6. - – Elias
CHAPTER SIX
-
ELIAS
I stared at the ceiling, finally surrendering to the prison this hospital room had become.
Clara made everything easier. Life simply had more gravity with her in it.
Once she broke the news of my daughter’s death and showed me my social media posts, the fog began to lift.
Pieces of my life were returning, slowly, but surely.
Still, the officers' comments about an argument just before the accident haunted me.
I needed to know who I was yelling at, and why.
The entire scene remained a blurred smear in my memory.
I couldn't shake the feeling that whoever they were, they were at the center of whatever the detectives were looking for.
I wish my neighbor would have given them more information.
My thoughts kept drifting back to Clara.
I hyperfocused on how her blue eyes held my gaze just a second too long as she turned to leave.
I watched her in my mind… the sway of her ponytail, the soft swing of her hips, the way her breast felt in my hand.
I let my mind linger there, my breath hitching then slowing as the image took hold.
I ached for her to be back in the room. Instead, I was stuck with Nurse Groucho.
She didn't subscribe to the cheerful nurse act. In fact, if I dared to press the call button, she looked at me like I’d just ordered her to run a marathon and bring me back the gold.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoed down the hallway.
That could only mean one thing: the officers were back.
I wondered if they’d actually found something, or if they were just circling back at this hour to catch me off guard.
It certainly felt calculated. Maybe someone had gone as far as to tip them off to how close Clara and I were becoming and they were trying to catch me when my only source of clarity was gone.
There was a loud thud on the door masquerading as a knock and suddenly there were in the center of my room, staring me down like I had already been convicted of a crime I had yet to commit.
I attempted to sit up. “Good evening gentlemen.” I smirked. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit at this hour?”
Detective Hill’s eyes grew tight. “I think you know exactly why we are here.”
“To tell me my daughter has passed?” I cleared my throat. “You could have brought the detail to my attention before. Instead, you let me believe she was still alive while you knew better and took advantage of using that info to go check out my house.”
Miller rolled his eyes. “Tell us about the dolls.”
The dolls. I hated those damn things. Lydia used to collect them. Receiving one every year on her birthday for as long as I could remember. We never knew who they were from. I tried to advise against her keeping the creepy things. It felt stalkerish.
“Oh, wow. She’s gorgeous.” Lydia picked up the newest doll left on our front porch. “Isn’t she pretty, Elias?”
I sighed. “When are you going to finally stop accepting these gifts from a random stranger?”
She looked at me with disappointment in her eyes. “Elias.” She paused. “You know, I’ve been getting these every year on my birthday since I was a girl. I’ve always thought they were gifts from my real father. Letting me know he was still around even if he couldn’t be the man I needed in my life.”
“What if they’re not?” I inquired. “How does your dad always magically know where you live?”
She shrugged. “Maybe he wasn’t the bad person he was always made out to be.”
I raised my brow. “If he really cared, he wouldn’t hide behind these things.”
“Elias, have I ever told you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me? Taking me in and making sure nothing bad ever happened?”
Looking up at the ceiling, I scoffed. “Something just feels off. That’s all.”
Lydia walked over to me, and I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her on the forehead. “Happy Birthday, kiddo.” I glanced down at the doll and took note of how much it looked like my daughter. Weird.
I guided her over to the glass doll cabinet a friend of mine had built for her. I needed something to contain these things so they didn’t spook me at all hours of the night. “Does she have a name?” I asked, carefully opening the doors so Lydia could place her inside.
She smiled. “Not yet, but I’ll think about it over lunch. Where are you taking me this year?”
It was tradition. Every year, I took her birthday off? work to spend with her.
She always asked where I was taking her even though every year I took her out for a special steak and lobster dinner.
Lydia would alternate between a baked sweet potato or a loaded baked potato.
She always had a side salad with honey mustard dressing, no tomatoes.
A week after this particular birthday, she was gone.
Detective Miller cleared his throat. “You expect us to believe your phony story?”
I shook my head. “No, but I wish you would stop harassing me and find who’s actually responsible.”
“Why didn’t you get rid of them if you hated them so much?” Hill cut in and Miller gave him a dirty look.
“You have kids, why don’t you tell me.” I raised my brow, challenging one of them to answer. “Lydia may not have been my biological daughter, but I still loved her as my own. Even though I knew she was never coming back, I still didn’t want to change a thing.”
Silence.
“Oh come on, you mean to tell me neither of your kids have something they collect?”
Miller shrugged. “My daughter collects stickers, and if anything happened to her, I’d throw them all out, they take up unnecessary space.”
I took note of Hill nodding in agreement. “So, you agree you’d also throw away your daughter's collection?”
He didn’t respond, but I knew the answer.
“It’s a matter of perspective, really,” I said, leaning back as much as the hospital bed would allow.
“The difference between you and me is simple. I actually cherished Lydia as my daughter.” I could see Detective Miller shifting uncomfortably on his feet.
“To you, a daughter is just a trinket to leave on a shelf and forget until you need to show it off.
I treated her like a rare gem. I suppose that is a bit out of your league, isn't it?”
“Why I outta…” Miller lurched forward, Hill stopping him before he made a mistake that could cost them whatever case they thought they had against me.
Holding his partner back, Hill inquired, “What’s up with you and Nurse whats-her-”
“Clara,” I cut him off before he had a chance to finish his sentence.
How dare he. “Listen, Detectives. Lydia has been gone for four years. I loved her as my own. I asked for her when I finally woke up. You gentlemen knew she had been gone and Clara is the one who broke the news to me gently after being trapped in this bed for days. My relationship with her is nobody’s business. ”
“So, you admit there’s a relationship?” Miller pulled out his notepad and started taking notes. I wished I could have seen what he had written.
Hill turned and nodded in my direction without looking at me. “Thank you for your time.” The men turned and left the room, their boots clomping across the linoleum as they left.
I felt relief once they were gone but I desperately needed to see Clara’s face and know she was okay. As soon as I finished explaining the dolls to them, a new detail came to mind.
Even after Lydia’s death, they never stopped coming.