“Casey you don’t think…”
“It’s him.”
“Oh Lord.” My hands are shaking so hard that I drop the paper on the desk.
“What’s got you so worked up?” Jules asks as she passes by my desk. When her eye catches the open paper she leans in to get a better look.
“Broken promises…” she murmurs.
“Oh yes, I heard about this,” she says springing to life, “It’s that Carlyle-Rodham wedding. Apparently the groom broke it off, canceled the wedding, the engagement, everything.”
Jules is leaning on my desk now, enjoying the opportunity to share a juicy piece of gossip.
“I hear the mothers were furious. It’s a wonder they both didn’t kill him”
But I do not hear he rest of Jules’ story, or even Casey shouting at me through the phone. Everything is secondary to the ringing in my ears.
Jordan cancelled the wedding.
My stomach has had about all it can take. I pull the waste bin out from under my desk. And then I lose my lunch.
Again.

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