After Goodbye

After Goodbye Part Three

Gilbert closed his door behind him. Running his fingers through his hair, he plunked down in the chair at his desk. "I better get some sleep."

That night, he tossed and turned. He dreamt of his wedding. Christine walked down the aisle to him; her face covered with a thick, lacy veil. His palms sweat profusely the closer she got to him. A part of him wanted to dart out of there; he was fully aware that Christine did not have all of his heart. Before he knew it, there she stood before him. She lifted her veil and Gilbert's jaw dropped. It was Anne! He grabbed her, hugging her, swinging her around, and then he stared deep into her eyes. "Is it you? Is it really you?"

"It's me, Gil. It's me." Anne smiled from ear to ear.

Gilbert kissed her, and when he stood back, it was Christine before him. He backed up in slow motion, shaking his head. "No, No." The look on Christine's face shattered his heart. What was he doing? Where was Anne? No, he couldn't do this. He couldn't do it. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to Christine! He turned and bolted.

"Gilbert!" Christine called after him.

Gilbert's eyes flew open and he sat straight up. He rubbed his sweaty face. What was happening? His wedding to Christine was so near, and here he was—dreaming about Anne. He lay back down, closed his eyes, and slept fitfully the rest of the night.

In the morning, Gilbert stared at himself in the mirror and yawned. He pulled his stopwatch out of his pocket. 8 o'clock. He should have been to Dr. Stuart's office by now. He snapped the watch shut and slipped it back into his pocket. He'd had a horrible night. Anne and Christine mingled throughout his dreams the entire night, but he couldn't think about that now. He was needed at the hospital. He grabbed his overcoat off the coat rack and left his quiet, warm room.

Before he'd go to the hospital, he must stop at the Stuart's home and visit Christine. He was sure Dr. Stuart would understand him being late, especially since they worked so deep into the night the day before. He had to let Christine know he was fine and she had nothing to worry about. He longed to see her, look into her eyes and see if there was anything there—like a gut-wrenching love for her that was undying, or only a simple admiration of her. Ever since seeing Anne, his heart was divided. Confusion flooded him. He didn't know what he felt anymore, and it was time he faced up to it. He couldn't live a lie.

Gilbert clutched the brass door-knocker and pounded it twice.

"Gilbert." Christine opened the door and her eyes lit up. "Come in." She stood back to let him by.

"Hello, Christine." Gilbert took his hat off and gripped it tightly. Christine clicked the door shut behind them. Her brown hair was swooped up in a loose bun with ringlets framing her face—she was beautiful. She wore a white blouse with a high lacy collar. Her navy blue skirt swished about her as she turned and strode towards him.

"I was so worried about you last night. How did everything go?" She stood a few inches shorter than him and stared into his eyes with a love he recognized; a love he knew well. The same love he felt for... Anne.

Not for Christine.

Gilbert sighed. "Everything went just fine." He fidgeted with his hat. "In fact, I'm on my way back to the hospital now, but I..."

"What? What is it, Gilbert?" Christine squeezed his arm, and Gilbert glimpsed her soft fingers holding onto him.

"I just wanted to see you before things get so busy at the hospital that I may not see you again today." He swallowed. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? He stared deep into her eyes, imploring himself to love her. Nothing happened. There was nothing there. He loved Christine as a dear, dear friend. But nothing more. Nothing more.

"You'll be there all day then?" Christine said.

"Yes, I'll be there all day." He couldn't hold her gaze; too afraid she'd see the lies in his eyes, in his heart. "If I can, I'll come by tonight. If I'm able to leave early enough."

"OK, Gilbert." Christine released his arm and stepped away from him, a seriousness overtaking her all of a sudden, as if she knew something was not right, something was different. "I love you, Gil."

Gilbert's heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't lie to her anymore. It wasn't fair to her... or to him. He plopped his hat on his head. "I'll see ya," he whispered and hurried to the door, pausing for a moment with his hand clutched to the doorknob, then he opened it and stepped out into the brisk air.

He took long strides towards the hospital. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her he loved her when he'd just realized—just that very moment—that he didn't love her. He didn't love Christine; not the way she wanted him to, not the way she loved him, not the way he loved... Anne. He loved Anne. It was a heart-breaking and thrilling revelation. He'd finally admitted it to himself. He couldn't pretend any longer. He picked up his pace and jogged the rest of the way to the hospital.

So many so sick. So many covered with the red rash Gilbert had become familiar with. Gilbert put his hand to the sick young man lying before him, who was burning up.

"Nurse," Gilbert called. "See if you can get this patient's fever down." Gilbert looked down at the man's flushed cheeks. "I'm worried about this one."

"D-d-d-octor," the young man spoke.

"Yes." Gilbert leaned closer to him.

"Am ... I going ... to ... die?" Gilbert couldn't ignore the strawberry color of the man's tongue. Another symptom of the fever.

"We're going to do everything we can for you. You're going to be fine." Gilbert patted the man's damp hair back, hoping what he said would be true. So many had already succumbed to the fever, but many had come through all right, too.

"I don't ... want to leave ... my ... girl." The young man struggled to get his words out. "She doesn't ... know how much ... I love ... her." The man swallowed. Gilbert grabbed a glass of water that was next to him and helped the young man take a drink. "I have to tell ... her, to ... tell ... her..." The man drifted off to sleep.

Gilbert felt the man's pulse. Steady but slow. "Nurse!"

A nurse dressed in white hurried to him with a large bowl of water and cloths to cool the young man down. Gilbert backed up as if he'd been punched in the gut. The words the young man had spoken cut his heart like a knife. He knew how this man felt. He, too, loved a girl; only she didn't know it. He had to tell her. He had to tell Anne. But before he could do that, he'd have to break things off with Christine. There was no fighting it. He'd have to tell Christine the truth.

He'd have to tell her tonight.