Welcome to the Family

An odd humming tone filled my ear. Was it above me or under me? Was it somewhere to my side? I couldn’t tell. I felt everything spinning around. Where was I? When I opened my eyes, I was blinded by the dazzling light, so I closed them again quickly.

“She’s waking up,” I heard an unfamiliar voice state. “Miss Harper, can you hear me?” a woman with a heavy Spanish accent asked. I slowly opened one eye lid and saw a blurry image of a man in white hovering over me. “Yes,” I finally managed to rasp. My throat felt incredibly dry. “Miss, you’ve been in a fight. Do you remember anything? You passed out immediately after you and your boyfriend were hit by a glass,” the voice asked. What the…? So I was hit, too?


I slowly opened my other eye and looked around. My vision was still very blurry. I motioned toward a glass of water on my nightstand, and the nurse handed it to me. After I drank, my throat didn’t hurt anymore. But when I sat up, everything started spinning again. “Matt, is he okay?” I wanted to know.

“Yes, he is in another room. See, Miss Harper, someone threw a heavy glass at the two of you on the dance floor. It hit the top of your head and your boyfriend’s temple. We had to stitch him up because it hit a vein, but you were lucky. A patch will do. Are you feeling nauseous or dizzy? You may have a mild concussion.” What?

“I…” The world started spinning faster, almost like on a very fast carousel, and I felt myself getting sick. “Yep, concussion, definitely. Just like I said,” the young doctor stated dryly, observing my every movement as I grabbed the bucket on the nightstand and threw up in it. This is so embarrassing, I thought. But I bet they’ve seen worse.

He then turned toward the Latina nurse “Carmen, ¡Diez dolares para mi!” Seriously? They’d made a bet about my diagnosis? “Well, thanks very much for joking about my diagnosis, I really appreciate that,” I grinned. “See?” the nurse said, “does not look so bad.” He then saluted and left the room.
The nurse began to babble, “Señorita, son las tres de la mañana already. We have you here for una noche. We see mañana if we can let you, ¿como se dice…?“ She looked lost, then pulled out a small dictionary. “Señorita, si quiere puede explicar todo en Español,” I interrupted her. Good thing I’d taken Spanish in college. She then switched to Spanish and spoke so rapidly I almost couldn’t understand a thing.

Why did I have to ask her to speak to me in a foreign language again? I thought. When she was finished with her ten minute speech, I was sure I’d got the gist of all her information. Matt was in a room on another floor and we’d both be staying the night. That was all I needed to know, I thought before the nurse left and I fell into a deep, exhausted, and dreamless sleep.


When I woke up the next morning, my head was still pounding, but I wasn’t feeling lightheaded anymore. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Matt sitting next to my bed. He was wearing a hospital gown and his right eye was slightly bloodshot. There was also a neatly stitched up wound on his right temple. Three stitches, I noticed. Nothing too serious, but it had been serious enough to scare the living hell out of me yesterday.

“Hey Vicca,” he greeted me, barely looking at me. “Hey Matt,” I grinned, reaching out for the glass of water and the two Tylenol painkillers on my nightstand. After I swallowed them, he silently asked, “how you holding up?”
“Matt, don’t be so embarrassed. I’m good. We’ll be out of here next thing you know,” I reassured him. “Yeah, but… I just feel like it’s all my fault. I understand if you don’t want to continue working for us. I mean, first we fight, then somehow end up in bed, then everything is all awkward and just as we dance together and things finally get back to normal, my psycho wife attacks us with a fucking glass,” he sighed. Oh no, I thought, how dare he think this is his fault?

“Believe me, it’s not your fault. Takes two to dance with each other. Please, just let’s not go back to awkward again. Like I said, there’s this one chance, but you haven’t screwed up yet.”
He gave me a weak smile, revealing his dimples. His hazel eyes still looked sad and deceived, but still I couldn't help but think that those were the most beautiful eyes ever.

Our silent minute was interrupted by a knock on my door. “Yes?” I managed to rasp. A uniformed police man entered the room. He was about fifty, tall and gawky with greyish hair under his police hat. His wrinkled face had a stern, but also concerned expression. He nodded toward us and tipped his hat.

“Deputy Bernstein, I’m here because you have been in a fight involving a glass used as a weapon. That’s either a misdemeanor or a felony, and since you,” he looked at me, “have suffered a concussion, I would even consider it a felony. Anyway, it’s punishable under California state law. Would you like to press charges?”

I felt dizzy. I was lost in all of that information, and so I just stared at Matt helplessly. Pressing charges was something that I really wanted, but I couldn’t just do that… Not against Matt’s wife, who’d only overreacted when seeing the two of us dance so closely, and who was probably feeling miserably sorry anyway… Matt cleared his throat, interrupting my thoughts. “Actually, Deputy, we’d like that. For the time being, I also want a restraining order. I don’t want my lunatic wife anywhere near my friend Vicky here,” Matt stated coldly. What?


“All right, I’ll have to ask the two of you a couple of questions, and you’ll have to tell me the truth, the whole truth and only the truth. If you lie right now, you can also be subject to criminal prosecution. Are we clear?” Bernstein threw us an austere look before continuing. “Yes,” we stated in unison.

“Matthew Charles Sanders, born July 31st 1981 in Huntington Beach, California, that right?” he asked. Matt confirmed with a nod. Then he started recounting last night’s events from his point of view. “I went to the charity ball with my friends and their girlfriends, and my wife. Victoria,” he pointed toward me, “works for my band, Avenged Sevenfold. She was my friend’s plus one since his girlfriend couldn’t make it. So after about an hour, my wife and I got into a fight because I told her to watch it. She already had 6 drinks. So I left her at the bar with one of her girls. I started dancing with Victoria and the next thing I know is my head being hit by a fuc-, I mean a freaking glass.” The deputy nodded, and turned toward me.

“Sorry, your friends weren’t able to tell me a birth date or birth place. Victoria Harper, right?” “That’s right. I have a middle name, Aloisia, after my grandma. Want me to spell it out? A-L-O-I-S-I-A. It’s a German name. I was born on September 21st, 1986, in Saalfeld, Germany,” I rasped, and Bernstein took notes. Before I could go on, he asked, “do you have a residence permit?” “Yes, in fact, I am an American citizen.” That happened to me all the time, and it was so annoying. He stared at me and motioned me to begin. I took a deep breath and then started to tell him my point of view.


“So, we’re done here. We got a motive, we know the offender. We got witnesses from the party. Get well soon and we’ll contact you about the restraining order.” And then he was gone. Matt just sat there on my bed, trying to suppress his tears. He stroked my hair absentmindedly for about half an hour. His touch felt so gentle, so soothing. I closed my eyes and relaxed. At about 3 in the afternoon, the doctor from the day before came back and told us we could leave.

Brian picked us up half an hour later. He also brought us fresh clothes. The doctor warned me to get some rest, take breaks, and not to do too much physical work. He also gave us prescriptions for some meds, painkillers for me and antibiotics for Matt, so his wound wouldn’t get infected. In the end, they scheduled an appointment to have his stitches removed.

Back home I fell into bed and the guys took very good care of me for the next couple of days. They even asked me how to prepare some simple meals that went with their diet plans and from Tuesday on, I prepared them something for lunch that they could easily heat up and eat again for dinner. Brian volunteered to make some healthy breakfast by scrambling eggs and making a fruit plate and Zacky promised to run to the bakery and get some full grain rolls and bread slices every day. They even brought me breakfast to bed. Well, Matt did, as he was still feeling guilty about dancing with me and not expecting an assault from Valary. But how could he have known?

On Wednesday, Michelle came by and apologized for her sister’s behavior, and I told her it was alright. Why would I be mad at Michelle just because her sister was a freaking lunatic? On the plus side, she brought me my favorite dish, a jumbo-sized portion fajitas from Taco Bell. We talked for about two hours and it felt good to finally have some company, although I really wished for someone I could confess my deepest feelings to.

Of course Michelle seemed like a good person to talk to, but I figured that telling her about my feelings for her sister’s husband wasn’t exactly a stroke of genius. For the record, she did ask about our dance and if we were very close. I simply said that we were, but that it was a cuddly song anyway. She just smiled and nodded.

After she left, there was another knock on my door. It was Larry, who’d been in another state for business for the past few days. “Vicky, I’m terribly sorry. I understand if you want out,” he began with a concerned expression, but I cut him off. “On the contrary. Bring me a contract, I’m signing it.”

Notes

Okay, so this is what happened... what do you guys think? :) comments please:)

also, greetings from Montréal :-)