I Dare You Pt 08

Mads began her day not in the lab but in the garage of the school, getting ready to replace the hoses for her power steering finally. Shining the light into the engine, she saw the clear evidence of leaks of her reddish fluid. She checked the levels and saw it was basically empty.

"You gotta be shitting me," Mads said, then groaned in frustration as she prepped the legs of the lift under her car before lifting it up. Taking a step under she shined the light up and found the return hose line for the power steering and saw it was now near fully disconnected. Following it to the rack and pinion she saw a hairline fracture where it connected to the steering column. It looked like just another day or two of driving and her steering would have been dead altogether.

Suddenly her dad jokingly it would really suck if her rack and pinion assembly broke came to mind.

"You jinxed me dad, thanks," Mads said, then sat in a chair by the main office where she rented tools from. "There goes a few hundred."

After checking the prices on rack and pinion assemblies, along with a new pump because she might as well replace the entire thing, Mads went into the office and asked if she could leave her car in the parking lot until her parts came in. She was told this would not be a problem.

Walking across the campus to get to the lab, Mads heard her phone begin to ring in her pocket before she opened the door and saw it was a number and not a name. The area code was from back home like her own number, but she had been receiving a lot of spam calls spoofing a similar number to her own the last few months, so declined the call and walked into the building.

Mads' phone went off again as she was sliding her lab coat on. Holding it up she saw it was the same number. She pressed the button on the side of her phone to turn off the ringer but let the call go to voice mail.

Mads gave an awkward wave to Regina who was examining cocoons, using a light that allowed to see inside without having to open or damage it. Sitting in her own chair, Mads heard her phone chime, indicating she had just received a message of some kind. Checking her phone she saw it was a voice mail so slipped it back into her pocket.

Since Regina had told her she needed some time to consider a relationship, Mads had just taken that as a simple no. Never once in her life had a girl under similar circumstance chosen her. They always picked a guy. Now that she had been with two men, she understood that decision better than she had in the past.

Having sex was incredibly fun, and if that physical ecstasy could be coupled with emotionality, it was a no brainer. Mads admitted to herself she enjoyed having sex with men. York more than Greg, but that was the same as preferring Jill over Sally. Sex with York wasn't entirely emotionally vacant either. She truly cared for him, and sex seemed to be an expression of their friendship. She knew it meant more to York.

They still spoke, but he was noticeably distant. York did have a lot on his mind however. He had already told her he was planning on breaking up with Heather, and admitted it wasn't entirely because of Heather. What a strange love dynamic.

Heather wanted York, York wanted Mads, Mads wanted Regina, but it didn't go the other way for any of them.

All of this ran through Mads' head as she tried to focus on her paper, but it was impossible. The problems with her car, her feelings for Regina, York and Heather, it all swirled together into a chaotic mess. Her phone rang again, startling her enough to make her jump.

"Geez," Mads said softly, a little angry it scared her. It was the same number, so this time she finally hit answer. "Hello?" She asked, not even trying to mask the aggravation in her voice.

"Is this Ms. Madison Somerton?" A female voice asked.

"Speaking," Mads said, waiting for this person to annoy her with a claim that a warranty she did not have was expiring.

"My name is Fiona from Graniteville Country Hospital, you were listed as the emergency contact for Maxwell Somerton. He is listed as your father, is that correct?"

Mads stopped breathing and nodded, then remembered it was a phone call.

"Yes, yes," Mads said, her voice stammering in shock.

"We've been trying to reach you for several hours. Your father suffered a heart attack last night and was brought in. He is stable..." Fiona said, and Mads barely heard the rest. The room began to ring as she tried to fix her hearing clinching her eyes shut. "Ma'am?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Mads asked, trying to not choke up and had to leave the room when Regina looked over at her. She stepped into a different part of the lab and closed the door.

"Your father is stable, but he did suffer additional injuries," Fiona said, and Mads leaned against the door and wiped the tears off her face. "He may need additional care after he is discharged, will you be able to assist?"

"Yes," Mads said, not caring about her schedule, she'd fix that later. "I live about five hours away," She said as she stepped back out and walked through the lab, dropping her coat off at the hook at leaving through the main door. "But I will leave as soon as I can."

"I will let the doctor know, thank you and I hope your father has a speedy recovery."

Mads hung up and got down the stairs of the building to enter the quad when she heard Regina shout her name.

"Mads, Mads!" Regina shouted, Mads turning over her shoulder and seeing she was followed by Regina in her lab coat. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Mads said, wanting to tell her, but not wanting to at the same time. She did not want to drag her into this. If Regina was someone who helped her through this crisis, then the inevitable conclusion would only be that much worse.

"Are you sure?" Regina asked, the expression on her face and the tone of her voice conveying genuine concern.

"Yeah, no, no, it's...it's nothing. I just need to go home. Some family stuff," Mads said, and could instantly tell Regina was not convinced. "My dad is in the hospital, nothing crazy, I'm just going to spend a few days with him." Somehow the little nugget of truth in the lie made it infinitely more believable.

"Okay," Regina said, her voice low, wondering if she should really accept that answer as the truth. "Let me know how he is when you get there."

"I will," Mads said, giving a smile then turning around again.

Mads was so out of focus upon leaving she did not even realize her car was still in the shop undrivable, and walked back to the apartment which took her nearly a half hour. Upon arrival she swung the door back, but the door didn't latch shut fully. Moving quickly to her room she went to her knees to look under her bed and drag her suitcase out from under it.

Mads barely comprehended what she was throwing into the suitcase. She opened her closet and threw articles of clothing into the suitcase, half of it not fitting or still on the hanger. Sliding open the drawer for her undergarments, she took a handful of bras and panties and dropped them into her suitcase, most spilling out when the pile dumped over.

"Mads, you here?" York's voice came from the door of the apartment. "Doors open."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Mads shouted back while looking over her shoulder, his voice snapping her out of her daze. When she turned her head back to the suitcase, she saw the mess and groaned, "Fuck."

"You going somewhere?" York asked, seeing her suitcase and the clothes sporadically placed in and around it.

"Just home for a few days," Mads said, taking a deep breath to focus on truly packing and not throwing things in panic.

"Why, what's up?" York asked, Mads turning around and trying to fake a smile. She failed miserably. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure, because you've been crying," York said.

"What, no," Mads tried to lie but York walked over and with his index finger scooped a tear that stuck to her cheek and showed it to her.

"I've seen Heather cry over a hundred times. I've seen you cry once. Just tell me," York said, Mads looking down, releasing an audible gulp, then looked back up to him.

"My dad had a heart attack," Mads finally said.

"Oh damn, is he okay?"

"He's stable, but I need to get down there," Mads said, then remembered her car. "Fuck."

"What?" York asked, concerned it was something worse.

"My car," Mads said, putting her face into her palms and letting out an aggravated breath. "Long story short my car is out of commission. This sounds like a lot, but can I borrow your car? I'd take Heather's but her car is a death trap."

"I'll go with you," York said.

"You don't have to do that. You have school and work."

"I can miss a few days. Also my car is stick shift," York said, Mads scoffing.

"You saying I can't drive stick? I'm a licensed mechanic," Mads said, York's face displaying his knowledge she was bluffing. "Alright fine, I can't drive it well."

"I'll pack a few things," York said, leaving her room to get ready.

"Fine," she said, though she knew he was out of ear shot.

-

Mads house was five hours away, and to pass the time on the drive they sat in silence with each other. York tried to start the conversation a few times but would receive a single word response and would try again in another twenty miles.

York was concerned for Mads, because this was the most disturbed he had ever seen her. Most things in life just fell off her like water on goose feathers. This had drawn blood by contrast. It was the moment he understood how much her father truly meant to her. He was possibly the only person in the world who could generate this kind of response in Mads.

"What does your dad do?" York asked, Mads continuing to lean her head against the window and watch the telephone poles flash by. She recalled when she was a child she would pretend her index and middle fingers were the feet for a running man who have to jump over the poles during long trips to pass the time. She did it a few times, laughing at herself on how stupid that made her feel.

"Running man, jumping over the telephone poles?" York asked, Mads looking over at him, his smile slightly contagious, making her smirk and look away so he wouldn't notice. "I used to do that too."

"Sorry, you were asking?" Mads asked, wanting to give a real conversation a go.

"What does your dad do?"

"Train mechanic," Mads said with a smile, "But he can fix anything."

"He taught you, right?" York asked, and Mads nodded.

"He started teaching me stuff when I was fifteen, within the first year I was living with him. I slammed my door a lot after we'd fight," Mads said then changed her voice to a deep mockingly manly tone. "You slam that door one more time young lady, and I'm taking it off the hinges!"

"Did you slam it again?"

"Yep."

"And."

"Took the damn thing off the hinges," Mads replied, making them both laugh. "He came home, and it was back on the hinges."

"What?"

"He taught me how to fix things. He walked past my room and wasn't sure if he should be proud or pissed."

They both laughed again, Mads wiping her eye a little. That was before her father was her best friend, and so many of her good memories were before that. It really showed her he was always the good guy, and she was just a teenager.

"Your dad sounds like a funny guy," York said, Mads nodding a little to agree.

"He's a riot. Don't get me wrong, he can be a mother fucker too, but even when he's that, he's that for a good reason. I was just a twat," Mads said, York smiling wide. "What about your parents?"

"My dad is a trial lawyer, prosecution, and my mom is a divorce lawyer," York said, Mads voicing her intrigue. "Sometimes my dad would talk to me like we were in court. I would always throw my backpack down next to the door, and he would later ask me if I did my homework. I'd lie, because I'm a kid, and he'd hold up my bag like it was something he was requesting to enter it into evidence. 'Is this your bag' I'd say yes, 'so we agree this is your bag'."

"Your mom," Mads asked, giggling at his father's legal skills.

"She'd remind me never to get married in a state that still had permanent alimony and always get a prenuptial agreement," York said, sadly realizing his parents seemed rather cold compared to her father.

"They disappointed you aren't on a legal track?" Mads asked.

"I think so, but they don't say that they are," York said, remember the holidays with questions loaded with passive aggressive remarks that he wasn't in law school. His parents were trained to talk directly and articulately for a living, had not given him many straight answers growing up. He would say something inaccurate and unlike some parents who would humorously address it, his parents corrected him immediately, forgoing euphemism, and even as a kid he knew to feel patronized by it.

"My parents are...they're fine," York said, Mads having a feeling he was holding back his feelings again.

"York. I know when you're bullshitting me."

"My parents are arrogant elitists who belittle people who aren't like them," York said, shocked that he said that out loud. "Honestly, they'd take one look at your dad's working boots and look down their noses at him."

"Yikes," Mads said.

"They can be assholes," York said, turning off the highway at the exit the GPS said. They were about a half hour out now, Mads telling him he could turn it off now.

Mads directed them to the hospital to the best of her memory, having only been there a few times growing up. It was simple enough to follow signs, and finding parking was easy near the main entrance. Mads opened the door and shut it quickly, walking fast ahead of York who locked the car and jogged after her. Mads entered the building, the sliding doors removing themselves from her path.

The woman at the desk looked up at her when Mads reached the counter and immediately asked where her father was.

"Madison?" the woman asked, Mads nodding.

"Your father is in recovery on the second floor, elevators to the right, I'll call the doctor now and let him know you're in route," the woman said, Mads thanking her and jogging to the elevators with York coming in shortly behind her.

The elevator docked at the next floor, Mads stepping out first and looking in both directions. To her right was another reception desk and a man in a white coat looking over a few files then seeing her approaching.

"Ms. Somerton?" Mads nodding. "He's out of the woods, and he's stable. Your father also had a nasty fall when it happened, he was on the top of the stairs when it started. Bruised ribs, a concussion, and he broke his right wrist. He exacerbated the injury because he had to crawl back up the stairs to retrieve his phone to call an ambulance."

"Jesus dad," Mads said, the doctor leading the way to escort her to his room.

"I need your help in stressing to him rest and recovery. You know better than I do he is a proud and stubborn man. He can take a vacation once in a while, he needs to eat better, exercise, very basic things. I would hate for this to happen to him a third time," The doctor said, shocking Mads who didn't react externally.

"I will," Mads said, the doctor gesturing toward an open door that Mads walked through.

Maxwell was under a thin sheet with a an IV in his arm and a drip. The left side of his face was bruised and his right wrist was in a cast. Under the sheet his torso was also bruised but covered in wraps. He was conscious with tubes providing him oxygen nasally. Max turned to the door when she walked in, and smiled.

"Hey kiddo," Maxwell said, Mads grabbing a chair and sliding it across the room and sat next to him. She grabbed his casted hand and started crying a little just from seeing him in that state. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You had a heart attack," Mads said, Maxwell shrugging. "Dad, is this your second one?" Maxwell looked away, but Mads reached over, grabbed his chin and pulled it back. "Dad."

"I didn't want to worry you."

"Too fucking late for that," Mads said, wiping a few tears off her face. "Why didn't they call me the first time?"

"It was after the first one I was required to have an emergency contact."

"Dad, you're fifty four, you have to start taking this stuff more seriously," Mads said, her dad leaning over a little and seeing York at the door. "That's York, he drove me."

"What's wrong with your car?"

"You jinxed me. Rack and pinion," Mads said, both chuckling a little. York stepped into the room and Mads stared down her dad. "Be nice."

"Thank you for driving her," Maxwell said, York saying it wasn't a problem, hovering in the center of the room before taking the last few steps to shake his hand as well as he could with the cast.

"I'll give you guys a minute," York said, stepping out of the room again, Mads rolling her eyes at him.

"When you told me you were broadening your horizons, I expected someone a little less masculine so it wasn't so abrupt," Maxwell teased, Mads slapping his shoulder.

"When I go for it, I go for it," Mads said, her father laughing a little. "He's a nice guy, don't worry about that."

"Why didn't Regina drive you?" Maxwell asked.

"That might not be going where I hoped it was."

Mads was informed her father would need another night of observation before he would be discharged. Her father told her just to go home and get everything ready for him, and when she came back bring him a book in case he got stuck for another day. York and Mads left the hospital together and pulled into her driveway, Mads looking up at the porch, the breeze blowing the swing a little.

"You grew up here?" York asked, closing his car door after popping the drunk.

"Fourteen to eighteen, but yeah," Mads said, pushing the trunk up and pulling out her suitcase. York only packed a overnight bag and carried it on his shoulder. They walked up the driveway, her fathers truck still parked and arrived at the door. Mads had a house key so opened the door and let herself and York in.

"It's cold in here," York said, his breath hanging in the frigid air. Mads knew her dad must not have turned the heat on before the cold front moved in and frosted the entire house. The first thing she did was adjust the thermostat to something normal and started to toss a few logs in the fireplace. She double checked the flue, and saw it was still open, which was partially responsible for why it was so cold in the house.

Mads crouched down and rolled a few pieces of newspaper for tinder and lit their edges. She worked on it for a minute, blowing on the paper to spread it until it finally caught one of the logs then another. Standing upright, she removed her coat and tossed it on her dads chair and looked to see what he was reading.

"Holy shit, he found a George Stigler," Mads said, holding up the book for York to see.

"Who?" York asked.

"Economist," Mads said, putting the book down and sitting on the couch in front of the fire. "Should take a minute for the house to get warmed up. Thanks again for getting me here."

"Don't worry about it," York said, sitting next to her on the couch.

"Two bedrooms, my dad's and mine. Where do you want?" Mads asked.

"I'll take the couch with the fire," York said, Mads kicking him, York realizing he took where she wanted. "Dibs."

"My house."

"You're a bad host."

"Couch, or should I get an air mattress ready?" Mads asked, York saying a mattress would be nice. Mads stood up from the couch, followed by York who helped her inflate a mattress and put some sheets on it. "This was always my favorite spot to sleep."

Mads took her father's chair, York sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the mattress. The fire warmed his feet up, making him very comfortable. Mads looked over at York looking rather content and thought about why it wasn't Regina who was with her. She trusted Regina would have driven her on short notice as well, but that would only make her more attached to so much uncertainly.