Into My Heart

VI

"I am afraid your father might not get through the year this time"

The doctor's words did not come as a surprise, nor as a heartbreak - instead, I just felt emptiness down my spine and in my mind. Sam, on the other hand, burst into tears into Kristie's arms. The latter, on the other hand, seemed affected, but wouldn't show it for any reason in the world - she is too tough to look vulnerable. Her eyes are staring at the doctors, while she holds her little sister toward her.

I, on the other hand, just cross my arms against my chest and ask:

"His lungs?" 

"I appears so, yes" the British doctor announces, putting a lock of her own hair behind her ear. As Sam sobs quietly, she adds: "Your father has been fighting for a long time, and maybe it is time for him to let go and rest-"

"Thank you, doctor" Kristie rudely interrupts her, probably because Sam has had enough already. 

The lady seemed sorry for her, and only nods her head before leaving the waiting room. Behind that door, there was our father - the man who I had run away most of my life, who did not have long anymore. How could I ever make up for the lost time? Do I even want to catch up? 

As I get up and start gathering my stuff, I can sense Sam and Kristie staring at me in incomprehension. The latter even gets in my way as I am starting to walk toward the hospital's exit.

She coldly stares at me and says:

"Don't you think you've ran away enough for a lifetime?"

Sam, behind her, her eyes red because of all the crying, seems to be as upset as her sister - although she looks less murderous.

I nod my head, setting my jaw, and walk past Kristie. 

Once I am outside the building, I feel a very odd emotion, at the intersection of anger and profound sadness, between resentment and regrets. My relationship with my father had never affected me before, but now that there is an expiration date sort of, I felt like I did not make the right choices in my life. This pain - right in my stomach, burning me alive - is exactly what I have been protecting myself of all these years. 

I know the tears are not far, so I just close my eyes and start breathing calmly - anxiety has been with me most my life, so I know how to control it, more or less. I've learnt how to handle myself on my own, and that wasn't gonna change anytime soon. But I was so tired - too tired now. And my father was about to die.

Feeling my breath being taken away, I start walking in the busy yet empty streets of Orange, feeling the cold, autumnal wind brush through my hair. After a few minutes, I discover a kind of old-school coffee shop that looked kind of old and broken, but with very nice vibes. Without really thinking about it, I end up entering the coffee shop.

Inside, only a few tables, taken for the most part by students with their computers and coffees, laughing together. They are about my age - although I am not studying anymore - and, when they acknowledge my presence, they look surprised: there mustn't be many young newcomers in Orange, and I kind of feel like an alien.

As I look around, a girl walks toward me, as she is obviously a waitress working here. Her long, brown hair and bright blue eyes seem welcoming and nice, although she really has the look of a high school mean girl.

"Hi there" she says in a horsy voice, handing me the list of drinks and food I could get. Realising that I wasn't really in a good mood, she cracks a smile and adds, pointing at a small table for two near the back window: "There's a quiet table for you if you'd like. I can tell you're new, so if you need anything, you'll always be welcomed here."

Nodding my head, I politely say:

"Thanks."

As the waitress - whose name is Alex, according to her badge - walks toward other clients, I sit down at the table she had dressed up for me. Once seated, I just look around without really seeing anything.

After quite some time - maybe a few minutes only, I couldn't tell - Alex the waitress comes back, and shamelessly sits down across from me. She must know just by looking at my face that I want to be alone, but she does not care.

She hands me a cappuccino, before smirking. 

"Alright, I'm sorry but I have to warn you: I am quite an annoying person, to be honest, so I won't just go away because you seem upset and lonely. So, my name's Alex Morgan,  Orange born and raised, daughter of two very normal people, girlfriend of a pretty great guy, kind of lost in her life right now. You?"

I shake my head slowly.

"I'm sorry, I don't do this" I say, trying to not sound too rude.

"Do what?" Alex asks, and I can tell she doesn't care about my bad mood.

"Just... I don't know".

"Socialising?" she insists, raising her eyebrow. As I nod, she adds: "Oh, honey, there are many people like you - socially disabled people - here in Orange, and fortunately enough they all come here because this is come kind of safe heaven where you get to be whoever the hell you want. So, sorry girl, but you've come here for a reason, and maybe that's destiny."

I smirk.

"I don't believe in fate, or destiny."

"I know, I can tell" Alex lets out, obviously openly laughing at me. "But you'll learn with time: Orange is a very odd city, where destiny seems to be passing by better than time. Everything happens for a reason, you'll see."

"Sure."

Nodding her head and smiling at me, Alex gets up, called by other clients. She then hands me a card with her name and number on it, and winks at me, saying:

"Call me if you wanna hang out with somebody else than yourself".

And, just like that, she offers me coffee and nonchalantly leaves. As I am watching her go back to the bar, I see the coffee shop's door open, and somebody new comes in. 

Somehow, all Alex's words about destiny in Orange seem to make sense.

The girl in question is about my age, while her long, curly dark hair and intense greenish eyes just makes it impossible to question whose family she belongs to: she is a Press, I am 100% sure. Her clothes are simple yet classy, as a black turtle neck just makes her green eyes glow in the light of the day.

She doesn't salute anybody - only Alex with a brief nod - and sits down on her own with a book. Somehow, I am immediately attracted by the cloud of mystery that she would give out as a vibe - there is something extremely dark, extremely interesting in the person of Christen Press.

After a few minutes and an espresso later, she just gets up, leaves money on the table, and walks out of the coffee shop. 

And, although I don't know it yet, I could not even start to imagine how this dark vibe around her would affect me...