Compita Lane

Chapter 2

I hoped that the nursing sector would have just as many participants like in Home Economics, but, perhaps I had expected too much. The nursing students ended up being situated in a tiny corner of the orientation hall. They were all women of course, and I couldn't say that there were few of us, but it was little enough that the university had decided to fit both the first year nursing and pre-medicine students into one location.

It had something to do with minimizing the number of orientations that day, which for the future male doctors, they were the least content at having to share their orientation with prospective nurses.

Nevertheless, I happened to come across a man by the name of Dr. Richardson, who was just so conveniently present among the lieu of faculty. A family friend had urged me to reach out to him, and let it be known that I was well acquainted with Psychiatrist Kevin Ling. It was a pleasant surprise, and an internal relief, for now, I didn't have to scour the entire University for the man.

When the orientation ended, I stole towards a crowd of ambitious novices seeking a chance to mark their impressions on the professor. I could feel questioning eyes wondering what business a nursing student had with a renowned persona like Dr. Richardson.

I kept my gaze trained on the ticking hand of a grandfather clock, thumping the soles of my shoes against polished wood. One young man after another barged in front of me at an opportunity to impress the professor. It seemed that some of the students didn't notice that I had been waiting longer than them, or they simply didn't want to acknowledge my presence.

Another shake of the hand, an exchange of formalities, and the Professor was free. He stood erect with a long face and an enlightening beard on hard features.

His gaze reached me, and I stepped forward, about to speak before being cut off by the back of another eager figure.

I huffed to myself, swinging my feet around and retreating the other way until his voice halted my tracks.

"I think that young lady was waiting before you".

The student, who had previously attempted to snatch up the man's attention, followed after him displeased. He half-heartedly mumbled his apologies to me as they approached.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Doctor Richardson", I introduced myself as the Professor firmly shook my hand. "My name is Angelica Ito".

An envelope was produced from the pocket of my frock, but he didn't seem to need it, as his features lit up in recognition.

"Ah, yes, Dr. Ling had mentioned you to me, you are the daughter of his patient I presume?"

I cleared my throat nervously, "Er-yes, they are good family friends of ours".

He finally took the envelope from my hands, fingers flicking over the flap above Uncle Ling's scrawled handwriting. He never opened it, instead, glancing to the Young man who had interrupted me earlier. "Is there anything you had wanted"?

"Oh-uh...no sir. Excuse me", the student scowled at me for a brief second before finally taking his leave.

"So Angelica", Dr. Richardson began, and I figured his cue to follow. "What have you come to study dear?"

"Nursing Sir".

He chuckled, "I assumed so. Ling has told me much about you. It is no simple feat for a young girl to grow up spending her time in a psychiatry clinic".

I narrowed my vision in bewilderment, for his story contradicted mine. I was never active in mother's therapy sessions, and Grandfather had always made sure of that. There had been fewer instances where I found myself at the reception of Dr. Ling's clinic, and only a singular time I had witnessed my mother strapped to a cot with her eyes shut. That was in my earliest years, and I wasn't sure how much the memory had been skewed, but it was always horrid, and not something I fondly recalled.