After Tom's craniotomy, Carl told me I should go home to rest and take the day off, but I told him I wanted to stay at the hospital until the little guy wakes up. The surgery lasted six hours, but normally, there weren't any complications. We just had to wait for the patient to wake up, and there was no way I would come home without knowing how he was doing.
As always, I was mesmerized by the facility Carl took the tumor out. His hands never shook the least bit, and he knew exactly what he was doing, and where he was going. Once again, he showed me, and everyone present in the OR, how much of a brilliant surgeon he was.
Three hours passed until a nurse paged me for Tom. When I arrived in his room, his eyes lit up a bit, but he kept this painful expression on his face. I was nervous to see the results. Broca's area is the language-dominant hemisphere of our brain. If it happens to be damaged, then the patient can lose his ability to speak, to have a coherent speech, to read, to write and even to listen. At that instant, I would know if the area was intact, and if the surgery went as well as I thought it did.
"Hey buddy, how are you?" I asked, as I started to examine him, asking him to follow my finger with his eyes, which he did.
A silence invaded the room. I looked at the different monitors Tom was plugged to, and everything seemed normal. I looked down again at his bandaged face, and the only thing I saw was the terrified look in the little one's eyes.
"It's alright, you can do it," I encouraged, as I sat on the edge of his bed. "Do you know who I am?"
He looked at me again, and took my hand in his, squeezing it with force. He nodded his head a little, and opened his mouth to speak, "Brit."
"That's right," I smiled brightly, and rubbed the top of his hand gently. "Do you know what is today's date?"
"January 27th, 1991, I think."
"Yeah, that's correct," I smiled some more, and stood up from the bed to write his vitals and my post-operation observations in his file.
"My head aches," he whined in a weak voice.
"It's normal, I'll give you some meds for that," I reassured.
"Did you get Marcus? Is he gone?"
"Yes, Marcus is gone, he won't bug you anymore," I grinned at his innocent question.
"You saved my life," he weakly said, taking my hand in his little one again. "Thank you, you're my heroine."
"I didn't do much, you should thank Dr. Meyers. He did a wonderful job."
"But I don't like him. He looks mean," Tom said, and I laughed at this.
"He's not that bad when you get to know him, trust me," I told him, and leaned closer to whisper something to him. "I used to say he was a meanie too, but that's our secret, okay?"
The little patient giggled slightly, and nodded his head before closing his eyes, "Can you get my mom and dad, please?"
"Sure thing. Try to rest a little, Dr. Meyers will come by your room in a bit. And be nice to him!" I warned, pointing a playful threatening finger in his direction, which made him smile slightly.
I tapped the top of his hand gently, and left the room with a genuine yet tried smile on my face. I asked the nurse at the front desk to call his parents, and gave her Tom's file back when I was done completing it.
It was still early in the morning, and now I knew Tom was fine, I was ready to come back home and enjoy my day off.
– – –
27th January, 1991
Dear Diary,
Yesterday was a good day, and it's been a while now that I wasn't able to say that and actually mean it. But this time, I mean it. It's like something in me was different, like I was finally ready to take my life back. I found the strength to talk to Carl, and get to know him. He told me about his past, and what happened with Alice. He didn't have to, he didn't owe me the truth, but I was glad he did. Maybe having more friends by my side would help me to enjoy life to its fullest.
Today, I forgot all of my misery, all of my pain, my difference.
Today was a normal day, and I enjoyed each moment of it.
Today, I was happy to be alive.
I closed my journal and put it aside, but I didn't move from my spot by the window. I loved it here. The loft was at the top floor of the building, and it was giving onto South Park's crowded streets. The Staples Center wasn't far from where I lived, so people were always around.
I've lived in California for all my life, and for nothing in the world I would change that. Los Angeles always had the ability to surprise me, even when I thought I discovered everything about the City of Angels: the diversity of cultures, of people... This is what makes LA so wonderful. And the beach, of course.
I smiled at my own thoughts, and was brought back to reality by some groans coming from my stomach. I looked down at my watch, and noticed it was already noon. I lazily stood up from my window seat, and went to the open kitchen that gave onto the living room, to fix myself something to eat. I opened the cabinet, and fixed myself a bowl of muselli with some milk: simple, but efficient.
As an habit of mine, I went in the living room to sit on the couch and watch the news while I was eating. I grimaced as I listened to the news anchor saying how George Bush was dealing with the Gulf War. The only thing that caught my attention were the words: bombings and children. With their bombs, the army caused collateral damage, killing children and innocents. Violence was never the solution, and I wish the world could understand that. I wish the war would stop.
I switched channel, afraid my decent mood would go away, and put E! Channel. Celebrities always had the ability to cheer me up with their drama. The medium were always exaggerating everything, and sometimes I found this hilarious, but sometimes, it was just too much. This is probably why I reacted that way when I heard Lily and her co-worker talk about Michael Jackson the way they did. People tend to forget that, just like us, they're human beings, they have feelings. From what I've heard, the poor guy can't even have a normal life because of fans and paparazzi chasing him wherever he goes.
Is this the kind of life a human being should live? Having to retreat himself in his own amusement park to be left alone? Certainly not. When you don't have a normal life, how can you seem "normal" to people? The guy can't go to the movies, can't go to the amusement park, can't go grocery shopping because people are constantly following him, and people call him weird for wanting to be left alone in his own little piece of heaven?
I didn't even particularly like Michael Jackson, but I just hated when people concentrate their hate on one person just because they don't like the way this person acts, or dress. The press, the medium judge, they criticize, and of course, they lie. Why? Because the bigger the scoop is, the more they'll sell their garbage.
When I finished my muselli and my internal questioning, I washed my bowl and went to the bathroom to take a relaxing and needed hot shower. The only thing that was echoing through the entire loft was the sound of the TV I didn't switch off. I didn't like it when it was too quiet, so I always left the TV or radio on, so that I don't feel too lonely.
The loft was incredibly empty ever since John left it, but at the same time, I liked to be alone at times: it's like I needed to reconnect with myself, my inner self, the part of me I almost lost when everything was falling apart around me.
I was hardly alone after my parents' passing. Someone was always around, trying to take care of me the best they could. Grams was taking care of me day and night, making sure I ate, I showered. Simply making sure I kept on living.
The first three years were difficult to deal with, but then, I met John, and I fell in love with him. Everything went incredibly fast after that. We moved in together in this loft I bought with my parent's heritage, and we started our life together.
And now, I was alone, and it wasn't bothering me.
I stepped out of the shower after some long minutes in there, and wrapped a towel around my chilly body, and around my long brunette hair. I looked at myself in the mirror in front of me, thing I used to hate back in the days, and took my toothbrush and put some toothpaste on it before leaving the bathroom, brushing my teeth.
"Damn, you're so slow!" someone said, and I shouted loudly from pure fear. "Wow, Brit, relax! It's me," Alice reassured, as she stood up from the chair next to the window of my bedroom.
"What the fuck, Alice?" I mumbled with toothpaste in my mouth. "You scared the shit out of me! How did you even get in?"
"Uh? You left the damn door open? So as you didn't answer, I came in. Why are you even leaving your front door open? Are you insane?"
"I must have forgotten to lock it, I was a zombie when I got home. I had a six-hours surgery yesterday night."
"Oh, you went to the OR with Meyers?"
"Yeah, he invited me there. It was a cranitomy, the first time I saw one," I explained quickly. "Do you mind if we continue this conversation when I'm not naked and... wet anymore?"
"Sure. I'll be downstairs, making coffee."
I ran back in the bathroom to finish my hygiene routine, put some light make up on, and picked some clothes out of my dressing room. The weather was a bit chilly, so I opted for a thick brown sweater and a pair of black jeans: simple, but classy enough, I guess. I let my damp hair drying by itself, and went downstairs to meet my friend who was on the couch, waiting for me with a steaming cup of coffee in between her hands.
"Urgh, what a day," I exhaled, crashing lazily onto the couch next to Alice.
"Tell me about it, I'm drained," she sighed heavily, and a little silence fell on the both of us. "How was the surgery?"
"Long and amazing. The brain is so complex and mysterious at the same time, it never ceases to amaze me. Carl did a great job."
"He always does. He's an asshole, but he's good at his job," Al said, with a hint of sadness in her voice.
"Actually, I wanted to talk about him with you," I found the courage to say, and shifted uncomfortably on the couch.
"What is it?" she asked, and I could read the uneasiness on her face. "Oh no. Did you sleep with him?
"What? Urgh gross, no! Carl and I, it won't ever happen. Keep that in mind."
"Then what is it?"
A little silence fell upon the two of us, and I kept my eyes glued on my hands which were on my lap.
"Brit, what is it?" Alice repeated, and I looked up at her.
"When were you going to tell me you and Carl were a thing?"
The expression on Alice's face changed in a split second, and the once uneasy look she had turned into a sad and guilty one.
"Hey girl, it's alright. I understand why you didn't tell me, it's always hard to say those things," I reassured in a soft voice. "Is this the reason why you left the service? Because of him?"
"I was in love with him, Brit. I couldn't stay around and witness his flirty ways with all the nurses of the service. I wasn't strong enough to see that..."
"Are you over him now?"
"I still need some time. Every time I see him, all of those feelings I had for him come back again, like they were here to stay. I swear, Brit, he was the nicest guy ever when we were together. He would invite me over to his house, and we would eat together, and I would spend the night with him. But then, I think he got tired of me, and he dumped me, telling me he wasn't ready for a relationship."
"Do you know why he's like this?" I asked her in a gentle voice.
"Because he's a lover boy who likes to have fun with women, that's why. What do you think? You think he had a rough childhood, and that's the reason why he's an asshole?"
"He's an asshole because his wife cheated on him and ran away with the guy, Al," I let her know, but I knew exactly what she was going to answer.
"That doesn't give him the right to act like he does."
Yeah, this answer.
"He loved her, and she betrayed him and his trust. He can't trust anymore, he can't love anymore. He needs time, and you need to understand this, Al. What Carl did to you was an asshole move, but you said he was the nicest person ever when you were spending time together, right? Then give this person a chance to make it up to you."
"Why do you need me to forgive him this much? You're friends now?" she asked, frowning. "You and Carl?"
"We're cordial. He told me he just wanted to be my friend, and I think I'm going to give him a chance," I declared, shrugging. "I think he can teach me a lot of stuff professionally speaking, and maybe he's an interesting guy, after all."
"He is," Al sadly said, looking down at her hands. "He's fun to be around, and he can make you feel like a million bucks just by looking at you."
"You'll find someone worth your love, girl," I smiled at my friend, patting her knee for comfort. "I promise you this."
"We both will," she smiled slightly, before resting her head on my shoulder and directing her attention to the TV screen in front of us. "Which one of these celebrities is going to pop up to the hospital tomorrow, according to you?"
"It's probably rumors, but I heard it was Michael Jack—"
"Michael J—Jackson?!" she almost yelled, cutting me off. "Oh lord, oh lord. Are you sure? Who said that? Is it a joke?" Alice panicked, withdrawing her head from my shoulder to look at me with round, shocked eyes.
"Apparently Carl divulged the information to his—his um... Well, he said it to Lily, and you know she has a big mouth. But nothing has been confirmed."
"I hope it's him. Is this why you're not freaking out? Because it hasn't been confirmed yet? Damn Brit, it's Michael Jackson! The master is coming to the hospital!"
"I thought you were a Prince girl?" I laughed loudly at her fangirling.
"I'm both, okay? But hell, I've wanted to go to one of his concerts since I'm like fifteen years old, but well... I went to med school and my life was over."
I laughed at that last part again, "You'll be able to meet the guy, isn't that better than seeing him in concert?"
"It's okay, but he won't be moving those sexy hips of his. How sad is that?"
"You're really something else," I chuckled, shaking my head from side to side. "Maybe he'll perform for the kids? Who knows?"
"Let's pray the Lord he does," she seriously said, putting her hands together, as her eyes were closed.
"I didn't know you liked him that much."
"Girl, who doesn't? Are you deaf and blind? Everybody likes him!"
"I didn't say I didn't like him, I said I wasn't a fan of his. I like his music, and he's a great dancer, but I'm not crazy about him like most people are."
"Okay, name five songs of his," she challenged, crossing her arms under her breasts. "I just want to make sure you know the guy's music."
"Girl, really?" I asked, and she nodded, dead serious. "Alright. Um... Rock With You, The Way You Make Me Feel, um... Billie Jean, of course; Bad and... Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'. Happy?"
"Name another song from the Bad album," she challenged again, and I gave her a look. "If you can do it, I'll leave you alone."
"Man In The Mirror, and it's my favorite song in the whole world. Happy now?"
"So let me sum up this. Your favorite song is a song of his, but you're not excited the least bit in the world about the fact that he's coming to the hospital... Tomorrow?"
"It'd be a great story to tell to my future kids, and it's a one in a lifetime experience, but I'm not excited. I think the guy would like to be treated like anybody else, and this is what I'm going to do."
"You're probably right on this one," Al finally gave up, and put her head back on my shoulder. "I'll try to do the same thing, even though I'm already freaking out."
"You'll be fine," I giggled, and patted her knee once again.
"Do you have anything planned for today?"
"Nothing exciting. Just check on my grandmother and go grocery shopping. Why?" I wondered.
"Can I stay with you today? I don't want to go home and find Adam's drunk ass on the couch," my friend asked me.
"Your brother is still at your house?"
"Yup, and he won't get the hell out."
"Maybe he needs some time to get back on his feet. He lost his job and his wife in a matter of what? Three months? It's never easy."
"But he's thirty-eight, Brit. He needs to keep his head up for his kids. Getting drunk isn't the best way to forget about everything."
"Sometimes you need to lose yourself so you can find anything. What he needs to find is a reason to be strong and face his problems. What you need to do is show him that his kids need him, and everything will work out good after that," I reassured, resting my head on hers. "Trust me."
"I'll trust you on that, wise ass," she giggled, and stood up from the couch. "I need to pee."
"What a great way to end a serious conversation. Charming, Al," I snorted, shaking my head at her silliness.
I stood up from the couch, and took Alice and I's mugs to put them in the sink. On my way there, I heard a beeping coming from upstairs. I ran to it, and found my vibrating and beeping pager on my nightstand. I looked at the code on it, and it was the hospital's ER paging me.
"Al, we need to go back to the hospital!" I yelled across the loft, running down the stairs.
"What? I thought you had your day off!" she whined like a child.
"I was called by the ER, apparently the other pediatric doctors are occupied. Are you ready?"
"Yeah, let's go," she nonchalantly said, as I took my coat from the hanger.
Rule number one for a doctor: never expect to have free time.
– – –
The whole rest of the day was a real mess, and I couldn't leave the hospital while it was full of sick and hurt kids. When I got paged in the early afternoon, it was because two school buses full of kids had an accident: they both had a frontal collision, and there were a lot of injured kids to treat. Of course, I left the surgical cases to the pediatrics surgeons, and I took care of the less urgent cases, as always in this type of situation. There were around forty kids in the ER, and as we were the closest trauma center, they brought them all to UCLA.
I didn't even count the number of kids I had to put in stitches. Some of them were in a bad shape, some others were out of danger but needed to be kept under observation for a day, and some others were released in the evening.
There weren't any free bed left in the service, and the place never felt as cold as this evening. The kids were scared and traumatized by what they saw during the accident: some of their friends didn't make it, and one of the bus drivers didn't make it as well.
My heart broke at the sound of the cries coming from different rooms. I wanted to make them feel better, but I wasn't enough. They needed their parents, but as we needed space, we had to put two beds by room so that we could welcome everybody. Because of that, parents couldn't stay over night.
I spent most of my night trying to cheer up the kids and get them to know their roommates. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but I, and the nurses who were on-call, did everything we could to make them feel better, and make them stop crying and relax.
It's only around four in the morning that I got to catch some sleep in one of the on-call rooms of the service. Barely five minutes after I crawled in bed, I fell asleep.
– – –
The whole rest of the day was a real mess, and I couldn't leave the hospital while it was full with sick and hurt kids. When I got paged in the early afternoon, it was because two school buses full of kids had an accident: they both had a frontal collision, and there were a lot of injured kids to treat. Of course, I left the surgical cases to the pediatrics surgeons, and I took care of the less urgent cases, as always in this type of situation. There were around forty kids in the ER, and as we were the closest trauma center, they bring them all at UCLA.
I didn't even count the numbers of kids I had to put in stitches. Some of them were in a bad shape, some others were out of danger but needed to be kept under observation for a day, but some others were released in the evening. There weren't any free bed left in the service, and the place never felt as cold as this evening. The kids were scared and traumatized by what they saw during the accident: some of their friends didn't make it, and one of the bus drivers didn't make it as well.
My heart broke at the sound of the cries coming from different rooms. I wanted to make them feel better, but I wasn't enough. They needed their parents, but as we needed space, we had to put two beds by room so that we could welcome everybody. Because of that, parents couldn't stay over night.
I spent most of my night trying to cheer up the kids and get them to know their roommates. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but I, and the nurses who were on-call, did everything we could to make them feel better, and make them stop crying and relax.
It's only around four in the morning that I got to catch some sleep in one of the on-call rooms of the service. Barely five minutes after I crawled in bed, I fell asleep.
– – –
I was peacefully sleeping when someone started to shake me like I was some doll. I whined loudly as this someone was calling my name repeatedly, "Hayley, wake up!"
"What's your fucking problem?" I groggily yet harshly said at the person who was shaking me. "What time is it?"
"8:15AM. Come on, get up, we have a special guest coming today! Did you fucking forget?" the voice I recognized as Carl's said.
"Oh yeah, Jackson," I yawned, my eyes still closed.
"Wait—what I mean—how do you know?"
"I told you, your girlfriend has a big mouth," I chuckled, and went back to sleeping. "Could you close the door behind you on your way out?"
"Oh no no no, sweetie. You're coming. I need you there," he nervously chuckled, and took the sheets off of my freezing body.
"Why do you even need me? He's just a guy!" I whined, looking at Carl with one eye open only.
"I need you to be there for the kids. Can you do this, Dr. Thames?"
"Damnit," I muttered, and slid my legs out of the bed. "I'll be out there in a few."
"Hurry, he's almost there!" my boss pressured, walking out of the room. "Oh, and Hayley," he called, as he peeked inside the room again. "You're cute when you're sleeping."
"Go away, Carl," I whined, and threw my shoe at him. The door prevented it to land on his face, though. "Urghhh, and now I have a headache. Marvelous," I whispered to myself, rubbing my right temple.
After a few seconds, I stood up from the bed. To my surprise, I lost my balance doing so, and had to hold onto the sink not to fall. My head was spinning, and I felt like I woke up with a hangover. Thing is, I didn't drink anything the night prior, nor did anything but my job.
I shook my head a bit, and took my toothbrush out of my vanity case. I looked at myself in the mirror while I was brushing my teeth, and I didn't look sick at all. I looked tired, but that was all.
I tried to pull myself together before going out, and when I felt ready, I did. The hallways were more crowded than usual, of course. Doctors I've never seen in my entire life were there, and the more I got closer to the heart of the service, the more journalists and cameramen I passed.
"And then, Brit explained how they got Marcus out," I recognized Tom's voice said, and I smiled at this.
"Who is Brit?" a sweet voice asked.
As the playroom was too crowded, I couldn't see anything.
"Brit, well Hayley Thames, is our best pediatric doctor, she is—"
"Here! I'm here," I exclaimed, as I found my way through the sea of people, ignoring the fact that my head was more and more aching as time passed by.
"Ah, here she is," Carl smiled, and put his hand on my lower back. "Mr. Jackson, please meet Hayley Thames, one of the most passionate doctor I've ever met," he adressed the superstar who had Bethany on his lap.
"Pleased to meet you," Michael Jackson smiled, standing up. He offered me his hand for me to shake it. "I've heard only great things about you so far."
"I'm glad," I answered back, faking a smile, as the pain in my head was becoming unbearable. "N—Nice to meet you too, sir."
At the second my hand made contact with his, my eyes couldn't see, my ears couldn't hear, my limbs couldn't move. It's like I was drowning in an ocean of images of him, of flashes I couldn't understand with people I didn't know. The only thing that seemed to be there, omnipresent, was him, Michael Jackson. It's like I could feel him invading my mind, like he was taking place in there without my approval.
And then, nothing.
Nothing but darkness.