STRIKING RESEMBLANCE
Madison’s POV
Several knocks landed on my door but I wouldn’t open it. By now, they should be used to the ritual. I wasn’t going to open the damned door so it’s best if they leave me alone.
When the door was pushed open, I sighed and averted my gaze away from it. Only Dr. Magdalene has the nerve to deal with my defiance.
She walked into the room and dropped an envelope on the table.
“Another letter from Michael I suppose,” she said and turned around.
I darted my gaze from the envelope she had dropped to the others piling up at the other end. Perhaps she could do me a favor, I mean she could pick the latest and drop it on the others.
She folded her arms across her chest and looked me straight in the eyes and that was how I knew she didn’t come here to examine me, clean my stitches, or offer me meds or food. She was here to talk and talking was what I hadn’t done in the last ten days.
My gaze was still averted from her until I heard footsteps clicking toward me. I turned and saw her sitting on the bed right next to me.
I sighed heavily. Why won’t she just leave me alone?
“So you’re not going to open the letter?”
I didn’t utter a word.
She cleared her throat loudly. “Well, this is like the fifteenth letter Michael has sent since you’ve been confined here,”
I was aware. Sometimes, he drops two letters a day and I was also aware that he drops them at the hospital himself.
Letters of consolation, hope, or maybe in-depth details about my so-called parents? I breathed a sigh. I don’t think I was ready to face the world. I might just remain here.
“You can’t stay here for the rest of your life,” Dr. Magdalene continued. “Your wound has healed and the stitches will be removed on the twelfth day which is two days away from today,”
I turned to her and then opened my mouth for the first time in ten days. “I don’t want to leave,”
She shook her head and positioned a hand on my lap. “I’m very sorry, Madison but that’s the only way. I can’t watch you suffer here,”
I sighed. “I’ll eat more. I’ll walk around the room more,” I tried to counter her. But then, I was amazed by the sound of my voice. Not only was the pitch low, but it was sad.
Dr. Magdalene looked me straight in the eyes. “The only way you can beat this is if you go home to the people who love you,”
I turned away. I don’t think anyone was going to understand this. I know the effort Michael has put in and the plans he had for this baby. I can’t face him. Not without a child.
“None of this is your fault and maybe if you start to believe that then the aching in your heart will go away,”
I shook my head in filial objection and felt my eyes stinging with tears. This was all my fault. If I had stayed back home then none of this would have happened.
Dr. Magdalene stood up. “I know you don’t want to but maybe you should read Michael’s letters. He has no grudge against you and he wants you to recover more than anything now,”
I looked up to her with tears streaming down my cheeks. “I lost his baby,”
She sighed. “And that’s a sad thing but trust me, he understands, and only when you open your door to him can you understand his feelings too,”
I turned away and began to wipe my cheeks with the edge of my palms.
“Think about everything I said. I’ll have lunch delivered to you in a couple of minutes and please Madison, be kind to yourself,” Dr. Magdalene said and stepped out.
I reached for the pillow and then lifted it. I sniffled and pulled the ultrasound photo that was buried there. I looked at the image and the tears flowed ceaselessly. I pressed the photo to my chest and cried even harder.
\~~~~
I sighed. Nothing pisses me off than the knocks that land on my door. I just want to be left alone or maybe, I should knock on the door from the inside and that way, I might live with my solitude.
The door was pushed open and the smell of lemon cake caught my nostrils. I immediately turned around and saw a middle-aged woman, dressed in a nurse’s uniform walking into the room.
She traced her way inside and then placed the food tray on the table beside my bed.
“Lemon cake and spicy soup for you. An odd combination but good for your wound,” she said, and lifted her head.
I arched a brow. I’ve never seen this woman before. Even though Dr. Magdalene was the one who delivered my meals, she sometimes showed up with a nurse, a younger one who tended to my injuries.
This woman was middle-aged and when my eyes wandered to her fingers, I noticed that they were well manicured. Not only does she have the skin of a queen, but her fragrance was etched in royalty and her skin glowed as if lanterns were placed underneath.
Then there was the look in her eyes or maybe the way she was looking at me. It was intense and maybe too passionate.
Are those tears in her eyes or stars?
Her hair, blond was the same shade as mine, and her eyes, forest green.
Why does it feel like I was looking at an older version of myself?
Tears began to stream down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking away.
A tugging arose in my chest and when I looked back at her, our eyes met. It felt as if I’d seen her before but I couldn’t just recall when and where.
“I have missed you every single day and I can’t wait to come and take you home properly,” she said.
I gasped!
Shock coursed through my veins and as the woman retreated to the door, our eyes stayed locked. I felt my cheeks getting wet and that was when I realized I was crying too.
This woman wasn’t a nurse.