There was a long stretch of silence, making me wonder what was going on in that troubled mind of hers.
“We need to talk, Drake!” she finally pressed on, sounding more agitated. “If I say we need to talk, we have to fucking talk. How hard is that to understand?”
There it was. She had finally broke.
“Okay, I’ll give you five minutes of my precious time since you’re so bent on ‘wanting to talk with me.’ The clock starts right now.” The hospital was about a five minute drive, depending on traffic. Given that there was still a slight effect of the morning’s rush hour, I would say it would take me ten minutes to get there.
As I waited for her to talk, I could hear her loud breaths hitting the phone’s receiver, sounding as if she was hyperventilating. Since she had some serious temper problems, wouldn’t they have given her some sort of medication for such things?
A guy I roomed with back in college who had a serious bi-polar disorder was meticulous about taking his medication. I respected him for the fact that he was keen on making sure he didn’t go bonkers while around people. In this day and age, self-denial could be very deadly. With all the shootings and killings going on in our society, it was safer to make sure the people who needed extra care and attention got it before they snapped. Because, if they didn’t, horrific things could happen.
In the back of my mind, I somehow felt responsible—obligated even—to make sure Shannon was properly diagnosed. If she had any illnesses, I needed them to be attended to properly. I would even pay the bills, just as long as she kept herself safe. By doing so, it would make the people around her safe, too … most especially Lily.
“Shannon, are you still there?” I broke the eerie silence that was stretching too far to be comfortable.
Her panting accelerated, making me think something was going on with her. Was she using street drugs? I hadn’t considered that. Being around Hollywood, there was a lot of that going around.
“Why?” she asked in a mere whisper. “Why do you do this to me?” Her voice was a little shaky, alarming me even further.
Clearing my throat, I gripped the wheel as I tried my damnedest to focus on the traffic ahead. “What did I do?” I asked as gently as I could, knowing very well what she was so upset about.
“Why did you choose her? She’s not even that pretty; she’s too plain for you. I deserve the position as your wife because I’m way prettier and could offer you so much more than she ever could. Don’t you see that, Drake? I was hoping that giving you space would make you see that, but it doesn’t look like you have.”
Women, why did they think it all came down to looks?
Fuck! She was talking like a mad loony, and I wasn’t sure what to say to her anymore. I knew I shouldn’t let her get to me, but the things that came out of her mouth were vile. How had I ever imagined marrying the horrid person? Thank God for Lily, or I would be stuck with this mad bitch for life.
“Shannon, honestly, I don’t think you deserve an answer for such a stupid question. Take a deep breath and relax. If you like, I can send you to the favorite spa that you adore in Palm Springs. It’s on me. Take a week of just taking care of yourself. It might be for the best.” Women always jumped at a week’s paid, five-star spa get away that came with free Botox and whatever “mild” alterations that didn’t require surgery.
“Oh.” She paused. “You’d do that for me?” she asked sweetly, touched by my random gesture. “I know you care about me a lot still. I know that, baby. You don’t even have to tell me that you do because I know, deep down, you will always love me. But with her in the picture—she makes it harder, doesn’t she?” She dramatically sighed. “Well, I would love to go to that spa, but you have to promise me that, after a week or two, you’ll see me for drinks. It’s the only way I’ll go.”
The woman drove a hard bargain. Here was to hoping she would forget in two weeks’ time. Hopefully.
“Call me when you’re back. We’ll talk then.” Hanging up the phone, I blew out my lungs, thanking God I had dodged the bullet on that one. Well, I supposed I didn’t all the way dodge it since she was still bent on pestering my life. However, once I got everything situated, I would speak to the doctors that evaluated her. Hopefully, then I could breathe easy. I could only be grateful for God inventing vain women because, without that lot, it would be hard to get rid of certain past lovers who didn’t understand what it meant when a relationship was over.
Hollywood was infested with these sort of ladies. Those types tend to be full of themselves. So when a guy decides to end the relationship, they simply brush it off, go to the bar and meet a new guy to replace us.