Chapter 21 #2
“How was church?” I ask, attempting civility.
My mother launches into a story about how one of the women in her bible study was caught having an affair with her gardener.
I nod and hum along appropriately as we eat.
Then she moves onto family gossip about the people we’ll see tomorrow.
Parker and I don’t say much and quickly finish our food.
Parker removes his insulin pump from his pocket, something that's become so normal for me to witness I usually don't even notice, but my father scoffs loudly, glaring at him. “Young people and their phones, I swear, Mary. The men at the office can’t stay off theirs for an entire meal either. They don’t even realize they’re being disrespectful,” he says to my mother like we can’t also hear him.
“That’s his insulin pump, Father. I told you Parker has diabetes,” I defend, already so drained by this short interaction with him.
“Parker, what is it you do again?” he asks, completely ignoring my comment as he turns to him, still glaring.
“I’m the CFO of Caldwell Hotels,” he says, sounding polite, but I know him well enough by now to know how annoyed he’s getting. My parents give approving hums, nodding like this is new information to them and not the sole reason they haven’t demanded I end things with him to marry Arthur.
My father must decide Parker is important enough to complain to, focusing on him as he continues.
“I’d bet you deal with a lot of bullshit from your employees too.
Just last week, we were expecting a shipment of new supplies and had another delay.
The office manager, this gay Latino kid who’s probably way too young to be in charge of anyone at, like, twenty-five—no doubt a diversity hire—had the audacity to blame the weather.
If you know your supplies are coming from the north in December, make a fucking plan for that.
Don’t come crying to me now that we’re going to be over budget and behind on our timeline. ”
And this is why I despise spending any time with this man. I respond before Parker can say anything. “Father, that man’s race, age, or sexual orientation have no impact on his ability to do his job. They were completely unnecessary details to include in your complaint.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was just describing him so you could have a visual. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There actually is something wrong with it. You sound racist, homophobic, and like you’re discriminating based on his age. If you talk like that at work, I’m shocked you haven’t had HR complaints.”
He just humphs out a big sigh, rolling his eyes again.“I swear, the more time you spend in that city, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
Yeah, that’s kind of the whole point.
“Honestly, darling, you should know better than to talk back to your elders like that,” my mother adds, in her fake, sweet tone.
And on that note, I’m so fucking done with them. “Well, as much fun as this has been, I think we’re ready to call it a night,” I announce, pushing my seat out from the table. Parker follows me, and my mother calls something out about making sure we sleep in our own rooms.
It’s still pretty early for us to actually go to bed, so we decide to watch a Christmas movie in the home theater. Parker is appalled that I’ve never seen Christmas Vacation, so we put it on. It’s pretty funny and works as a great distraction.
Parker is quiet during the movie, which isn’t unusual for him, but he seems restless—getting up for more water or going to the bathroom a couple of times during the movie.
I know being away from Oakley today has been hard on him, but I don’t think he’s ready to talk about it.
He pulls out his phone, reminding me of my own, and I realize I was still recording.
Holy shit.
I wonder if the comments about his employee would be enough to threaten him with. I debate sending Arthur the video, but I should probably call him so we can actually talk through my plan instead of sending a random out-of-context video taken from inside my pocket.
I send Sage a few updates on the day, and when the movie ends, I show Parker back to his room, not wanting him to get lost. I’m distracted as we walk, hoping Arthur will still be awake by the time I make it back to my room.
But when we get there, Parker practically runs into his en suite, and I forget all about my other plans as he violently throws up.
“Holy shit, Parker. Are you okay?” I ask, rushing into the bathroom after him. “What do you need?”
I’m wondering if maybe it’s food poisoning or if he upset his stomach with all the water he’s been chugging tonight.
I’m not expecting him to answer “the hospital,” and my heart drops as I fumble to pull out my phone to call an ambulance.
If he’s asking for the hospital, I’m not messing around with finding the keys to borrow a car here.
My heart rate shoots up even more when I see that after the day of travel, and that long recording I took during dinner, my phone’s battery is nearly dead.