The Two Endersons - 4. After The Ball Is Over

Michael walked briskly down the hall to his father's room, stopping at the door to the sound voices. Loud voices.

"Hear me, Kemp. I'm going home, now. Sign whatever paperwork you need to and get me out of this pit of illness and disease."

That would be Father, Michael mused.

"You need to wait for the test results, Enderson."

And Doctor Kemp. At least he showed up.

"If you want to sit around waiting for whomever to get off their duff and get you meaningless reports, do it – but do not waste my time expecting me to have no life. Now hand me my …" There was a thud, followed by the sound of equipment falling. Michael pushed the door open and entered the room.

Enderson was on his feet, basically, leaning heavily on the bed for support. The small tray table seen in hospital rooms was on the floor, laying on its side. Doctor Kemp was backed against what was most likely the closet that held Enderson's clothing.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Michael's face was flushed with anger.

"Michael, I'm glad you're here. Instruct this quack of a physician to hand me my clothes."

"Father, I think you should …"

"Stop. Right there." Enderson glared at his son; his eyes were cold shafts of ice. "You had your say when I was momentarily indisposed at home. But I am back to my full faculties now and you will remember your place. Son or not, you will hold your tongue before speaking back to me."

… remember your place … Michael winced. He recognized that tone, and when applied with those specific words – there was no reason to try further. He knew at this point there would be no reasoning with his Father, no convincing him of anything. By now Enderson was at the point if he said the grass was pink, it might as well be pink. You just gave in.

"My apologies, Father, I only thought …" He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Nelson Pike, Enderson's driver-slash-bodyguard stuck his head in. "Might I enter?"

Enderson sat on the edge of the bed and pointed towards the doctor. "Pike – thank heaven. Get my clothes out of that closet. I'm going home."

"Yes, Mr. Tate."

The doctor looked briefly at Nelson, considering his height, muscular frame, and slowly backed away. He looked to the son. "Michael, may we speak outside?"

"Yes, doctor. Of course."

As the men headed out, Enderson fired on more volley. "Plan what you wish, just know I am leaving."

As the door closed, Michael looked to Doctor Kemp. "So what's going on? What do we know?"

Kemp shook his head. "Not much. And under Enderson's medical orders, there's not a lot I can tell you. It was not a heart attack, but definitely a heart event. His EKG was normal, but his CPK levels were a little elevated. We didn't find troponin, but I'm still not convinced." He glanced at the closed door and lowered his voice. You know your Father's health has been an issue since the accident. He lost a kidney, half a lung … not to mention use of his legs and bruising of other internal organs."

"Will it cause injury or harm if he goes home now?"

The doctor paused. "No, I suppose not. He's out of the woods – and with Enderson Tate, it might be easier for me to review all the results and finish my diagnosis without him present."

"Then please just prepare his release paperwork. Just … let's go with the easiest route."

"It goes against my better judgement and hospital policy, but – fine. I'll go get the papers. You try to keep him until I can do that much."

Michael nodded, smiling, though he didn't feel very positive inside. "Will do. Thank you, Doctor Kemp."

The doctor half nodded and walked off, mumbling to himself. As he turned a corner down the hall, Michael drew a deep, slow breath, released it, then walked back into the hospital room.

His father was seated in a chair, dressed except for shoes, which Nelson was tying at that very moment.

"I assume the good doctor has seen the error in his ways." It wasn't a question.

"He's getting your release paperwork now."

"I have no desire to wait around. He can fax them."

"Father, it would be much easier for me to consider your proposal of a few weeks back if I could believe you were fully well…." He left the sentence dangling.

Enderson slowly turned his head to look up at his son. Steel-blue eyes twinkled as a smirk slowly spread his lips. "Michael Edward Tate, you aren't trying to blackmail me, are you?"

The son held out his hands, almost mimicking his father's smirk. "I wouldn't dream of it, Father. Just conveying how much I worry about your health since the accident."

Before Enderson could respond, Doctor Kemp burst into the room, looking slightly winded. "Here … are your release forms, Mr. Tate. You are free to leave when you are ready."

Enderson glanced at Nelson, who had finished with the shoes. The driver was standing, hands folded in front of himself. He replied with a single nod of his head. The elder Tate smiled. "Nelson, my chair." He turned to his son. "Michael, we will continue this discussion at home."

"Actually, Father, I was hoping I could ride back with you; I had Byron just drop me off earlier."

"Even better."

The doctor received a brief glance from Tate, which was enough to let him know he had been "dismissed". He turned and walked out of the room without another word. Enderson moved to his wheel chair, handing his overcoat to his son.

Michael opened the door to the hall, waiting for his father to be rolled out, then followed behind. I hope this isn't too bad a ride to the house, he hoped. He couldn't have been further off the mark.