Chapter 3 Expressed Enthusiasm

"Dad! He's in the backseat," I rolled down the window on my side and informed my dad, who was guiding me with his waving hand, to move closer to the door as I parked my car. When I turned the engine off, my dad opened the door of the backseat, and I was surprised when I felt his presence intently staring at me outside my window. 

"What….?" I asked as I opened the door cautiously because my dad was standing too close to the door. I was curious why he was by my side and not with the dying man with us. But my dad almost hurriedly, yet carefully opened the door wider for me to step out of it so he could stare at me closely as if checking my condition and analyzing the situation.

"Honey, are you alright?" he asked as soon as I got out of the vehicle. He checked my pulse. Then, my head as if making sure I was at an average temperature, and he held my hands to check if I was cold, sweating, or anything of my reactions when I was feeling traumatized. "Are you dizzy?"

"I'm not sure, dad, but I feel silly to feel proud I made it driving home without a tragedy or any casualty despite the fact that I had a bleeding man in my backseat," I chuckled as I answered. "But seeing you now, I don't want to spare him a glance even in the slightest. Sorry, dad…" I looked at him with inexplicable guilt.

But my dad just nodded eagerly and guided me to walk into the house up to the front door.

"I will take care of this fortunate guy, although I am sure had he had any choice, he wouldn't have bothered asking for your help if he knew there was a great chance of sending you both to eternal peace. But I am still proud of you for being so brave to help this man," my dad assured me. And to convince me that he was not mindful that he had to assist the man alone, my dad even made the funniest joke I have ever heard from him. "Are you sure he is a stranger? Would he have happened to be someone you know or fancy, or maybe he is a boyfriend you have never told me of before?" he was chuckling as he teased me with his mischievous mien.

"Dad?! I will never hide anything of the sort from you," I replied defensively. But my dearest dad just laughed louder. "Whoever is to date me will have to get your permission or t least your approval to give them a try knowing more than their names," I firmly stated.

"I know! I know! So, what's his name, again?" he asked, holding his grin but losing it to almost snorting in his laughter when I answered "Marco" so fluently; then he watched me get into the house while he was standing behind me. "Drink a glass of cold water to calm your nerves and have a warm bath. I will deal with your man and call you when I am done. Let's not over shock your senses to accept the adjustment you just had today by overseeing blood around you."

"Dad, is it okay if I attend the rest of my interviews today?" I asked with apparent hesitations. I felt so guilty about leaving him with a patient to attend to while I still wanted to continue doing the engagements I had in my plans that day.

"Are you sure you can drive? I am worried about you. But if you insist, you can use my car since it's a bit challenging to get a cab in this area," he answered with a troubled expression.

"But your car is not an automatic…." I replied with fear.

"Well, in case you are forgetting, your backseat looks like a woman with menorrhagia just had a ride with you," my dad said with an awkward joke as his face sported concern.

"Dad! You are a genius!" I exclaimed at my baffled and bewildered dad. He must have been taken aback at how silly I looked as I clapped my hands with clearly expressed enthusiasm. He looked at me with unspoken queries like what the world was I even talking about. I can't blame him. He had seen how I would faint and lose consciousness without bothering to care where I might fall or get hurt whenever I'd see bleeding people ever since I was just a toddler, compared to how I was surprisingly behaving at the moment. To have assisted the man despite his bleeding injury, taken him into my car, and driven him home to get attended to by my dad was something no one would ever believe if they knew my fear and trauma. But then again, here I was,s even making jokes about the matter. And seeing the refreshing reaction of his astonished worried face accompanied by relief and pride, my dad must have thought I was finally cured and that I was no longer scared to see such ugly scenes. It made me feel even more carefree. I felt free deep within me. And I did not let my dad remain puzzled in his thoughts. I verbally shared my mind about the matter. "I guess that thought will suffice to comfort m,e not to be scared!" I laughed and walked away, heading to the kitchen to get that drink of water my dad told me to.

My next interview was after lunch. I saw the digital clock on the kitchen counter. It wasn't even eleven in the morning yet.

"I still have a lot of time to eat lunch at home and get to my interview," I thought aloud. "But I gotta get cleaned and freshened up first."

I left the kitchen n headed for my room with an adjacent toilet and bath after gulping two tall glasses of water. I didn't realize I was thirsty like I had been walking in an endless sand desert and finally found an oasis.

When I left my room, I checked the kitchen for something light to eat and went out to the driveway with a dark red colored fleece blanket to cover my backseat for the time being.

I opened the backseat door of my car with my eyes closed to avoid seeing the interior knowing it was painted in red blood. But a smell of disinfectants greeted my olfactory senses, so I peeked to look at what struck my nostrils.

"Uh?!"

My eyes both widened as I carefully checked my car where Marco was earlier. I looked in the direction where I knew my dad was. But I saw no one.

"He must be busy now," I thought. "He still bothered cleaning my car despite the urgency to save that man," I sighed. I couldn't help uttering a heartfelt thanks even though he may not hear my little voice from where I was standing to where he was at the moment. "I will be back with better news, dad!" I murmured.

I left home and arrived at my destination almost forty minutes early for my interview. I should have been at ease and comfortable as I simply waited by the lobby's lounge with ample time for mental rehearsals on how to answer the questions that would be thrown at me.

But the thoughts about my dad and that injured man at home kept flashing through my head. I was just in the next building where I was supposed to have my first interview in the morning; also the same place where I bumped into a badly injured Marc,o who vehemently rejected the idea of him being brought to the hospital.

Then a message arrived from my dad.

"Don't worry about Marco. He is out of danger. It was a through-and-through gunshot wound. Lucky for this guy, the bullet did not hit any fatal point, intern organ, or bone. How was your drive? Leave your windows at least an inch open when you're in the car. I had to use disinfectants to remove the stains."

I felt relieved to read my dad's message. I responded as soon as I finished reading.

"I was ready to just cover the backseat with a red blanket but found out that not even a drop of blood was visible in my car. Thanks, dad! I prepared the table for your lunch. I know you're hungry after a laborious job helping that stranger I brought home. Taking the fact that you could send me a message, I assume you are done. So, you should take a break. Your lunch break, to be exact."