Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
DANI
Icould hardly believe it when the email finally came.
“I got the job!” I do a little dance. I had been waiting, knowing it would arrive, as the director had smiled and told me I would be hearing from them soon.
But the confirmation last night felt like a salvation after the heaviness of my emotions.
Hearing Bethany go on about Vic had my blood boiling, so this huge victory was a much-needed win to help elevate my mood.
And if I’m being honest, the memory of Bethany dripping with my bloodytini was its own kind of sadistic satisfaction that will long live rent-free in my head.
Smiling, I ready myself for the first day of my dream job.
In a grey knit dress and my favorite black trench coat, a bargain I scored for a ridiculous price at Marshall's, I walk down the street toward the hospital. The morning air is crisp, heavy with a hint of autumn’s chill, and a sign for Café Nero catches my eye.
I slow my pace, wondering if I have time to stop before my orientation begins.
As I walk to the door, I see him, and I stop in my tracks. I freeze watching him through the window as he sits at a table with a woman and a little girl. There’s an unease in their postures. The woman’s shoulders are held tight and guarded, and the little child is restless.
My mind spins. Who are they to him? A lover?
I spot the small, thin wedding band around her ring finger that tells a different tale. Vic doesn’t have one. I know he isn’t married, so there is more to the story here.
They rise to leave. That’s when I notice some obvious things.
Their clothes are clean, but worn. It’s the kind of careful presentation that attempts to mask hardship.
The little girl echoes her mother’s words as she holds a stuffed animal firmly with one hand and her mother’s hand in the other.
Once they get to the door, she breaks free, rushing back to Vic.
She presses her arms around his waist in a quick embrace.
For an instant, he looks rigid, unprepared for her touch.
The mother’s expression shifts from sorrow to a glimmer of hope, as she sees her daughter latch onto Vic, someone whose kindness offers a brief comfort in a life that has shown little compassion.
Before Vic can react, she returns to her mother, grabbing hold of her hand once again.
She gives him a small smile and wordless wave, nothing else to be said, before leading her daughter back onto the unforgiving streets.
I shrink back, not wanting him to see me, at least not like this.
But then, as if drawn to one another, he turns toward me, eyes wide—my heart free-falls.
I turn sharply, raising a hand in greeting to no one, and hurry off as though late.
And I might if I don't leave here soon. The glass reflects his movements, and I walk off hurriedly around the corner and disappear, as my breath catches in my throat from nearly being found out this way. “Stupid,” I curse under my breath, the word rising bitterly into the crisp morning air. Being more reckless because at this point, I’ve lost all common sense, I risk a glance back.
Vic rushes outside, eyes searching the street with a frantic urgency, haunted as if he’d seen a ghost. Perhaps in some way he has.
I slip away quickly, vanishing down the alley and into the morning fog, just as suddenly as I had appeared.
Stopping at a Starbucks instead, I steady myself and regain my composure with an espresso topped with thick non-dairy foam before continuing my walk toward the hospital, carrying more than this unit orientation on my mind.
My thoughts weigh heavily, burdened with questions about the man Vic has become.
I always knew this softer side of him, the one he only revealed to me.
So different from the figure I witnessed in the ER.
His expression was cold, his steps precise, honed with clinical detachment.
He walked those halls untouchable, yet I am the one who has tasted his tears.
Who knows what he feels like when he places his long fingers around your neck, squeezing as you climax, all while whispering how much he loves you.
This man is such a contradiction, but to me, he’s perfect.
The memory stirs a deep ache and almost unbearable longing to turn back and find him.
To let him know that I am here. That I have returned to him, and the future that I still believe to be ours.
There has and will never be another man for me than Victor Flores.
The elevator carries me to the hospice unit, with its slow ascent, taking in and spitting out people on each floor.
I step out and follow the signs leading to the unit, where Mrs. Meyer is waiting for me in her office.
Her door stands half open, and I rasp my knuckles softly against it.
She stands from her desk with graceful movement, and a radiant smile greets me as she opens the door wide.
I love this woman at first glance. Although she is about to retire, nothing about her says retirement.
She wears a bright, patterned dress beneath a white coat, name stitched in blue embroidery along the front lapel.
The color suits her dark complexion and warmly contrasts the unit's grey, dreary color.
I extend my hand. “Hi, Mrs. Meyer, I’m Daniella. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Her grip is firm, and her smile tilts at one corner. She takes my hand in hers, a firm shake and a tilt of her lip. “Please,” she says, gesturing toward the chair, “call me Samantha. Have a seat so we can get the boring stuff out of the way first.”
I nod and settle in as she returns to her desk.
Along the wall, I notice a stack of boxes that catches my eye.
Her career is in boxes that wait to be carried out, and mine is to be carried in on Monday.
Today must be her last day. She opens a drawer, retrieves my new badge, and hands it over to me.
I reach for it, seeing my picture dangling from the lanyard, pride evident in my eyes as I achieve my goal.
“This will get you into most departments in the hospital. As a hospice case manager, you will navigate various areas of the hospital, depending on your patient's caseload. You’ll report directly to Mrs. Nolan, the director. She oversees the unit but is less involved in direct patient care, instead focusing on the business side. Insurance, reimbursements…” She trails off.
She waves a hand, dismissing the thought with a soft chuckle.
“That part is complicated. I don’t want to think about it. ”
I offer her a tentative smile. “Mrs. Nolan must have really been impressed to bring you on with so little experience, although you do have the certification. That definitely helps,” Samantha says warmly, rising from her chair.
“But she assures me you’ll be a perfect fit.
And that’s good enough for me.” She crosses to the door as she gestures for me to follow her.
“Come on, let’s get you around so you can introduce yourself to everyone before you start on Monday. ”
I trail behind her, the sight of her stacked boxes still lingering in my mind.
My thoughts drift involuntarily to Vic, his secrets, his shadows, the complexities of a man only I’ve seen.
All of our memories reside in similar stacked boxes, brought with me, quietly waiting until the right moment to be uncovered.
Full of truths I ache to touch, and almost within reach.