I walked the length of their street, looking at the light displays on the houses and yards in the neighborhood. Stacie’s house was the only one without the outward twinkling of Christmas spirit, but I was sure Jack would change that soon enough.
What else would change?
The question in one sense had little to do with Jack’s return. I couldn't be happier now that he was home with Stacie and the baby. Yet, in another sense, I couldn’t help but feel a bit lost. My purpose in Dallas had been to keep Stacie company during her pregnancy while Jack was overseas. To support her, help her, take care of her, although in truth, she had done far more of that for me. I stuffed my hands down inside my coat pockets, my fingers aching from the cold.
As surprising as it was for me to admit that I had really enjoyed living with Stacie, I knew it couldn’t last forever, nothing ever did. With the arrival of the baby quickly approaching and Jack’s return home, I needed to start making plans, immediately. The last thing I wanted to do was cramp a growing family. A family who had already given me more than I could ever re-pay, they had given me the chance to start anew.
**********
As I checked-in at the nurses’ station, a huddle of women stood at the bulletin board discussing New Year’s Eve plans. I rolled my eyes.
It’s two weeks away ladies, seriously?
But as I rounded the corner to grab my first chart of the day, I stopped short.
Kai’s face.
A huge poster on the bulletin board stared back at me. It was surrounded by a group of nursing staff.
“Hi, Tori, looks like your boyfriend’s got a pretty big gig on New Year’s Eve, huh? You must be so proud of him,” Bev said.
“Uh...he’s not...he’s not-” I started.
“Oh, that’s right. I think I heard about that, you guys broke up, right? Bummer, and right before the holidays, too,” Bev quipped, coming to my side, her fire-red nails stroking my arm.
Yeah right, ‘think I heard about that…’
Of course she had heard, she was the leader of all things gossip related.
“It’s fine, really,” I said.
“Well, the whole hospital’s been talking about it—the New Year’s Eve Party, not your breakup, of course,” Bev said, laughing without a smile.
“Everyone I know has already bought tickets. It should be quite a night from the plans I keep hearing about. Too bad you’ll miss it,” she said, sticking her bottom lip out.
“Who says I’ll miss it?” I asked, heat coursing through me.
“Oh...well, I assumed because-”
“Well you know what they say about a person that assumes, Bev.”
With that I walked down the hall, chart in hand, leaving her to gawk and gossip all she wanted. I would not be anyone’s charity case, however fake and misguided Bev’s intentions were.
My skin crawled at the thought of her little nurse posse talking about Kai. If not for the sake of my professionalism at work, I would have said much more than I had. Of course, I had absolutely no intention of going to that party, but Bev’s comment had just made things a bit more complicated.
Pride sucked.
Why do I even care what she thinks? I’m not going—that’s it.
Each evening after eight o’clock, Meg Holt had allowed Christmas music to be played throughout the main hall, as long as it was kept at a minimal volume. The mood changed almost instantaneously.
The night had been fairly low key and few staff were needed, most were caught up in the hallway talking about Christmas plans. The others were doing paperwork so they could exit the second their shift was over. Not feeling much enthusiasm to join in on another yet holiday discussion, I watched the clock.
“Hey there, Tori,” Meg said.
“Hi, slow night, huh?” I asked.
“Yeah, kinda nice though for a change, except for the slow tick of that clock,” she laughed.
“Yes, exactly,” I said.
She turned to the desk and riffled through a folder.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard about the nurse's abroad program yet, but I have a flier here if you think you might be interested.”
She handed me a bright yellow piece of paper with the words “Consider Africa” centered at the top in bold lettering.
“What is it?” I asked, studying the page.
“It’s basically a twelve-month opportunity to be on a mobile medical team. They focus on taking vaccines and nutritional care to villages all around Africa. Because it’s mobile, you don’t stay in one place for longer than a week at a time, so you would really get to experience a lot. If I didn’t have a husband and kids I’d be all over something like that,” she said.
I continued to read it, examining the pictures that bordered both sides of the page, “Huh...well, thanks.”
“The deadline to sign up is February first, team leaves March one,” Meg said, strolling away in her Birkenstocks.
Africa.
The clock finally read ten till midnight.
I started my walk to my locker to collect my keys and phone. I was anxious to leave. Standing around in a hospital with no work to do was the thing I liked least about nursing; thank goodness it was a rarity in my particular department. I bundled up and headed out the main emergency doors. At this time of night all the other doors were locked and armed for security reasons, this made the walk to my car much longer.
“Tori?”
I jumped at the sound of the male voice behind me, dropping my phone, keys, and the Consider Africa brochure to the ground. Adrenaline surged so strong through my body that the hairs on my neck stood up straight. The man knelt down instantly, gathering up my scattered belongings.
“I’m sorry; I was trying to figure out a way not to startle you, but couldn’t think of any. Here, let me help,” Briggs said.
“What on earth are you doing out here, Briggs?” I snapped.
He handed me my phone and keys and then slowly the yellow brochure, reading the words on the front. I snatched it from his hand.
“What’s up?” I said, growing increasingly impatient.
“Look, I know I’m not on your top-ten-favorite-people-list right now, but...but Kai’s-” Briggs started, his face tentative.
My stomach dropped, knotting instantly.
“What about Kai? Is he sick? Is something wrong?” I asked, my words rushing out.
His face seemed to change with my last question, as if he was considering it carefully or maybe considering me carefully.
“What? Just tell me, Briggs!” I stomped my foot.
“Maybe not sick in a conventional way exactly, but-”
“You know, I have heard enough lies from the two of you. Ironic, isn’t it? Look who the game players are now—Batman and Robin, both.”
I turned from him quickly and continued to walk in the direction of my car.
“Stop, Tori, please. You’re right. I did know that he was at your accident that night. What I didn’t know—or rather, what I didn’t understand was why he was so impacted by you that night. That is, until I met you for myself, until I saw you save my best friend’s life at the risk of your own,” he said, getting in front of me, causing me to stop mid-stride. “Don’t you find it the least bit odd that out of this whole huge city he meets your bother-in-law who just happens to attend his same church? Then only months later he realizes that the girl he’d prayed for...the girl he had cared for in the back of his rig, was you? He couldn’t have planed all that, Tori; he’s not some creepy stalker. He loves you.”
The word was a physical blow, causing me instant pain all over.
“Love…really? That’s what you think love is Briggs? Because all I hear is deception, and last time I checked that wasn’t the best foundation to build a relationship on,” I said.
“Tori, he is beyond regretful for not telling you sooner. I’ve never seen a man so broken.” Briggs paused and looked at me, a new resignation in his voice. “Answer me this, can you honestly tell me that
you would’ve given him a chance if he had told you all that up front?”
I stared into his hard eyes, knowing the answer.
No.
I said nothing.
“So that’s it, then? You just go on with your life and pretend you never knew each other?” Briggs took a step closer to me, gesturing with his arms in the air. “Or maybe you never really did care for him...maybe losing him isn’t a big deal at all-“
“Shut up! I love him…”
I slapped my hand over my mouth the instant the words were spoken. Regret loomed over me.
A large smile spread over Briggs’ face.
I’ve been played.
“Sorry about that. I knew you’d never admit it if I didn’t coax it out of you. Think about what I said Tori, before you make the biggest mistake of your life.” Briggs nodded to the yellow brochure in my hand.
Instinctively, I put it behind my back, knowing full well I was hiding nothing that he hadn’t already seen and read.
He took another step toward me and in a voice as soft as a whisper asked, “Is there anything you’d like me to tell Kai for you?”
Without missing a beat I stared him right in the eyes and said, “Yes...tell him baking helps.”
By the time I got to my car, my tears were unstoppable. I laid my head down on the steering wheel, waiting for my sobs to subside.
“Why did this happen, God? Why would you let me fall in love with a man I can’t trust? Why does the pain of my accident get more and more complex every single day?”
No answer.
“And why do you speak at the times I’m not trying to hear from you? Urgh!”
No answer.
TWENTY-EIGHT
I may have been running more often, but the duration was get shorter each time I went out. The white puffs that replaced my breath reminded me again of how cold Dallas could get in the winter. I was careful to watch for ice, but so far there hadn’t been any to navigate around.
For the last seven weeks, I had taken a route that wouldn’t lend itself to thoughts of Kai. But today, for reasons unclear to me, I ran up Elm Street bridge and into the park. It was a little past nine in the morning, and there wasn’t a soul around. I kept my pace steady, running along the sidewalk that bordered the swing set. From there, I could see the tree. While keeping it only in my peripheral, I passed by it twice, before finally deciding to go to it.
Why those few steps were more difficult than the miles it took me to run here was obvious, but why I felt compelled to torture myself, was not. The tree was as big and bold as I had remembered. It’s rough bark snagged on the dryness of my hand as I brushed over it reverently. The memory of Kai’s thoughtful words gifting me his special spot burned vividly in my mind’s eye. Then, a much more intimate memory took over, one that forced me to remember the kisses we’d shared together, standing right here.
Dr. Crane’s latest push for me was to find a way to bring “closure” to Anna’s death. To somehow find a way to express to her the thoughts, feelings, regrets, and most definitely the guilt, I had buried deep inside myself. Closure from Anna’s death was the inevitable end for me to be granted freedom from PTSD—Dr. Crane had made that abundantly clear. But here I was, the pending closure of a death looming over me, when I hadn’t even faced the closure of my most recent loss.
It was a loss that lived and breathed just miles from where I stood, a loss that I fought to treat like a death, permanent and indisputable.
I could feel it building in me, the need to let go, but I wasn’t brave enough to face that, not yet. A chill came over me as my sweat began to cool, freezing onto my skin.
I saw the frost on the ground, the weight of the tiny blades of grass that were bent under its pressure. I looked over the roots of the tree that stood inches above the earth’s surface one last time, saying a silent goodbye to a tree that had once brought me indescribable hope. As I turned from it, a gleam of white caught my eye.
I looked again, reaching down for it.
Paper.
It was curled now, weathered, but unmistakably a message to someone.
The pen had bled and smeared over its trusted companion: the note card. Most letters were still intact however, and to a patient eye, even legible. I fell back on the tree with a thud as I read the first word.
Pele.
It was from Kai...to me.
Tears filled my eyes as I read on:
Pele,
I was wrong to wait so long to tell you.
I thought losing you would be the worst pain I’d ever feel, but I was wrong about that, too.
Knowing I was the cause for your pain is far, far worse.
If you are reading this now, then maybe there is still hope...
Maybe there is a chance for forgiveness?
I love you Tori.
Until then...I’ll keep waiting.
Kai
His name was just a dark glob of ink, but I could read the letters clearly, as if they shouted directly into my thoughts. I re-read the card over and over, until I’d memorized it, stuffing it deep into the pocket of my heart. I curled the note card back up and carried it in my hand as I ran back to Stacie’s.
When had Kai written this?
Only moments before I had been dwelling on closure, but was that what I really wanted? Was it enough that Kai was sorry? That he had admitted wrong-doing and wanted my forgiveness? Were we supposed to be together?
I meditated on those questions with each step that pounded the pavement, my mind spinning in circles again. God seemed so distant when I prayed about Kai. The more passionate I became about the matter, the further away He felt. I was confused by the lack of direction.
It seemed easy enough, this question in my mind. A simple yes or no would do the trick. How hard could it possibly be for me to hear, or for Him to speak?
And then, a new thought occurred to me.
Is that not the right question?
I stopped, breathing heavily now. I looked up into the sky, waiting.
“What is the right question?”
Where does forgiveness start?
The prompting was deep and rich, overwhelming my senses with its power.
I searched for the answer, scattering my confusion into a million pieces. I replayed it again, focusing on each word, saying it out loud.
Was this God’s idea of a riddle?
Was there even a right answer?
Would I continue in this constant circular pattern of pain and self-destruction forever?
And then it was clear.
Forgiveness starts within.
It wasn’t just an answer, it was a priority.
And Kai was not first on that list.
I was.
**********
“It’s hard to believe this is our last session for the year, Victoria,” Dr. Crane said.
“Please, call me, Tori. You’ve earned that right by now,” I said, smiling at her.
She laughed lightly and handed me a box wrapped in shiny red paper.
“I wouldn’t normally give a Christmas present to a patient, Tori, but I felt this was appropriate. You have worked so hard over the last four months and you’ve grown tremendously since our first session together. I hope you can see that, too. Don’t get stuck on what’s left to overcome, there will always be more to do, for all of us,” Dr. Crane said. “I would be out of a job pretty quickly if perfection were possible.”
I smiled at her and unwrapped the pretty paper. It was a beautiful spiral-backed journal.
“Thank you, Dr. Crane. This is very thoughtful of you,” I said.
“It’s not just a journal to keep track of your days, Tori. This journal has a purpose. Its spiral back is essential to that purpose,” she said, looking at me, willing me to conclude her thought.
“So I can choose what to keep in it and what to tear out?” I asked.
“Exactly. Closure of grief, especially grief that bears guilt, can be a tough task. Writing may prove helpful
to you, but not all of it should be held on to. Some things we write need to be released in order for healing to come. Clinging onto harmful words, even those we write about ourselves, will never get us far. Think of it like a dog that spends his days chasing after his tail, satisfaction will never find him.”
Though she had never spoken the words, I had a sense there was more to Dr. Crane’s understanding of healing than her schooling alone could take credit for.
There was something ultimately more divine at work in her.
“I will use it, I promise. I will see you after the new year, then?” I asked.
“Yes, Happy Holidays,” she said, hugging me gently.
“Happy Holidays to you, too, Dr. Crane.”
I looked again at the journal as I left her office.
Yes, something ultimately more divine indeed.
**********
After another long and dreadfully slow night in the ER, I headed home. December 23rd had held no real significance to me, other than being the day I wrote my first journal entry. The list I’d begun had proven longer than I first had anticipated. Due to my aimless meanderings in the hallway at work, though, I had found plenty of extra thought time. I added names and offenses accordingly.
Tomorrow I would test it.
**********
Jack was awake when I walked into the house. His jet lag hadn’t quite worn off yet, as he was often awake during normal sleeping hours. He was in the kitchen now, pouring a giant bowl of frosted flakes.
“Greetings, how was your day?” he asked.
“You mean my night?” I said, laughing.
“Oh yeah, right, night,” he said.
“It was fine, painfully slow, but no major complaints,” I said, taking my shoes off.
Jack shoveled the cereal into his mouth with a spoon designed only for serving casseroles, and gestured for me to sit down. We had talked several times since he’d been back, but most of those talks were covering major bullet points of the things he’d missed, and vice versa. I slumped into the leather recliner, drawing my legs underneath me. I rested my head on my hand.
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