"Sounds like a typical cat," I said. "I'll see you Sunday as long as you think it's okay to leave her for a day."
"By Sunday she'll be ready to cut off my head if I don't give her a break," he said before crossing the street.
I watched his retreating back for a few seconds as he disappeared through the hospital doors. My steps were noticeably lighter as I rounded the corner to the hospital's parking garage. The last few days had been the worst of my life and had given me a better insight to why Ashton had tried to keep me away. I now knew she was trying to spare me the heartache, but she underestimated my feelings for her. Even after a two-month absence, she still dominated my thoughts. She was my first thought in the morning and the last at night. The note she had left me was nothing but a tattered mess from the countless times I had read it and still, I waited.
I fed Fred when I arrived home before stumbling to my bed and crashing. Four days of sleepless nights had finally caught up to me. I slept through the rest of the day and all that night.
Waking up refreshed the next morning, I placed a call to the hospital and cajoled the nurse into giving me an update on Ashton's status. Pleased to hear that she was on the road to recovery, I got back to my everyday responsibilities, even though the task of trying to take my mind off of her was impossible. The rest of the week followed the same routine: wake up, call the hospital, pretend I was a normal human. The only deviations from my schedule were the days I allowed myself to camp out at the diner to work. I was happier on those days. Being close at hand though, I was beginning to feel like a crazy stalker.
I was working at the diner the following week, sucking down coffee that the waitresses kept filled to the brim, when in a moment of weakness, I had confessed my real reason for constantly being there. The response was immediate. I was no longer the customer they tried to pawn of on one another. Instead, every waitress fought over who would serve me after that.
"Today's when she's being released, right?" Cathy, one of the older waitresses, asked, joining me at the booth they designated as mine. It was a prime location due to the fact that it butted up to the big plate glass window that faced the hospital.
"Yeah," I said, taking a sip of the coffee she'd just topped off. "Charles doesn't know when though."
"Are you going to talk to her?" she asked, resting the coffee pot on the table.
"No, I'm going to respect her wishes."
"That girl doesn't realize how good she has it. I wish I had a man pining after me. You come look me up if you ever get tired of waiting for her," she joked. I knew she wasn't serious. Our story was common knowledge now and all of them were rooting for us.
The day seemed to pass in slow motion as I waited to catch a glimpse of Ashton as she left the hospital. I kept my phone on the table so Charles could reach me if something had changed. By the time the sun started to set, it became obvious that they had decided not to release her today. Dropping a couple bills on the table, I headed out of the restaurant decisively. I was sick of waiting for Charles to contact me. I would find out for myself what was going on. Fear was of course clouding my head. What if she'd had a relapse and that was the culprit for the silence?
I was halfway across the street, standing on the median, waiting for traffic to let up, when the hospital doors slid open just as the complimentary valet service pulled an ivory-colored Towncar up to the curb. My eyes found those of the frail woman who held my heart in her hands. I saw her eyes widen with surprise and throw a question to her father who was pushing her wheelchair. I saw him shake his head in denial. Her eyes found mine again, no longer filled with surprise but with horror before they quickly darted away. My heart dropped to my knees as I watched her instruct her father to help her into the car. Within seconds, their car smoothly merged into the oncoming traffic. I stood on the median in disbelief as cars whizzed by me on both sides, but still I remained. In all the times I had fantasized about what our meeting would be like, none of my scenarios had gone like this.
I made my way to my vehicle, paying no attention to the traffic around me or the honked horns or obscene gestures. I was too busy trying to sift through the facts in my head, the most glaring being that I was a fool. I romanticized about a relationship because of some letter, which in hindsight could have been her way of gently letting me go. She obviously never expected me to change my life around for her. I couldn't even blame her for my stupidity. She didn't ask me to sell my condo and move across the state. All she asked was to give her time. It was obvious by the look she'd given me that she'd never expected to see me again. Our time in Woodfalls was exactly what she always said it was. We'd come together with no attachments. It was time for me to accept that it would never be anything more. It was time to move on.
Chapter 27: Trying to Heal
Ashton
My emotions were a mess by the time my father pulled into our circular driveway. The ride home had passed in tense silence. I ignored the furtive glances he sent my way throughout the drive. I was too angry to acknowledge them.
It annoyed me that I required his help to get to my room, but my hospital stay had depleted my limited energy supply to a nonexistent level.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked once I was settled on my bed with Wilma.
I shook my head, anxious for him to leave. He started to say something, but thought better of it and walked out of my room. The sob I had been holding back since I saw Nathan bubbled up through me the moment the door closed. I wanted to curse fate that he had seen me at that moment. I cringed at what he must have seen. I was a weak shell of the woman I had been in Woodfalls. My body was frail and ravaged from the sickness that had ripped its way through me, but vainly, it was my head that I was the most ashamed of. Upon my release from the hospital, I'd been expecting to go straight home, so I didn't see any reason to wear a hat or one of the silk scarves that my father had bought me. Without looking in the mirror I knew what my head looked like, all I had to do was smooth a hand over its surface to know. All the auburn hair he'd loved was gone. There was nothing left for him to run his fingers through. I could not stand to see the pity in his eyes, so I'd instructed my father to bring me home.
Wilma crawled up onto my chest, rubbing her fur against my tear-stained cheeks, trying to comfort me. I smoothed my hand down her back as she purred her pleasure. "You don't care that I'm a bald skeleton do you?" I murmured as she continued to purr loudly. "I saw our friend today. He looked amazing," I told her as she continued to rub against me like she totally understood what I was saying. "He's even more handsome than I remembered," I told her softly, knowing she was the only one I could confide in. She was still lying on top of me when I eventually fell asleep with thoughts of Nathan still running through my head on an endless loop.
I felt fractionally more human the next morning when I woke. I made a silent vow not to cry again. It was no use crying over spilt milk. So he'd seen me at my worse. I would make damn sure the next time he saw me I would resemble the woman he remembered rather than the glimpse of the one he'd gotten at the hospital. I would be stronger and no longer sick the next time he saw me.
My father was fixing my breakfast when I joined him. He looked at me warily, obviously trying gauge whether I was holding a grudge. "So, you told Nathan I was in the hospital," I stated.
"Yes," he answered, setting a plate with pancakes in front of me.
"Is he this fishing buddy of yours?" I asked as pieces of the puzzle came together. I remembered a conversation with Nathan where he told me his favorite pastimes were scuba diving and deep-sea fishing.
"Yes," he answered, sitting across from me with his own plate.
"Why didn't you tell me you were friends?" I asked, nibbling at my pancakes. I really wasn't hungry, but eating was the only thing that would help restore my body.
He sighed before answering. "I wanted to, but you seemed so closed off to the subject."
"How long has he been here?" I asked, acknowledging his comment with a small nod of my head.
"Since October."