Unexpected Places

"Hi, my name's Summer Jamieson," I said quietly, reaching the front desk, "I'm Mark Jamieson's daughter, could you tell me what room he is in please?"

I hitched my bag a little further up my shoulder, looking around the familiar hospital. I hadn't been here since my Mom died.

"He's in the ICU, on the fourth floor, room 16," said the nurse at the desk, typing at her computer, "Elevators are over there, stairs are just up there."
"Thank you."

I made my way toward the stairs, ignoring the elevators completely. I hurried up the stairs, a little breathless as I reached the fourth floor. I walked cautiously down the hallway until I reached his room. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The last time I had seen my father, he looked strong, angry as he drunkenly knocked me around. Looking at him lying in that hospital bed, I saw him as weak, small and helpless. I stared at the tubes running from his arms, nose and mouth, that kept him hooked up to machines to keep him alive. I slowly made my way towards the chair at the side of his bed, and sat down slowly, still staring at my father, not able to comprehend that he was the same man I'd left behind.

"Hi Dad," I finally whispered.

I didn't know if he could hear me, I didn't care if he could or not, I just felt awkward sitting there in silence.

"This is weird..." I muttered to myself, "You know, I haven't been here since Mom died? And here I am, having to go through all this again, only with you."

I looked at his face. His still, unresponsive, face, the beeping of his heart moniter telling me he was still alive. He looked like he was sleeping, but I knew he wouldn't be waking up anytime soon.

"You're probably going to blame me for this," I said, looking away, "For leaving you alone. I had to get out though. I couldn't stay and put up with your abuse and watching you drink yourself to death!"

If the circumstances were different I knew he would probably have dealt me a blow around the head for "giving him cheek" however, I found this rare opportunity to actually tell him all these things that had been on my chest since my mother had died, even if he couldn't hear me.

"I remember at Mom's funeral, you promised me everything would be fine, and we'd be alright as long as we stuck together and you know what, Dad? I fucking believed you. I thought that you and I would get through Mom's death together and come out of it stronger than ever. I loved you, Dad, and you repaid me by drinking yourself senseless every night...I can't help it that I look like her, Dad. I'm sorry I was a constant reminder of her every time you laid eyes on me."

I ran my hands through my hair angrily, my eyes filling with tears. I stood up, suddenly.

"I can't deal with this right now," I choked, walking towards the door.

I left the room and saw a sign for a cafeteria on the floor below. I sped down the stairs and quickly found the cafeteria. I bought myself a coffee and sat down at a table, my head in my hands, my eyes filled with tears, occaissionally taking a sip of the burning, hot liquid. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and I pulled it out, looking at the Caller ID.

Peter.

"Hello?" I answered hoarsely.
"Summer!" exclaimed Pete, "Why haven't you been answering your phone? We've been calling like crazy."
"Sorry," I whispered.
"It's alright, we're just worried about you," he said softly, "Have you been to the hospital yet?"
"I'm there now," I mumbled.
"What have the doctors said?"
"I haven't talked to any of them," I replied, "I couldn't stay in the same room as him, Pete. I can't do this...I can't...I can't be here!"

I broke down, sobs wracking through my body, tears rolling down my cheeks.

"Summer, sweetheart, calm down," came Pete's urgent voice, "Listen, one of us will get the next plane out there, okay? You don't have to do this alone."
"No, no, Pete, you can't, you..."
"Summer?" It was Spencer, he'd obviously taken the phone from Pete.
"Spencer?"
"Listen, the Butcher knows most of Panic's songs on the drums and can easily fill in for me, thanks to his mad improv skills, okay? Please, let me fly out to be with you? I'm so worried about you."
"Spence...I-"
"PLUS, you know you'll feel better as soon as you set eyes on my sexy ass," he joked.

I smiled weakly.

"Okay," I whispered, "But just you."
"Just me," he said, "I promise."
"Thanks Spence."
"No problem," he said, "And to be honest, I've already got my ticket, so I would have been coming even if you said no."
"What?" I asked, stunned, "But..."
"My flight gets in at 8 tonight, I'll see you then."
"Spence..."
"Bye, Summer," he said, "I love you."
"SPENCER!"

He hung up.

"Cocky little bastard," I mumbled, wiping a stray tear away from my cheek, but at the same time there was a feeling of relief washing of me, at the prospect of not having to go through this by myself.