Chapter 10 Genetics and Genomics #2
The personalities involved were simply too big and set in their ways. Thus, logic didn’t always apply.
Martin had inquired about a VIP suite the very same day we arrived and had been told there were none available.
Diya, who’d returned my messages Saturday morning, tried to pull some strings to no avail, but she did stop in to check on all of us and translate doctor speak when Kaitlyn’s father wasn’t around.
Both Andreas and I had also tried to persuade hospital administration to find space in the VIP area. The answer had been the same: We have no rooms.
Until . . .
Kaitlyn’s mom was a sitting United States senator and her father was the dean of the college of medicine at a major California University. Once these facts were discovered Sunday morning, the hospital not only had magical availability in the VIP area, they’d offered the suite’s use for free.
Kaitlyn’s mom did not want to accept the offer. The woman had always been extremely rigid about right and wrong and perception of professional ethics.
Rather than engage in an argument about it, Martin had simply accepted the offered suite, but insisted on paying for it himself, out of pocket, reserving it for an entire month for our use, even though Kaitlyn hadn’t yet been transferred from the ICU.
I supposed, in New York, there were plenty of rich people. But in the entire USA, there were only a hundred United States senators, and even less than a hundred who advocated for universal healthcare.
As an aside, the irony was not lost on me that I had a security team of three because of Andreas’s brothers, but Senator Parker—who received constant death threats—had no security detail.
“I think at a fundamental level, Senator Parker and Kaitlyn’s husband have two extremely different ways of looking at and approaching the world,” I finally said in response to Tara’s question.
Ignoring Andreas’s steady—albeit, slightly frosty—gaze, I grabbed the diaper rash cream and squeezed a significant amount onto my fingers. Joey had a bath last night, but the delay in changing his diaper from two days ago meant he still had little red pinpricks of irritation on his backside.
Tara stepped closer and asked quietly, “I don’t get it. Mr. Sandeke paid for the suite and Senator Parker still requested a regular room for Kaitlyn. They even argued about it in the hall.” As though appealing to Andreas, she added, “You heard them too, right?”
I didn’t see if Andreas nodded or what, but he didn’t respond with words.
Smearing the cream on Joey, I shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter. Martin is her husband. He gets to make the decision. Kaitlyn will be transferred here, to this palatial VIP suite, when she’s out of the ICU.”
Martin Sandeke would never be above or below receiving special treatment, and in my opinion, his attitude about always wanting and accepting the best for his wife, himself, and his kid was actually really good for Kaitlyn. He balanced her out.
“But wouldn’t a mom want the best for her daughter?” Tara sounded truly perplexed. “Kaitlyn has been through hell recently. What’s wrong with accepting the suite?”
Pulling Joey’s foot from his mouth so I could fasten the new diaper, I quickly handed the baby a toy meant to distract him and I spoke without thinking too much about my words.
“Like I said, it’s complicated. Wanting the best for your kids is sometimes ensuring they don’t receive special treatment.
That’s essentially the difference between parents and partners, right? ”
“How do you mean?” This question came from Andreas.
My attention flickered to him then back to Joey.
Part of me was surprised at my verbosity in front of Andreas.
Though I appreciated all his help with Joey, and how he’d met Diya at my apartment and packed me a bag so I could stay at the hospital, and the calming quality of his steady presence, and how he’d been a great distraction for Kaitlyn’s parents and a surprisingly effective sounding board for Martin, we weren’t on friendly terms. At all. And that went both ways.
The longer we’d spent in each other’s company, the chillier and more reserved he’d grown with me. Perhaps he was finally getting tired of my glares and short answers and cold shoulders.
Good.
But, right this moment, with my hands full of wiggly baby and operating on less than six hours of sleep in two days, I was too tired to care about talking so much in front of him. I didn’t have the energy.
“Well, parents—or rather, in my opinion, good parents—want what’s best for their children, and that sometimes means withholding special treatment when they don’t believe it’s earned or justified, or if they think it’s a corrupting influence.
Or, in Kaitlyn’s mom’s case, an injustice in general.
Senator Parker actively advocates for universal healthcare on the senate floor.
Of course she’s not going to want her daughter to stay in a free VIP suite just because Kaitlyn is her child.
I think I’ve heard Senator Parker say to Kaitlyn a few times, ‘Having the best isn’t always what’s best.’”
Tara snorted softly. “That sounds like my dad. He says that kind of shit, too.”
I sent her a quick smile then finished buttoning Joey’s onesie.
“But partners—and good friends for that matter—are always going to want the best for the people they love. They’re not wondering if the existence of VIP suites are an injustice, or a corrupting influence.
They’re simply thinking about how to improve the life of the person they care about the most.”
“So, you agree with Mr. Sandeke? I mean, you agree with Kaitlyn’s husband?” Tara bent, picked up the toy Joey had just thrown, and set it on the coffee table.
“In this case? Yes. Mostly because we’re talking about Kaitlyn, who never takes or asks for the best for herself. She’s always putting herself last, because that’s how she was raised. She was taught that to those who much is given—”
“Much is expected?” Andreas guessed, drawing my attention again. His gaze had become somehow . . . heavy. And his tone had been ice-cold.
Giving him a quick glare, I redirected my attention to Joey and picked him up with one arm while searching for a new toy from the diaper bag with my free hand, preferring one that hadn’t fallen on the floor.
“Yes. But also, to those who much is given, they must never put themselves first. They must use their gifts, talents, and money to help those who are in need first rather than spending all of it on themselves.”
Andreas stepped forward, knelt next to me, and held the diaper bag open wider, asking, “Were you raised that way?”
I reasoned there was no harm in responding. “I guess I was, when my parents were alive. But by the time my grandma became my guardian, I . . .” I sighed.
When I found the toy I wanted, Andreas moved himself from the floor to the couch, reaching for and taking Joey into his arms without asking. “Go wash your hands,” he said. “I’ll hold him.”
Slicing Andreas another dirty look, because under no circumstance was I going to go wash my hands now that he’d told me to do so, I reached into the diaper bag and pulled out the disinfecting hand wipes. I cleaned my hands with them while glaring daggers at Andreas.
Get a load of this a-hole. Ordering me around. Who the hell did he think he was? HE STILL HADN’T APOLOGIZED!
Meeting my dirty look with an absolutely epic one of his own—I mean, the man deserved every meme made about him—Andreas allowed Joey to tug and gnaw on his jaw while he asked, “Do you think your reluctance to have or keep nice things is because you don’t believe you deserve them?”
My teeth slid to the side, I blinked once slowly, and I felt my mouth curve in a mean smile. What. An. Asshole.
Meanwhile, Andreas maintained eye contact unflinchingly. Patiently, even. His smile also looking a little mean.
Tara cleared her throat, as though to remind us both that we were not alone. I ignored her.
Apparently, so did Andreas, because he felt the need to add, “You have no furniture in your new apartment.”
“I have a mattress.”
“And no frame. Why can you not let yourself have nice things? Why do you not let people care for you?”
Zipping the diaper bag closed with more force than necessary, I wadded up the used disinfecting wipes and placed them on the corner of the coffee table.
He would hate that I didn’t immediately throw them away.
Then I sat on the couch next to him and Joey, facing them, and telling myself to ignore his questions because the answers were none of his damn business.
Except, I wanted to answer. Perhaps the impulse was so strong because I was so tired. Or maybe it was due to the emotional roller coaster of the last seventy-two hours.
Whatever the reason, I responded honestly, “I don’t think I don’t deserve nice things. I think it’s because nothing really lasts, does it?”
“Why does that matter? Why deprive yourself of something you want, of something you might love, and all the experiences that come with it, and all the enjoyment, just because one day it might not be there? Then you are left with neither the memory nor the thing.”
Joey made a sound of frustration and smacked Andreas on the shoulders.
Impatiently, I reached forward and turned Joey in Andreas’s arms. “He likes to face outward, like this.”
Andreas allowed me to reposition the baby, but caught me by the wrist before I could withdraw, his eyes narrowing, growing fierce. “Answer my question. Why does it matter?”
“Because the memory of having something good that didn’t last is really fucking painful. Why get used to having nice things when they can so easily be taken away? Or turn out to be nothing but a lie?”
Andreas’s hand tightened on my wrist and we glared at each other for another exceedingly long and hostility-filled moment.
Peripherally, I was aware of Tara excusing herself, and her departing footsteps.
When the door closed behind her, Andreas, Joey, and I were the only ones left in the room.
I was about to twist my arm out of his grip, but Joey bent his head, cupped my hand, and began biting and drooling on my fingers.
And then, because he must’ve wanted my wrath, Andreas said, “I am not the only one who lied.”
What. The. Fuck.
Resigned to holding this position until Joey lost interest in my hand, I ground out, “I know. I lied to my friends. And, guess what? I apologized. Unlike some people.”
“You also lied to me.”
I blinked, flinching, feeling my spine go ramrod straight as though I’d been struck. “I—I lied to you? What the hell are you talking about? When did I lie to you?”
Joey laughed and clapped around my wet hand, his legs kicking as though he was delighted by the screechy quality of my voice.
“You said no strings. You said no feelings. Friends with benefits.” His voice was low and lethal and held more than an edge of anger, possibly even resentment. Tilting his head subtly, his gaze skated over my face, as though hungry for my reaction. “Did you lie?”