Finding Home (Zak Bagans Daughter)

Chapter Two

The chair I was sitting in was as comfortable as sitting on a rock. The cushion had deflated so much that I could feel the wooden frame of the seat underneath me. I was constantly moving, which resulted in me being barely able to concentrate on my novel, and so, with a large amount of frustration I sighed and gave up reading any more pages. The sudden movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention almost immediately. It was the hospital social worker, Lacey. Her short blonde hair was in a nice professional bun and she was wearing her usual gray dress pants and a black blazer with a white shirt underneath, the same outfit I last saw her in.

She was talking to a man with large framed glasses, black hair which was styled in a straight quiff, black jeans, and a black T-shirt exposing the bottom end of a large cross on his bicep. Even his shoes were mostly black. When I would see people wearing only black, I would always think how unflattering it looked, but he was somehow pulling it off; extremely well.

The conversation between the two seemed to me like an argument. He kept pointing at a piece of paper in his hands and making her look at it. You could evidently see her sigh and give up on whatever they were talking about. She looked at the paper one last time before pointing at me, and my gaze immediately met hers. I opened my book to a random page as fast as I could before his gaze could meet mine as well. Still, I could feel in the corner of my eyes he was staring at me.

They continued talking for a few more minutes before I saw him walk over to me and sit in the wooden bench beside me. He didn't say anything for a few seconds; he just looked at the piece of paper in his hands and took a huge breath and looked at me. He obviously trying to say something, but I just kept fake reading my book.

After he wiped his face with the palm of his hand and rubbed his legs he looked at me again,

"Are you Charlie Williams?"

I slowly put my book down and stared into his eyes. He held a very intimidating pose, however, his eyes show extreme anxiety.

"Depends on who's asking." I closed my book and placed it on my lap.

His eyebrows furrowed for a mere second, then a look of relief washed over his face. His eyes still screamed with anxiety, then an unfamiliar emotion took over. I hadn't seen that emotion for so long it almost seemed like I was seeing it for the first time in my life. It was happiness. It would be a lie if I didn't say it creeped me out.

He immediately stuck out his hand. "I'm Zak."

I cautiously shook his hand, and let go as quickly as possible, something he obviously didn't like based on the expression he made.

"Charlie," I replied. "But you already know that."

He smiled.

"So, how do you know my name? Did Lacey tell you?" I asked.

He shook his head in response, "No, not exactly." He paused and looked down at the paper in his hands

"I got a letter from a very, very old friend telling me all about you, where to find you, and that I should be here for you when she passes away." He finished.

Only one person came to mind would care enough to send a letter like that.

"You got a letter from Marion?" He nodded in response. He gave me a questionable look for calling her by her first name. I just shrugged it off.

"But, why?"

"Well," He started, "I knew your mom a very, very long time ago. I guess I was the only person she knew that would take care of you when, uh, you know..."

"She dies." I finished.

He swallowed.

"Yeah. I haven't spoken to her in ages, but I guess she knew she wouldn't be around very long to take care of you. I didn't even know you existed until I got this." He looked down at the letter in his hands.

I looked at him strangely, "She never told me about you?" he shook his head "Nope. Your mom and I had a falling out before you were born; I never knew she had a child"

I thought about his response for a moment "What was your falling out about?"

He took a large breath and exhaled, pondering if he should answer my question or not.

"I really think that's a question for another time. It's far too long of a story and definitely not the place or the time."

I'm naturally a very nosey person. Something I know I inherited from my mother, but I chose to respect his wishes. I would find out the story one way or another.

We sat in very uncomfortable silence for a few minutes until he finally decided to speak up.

"Is- Is that her room right there?" He pointed to the room directly across from us.

I nodded. "It is."

"Do you mind if I go in there and talk to her? There are a few things I want to say."

I nodded again. "Go for it. But I'm going to warn you, it's a little depressing in there."

He sighed and nodded. "Okay."

He stood up and adjusted his shirt and looked at me, where I gestured to her door.

"It's all yours."

He nodded once more and made his way to her room. Once he was in he closed the door behind him.

As much as I wanted to sneak in there and listen to what he was saying to her, I decided being caught in such a personal moment between the two of them would not be the best thing to happen. Plus, judging from my past experiences of eavesdropping, I knew it would not end up well for me.

It felt like he was in there for an eternity. By the time he came out, I had already heard five code blues, and three nurses had come in and out of her room to check how she was doing.

As he walked out, it was obvious he was distressed. His skin was now a flushed pale and his eyes were clearing up from obvious crying. He put his hands in his jean pockets and sat beside me once again.

"Was it what you thought?" I asked, flipping to the next page in my book.

"Worse." He muttered.

He looked down both sides of the hallway and looked at me once again.

"Would you like to get out of here? I really can't stand hospitals."

I slammed my book closed at the mention of 'getting out of here' and met his glance.

"Would I ever."

He smiled, but with less enthusiasm than before.

"Great. Are you hungry? I've got a great place in mind."

At that moment, my stomach growled at the mere mention of mood, not to mention free food.

"My God yes."

He took a quick glance at his watch and stood up.

"Let's get out of here."