The Pull of Destiny (81 page)

As my mind went
foggy with the medicine, I decided to ask CiCi what the deal was with all the
bruises next time I saw her.

***

CiCi came to
visit me every day after that initial, first visit. With my family and her
around me, my condition improved so rapidly that even Dr. Khan was amazed.

“What, the fact
that you’re an awesome doctor surprises you?” I quipped when he mentioned his
surprise to me.

To be honest, I
was kinda shocked at how quickly I was bouncing back myself. The only side
effects that I appeared to have was the eye issues and the short term memory
loss. I forgot where I put stuff all the time, but that wasn’t a big issue. I
was still alive, I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over knowing I might have to
wear glasses for the rest of my life and always piss people off by saying I
couldn’t find my keys when they were in my hand.

After a couple
more days in the NICU, they moved me into my own room (finally!) on the
neurological floor. Within a day or so, the floor was littered with Faith’s
toys and I couldn’t have been happier. Hope had decided to send her to the
daycare while I was still in the hospital and Faith loved it. She was now best
friends with the most troublesome kid in the daycare and was driving Hope crazy
asking if William and Helen could come over to the house to play. The way I saw
it, Hope better hide all the breakables before she said yes.

Mom (I know,
how bizarre is it that I finally got to meet my mom after all these years?) was
spending most of her time with me, reminiscing over my childhood, showing me
old photos that I couldn’t get enough of and telling me about her work in New
Orleans and Haiti. I was so proud of her. Sure, she’d had to leave me behind to
get to where she was, but I don’t think I would have changed a thing. If dad
hadn’t treated me the way he had for most of my life, I wouldn’t have almost
hit the bottom and worked my way up to be the person I was today. Hell, I was
proud of me too!

On one occasion
CiCi brought Robyn and Shazia along with her to visit me, which was sweet of
them. None of my so-called friends from Dalton had shown up to see me since I
woke up, not that I was waiting with bated breath. After telling me over and
over again not to get angry, CiCi hesitantly told me about what Nate had done
to her the night my aneurysm had ruptured. Luckily, I was so doped up on
whatever medicine that the doctors were pumping me with or I would have blown a
fuse, but, as it were, I was pretty happy with Nate’s punishment.

When CiCi told
me she was going to L.A. to visit her dad for the summer, my heart sank like a
stone.

“That blows,” I
groaned, wrapping an arm around her slender shoulders and drawing her closer to
me.

She nodded,
resting her head on my shoulder. “I know.”

I kissed the
top of her head, inhaling her sweet perfume. God, was I ever going to get tired
of how perfect, how right CiCi felt in my arms? A small smile turned up my
lips. Probably not, but I was cool with that.

“I was looking
forward to spending the summer with my girlfriend,” I griped playfully,
massaging her shoulder with one hand.

She looked up
at me, mirth shining in her beautiful eyes. “I was looking forward to spending
the summer with my boyfriend,” she smiled.

I kissed her
slowly, teasing her lips with my tongue until I had her gasping for breath.
Damn, I guess I still had it in me, huh? Some things you just don’t forget.

“I guess we’ll
have to come up with something,” I whispered, my lips brushing hers as I kissed
her again.

***

As it happened,
dad beat me to the punch.

He came
striding in to my room that same night, just as I was prepping myself for bed.
I had my milk and cookies by my bedside table and my iPod was plugged into the
dock, playing Queen. The vibe I was going for was relaxed. Dad stormed in and
ruined the whole atmosphere. At least
that
wasn’t a surprise.

“We need to
talk,” he all but growled, hands gripping a dossier.

Deciding that I
needed to be seated for this one, I perched on the side of my bed, looking up
at dad with a somewhat cynical look on my face. “Okay?”

He stood near
the door nervously, shifting the dossier to one hand and pulling at his tie
with his other hand. I was nervous too, come to think of it. I couldn’t
remember much of what had happened before the rupture but I knew we’d exchanged
some harsh words. Filled with anticipation, I gripped the underside of my bed,
hoping that he wasn’t about to restart that argument. We hadn’t been alone in
the same room together since I woke up and I wasn’t sure if his coming to visit
me when mom, Hope and Faith had long gone home was a good thing or a bad thing.
But I knew I was about to find out.

What dad ended
up saying shocked the hell out of me.

He threw the
dossier onto my bed, evidently going for the theatrical approach. That type of
bull didn’t sit right with me. Couldn’t the man just
tell
me what was
up? I was already feeling slightly groggy, I didn’t need to try and process
what message dad was trying to send me as he stood in front of me, waiting
expectantly for my input.

Trying to hide
my yawn behind my hand, I asked, “What's this?” as I gestured to the dossier.

“Your new
school documents. Pamphlets, your transcripts and everything you need to know
about your new school.”

Sighing, I
resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Oh, great. When am I starting?”

“In two weeks.”

Yup, dad
definitely looked nervous. His eyes kept darting from one thing to another,
never resting on me and never staying still. I wondered briefly what was up
before focusing my attention on what he had just said. I started school in two
weeks.

FML.

“I hope it’s
not in the boonies,” I joked. While I knew that hardly any private schools in
NYC would take me on, I wouldn’t put it past dad to not even try to get me into
a private school and just ditch me in the Louisiana Swamps (like literally, in
the Louisiana Swamps).

Finally looking
at me, dad deadpanned, “It’s in Britain. Surrey, to be exact.”

My eyes felt
like they would pop out of my sockets, they were that wide. “What?” I said, my
voice coming out as an almost whisper because I had to have heard him wrong.
Britain. As in England. As in the United Kingdom. As in across the Atlantic
Ocean.

Yeah, I had to
have heard him wrong.

“Your plane
tickets are in there too,” dad said, pointing at the untouched folder that
still lay on my bed. “Don’t lose them.”

I stared up at
him, trying to read his expression, to figure out if he was just messing with
me. “You’re sending me to a school in the UK?”

Forget about
the culture shock, I just wanted to know if he was actually serious!

“I warned you
about acting up at school,” dad started, his hands clasped behind his back as
he settled into the whole pacing thing. “You didn’t listen. No private school
on the East Coast will take you, Luke.” He stopped, looked at me, a
holier-than-thou look on his face. “I had to look elsewhere, Luke. Believe me
when I say that I have your best interests at heart.”

I wasn’t buying
the lines he was spewing. My mind was going a mile a minute as I tried to find
faults with his master plan. Almost immediately, a major flaw popped into my
head and I glanced up at him, an ‘aha!’ expression on my face.

“But school’s
out in June! Why send me off now when I’ll only be there for a couple of months
before schools out over there?” I asked, a plaintive note seeping into my voice
as I got more worked up. “And why the UK?”

Not that I had
anything against England, after all, my mom was from there. But dad knew as
well as I did that their schools were completely different to ours. Why the
hell didn’t he just send me to California?

His eyebrows
bunching together, dad said, “Luke, I told you that you needed an attitude
adjustment.”

“Not in those
words,” I grumbled, just loud enough for him to hear.

Continuing like
he hadn’t heard me, (what else was new?) dad said, “Your erratic behavior in
the past six months have made me decide that time away from New York will do
you good.”

“But I’ve
changed,” I cut in softly, running a hand through my hair as my shoulders
slumped dejectedly. “Can’t you see that?”

No matter what
dad and I talked about, we always ended up having this same conversation about
how I was changing for the better but he was too busy thinking about number one
to realize.

A (gasp!)
compassionate look in his eyes, dad said, “I know you may think that you’ve
changed for the better ever since you got expelled, but I’ve had more
experience with people than you have, son. And I know full well that
personality wise, people don’t change just like that.” He fixed me with a level
stare. “Especially you.”

“What do I need
to do to prove myself to you?” I asked in a small voice, all the fight
trickling out of me.

Sighing, dad
told me, “Luke, I don’t want to argue with you, especially in your condition.”

“Dad-,” I cut
in, but he was on some kind of roll and he just talked over me, nose pointing
imperiously into the sky.

“I need to get
you away from your influencing factors.”

Now running
both hands through my hair, I was that frazzled, I asked, “What
are
my
influencing factors?”

I didn’t drink,
smoke, party all night or do drugs anymore, hadn’t for over a year, not since
Shane died and I realized I had to reevaluate my life. So I was as curious as
hell to hear what dad deemed to be my ‘influencing factors’.

“Ahmed and
company. That blonde girl. Joanna.”

I let out a
laugh which didn’t have a shred of humor in it. “I thought you loved me hanging
out with people with money,” I exclaimed, rubbing his snobbishness in his face.

“They are bad
influences on you, whether they have money or not,” dad replied, trying to act
like what he was saying wasn’t hypocritical.

“I don’t even
talk to them since I got expelled! What makes you think that I’ll start hanging
out with them again when I get out of the hospital?”

Solemnly, like
he had a PhD in figuring all this out, dad said, “I don’t want you succumbing
to temptation.”

I rolled my
eyes, glad that the meds I was on were strong enough to dull all the righteous
anger I would have otherwise been filled with from hearing dad churn out all
his self-righteous bull. My blood pressure didn’t need to soar any higher,
thank you very much.

“Why the UK?” I
asked quietly, staring at my hands as I tried to come up with a loophole.
Unfortunately, nothing came to mind.

“That’s your
mother’s decision.”

Quickly, I
looked up at dads words. “Huh?”

“She’ll be
opening a practice in Surrey and keeping an eye on you at the same time.”

Frowning, I
said, “What? But she hates it there!” Something was going on. Why would mom
suddenly decide to leave behind her calling to set up an office in suburban
England? “And she’s going back to New Orleans when I’m better.”

Dad shook his
head, a grim expression on his face as he resumed pacing. “Not anymore, she’s
not. She’ll be taking care of you.”

My eyes
narrowed at the way he said the last part. Like there was absolutely no room
for discussion, which meant that mom had pretty much agreed to whatever
decision dad had made. But why? The answer dropped into my mind with ease and I
sighed. Of course. A common tactic of the conniving business man. “Dad,” I said
firmly, waiting for him to make eye contact before I continued. “Did you bribe
her into doing this?”

His next words
threw me off, so condescending and utterly pompous was his voice.

“I made her an
offer that she couldn’t refuse.” He stared down at me. “Anyway, you wanted to
bond with her, now’s your chance.”

Did he
never
understand? He actually thought he was doing me a favor? Sure, I wanted to bond
with my mother, but not this way! This just seemed too forced for my liking,
catering to what Lucas Astor senior wanted without much regard to anybody else.

“But she’ll
hate me for this,” I whispered, my body growing cold.

I never thought
that my acting out would impact so many people on so many different levels. I
ran a shaking hand over my face, trying to slow my heart rate with deep
breaths. Was this it? I had to leave behind everyone and everything I loved and
all because I tried to be a total degenerate to get my dad’s attention? Well, I
had certainly succeeded at getting him to pay attention, but at what cost? Now
my mother was giving up her dream, not to mention her whole life, for me. I
wondered what the hell dad had offered her to get her to agree and groaned as
the sudden answer hit me.