“We are going straight to the hospital or do we need to make any stops?” My father is not a great driver in my opinion. He is the one that takes his time, drives under the speed limit, and faults others when he thinks he has the right of way. He is the one that is causing traffic to slow down. I guess when most of your working life, you have had a car service, it is hard to get back into the groove of driving yourself. Unfortunately, I am in no shape mentally, to even think about driving. In fact, I turn around to get my purse so that I can take another Xanax. Unlike his normal driving, Daddy has decided to kick it up a notch so that we can get to Jordan. The rush hour traffic coming in and out of Atlanta is ridiculous. Luckily, we are getting off at Edgewood and so far, my car or no one else for that matter is or has been at risk of getting fucked up.
I am not for going back to Grady, but I know that in order for us to be successful, I need to be there. Daddy can get to be intimidating once he puts out his lash. I just hate it for the nurse’s station. I warned those bitches and now they have to deal with Joseph Jones. It is ashamed that this feels more of a power matter than it is a personal matter. I know that Daddy looks at this matter to be personal. I know that he is the Supreme Strategist and his goal is to win. He has good intentions, but his ultimate goal is to give the almighty “Check Mate”. My father is shrewd, but his heart is like melting butter when it comes to the love of his family. When I say his family, I mean his children, my dog Baylor, his girlfriend of over 30 years, his nieces and nephews, my grandparents, one of his sisters, three of his brothers, and then there is my mother. If you are not a part of this list, consider yourself unlucky.
We walk into the lobby of the hospital and Ms. South Atlanta is still at the receptionist desk. I assume she is pulling a double shift today. The line is longer than it was earlier. I am sure that there are more people visiting after work hours. My father is not feeling this line. He is used to wearing an “A” badge at the Pentagon and the White House. He is damn sure not about to stand in line at Grady Memorial Hospital. He asks me if I know where Jordan is located and I tell him yes. I find that if you answer my father with the precise answer to his question, the less likely you will be at fault if something goes wrong.
He is on a mission and Ms. South Atlanta doesn’t give a shit because this is her turf. This should be interesting. We walk around the other people standing in line and I hear a few mumble that we better not be breaking the line. We ignore this. Not sure if that is a good or bad thing. Either way, we don’t care. My father doesn’t even acknowledge Ms. South Atlanta and when we walk past her, she starts yelling at us. The security guard that is standing at the receptionist desk with her is clearly looking through his phone and not paying much attention. When she starts yelling, he looks up and figures that she can handle this one on her own. So much for team work. She gets her big ass up and walks briskly towards us to let us know that we ain’t going no damn where without her knowing where we going.
My father gives her the look of death with her confrontation. It is almost as if telepathy has kicked in. He doesn’t say anything to her. He just turns and gives her the look that terrifies the shit out of me on a regular. Her bark is clearly not ready for my father’s bite. I tell her that I have a pass from earlier. She says she still has to give my father one. He is a bit confused. Did he not give her the “I will fuck you up” look? I tell Daddy that he needs to give his identification to the lady so that he can get a badge. He allows it, but he hasn’t taken his glare off of her. I am sure this behavior is something that she is not used to. I can tell that she is nervous entering his information into the system and I am also certain that other VIP information about my father has appeared on her screen. She gets it now and gives us a pass for Daddy and we are on our way. If she was a true friend, she would warn the bitches that will get to see my father within the next five minutes. From the look of things, she is staying out of this shit.
It hasn’t been too long since I spoke with Cint. I hope that she is ok. I just wish that we could get a two minute breather. Her dad coming into town was the last thing that we needed. Jacinta says that when she married me, she married her father. I know for a fact that I ain’t nothing like him. I am way nicer and more congenial than he is. I don’t like the way that he treats or talk to other people. He is a narcissist if you ask me. He probably says the same about me but who gives a damn what he thinks. He ain’t coming up in here trying to run and control shit like he always try to do. I am not with that shit. It is too much going on and he is more focused on himself and Jordan than he is helping Cint. So to hell with that. At the same time, I do respect him and as long as he doesn’t come for me and mines, we will be straight.
I text her to see how she is making out. I don’t even realize if her father has even asked her how is she doing. Knowing him, he has put her issues on the back burner and is dealing with Jordan. That’s fine. I just hope that Cint has enough sense to leave that shit down there at Grady and come on home. She needs her rest and I am worried. If I don’t hear from her soon, I am going down there myself.
We get off the of the elevators and I lead Daddy to the scanner so that we can get buzzed into the double doors. My father is a very detailed and strategic man. He notices everything. I know that he has already taken note of the inattentive nurse’s. You can tell that there has not been a doctor to visit. The same Sheriff Deputy is standing and watching the television monitors. All of this only ignites my father’s anger to the next level. He goes straight into room number five where we find Jordan. She is still naked, but at least she is sitting on the side of the bed. I put the bag of things on the other side and tell her that I am about to clean her up and put her pajamas on. I look down at her arm and I notice that they still hadn’t come to replace her IV. My father has the look of devastation on his face. It is the same outrage that I experienced when I saw her for the first time too. She really doesn’t feel well and you can see it in her face. I even think that she is dehydrated and the saline bag that is hanging above her is empty.
“Jordan baby, Daddy is here and I am going to take care of you. Tell Daddy what is wrong? She is silently crying. Unlike others, her crying happens when she is mad, not when she is sad. You can tell that she is just as frustrated about her situation if not more. She has every damn right to be and to be honest, I am surprised that she hasn’t tried to kill anybody up in here. She tells us that she is nauseous and that her stomach feels like it is in knots. “When was the last time they brought you something to eat?” She doesn’t remember them bringing her anything, not even a cup of water. This takes Daddy over the edge. He gets up and I go about getting some towels that I brought from the house to clean Jordan and help her put on some clothes. As I wash her up, I can tell that she is really weak and has little to no energy. This is not the Jordan that I know.
Calmly, I walk to the nurse’s station. This is definitely the quiet before the storm. Excuse me, my name is Joseph Jones. My daughter is a patient in room five. I understand that there has been a simultaneous inconsistency of medical help for her since she has arrived here. I need to speak to the director of the hospital immediately. If you can not patch me through to that person, then my lawyers will be contacting the mayor and the governor in precisely five minutes. I would advise you to move your ass. The nurse on duty gives my father a “what the hell ever” look. She looks over to the deputy and asks that he removes my father from this floor. The deputy starts to walk towards my father and before he can even say a word, Daddy is in his face. “I am going to advise you to be a witness in this situation. I wouldn’t get involved in this one unless you plan on losing your job too!” There is a seriousness and intense tone that my father issues on a regular. He is at about a good 5. I don’t think they want to see him at an 8.
You can tell that the deputy has thought about this one and all he wants to do is end his shift and take his ass home. He heeds my father’s advice and directs his next comment to the nurse on duty. “Listen, why don’t yall call a doctor or something and have them help the woman in room five. I am sure that we can avoid any problems with just sending someone in there to help her.” This statement pisses the Nigerian nurse off. For some reason, she doesn’t appreciate being told what to do either, despite my father’s threats. In her deep African accent she states, “I am going to do no such thing. If she was in dire need, then we would see to her. All of the doctors are gone for the day. The only doctors that are here are in the emergency department. If she is that sick, then they will send for her to go there.”
My father looks down at this watch. We are past his original five minute grace period. He is not going to argue with Nurse Zumunda. Instead, he pulls out his phone. “Thank you for calling the offices of Bridges, Callahan, and Mahoney. How may I direct your call?” With his face looking directly at the nurse, “This is Joseph Jones. I believe Attorney Bridges is fully aware of what I need him to do. Please have him call me back when he has completed this task.” He hangs up the phone and still in a calm voice says, “Let’s pray that you and your family have your Naturalization paperwork in order. If you don’t, I would think that you would be home packing your shit to go back to wherever the fuck you came from!”
Joseph walks back into the room. Jordan is cleaned up as best as I can help her. He asks her if he can get her something to eat. Jordan is too nauseous to even think about food. His cell phone rings. “Mr. Jones, please hold the Mayor of Atlanta is on the line to speak with you.” While being transferred, he looks at me and tells me to start getting our shit together, we are leaving this shit hole now.