Haven never expected to start receiving gifts twelve days before Christmas. They seemed to appear out of nowhere right when she needed them most. She wanted to figure out who was sending her these gifts, but the notes left with them didn't give anyt...
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The hospital is quiet as I walk through the hallway. The only sound I hear is the sound of my footsteps echoing around me. The farther I walk down the hallway, the higher the levels of anxiety that roll through my chest. This feeling has never gotten better even after all this time away from here. I'm not sure why I decided to volunteer at the hospital where I got my treatment all those years ago, but it's whatever now, I guess.
I wrap my sweater tighter around my body, wishing I brought Jake's jacket with me. During Starling's four-minute chat yesterday, he suddenly had to leave, racing out of the house without his jacket. I was going to give it back to him last night or sometime this morning, but I was tired last night and running late this morning, so I couldn't. It's hanging on my bedpost at home, waiting for him to get it.
I'm not sure why hospitals are always so cold. It's like they want to freeze the sick people in here. When I came here all those years ago, I don't remember it being this cold. Maybe that's because I was a little out of it, especially after my chemo sessions. However, it's also very hard to remember my time here, so maybe that's a reason for me not remembering it being this cold.
I step toward the children's front desk when I see Melissa walking down the hallway in front of me. Melissa is the volunteer supervisor here at the hospital. She seems to be on a mission even though her legs are short and old, but I find it easy to catch up with her at the volunteer center, the small area where we can wait or check in with her at.
Melissa seems so natural here at the hospital, just like she did when I was here all those years ago. Even though it's been years, she still looks the same to me. Now, instead of watching over me while Hartley was at school or while Grandma was at home, she is my supervisor. I never pictured myself working underneath her like this because, well, I never pictured myself coming out of here ever again. I know I'm glad to be here on this side of things, and I hope she is glad, too.
"The kids are in the first conference room," Melissa tells me, glancing up from her phone. She is never usually on it, though. "I have to check something at the front desk, but you could bring these coloring books to them now."
"Okay."
"I'll be there as soon as I can." Before Melissa walks away from me, she offers me a smile, her eyes shining. Her joy radiates through the room, and it's nearly as bright as Hartley's sunshiny joy. "Thank you for all your help, Haven. You know just how much these visits and volunteers helped morale, especially since you beat it. You're an inspiration for those kiddos."
"I do," I tell her, nodding. "And you're welcome. It's the least I can do."
She hands me the coloring books before walking in the opposite direction than me. I wish she would have walked with me, but I know the way by now. I guess I still need the support to go inside that room with all those children who are sick. But I steel myself as I walk closer and closer to the first conference room until I push the door open, peeking inside the room, my heart sinking in my chest. I'm never that emotional, but my throat grows tight, and I feel like crying.
All the kids chat together and laugh together, looking so much happier than I ever felt when I was sick. I guess I didn't have that support system with kids my age when I was sick like these kids do. The only other people that were in here when I was sick were older, no children like me. Am I a little bitter about that? Of course not. So many kids are sick, and I never would wish that on my worst enemy. But I do wish I had that support system that they do. Maybe I would have turned out differently.
I hover at the door, not wanting to go directly inside the room but not wanting to leave, either. I don't want to break the spell that these kids are under, to show them what could happen even if you survive that physical illness. Sometimes, it's not the physical illness that kills you but the mental one. I don't want them to know that, though. But I know I can't just not go in there. This is my duty. This is how I repay the doctors and nurses for saving my life.
Forcing a smile on my face, I step into the room and wave to the children. They all smile at me, too. Some of them look tired but happy, especially when they see the coloring books tucked underneath my arm. I pass them out to the children, greeting every single one of them by name. I know that makes them feel special and heard, and it makes it even better when it comes from someone who understands what they're going through.
After I pass the coloring books out to them, I stand to the side and watch them. I don't know where Melissa's at right now, but some of the other volunteers sit at each table with the kids and color with them. There's not enough room for me to join, but that's okay. I'm not feeling it right now, anyway.
"Someone dropped these off for you at the front desk," Melissa says, appearing at my shoulder. I jump slightly and shoot a glare at her. She hands me five large golden rings, almost as around as my thigh or even my waist, and I take them with a frown on my face. "They said that you would understand."
"And if I didn't understand?"
"They told me to tell you this is for your Neptune story," she answers me with a nod. She doesn't seem to notice the confusion rolling off of me in waves. "No, wait. Not story. For your Neptune village. Maybe that was it."
I stare down at the five golden rings as Melissa walks deeper into the fray of children coloring. I have no idea what's going on right now. For the past five days, someone has been giving me gifts that keep getting stranger and stranger. I don't know who's doing it or why, but I'm not sure if I like it or not. It's more confusing than anything else.
How does this person know what I need for certain things, anyway? It has to be someone who truly knows me. But no one really knows me, the me deep down that I keep hidden. That me is the one who wanted my own space for my artwork. No one knew about that desire. I haven't even told anyone yet what my Christmas village is going to be. How does this person know me so well that it almost feels like they can read my mind?
These gifts were weird on the first day, but now they're just getting strange. I am a little skeptical about these gifts and wary of whoever's doing this for me. To be honest, it's a little scary. I have no idea what's going on nor do I know what to do about it, and that's the worst part about this whole situation.
