3: Prodigal Son

ALEXANDER

I was restless for the remainder of the day as I sat through endless meetings. My mind kept drifting back to that poor woman and her pale-looking kid. By four pm I was exhausted and found it hard to concentrate, so I wrapped up my work, and decided to head home early.

In the car, I reminded Yusuf to schedule interviews, since my housekeeper was due for retirement. She is old and opted to spend the rest of her days with her equally elderly husband. Maria used to work for my parents, and after my mother died, she came to work for me.

After getting home, I had a light dinner and got in bed early. For some unknown reason, I ended up oversleeping the following morning, despite the fact that I had slept on time. I decided to cancel my morning appointments altogether and pass through the hospital instead.

Luckily, the same nurse was at the reception and after getting my father's room number, I

Inquired about the woman from the previous day and her son. She eagerly filled me in and was more than happy to give me their room number. I asked Yusuf to buy enough breakfast for two and deliver it to them as I visited my old man.

*****

“The prodigal son returns.” My father mocked me as I closed the door. I stared at him blankly, gauging his health, and he didn't look so good.

“I couldn't resist seeing mighty Jones, looking all helpless and pathetic.” I countered, smirking at him. His face contorted as he pushed himself up, but winced in the process. I chuckled at his tortured groan, stalking closer.

“Still angry, uh?”

“ I am never forgiving you,” I answered, surprised he thought otherwise. “ Was I not clear?” I inquired, and the genuine loss of words as he opened and closed his mouth with nothing to say had me chuckling bitterly. His audacity never ceases to stun me.

“You are my son.” He finally managed to utter.

“ Did you think of that as you impaled yourself on my husband?”

“Lex…"

“Just stop,” I shouted angrily. “I just dropped by to ask you to erase my name from your next of kin. You stopped being my father years ago. And if by some miracle you die today, your body will rot in the morgue.”

Silence.

“ You wouldn't do that!” He accused, after a moment,

“ You think?” I asked sweetly, shaking my head, for the man had no idea what I'm capable of.

“ I'm still your father.” He tried, his eyes flickering with fear. I clenched my fist with the urge to connect it to his face, but reigned my anger in.

“Biologically, yes, but you are dead to me.” I turned and left without giving him a chance to annoy me further. On my way out, I bumped into a clumsy someone. My eyes snapped to the person ready to bite their head off,

“It's you!” It took me a minute to recognize her, she looked different from the helpless-pale-looking woman I had encountered yesterday.

I murmured a quick hello, which went unheard as she began pouring her never-ending gratitude. I darted my eyes around, hoping for Yusuf to magically appear and get me out of the awkward situation. She noticed my discomfort and murmured an awkward sorry. “Yusuf said you are around, I hoped I would bump into you.” She explained more calmly.

“ Good morning,” I extended my hand, which she shook heartily.

“You were gone before we could figure out how I will pay you back. “ She murmured, stepping back, and I visibly relaxed, exhaling deeply.

“ Like I said yesterday, there is no need for that. “ And before she could protest, I added,

“How is your son?”

“ He is better, thanks to you.” Her gaze zeroed on my face as she studied me openly. I smiled warily, displaying my discomfort.

“ Come," she hastily offered with an embarrassed smile.

She led the way, assuming to her son's room, and I followed quietly two steps behind. “ Come in, please…” She offered to hold the door open.

My gaze fell on her sleeping son, and he looked better.

“ What happened to him?” I asked,

She breathed out heavily, walked towards her son's bed, caressed his hair, and turned back to me teary-eyed. I was about to tell her she didn't need to share something she didn't want to when she spoke up. “His father beat him up,” she sobbed pitifully.

“What? Why? “ Even as I asked the stupid question, my mind had already conjured a perfect response, 'because he is a pig just like your own'!

The frown on my face deepened as she filled me in on their tale. “Christian came out to us yesterday,” she eyed me, probably gauging my reaction and when she saw I wasn't judging, she continued. “His father just happens to be a homophobic prick and beat him up. “ She spat bitterly.

I felt for them and soon began to comprehend why I had taken a liking to them. We are the same in some ways. The boy, Christian as his mother has called him, has a shitty man for a father, and I am no stranger to it. Though mine wasn't homophobic, he was still a garbage father, and I wish I could rid the world of such.

“ I am sorry," I sympathized with them.

“ I tried to stop him, but he was too strong for me,” she continued sobbing quietly, “I only waited after he left and rushed him here. I failed him as a mother. “

Something in her words got to me. The blame wasn't hers, and no child should have to be protected from their parents. If anyone failed, it was that man, and I hope they are never going back to him. Which reminds me…

“ Where will you go?” Her confusion was apparent, “after you leave the hospital,” Her features softened in understanding, and she glanced at her son and then back to me,

“ I am not sure, but my son can't go through that again,” she added with conviction.

For a small woman, it was understandable why she was unable to fight off her homophobic husband, but she had a fire in her.

What I wouldn't give to have my mum fuss over me even for a second.

Looking at her closely, I saw a handprint bruise I had missed yesterday and a small cut on her left cheek. She must have put up a fight, which made my resolve easier.

I moved towards the bed and had a closer look at the boy. He looked so peaceful just lying there with his wild curls falling almost to his eyes. His plump pink lips looked soft, and I would be lying if I said they didn't appeal to me. He scrunched his nose, still out cold, and I thought it was cute to watch.

The sight of him left me with weird feelings. He was a rare sight, gorgeous, and fragile looking, and I would be damned if the protective side of me didn't fire up. I felt this intense need to keep him out of harm's way. My gaze on him never wavered as I watched his chest rising and falling as he breathed.

At one time his lips slightly parted, showing just a tiny bit of his tongue and my eyes widened at the thoughts that passed through my head. I wanted to suck that tongue, preferably running my itchy fingers through those curls.

I felt like a creep for ogling the poor boy in his sleep, but the excitement at the pit of my stomach intensified as seconds ticked by. I adjusted my posture and masked my emotions as I turned to face the mother in case she had picked on my not-so-subtle lusting on her son.

“ Forgive my manners, my name is Alexander,” I introduced, extending my hand for a shake.

She smiled warmly, "I am Elizabeth and my son Christian. "

We talked more and ended up staying for about thirty minutes, in which I got to know about them. Christian was nineteen and was majoring in journalism, but has been out of college for almost five months due to a lack of funds.

I encouraged her to talk more about him, and I was soon convinced that he could get a job in my company.

Apart from the fact that I mainly did it for my selfish reasons, they were in desperate need of help and this is the only way I know how.

By the time I left, I had offered both mother and son well-paying jobs as soon as Christian was discharged. I offered them accommodation at my staff quarter, with or without taking me up on the job offer.