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Fanon:An Old Goth's Tale: Difference between revisions
→Chapter VII:
imported>WayfinderOwl (No longer paused. I am writing the next chapter right now.) |
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Mortimer put the phone down, and cried for two reasons. One, his daughter had found someone that she could marry. Someone that he approved of this time. Two, he would never be rid of that cat now. It would torture him during his final days. Some cats lived to be twenty. He couldn't possibly have that many years ahead of him.
==Chapter VII: Confusion==
Most kids get a party for their thirteenth birthday. Instead Alexander Goth got the biggest scare of his life.
Mortimer had not gotten up and prepared the breakfast he promised. The aging Goth had woken up, he just found it difficult to get out of bed. His head ached, along with his heavy limbs. Everything looked hazy and distant. Even words were hard to form, during the many times he tried calling for help.
The next few hours of his life were a blur. He was sure he saw Cassandra leaning over him, with her hand on his forehead, telling someone that he had a fever. Then something heavy on his chest, as if that damn cat had come to finish him off once and for all.
Three paramedics looking down at him, and lifting him onto a stretcher. Then nothing, until he lay in a hospital bed, with only a heart monitor to listen to.
The doctor told both Cassandra and Alexander about what was wrong with their father, but they understood very little of it.
“Please, doctor, just tell me... will Father,” said Cassandra, but the rest of the sentence caught in her throat. With her mother gone, she didn't want to have think about her father gone as well.
“We are running tests. All symptoms indicate a stroke,” replied the doctor. “We are doing all we can. Your father is a strong sim. I am sure he will make a recovery.”
Cassandra turned to her brother and gave him a hand full of simoleons. “Alex, go down to the cafeteria, and get the first cake you see. You know Father will want to see you blow out the candles.” In truth, she didn't want her younger brother to hear anymore. He was far too young to have to listen to this.
Alexander took the simoleons, nodding his head. He understood why his sister was trying to get rid of him.
As soon as Alexander was out of earshot, Cassandra turned back to the doctor. “Is my father ever going to leave the hospital?”
“It is too early to say,” said the doctor.
Mortimer lay in the bed in his cotton gown, confused about what was going on. Muttering the names of his children, but it came out like distressed mumbles. The only word that he could speak was “Bella.” He couldn't go yet. Not without seeing her face one last time. Not without telling her that he had only ever loved her. That he never stopped.
People came in and out of the room. First Cassandra and Alexander with a cupcake with a single candle, that his son blew out. Then that man Cassandra was courting, Adrian Gardener. Nothing would have pleased Mortimer more, than to give Adrian his blessing to marry his daughter.
Late in the dark hours of the night, when all the nurses had left him alone, Mortimer began to grasp where he was. His fever had gone down. Whether it was a real or just an hallucination, he was sure that a woman had come to visit him. One that made him feel safe and at ease. His gaze remained fixed on her eyes. Those eyes were so familiar to him. As if he had seen them a million times before.
Cassandra and Alexander visited him every day. The mysterious woman visited him every night. Some days Mortimer was responsive and aware of his visitors, others he wouldn't have known they were there even if they slapped him around the face.
Alexander stopped by after school, and brought with him things to make his father feel more at home. The blanket from his bed. Photos of Bella, himself and Cassandra. Sometimes he would just sit there on one of the chairs, reading a medical book, hoping that his father was aware of him. Other days he would talk about the girl he met in Twikkii Island, Cecilia.
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