19th January, 1991
Dear Diary,
It's been a while I didn't write in here. Lately, I don't have much time to pour my heart out, but today is not a regular day. It's this day. This day I wish I could erase from my memory as years go by. Every year since it happened, I would like to sink into a deep sleep and avoid this day that keeps on reminding me things I wish I could erase completely from my memory.
I can already figure what's going to happen all day long. People will ask me how I'm doing, and I'll answer the old same famous lie: "I'm fine, thank you," and go on with my work like I mean it, while we both know that today is not a day to feel okay for me.
My life seems all over the place. It's like I can't even handle it anymore. Everything keeps on falling appart around me. I feel so alone today. It's like everybody I ever cared about is gone.
I don't think the pain will ever go away; this burning pain in my chest everytime those events play on repeat in my mind. Tell me, Diary, am I strong enough to live with that all my life? Do I have to suffer every single day that God makes?
I don't know how much time I'll be able to fake it, and show people that I'm not okay. It may sound pathetic after seven years to feel like this, but I can't erase the guilt nor this pain.
Grams says that time is the key to my pain, but what if time keeps playing tricks on me?
A loud knock on my appartment's door was heard, and I lifted my head from my journal. I wiped away the tears that I didn't realize were falling from my eyes with the back of my hand, and put my journal down on the edge of the window where I was seated. I wasn't quite fazed by the presence of someone knocking on my door at seven in the morning, because I knew who it was, and it didn't quite improve my mood.
I wriggled by the boxes that were scattered all across the floor, and lazily opened the front door.
"Hey, um, did I wake you?"
"Forget about the courtesy. I have a job, John. Be fast," I snapped, taking a step aside to let him come into my appartment.
John didn't say a word, but gave me a sorrowful look instead, nodding his head. He came in my appartement, careful to close the door behind him with his head hanging low.
"Are those all mine?" he asked after a short silence, pointing at the boxes on the floor with his index finger.
"Yes. I added another box with all the gifts you gave me in it. I don't want anything coming from you."
"Brit, please. I should be the one mad at you. Don't be like this," he said with a heavy sigh, sounding tired.
"And you don't call me like this anymore," I harshly warned, pointing a finger in his direction. "To you, I am Hayley. You lost every right to call me this when you broke our engagement. Remember that?"
"Do you really want to start an argument... Again? Especially today?"
"Take your boxes and get the fuck out of my appartment, John," I calmy said, rubbing the space between my eyes.
"Bri– H-Hayley, it doesn't have to be like this. I can still be here for you, I can–"
"That's funny," I cut him off, forcing a snicker while crossing my arms under my breasts. "You've never been there for me!" I yelled, throwing my hands up. "I'm not in the mood for your bullshit right now, so take your stuff, and get the fuck out."
My ex-fiancé gave me yet another sad look, and took one box from the floor that he put under his arm. He grabbed another one with more difficulty, and put it under his other arm.
"When you told me you were different, I didn't expect you to be this different, and I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to live with that."
"Not as much sorry as I am," I, yet again, harshly said. I walked past him, and opened the door for him, and leant on the frame of it.
He shook his head, and made his way out. "I'll come by another day to take the rest of my stuff. I knew it wasn't the best day to come over, but as you insited..."
"You don't know shit," I mumbled, and closed the door in his face, locking it right away. "Motherfucker," I said under my breath, leaning with my back against the door.
"I loved you. Remember that," I heard him say behind the door, but ignored him.
I ran my hands over my face, and let myself slide all the way down on the ground. I needed to go through that day the same way I went through them for the last six years. The thing is, this time, things were falling appart all around me, and it was harder for me to even think straight.
I put my knees against my chest, and curled up like this, on the floor, for a couple of minutes. My eyes landed on the two boxes that were next to me, as I remembered the times John and I spent together: some good, some other bad; the fights, the make-ups; the laughter, the tears... The times where I could still call him my other half.
I looked at my left hand where my engagement ring once was, and passed my fingers on the now empty spot. I looked blankly at it for a few moments, as memories came flooding my mind, just like it had happened every once in a while for the last couple of months.
"You really don't like it when people look at you while you're eating, huh?" John asked, as we were both gathered around the ktichen table, eating lunch.
"Stop it!" I shouted with my mouth full of food, and threw a dish towel in his direction.
"Why do you hate this so much? You're beautiful even when you're eating," he seriously said, his elbows on the table which surpported his head which was in his hands.
"I don't like it, that's all," I shrugged, chuckling, as I wiped my mouth with a napkin. "Don't even try to understand me."
"I won't," John chuckled as well, wipping the corner of my mouth. "You're still a mystery to me, Hayley Thames," he caressed my right cheek gently.
"Is this a compliment or what?" I raised an eyebrow with an half smile. "John?" I asked as he didn't answer but kept on looking at me.
"Marry me, Brit," he told me, completely out of the blue.
"What?" I asked, almost choking on my food.
"Marry me," he reiterated, more serious this time. "I'm not kidding," he assured me, reaching out in his pocket to take the most beautiful diamond ring out of it. "Please, marry me."
"For real?" I asked, a hand coverring my mouth in utter shock.
"For real," he chuckled, taking my hand in his. "What do you think?"
"Uh, yeah! Yes, of course I'll marry you!" I gleefully said, handing him my hand so that he could slip the ring on it. "Oh god, it's magnificent."
"We're getting married," John said to me with the brightest smile on his face. He stood up from his chair, and took me in his arms. He spinned me around, whispering to me how happy he was that I accepted. "I love you, Brit."
"And I love you," I answered, and laid a kiss on his lips.
I got out of my trance when I heard my alarm clock going off. As the night was rough because it was filled with unpleasant memories and nightmares, I woke up at five in the morning, which allowed me to write in my diary, thing I didn't do for weeks.
I shook my head slightly from side to side, tried to quickly pull myself together, and stood up from the cold floor to slam my alarm down.
7:20am, time to go to work.
I went to the bathroom to take a look at myself, and the lack of sleep from the previous night expressed itself by large, dark bags under my tired eyes. Over the years, it became an habit of mine to hide those things, as they were a part of my daily life. A little bit of under-eye concealer, and some blusher made the job: they made me look like I was all joyful and well-rested.
As I was putting my make up on, focused on my reflection in the mirror, flashblacks from the night where John broke up with me came racing in my mind, and the vivacity of the memories made me drop my concealer. I tried my best to put them away, because I didn't want to live them again. Once was painful, twice was unbearable.
My breathing quickened as I was getting upset about it all over again. John used to be my anchor, the one I thought would be beside me for the rest of my life, no matter what.
I was wrong.
He just turned out to be a coward by taking the fact that I am different for reason to leave me. I know it might be scary at times, but being the one to live with this difference is even scarier.
With shaky hands, I pulled my hair up in a high ponytail and exhaled heavily, looking at the mirror before me.
"You're going to be fine, Brit," I encouraged myself out loud. "You can do this."
I repeated myself that I was fine over and over again in my mind, and I hope it would start to believe it, and let me go through this day without any breakdown.
I grabbed my purse and badge from the coffee table, and left my appartment in a heartbeat to head to UCLA Hospital.
***
As the lunch room became more crowded as time passed by, I raised my hand up in the air and motionned my friend and colleage, Alice, to come and join me for lunch. This was the only time of the day where I could meet up with her.
"Hey Brit," she smiled with one cheek, sitting down across from me.
"Hey," I smiled before returning to playing with my food. "How are you doing?"
"You have no idea how starving I am right now," she chuckled, taking a huge bite into her sandwich. "Hmm, this tastes like heaven," she said while chewing her food with closed eyes.
"Easy there, you don't want to choke on your food now, do you?"
"Shut up, I've been dreaming of this sandwich since I got here, let me enjoy it," she whined, a smirk appearing on her face. "Anyways, how is it going?"
"Well, Jamie asked about you again," I said, referring to a kid from my service, pushing my almost untouched plate away.
"Oh, what did he say?" she asked, eying my plate with insistence.
"Yes, Al, you can eat this," I chuckled under my breath.
"Damn I love you," she sighed in content, tucking into my plate. "Now, what did Jamie say? I really miss those kids you know."
"Then why did you leave Pediatrics?"
"I needed a change of air," she shrugged, her mouth full. "Are you going to tell me now?"
"He said that he missed you, and that you should come by his room sometime."
"Tell him I will when I have some spare time, okay?"
"Will do," I faintly smiled.
An awkward silence fell upon the both of us, and I notcied Alice's stare in the corner of my eye. I could feel she wanted to ask me something, but she wouldn't dare try as she knew me.
"I'm fine, Alice," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just a little blue."
"Do you want me to come over tonight? Or we could hang out or something?"
"Nah, I'm good. I'm on call anyways."
"Brit, I told you, whenever you need someone to talk to, I – "
"I know," I cut her off, nodding. "We've been friends for years, you know I'm not the kind to talk to people."
"I know, but you seem to have a lot of things in that pretty little brunette head of yours. It's almost hurtful to think that you wouldn't talk to me, as I'm your friend."
"You're my best friend," I corrected her, "well, you're my only friend, actually."
"That's what I'm talking about, Brit," she put her fork down, and swallowed the remainder of her food. "You need to see other people, and take your life back. You didn't enjoy life for seven years, girl. You need to get back on the tracks of life."
"How am I supposed to do this, Alice?" I harshly asked her, while I didn't want it to come out that way. "I'm sorry, I–"
"Nah it's fine," she waved a hand. "I'm not in your shoes, I don't know how it's like to live without parents."
"It's not only the fact to live without parents," I muttered, frowning down at my vibrating pager. "Look, I got to go," I quickly said, standing up from my chair.
"Wait, Brit!" my friend called, but I didn't turn around.
Saved by the bell.
I ran outside the cafeteria to the patient's room. It was a blue code, which meant it was quite urgent. I grabbed a surgical mask at the entrance of the room, and barged in, only to see a smiling Kyle who didn't look in a bad shape at all.
"Ah! Brit!" he cheerfully said with a toothless smile, using my nickname as I allowed him to.
"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, checking his vitals on the monitor, and ran my hand over his forehead. "Why did you page me?"
"I'm bored," he pouted his bottom lip. "Mommy and daddy are out for lunch, and I felt lonely, so I pushed the button," he explained as I was checking his body temperature.
"Kyle," I sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed, "you can't just push the emergency button when you're bored. I have other patients to take care of."
"I know, b– but would you play a game with me?"
"Sure, but I need to go check on the other patients first, okay?"
"How many do you have?"
"About eight little guys like you," I smiled, patting his back.
"That much?" the six-year old little boy asked, his mouth forming a 'o' shape.
"I'm the only pediatric doctor here today, Kyle, I'm the one in charge and my job is to make sure that everyone is feeling good."
"I know," he sighed, pouting again. "I wish I could have you for myself, though."
"I promise I'll come by once I'm finished, okay?"
He nodded sadly, and I walked out the room, carefully closing the door behind me. Right after, I began my tour to check on the kids in there. I had all kind of children: leukemia kids like Kyle, kids with different type of cancers, or kids that broke their bones and have to stay immobilized for a while.
I remember being young and telling my parents that I would be a doctor when I would be older, and I made it. When they passed away, I promised myself that I will do anything in my power to be one, and make them proud. I did this for them, because I know this is what they would have wanted me to be.
When you arrive in med school, you have to choose what you want to become: a doctor, a surgeon, a nurse... Then, during your internship, you need to choose a department. I chose the children's department. The idea of being surrounded by kids all day long seemed amazing to me, as I love them. Their innocence, their smiles, the sound of their laughter... all of this make me love my job every single day.
My principal aim, after doing my best to heal them, is to make them feel as they're not at the hospital, and to try to dispel their fears. During the three years I've been working here, I learned how to talk to them, and ask them the right questions about their health so that I know how to treat and help them the right way. I learned a lot, not only about my job, but about life in general. This job made me wiser, grateful, and more open-minded. It made me a better person.
Alice used to work as a pediatric nurse with me, but she changed of service to go in general surgery. It became too hard for her to deal with sick kids all day long, and I could understand. Working with kids has its advantages because they're goofy and most of them make you laugh, but it also has a lot of disadvantages as well. We witnessed a lot of kids who passed away because of cancer, kids who were not older than ten years old. Kids who suffered for months, even years, who, at one point, thought they'll make it but cancer got the best of them. Kids you usually got attached to. Kids with parents to whom you'll need to talk when you know the end is near.
This is what I do, and this is what I will keep doing.
***
I looked down at my watch again which was indicating seven in the evening, and didn't realize how time flew by. I had such a busy day that I didn't have a minute to myself. My mind was focused on my work only, and only once my heart ached at the memory of my parents. It happened when a family of two children arrived in the emergency room. I got paged because the younger kid had a severe concussion, and certainly a broken knee. He was only four, and he was crying for his mother to hold his hand. I asked one of the nurse where I could find Sam's parents, that was his name, and I was told they both died in the accident.
My job was now to tell this kid that he was an orphan, and that his mother could never hold his hand again because she was no longer here. This is when I thought of my parents. I was an orphan too, and I knew what it felt like to be told that your parents were dead and gone.
As my schedule was lighter, I decided to go in the on call room to rest a little. On my way there, I recognized the voice of the only woman I wanted to be with on this particular day, and a slight smile spread across my face.
"Grams," I smiled genuienely this time. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh look, there she is," she told Annie, the nurse behind the front desk of the service. "Hey baby, I brought you some soup. I thought you might be hungry."
"Thank you," I said, giving her a tight hug. "You didn't have to come all the way here to bring me some, though."
"I wanted to make sure you eat, so I had to," she sweetly said, pinching the tip or my nose like I was still a little girl. "How was your day?"
"Busy," I declared, as we were both walking side by side to the cafeteria. "I had a lot of stuff to do, as Meyers is on holidays."
"When does he come back? You can't work for two people for ever, Hayley. This isn't healthy," my grand-mother frowned, concern filling her voice.
"He's coming back next week. Believe it or not, I like working alone better. Whenever he's here there's a weird atmosphere."
"I know you don't like him, but he's the chief of this service. He will come back, and you will have to deal with him, honey," she reasonned, as we were both sitting around a little table.
"Yeah," I simply said, and sighed heavily. "You didn't tell me. How are you doing?"
"It's not my best day, but I'm okay," she smiled a little at me. "And you, honey? Did you even sleep well? You seem tired."
"Not really. You know, the nightmares, the cold sweat, the memory. It all came back."
I never lied to my grand-mother. She was the very one person on this planet to know me like the back of her hand. She knew every single little detail about me, my dreams, my expectations, my darkest secrets, my innermost fears.
"It always does," she almost whispered with sadness in her voice. "I wish I could do something."
"You know there's nothing to do, Grams," I shrugged, and drank from the soup she brought me.
"Did it happen again?" my grandma asked after a short silence, and I understood right away what she was talking about.
"Not since—not since John and I broke up," I voiced, wincing at the memory. "It's like he broke something in me."
"He broke your heart, for starters," she said with an attitude, and I slightly chuckled at this. "He broke a strong link you both shared. You never expected him to do what he did."
"Maybe I should have told him about what happened that night," I wondered, shrugging. "Maybe things would have been different."
"You told him your difference and he wasn't even able to cope with it. Do you really think he would have been able to cope with this?"
"Grams, I can see the future," I whispered, leaning closer to her. "What kind of sane person would cope with this or even believe it?"
"And telling him you feel like you murdered your own parents is easier to hear, you think?" she asked me, giving me a pointed look. "Hale, baby," she soothed, taking my hands in hers. "John Morrison is nothing but an idiot. You can think he was your one true love because you had this special... connection with him, but he wasn't. You cared for him a lot, you loved him, but he wasn't the love of your life. Once you will find it, you will automatically know it. Being who you are or not."