Everything They Didn't Tell
Page 5
“You can’t...do that,” I stutter – in utter shock.
Are you kidding me right now? Is she dropping me? I begin to hyperventilate immediately and my face starts sweating. How is this even possible? Sure we have missed quite a few meetings, but what are we to do, stop saving lives and plan a wedding? Most times David and I leave to work and we don’t get home until late nights or early mornings. This is my wedding were talking about, which is supposed to happen in like– 4 months.
“Actually we can and we are doing that.” It's the familiar voice of my now ex-wedding planner on the other end of the line.
“You’ve failed to meet with me and I have rescheduled with you too many times. Good luck finding another planner who can deal with you shortcomings.”
“Huh!”
The call ends abruptly, leaving this zeeing sound in my ear.
You have got to be kidding me. What am I going to do now? How am I going to magically – plan a wedding in 4 months? My head falls into my hands and as expected, the tears begin to flow, one behind the other. My heart throbs violently and my head pounds.
Nope, this is not me. When did I become this fragile? I am not glass; I’m supposed to be a mountain and a tower of strength. So you know in the movies, where a character decides to take a stand and get some power boots? Well, that’s the exact moment I’m having right now. I walk out the kitchen and head to work. I’m going to plan this wedding and it's going to be perfect.
Why am I even worried? I have Robynett, David, my parents and my other friends who will help. I have nothing to worry about. My parents, I really need to call them, like now. I pull my phone out, I scroll through my contacts and then dial mother.
Phew, I breathe, knowing what’s coming next.
The phone rings, a couple of times, as I wait for her to pick up.
Come on, Ma, answer. I need you now...
“Hey there, sweetie.”
Finally...“Hi mom.”
“How are you doing, Doc?”
“Apart from the fact that my wedding planner has just crossed me from off her client-list, and I've had the most tedious shift in a very long time, I’m good,” I sarcastically answer.
“Scarlet dropped you? She can’t do that. The wedding should be in – four months,” she slams. I can just imagine her free hand, wagging around in the air, one of the many habits I get from her.
“I know, I know. I was thinking probably I could plan the wedding and I could use you, dad, some friends and of course, David,” I suggest. I'm really asking mom a big favour here.
“That would be perfect. It will be the best wedding ever. I can’t believe I’m going to help in the planning of the wedding of my princess.”
I smile, knowing that she's gonna take great joy in doing this. When I was younger, my parents were both busy, saving lives, just as I'm doing now, and so they've missed some important events in my life. They didn’t see me off to prom because both of them were stuck in surgery; they couldn’t come to my graduation because they had to fly out of the state to this 'important procedure'. Though they missed out on a lot of my happenings, they made the ones they managed to be at most memorable. Medicine has been in my blood and I thank God everyday that I have such amazing parents who hands down their knowledge and skills to me.
“Mom, I need to talk to you about the lady I told you I saw a couple months ago.”
“Rache– ” Now she's sounding flustered, but I would have none of it.
“Mom, please listens to me; hear me out.”
“Ok...ay” she says, hesitantly.
“It all started two months ago...”
Chapter 15
“Whoa. And– you say this all happened– two months ago?” My mom asks, timely. I can hear my pop breathing heavily beside her, probably trying to process all the information I had just given them.
“Two months ago,” I confirm.
“This is gonna be hard to explain to Evelyn and Richard. I’ll go over there tonight, try to explain to them and then we’ll see if we’ll be having a guest for Thanksgiving.”
“Thanks, mom, I really don’t know how I would explain such things.”
“I'll talk to you later sweetie. I love you.”
“Love you too, mom.”
*****
“Martha, prepare Mr. Gullies discharge papers and keep an eye on the patient in Trauma 3. Dr. Piper should be here soon to give him a neuro exam. I’ll be at the cardio wing if you need me.”
“Gotcha,” she says, after giving me a wink.
I’ve kind of been avoiding David since I got to work. I saw him three times today and totally dismissed him. Whenever I see him in the corridors I hide behind the walls. I’m just really exhausted right now. I am literally on the edge just waiting for my mother to ring my cell, plus I don’t know how to tell him that we no longer have a wedding planner.
Yes, I said I would plan this wedding and have tons of support but come on, let’s be honest and realistic. Between my work schedule and David’s, we would barely have time to plan anything, well of course on our day off, Saturday. Even if I asked Kristal and Robynett, they have crazy work schedules as well.
David says he’s okay with this whole ‘Robyn/Robynett’ thing but I know deep down inside he has a lot of questions and doubts. But what if she's just some other girl who happens to look like my ‘dead’ best friend? I just need some time before talking to him.
Cut it out Rachel! my subconscious speaks.
“Okay!” I shout at it, rather frustrated.
You have come too far to start looking back now. There’s no way she can’t be her. Just relax, go check up on your patients, my sub continues.
Yeah, Yeah, I know you think I’m crazy but we all talk to ourselves (our subconscious) at some point in life.
Oh no...
“Rachel, have you been avoiding me?” David asks. I search for words but none would come. I stand there, looking at my obviously upset fiancé, looking as if I'm seeing the ghost of Christmas past.
Chapter 16
“Are you just gonna keep staring or actually answer my question?” He folds his arms.
Whoa, I’ve never seen him like this.
“I... Um...”
“You what?” Now he's looking bitter, a brow raised, making his forehead crease.
“I just need some space right now,” I bluntly say. Okay, probably shouldn’t have said it like that. I try not to make direct eye contact.
Space, huh,” he rants, letting out an angry chuckle.
“Well, space you want, space you’ll get. I’ll be going out tonight, with some friends, that way you can have all the space,” he gesticulates, showing space signs with his fingers.
“David... I didn– ”
“No, save it,” he cuts off. “And–you could have at least told me the wedding planner had dropped us.” He hauls on his coat before slamming the On-Call room door.
BLAM!
I jolt from the impact of the door. So, now he knows, but he didn’t hear from me. Now I feel completely awful.
I fall back, lifelessly on the bed in the room. This is a disaster.
Ding-a-Ling, Ding-a-Ling
I put my hand in my lab coat to grab my phone. Without looking at the caller ID, I answer, groggily.
“Hello.”
“Rachel, are you okay?”
It's my mom, sounding a bit concerned.
“No. Not really,” I mumble, running my hand through my golden mane.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, with interest.
“David found out that the wedding planner had dropped us,” I sigh.
I’ve never seen him like this in a long while. Something must be wrong other than the fact that we have been dropped by our wedding planner.
“Oh my, I’m guessing he didn’t take it too well.”
“You’ve got that right, Ma.”
And then it hits me that my mother is the only one I told about the whole wedding planner situation. Could she hav
e called him?
Are you even hearing yourself right now? My subconscious asks.
“Mom, did you tell David?”
“God no, I could have never; it wouldn’t be my place to.”
“I’m sorry for wondering if you had. I guess the wedding planner must have called him.”
“Just give him some time to cool down; probably he’s just having a bad day.”
“Yeah, I think it has something to do with work as well,” I gasp, resting my back against the head of the bed.
“I talked to Evelyn and Richard.” My mother comes out the blues.
“What did they say?”
I wait for Ma to speak, rubbing my now sweating palms against my thighs.
“After telling them Robynett's story and– trying to convince them, multiple times, they....” She pauses.
Now, this is torture, why did she stop? Does she want to kill me with anxiety?
“They what, mom?” I shrill. I hold my breath for a second.
“They want to meet her right away!”
“Oh my god! You’re not kidding me, right?”
“No way. They didn’t believe me at first but eventually, they got excited once I started to describe her.”
Tears of joy bless my cheeks. I gently wipe them. She’s back. She’s going to be reunited with her family.
“I’m so happy, mom,” I chirp.
“I know honey, I know. Now, you go make things up with David and tell Robynett to prepare for her thanksgiving homecoming. You hear me girl?”
“Okay, I’ll call later. Give dad a kiss for me. Love You Mom.”
“Love you too, pumpkin.”
One problem down, one to go, I sigh.
Chapter 17
I leave the ICU after checking on my patients. I need to go home and fall asleep in the bathtub or something. I quickly wash my hands and change my clothes. I take out my cell to look at the time. It is 10:43 p.m. I still haven’t heard anything from David. His shift usually ends earlier than mine on a Tuesday; he would always call me to say he's home, but I’ve heard nothing from him. I guess he’s really mad at me.
“How long are you going to keep staring at that phone?”
I raise my head to look up at the person in front of me. It's my friend, Kristal. I smile, not saying anything.
“Bad day, Huh?” she presses, leaning against the door frame of the Doctor’s lounge on the Cardio wing, also known as the east wing.
“You can say so.”
“Go home, get some rest and sleep it off,” she adds, edging closer to sit beside me on the couch.
“I’ll try,” I sigh.
“Come on, get yourself changed from out of these hospital clothes. I'm taking you out tonight.”
She springs to her feet.
“What?” I puzzle.
“Go get changed. I’m going to do my rounds in the ICU .When I get back you must be changed and ready to go. Okay?”
“Fine,” I murmur.
She turns on her heels and walks though the door.
I feel guilty. I should be home sorting things through with David, but instead, I’m going out to – God knows where –
I open my phone and hesitantly press the call button. The anxiety is too powerful as I wait to see if my call will be answered. The phone rings three times but nothing. I press the send button once more, just hoping....
Now the line's open.
My hearts flutters.
“He – llo.”
“Are you okay?” he asks, not sounding like the David I know but rather like someone who doesn't gives a – nickle.
“Yes. I’m okay”
“Okay, bye.”
“David, wait!”
Whoa, what’s up with him? Something is obviously going on.
“I’m just letting you know Kristal is taking me out tonight so I might come in late.”
“Be careful.” Sounds like a warning. He’s upset, but he still cares, I guess.
“I’ll see you at home then?”
“Okay,” he snaps. This man's killing me with his abrupt answers, not more than three words per sentence.
I take this deep breath after he hangs up.
***
“Why aren’t you changed?”
“I can’t go. I need to go home and sort things out with David. I really messed up.” My fingers start to shiver.
“Okay. We’ll just do a rain check on going out tonight,” she smiles.
“Thank you for understanding, Kris.”
“Anytime. Now go home and sort things out, get some sleep and prepare for the big surgery tomorrow afternoon.”
“I will.”
I stand on my wobbly feet to give her a hug. I watch her leave the room. After the door closes, my head falls into my hands.
Jeez!!!! How could I forget? I feel terrible. Now I know why David is so upset. I can’t even tell Kristal about this; she would have probably cut my head off. How could I really forget something like this?
Today is Damian's death anniversary.
Damian was driving to come see his twin brother, David, when this whacko slammed into his car with this truck. Damian sustained multiple head injuries. By the time he had gotten to the hospital, he was gone. Now, whenever an addict comes to the ER, David tries his best to avoid that case unless there's nobody else to accept. I can’t blame him though. I would have felt the same way if a moron killed my brother in a car crash.
I know, I’m probably the worst fiancée in the world. I need to go home and be there for David.
Chapter 18
“Burning the late night shift, Dr. King?” Harold, the apartment security asks.
“You got that right, Harold.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you out here. Go get some sleep, Dear.”
“Good night, Harold.”
“ –Night,” he waves, removing the coffee mug from his mouth.
I step out of the elevator and walk down the hall, stopping at my apartment door. I turn the key in the door, tiredly. I close the door behind me and kick my fluffy boots off.
I walk to our bedroom; I pause at the door frame as guilt shocks run through my entire body. My heart pours out for him.
It gets worse every year. I have tried telling him to see a psychiatrist but his exact words were, 'I’m not seeing a shrink.' Yeah, I know. Stubborn.
His back is turned towards me. I guess he senses my presence though. I feel terrible. I forgot about the death of his brother. I shake my head. Just the 'perfect time' to to tell him I needed space. I know I messed up, big time. My timing was so off because what he needs now, more than ever, through his moment, is a supporting partner. I could slap myself across my face. I walk towards him. I can feel his resentment without even touching him.
I open my mouth and the words take long to come out. “I’m sorry, okay?”
His back is still turned to the wall.
“I can’t believe I forgot about Damian. Well, I didn’t forget about him but... you know...” My words sincerely become reluctant to leave my mouth.
“What?” he grunts. If he would only just look at me. At least he says something. That’s good.
“I’m really sorry, David. A lot has been happening, though that’s no excuse. I shouldn't have forgotten... because your pain is my pain, Honey.” I wipe my eyes.
Still nothing, he doesn’t even budge. I take one step closer to him but it soon becomes two step farther as he drifts.
“You shouldn’t be sorry, Rachel; I’m the one who should be,” he admits, looking through the glass window, showing the masterpiece of city lights.
Am I hearing right or is he apologizing to me.
“Wha.--” I mutter.
“I’m sorry for getting mad at you. The truth is, I’m mad at that stupid driver and I’m mad at Damian for driving that night. But the person I’m most angry with is– me. I’ll always be mad at myself for not being there to save him.”
He turns to face me. And then he turns away.
“–Hey, don’t blame yourself,” I try to convince. I walk up to him, hugging him from behind
“No!” he rages. “It’s all my fault– I’m the one he was driving to see. He got himself killed, driving late night to see his sick brother, me. It’s all my fault, and I wasn’t there to save him. I've saved countless lives but– I wasn’t there to save his.” He breaks downs in tears, still avoiding eye-contact.
My heart melts in pain for this man. There was nothing he could have done. How do we tell him he is not the reason for Damian’s death?
“Hey shugie, don’t blame yourself. You were really ill; he was coming to look for you, and some moron, who felt it was okay to get on a high and go around a steering wheel, is the person who's responsible. Not you,” I try to convince.
“He was my twin, Rachel. It never goes away. The pain. The fact that the only person in the world who looks exactly like you, no more exists. The fact that he's never coming back gives me this knife-stabbing feeling.”
What do I say to him? Sure when I lost Robyn a part of me felt lost and stills does, but I have never lost a sibling, moreover a twin. Well, I can’t even relate to having a biological sibling since I’m an only child.
“Look at me, David.” I coo to him.
Miserably, I fail to get him to look.
“Turn around and look at me!” I decree.
Slightly, he turns his body to look at me, his gaze still not meeting my eyes directly but at least he’s cooperating a little.
“I know how much you cared for Damian, but you can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened to him. You are the best brother a person could ever ask for. You're loving, caring, kind-hearted and genuine. Give yourself some credit, man. You may not have been there to save him but you are not the reason he died. Let’s be honest, you and I know that after the injuries he sustained he wouldn’t have made it. Stop blaming yourself. You will get over it someday, and you will get better at coping. You can’t get through it by yourself; you have to talk about it, with a professional,” I lecture, my hands roaming over his chiseled face.