“I wouldn’t tell a soul! I promise. I’m not a gossip and you know it.” She slaps my shoulder, her gaze catching on my black eye and bruised jaw. Her happy demeanor changes, her curious smile turning into a worried frown. “How do you feel? Have you gone back to visit your dad?” She raises her hands. “Sorry, that’s not my business.”
I realize the only way I’ll make friends is if I open up a little. I’m closed off and I’m not proud of that. It’s decades of isolation and proving to myself that the only person I need is myself. That leads to a lonely life, and I’m very tired of being alone.
Jackie turns to walk away, and I grab her arm to stop her. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m not used to people asking about me, especially since I’m the new guy here, and the guy who lets his seventy-year-old father sucker punch him in the face.” I touch the sore swollen spot on my cheek, sighing with exhaustion knowing the situation with my father is far from resolved.
If it ever will be.
“No. I haven’t visited him. I don’t want to. I don’t care to.” I wince when I hear the complete contempt and hatred I have for the man twist within my words. I rub my temples, a low, dull throb that only occurs when I have to talk about my family. “I’m sure he’ll get sobered up, leave, and he’ll go back to his ways. I’ll hear from him again in a few years probably. Either to bury him or to get another punch across the face. It’s the same shit different day with him. He did what he came here to do.”
“What do you think that is?” Jackie asks gently, her eyes softening as she pats my hand that’s clutching the counter so hard, my knuckles are white and a stab of pain from the pressure in my fingers zings through my hand.
“To remind me.” I shut my eyes, needing to cover the wave of agony that hits me in the chest like a tsunami.
“Remind you of what, dear?”
I like how Jackie speaks. It’s delicate, sensitive, and full of understanding even though she has no idea what she’s about to understand. She reminds me a lot of my mom—what my mom was like, that is. Jackie is around my age, though, with a few gray hairs sprouting around her temples. She has that motherly energy—the type of person people can trust after just one encounter. She’s warm, inviting, and cares about everyone around her.
It’s why she’s such a great nurse.
“Remind me that I’m the reason my mom is dead,” I say bluntly, a bit sad and a bit angry all at once. “And I know, I’m not. I know that.” I lean down, my elbows resting on the counter, and turn to look at Jackie who has placed her chin in her hand, listening intently. “I know I’m not the reason,” I repeat, trying to convincemyself with the words. “She had a brain aneurysm. She’s the reason I’m a neurosurgeon.”
“Which explains how amazing you are in surgery. You have an amazing success rate with aneurysms. You’ve made Warrick General even more famous.” She winks, trying to ease the tension pouring from me.
Something between a scoff and a laugh escapes me. “Nothing could make this hospital more famous. The Warrick name is enough.” I grab the back of my neck, rubbing and stretching it to ease the ache growing at the base of my skull. “Anyway, the aneurysm burst after she was worried and stressing over me. She died instantly.”
“Oh, sweetie. Come here.” Jackie takes me by surprise and wraps her arms around my waist since that’s where she can reach. She turns her head and places her cheek against my chest, giving me a tight hug.
I freeze. My arms are frozen at my sides. It’s been so long since someone has hugged me like this. I think the last time was when my mom was alive. Emotion bubbles in my throat and I swallow it down, finally wrapping my arms around her frame, and her hand pats my back like I’m a small child that needs soothing.
There’s a part of me that is, I suppose.
“It wasn’t your fault.” She peels away from me, patting my cheek next. “I know you know that. Mothers worry. It’s what we do. That aneurysm was there with or without you there.”
“I know.” I swallow, not completely understanding how she’s so easy to talk to. I’ve told her more than most people I’ve met over the years.
I miss hugs. I didn’t realize how touch starved I was until she invaded my space. It’s like she started to peel back layers, that I had sealed shut, just with that hug—a mother’s hug.
“Anyway, that’s why my dad hates me. He thinks I killed the love of his life. I have no interest in seeing him. I’d rather just move on with my life.”
She frowns. “I suggest you talk to his doctor, then. Dr. Washington.”
“Why?”
“Just talk to her, okay?” She grips my arm lightly. “I have to go make rounds, but if you want to talk, find me. We can swap numbers later too if you want to talk. You can always come over. Granted, I have five kids, so it’s chaos, just a heads-up, but my husband is great on the grill.”
The old me would have said no. The old me would have run as far away as possible if it meant caring about someone again. Caring is so hard when it hurts.
I’m tired of hurting.
“That actually sounds great. Thanks. For being so kind.”
“You’re welcome. Find me later. Okay?”
“You got it,” I say, smiling at her as Jackie practically skips away.
There’s a warmth in my chest, spreading through my veins, and I realize it’s happiness, maybe even relief, or hope. All positive emotions. Emotions I’ve only felt while living here in the city, working here at this hospital, texting Miss Wrong Number, meeting Olivia.
All of it has zapped life into me again, and I refuse to allow my father to take that away from me too. I’ve lived far too long telling myself I’m not allowed to enjoy life. I deserve to learn how to rewire myself to experience joy.
