“In a nutshell,” I whisper, hiding the sob I release.
“Which makes me wonder if you’ve changed at all, or if you’re still the self-centered bitch you were when you abandoned me. When you abandoned us. Ten years ago.”
“I… I just…”
His voice darkens. “And if that’s the case, if you are still that person, tell us to fuck off now. Don’t bring Mom and Dad back into your life only to fuck them over all over again. Especially Dad. You broke him, Raven. You broke him so bad, I don’t think he’ll survive you doing it again.” I don’t reply and I think that’s what he is looking for, an excuse to shout at me some more, to vent his anger toward me. “Got nothing to say? Absolutely nothing?”
“I don’t know what to say. If I say you’re right, you’ll tell me I’m pitying myself. If I say you’re wrong, you’ll call me a liar.”
“Then tell me you’ll cancel on Dad right now, tell me you’ll never contact us again. Promise me you’ll leave us alone. Because we’re doing okay without you.”
My heart crumbles to ash. “Is that what you want? You want me to pull away again?”
“It’ll hurt less now than in a few months when you’ve sunk your hooks in again.”
“He’s… he’s my dad, Travis.”
“You didn’t need him for the past ten years, you don’t need him for the next ten.”
I pull the phone from my ear and look at it. He says my name, trying to get my attention but I’m devastated and trying to calm my thoughts to give him a rational answer.
“I—” My pager vibrates and beeps on the side by the sink. “I have to go, Travis. There’s an emergency at the hospital.”
“Think about what I said.”
What a dick. “The answer is no. I’m not taking that from you and I’m not walking away. You can hate me all you want, be immature and hold on to past bullshit from when I was just a scared child, but that’s on you. If you don’t like that answer, if you don’t want to build bridges, then don’t fucking call me again.” I hang up the phone and stomp into my bedroom, nearly forgetting about the sad, half-baked potato in the oven. I was really looking forward to that too.
I’m right though. Okay, so I made some bad decisions, but I’ve let him say his piece, now it’s time to move on. What’s the point in rehashing any of it? Dad wants a future with me and that’s what matters.
Travis: Don’t hurt them.
I glare at my phone. Ugh.
Travis: Good luck with your patient… If they exist.
Now he’s just trying to piss me off.
* * *
The next day it’s me who extends the olive branch, when I’ve calmed down and finally get to eat a baked potato smothered in cheese and butter. I’ve been craving it for so long. Days now. And every time I’ve sat down to eat my beeper goes beep.
Raven: So, chemical engineering?
I place my phone down and hum after guiding the melted cheese to my tongue. I swear I go cross-eyed.
When my phone vibrates, in my giddiness to answer it, I almost drop it and then my plate.
Travis: I help make the medicines you pump into your patients’ veins.
Raven: So we’re finally admitting that I’m a qualified surgeon now?
Travis: I’m playing along, is all. I guess I’ll know more on Wednesday when the parentals visit.
Raven: Since when do you call them the parentals? Wasn’t that my thing?
Travis: Surprised you remember.
Here we go…
Travis: Did you think about us at all?
My mouth goes dry.
Raven: Us as in me and you?
Travis: Us as in me and our parents. Me and you is not a conversation I ever want to have again. If we’re going to be friends, then it’s for the best that we put that behind us.
Raven: You want to be friends?
Travis: I don’t know. I don’t know what kind of person you are anymore.
Raven: I could say the same. Since when did you get so chatty?
Travis: Fuck you, Raven.
Raven: Thought we’d established you already did.
I quickly type out another message, hoping he won’t answer that one again. The last time we went there he said he still gets hard thinking about me and there’s just something about that confession that makes me more aroused than I’ve ever been in years.
Raven: Since when did you get such a potty mouth?
Travis: You bring the worst out in me.
I’m in the middle of typing a witty reply when he sends another message.
Travis: Send me a recent picture of you.
Raven: Why?
Travis: I want to see your face.
Raven: Why?
Travis: Because I haven’t seen it in ten years.
Raven: You just want to double-check that I’m not a junkie.
Travis: Are you?
I could slap him if he were closer.
Travis: Kidding… Kind of.
Raven: Goodnight, Travis.
Travis: No picture?
Raven: You’re like one of those creepy guys on FB that doesn’t quit asking for photos and calling until you block them. Would you like me to block you?
Travis: I’d like a picture.
Raven: Fine. You first.
Travis: I thought you’d never ask.
My hand tightens on my phone when an empty square appears in its own message box. I get excited as I anticipate what it could be, a picture of his face, his body… all of him? Then, finally, after a long ten seconds, the picture comes into focus and I fight the urge to vomit and also throw my phone against the wall.
It’s the picture I accidentally sent to everybody in his contacts. The photoshopped dick pic.
He’s an asshole.
That’s what he was trying to work into the conversation, when he said he still got hard, he was wanting me to ask about it. It’s so clear now. He’s such a dick. I guess that answers my question about whether or not he still harbors ill feelings toward me for doing that to him.
I sigh heavily and calm myself.
Raven: Low blow, Travis. If it’s an apology you’re looking for, I’m sorry. So so sorry for what I did. But I’m not groveling for forgiveness and I’m not putting up with this from you. I’m too old and too busy for this. Again, I’m sorry. I never should have done what I did, but I can’t take it back and I’m not willing to be your punching bag over it until you feel better. Stop contacting me, I’ve blocked your number, if you contact me from another, I’ll block that one too. Clearly I’m toxic to you and you’re now becoming toxic to me too. Take care. Maybe when we meet again you won’t be so bitter about the past.
If he ever replies I don’t know because of the block. I almost feel guilty for it but my anxiety is sky high and I’m not coping well. And the fact he still has the picture after all these years is alarming. He really holds a grudge. That’s so unhealthy for him and for me.
I will apologize to his face if I ever see him again, but until then, I’m not going to be his punching bag.
I left the key at the reception desk for Shonda and my dad, so I didn’t expect them to come to me on my ward as I make my final rounds of the day. They’re not supposed to be up here, I’m betting my chief allowed it, knowing a brief tale of my past. She passes the window to the room I’m in and winks like we’re in on a secret. I don’t react because I’m in the middle of something important.
It’s surreal seeing my dad again, nothing but a glass wall with open blinds separating us as I sit on the side of Harlow’s bed and make a little hand-puppet bunny rabbit talk to her to make her feel better. She’s been sick all day, an unfortunate side effect of chemotherapy, something I never wanted to put her on, but it was unavoidable. The cancer didn’t respond to anything else.
I kiss the little girl’s forehead with the bunnies cool, plastic nose and leave him behind as I take her mother to the side to let her know our new plan of action. Her mother is such a warrior, when I firs
t started working here I hated speaking to the patients’ families, I still do, but I do it now with much more decorum than I had back then. The families would react to dire news in one of three ways: shock and total silence, immediate anger and blame, or desperation and heartbreaking sorrow. You can never tell by looking at them who is going to react which way.
The mother hugs me, so calm and collected as always, so put together and always with a smile. That’s why she’s a warrior. I don’t know how she does it. I wouldn’t think any less of her if she reacted in the more common ways.
I turn, feeling the weight of that little girl’s life on my shoulders when I exit the room. It’s a pressure that stays, even when I’m out of my scrubs and back at home. It’s true what they say about medical staff never being off the clock.
Shonda still has brown hair to her shoulders, and her face only shows a few more wrinkles than before. She looks amazing for her age.
Dad’s hair is gray and starting to recede but he’s still as handsome as he was when I left.
I greet them in my scrubs, wondering if he’s proud of me or if he’s hiding his hatred and anger for what I did so we can have an amicable reunion.
“Hi,” I say, stopping a meter away from them.
Shonda is the first to reach for me, she hugs me so tightly I can’t breathe, and then my dad’s arms come around us both and I shatter. It takes every ounce of my strength to stop myself from crying. Especially when I feel my dad’s tears against my cheek.
I did this to them. I put them through this.
“Don’t you ever run away from us again, do you hear me?” Dad growls in my ear as Shonda pulls free and wipes her eyes on a handkerchief with her initials on it. I’ll poke fun at her for that later.
“I suddenly feel seventeen again,” I mutter, laughing lightly when Dad pulls back and looks at me.
“You’re really a doctor, you really graduated college…”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Shonda asks sadly. “We would have come. We would have been here.”
Considering the last conversation I had with Shonda was with my hand wrapped in her hair, I find it highly unlikely that she would have been there. Especially if she holds grudges like Travis. Though he hasn’t mentioned me attacking his mother. He’s just bitter about our relationship ending. Could he still have feelings for me? Is that why he’s still so mad?
“I’m not a good person,” I admit, my eyes watering. I look at my colleagues who are watching the exchange with interest, though my first-year residents are the people I snap at as they hover around us, waiting for orders. “Go find work!”
“Yes’m,” one of them grumbles as they all scurry away like kittens startled by a loud noise.
“I only have a few more things to do,” I say to Dad softly as they take me in and where I am, their faces awed, their eyes wide and inspired. “Did you get the key?”
Dad pats his chest where I’m assuming the key is buried in his jacket pocket. I can’t believe how much he still looks the same and smells the same. Though he’s got a bit of a gut now. Once upon a time I’d have ridiculed him for it but we’re not at that place in our relationship yet.
“I’ll be home soon,” I reassure him, and he hugs me again as though afraid I’ll disappear.
I watch them wander off and do my duties here, praying I don’t get called for an emergency, but I know my chief won’t do that to me now, not unless she absolutely must.
When I get home Dad’s eyes are still puffy and Shonda is hanging up her phone, I don’t know who she was talking to and I suppose it’s not my business but I do wonder if she was telling Travis that I am in fact alive and not a junkie. They’ve likely already snooped around my apartment but I give them a grand tour anyway. It’s all open plan, apart from the bedroom, bathroom, and three closets. It’s small but it’s cozy and it’s home, kind of.
It’s where my closest friends and I hang out and drink wine, eat food, and watch movies. It’s our main meeting point because they know that with staff being so short at the hospital at the moment, I’m constantly on call and I live closest to the hospital.
We chat and catch up, I tell them about my life at med school and about everything I’ve done in between, they tell me about their promotions and we even talk a little about Travis.
They don’t admit it but I know Travis told them not to come. I can tell they are trying to avoid speaking about him and for the most part I can’t blame them. I just love hearing about what he’s getting up to now. I wish he could tell me himself without screaming his hatred for me at me.
Shonda does admit that I’m a sore topic for him, one he hasn’t fully approached since I left. That makes my aching, shattered heart clench with agony. I never wanted to be the villain in his story. I wanted him to look back and have fond memories of our time together.
They don’t elaborate beyond that and I wonder why but I don’t push it.
We share a lot of apologies before we go anywhere and even though none of us want to blame anybody but ourselves, we all know that, truthfully, it’s on me. So of course I do the most apologizing. I’ll forever fear that my apologies won’t be enough.
I’ll just have to show them with my actions that I’m not about to hurt them again.
“Let’s move on now, draw a line under it, go on as the strong family we were once,” Dad declares, making Shonda smile fondly at him in that way she always did.
“Okay.”
“That means you have to come home for Christmas,” Shonda insists, and I cringe, knowing that it’s an impossible ask. “Will you be able to get it off work?”
I shake my head. “Unlikely, I usually cover for my colleagues with kids and such.”
“Thanksgiving?”
I shrug subtly. “I’ll see what I can do about Thanksgiving.”
Shonda visibly brightens after that and we all head out to dinner. It’s tense at first, but by the end of it we’re talking like we used to. Except I no longer use slang and my dad cusses even worse than before, or perhaps I didn’t notice it before. Of course, I don’t mind it in the slightest.
It’s lovely, and by the time we’re back in the apartment and they’re asleep in my bed, the awkwardness has slipped away entirely.
Two days later, after taking them around the city, we all share a teary goodbye, none of us want them to go.
“Move home, get a job in LA, they’re desperate for physicians over there,” Dad pleads, looking solemn as we stand to the side of the airport rush.
“I have to finish my residency. I only have until May and then my contract is over. We’ll see how things go by then.” I’m not sure I want to leave this life behind, but really what is there for me here other than my patients? Who, yes, I’ll miss dreadfully, but can I sacrifice my family who are finally back in my life for this?
“You’ll consider it?” Shonda asks hopefully.
I nod. “It’s a definite possibility. But only if it isn’t going to upset anyone back home.” Of course I’m talking about Travis though I’m not trying to make it too obvious. “I don’t want to disturb the lives you’ve got now. That wouldn’t be fair of me.”
“You wouldn’t be,” Dad pushes. “You’re my daughter, you’ll always be my daughter.”
I take the hand he offers and squeeze it.
“Travis will be okay,” Shonda finishes, catching on to my meaning. “I promise. It’ll all work out. He’ll calm down.”
I frown at her. “I know that what I did was wrong, but I don’t understand why he’s still this level of angry with me.”
Dad squeezes my hand tighter and his eyes are soft on my face as he replies, “That’s not our story to tell, kid. Reach out to him. Try to make things right again.”
“And if I fail?”
“You won’t.”
I blow out a breath and walk them to their gate, wishing they could both stay another day. We hug again and then they have to leave, with only minutes to spare.
I head straight h
ome and cuddle my pillow that still smells of my dad.
Reach out, they said, so that’s what I do.
Raven: Do you believe me now?
Travis: I still need photographic evidence.
I laugh and shake my head despite the fact he can’t see it.
Raven: I’m sorry for everything I did to you, Travis. I don’t know what happened after I left, but I can imagine the aftermath of that text message wasn’t good for you. I should have been there to take the fall.
He doesn’t reply and I’m too curious to leave it be. I stopped speaking to the girls and Brett years ago, but I head over to their social media pages and try to find Travis on their friends lists. It seems he’s not on social media either.
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