Lovesick ✔

chapter eleven ; a break

AMOS

After work was over that day, I decided to visit the coffee shop a few buildings away from the hospital since I'd heard from other residents that it was a decent place to go to to get a peace of mind. Since Alex was busy running errands out of town that day, I decided to take a taxi to my workplace - and since I wasn't too keen on spending what little bit of money I had brought along with me, I decided to walk to the coffee place.

Thankfully, there were no interruptions or unpleasant interactions on my way there. When I finally got there, I entered the small shop and took my seat in the very corner of the room after having placed an order for a warm cup of tea alongside a plate of chocolate chip cookies. 

I pulled my bags out and spread the sheets consisting of my notes from college and medical school on the table in front of me.

Now, time to organize these. I probably should've brought a spare change of clothes - I felt awkward being the only one in the store in scrubs. 

They called my name out when my order was ready and I quickly made my way over to the counter, but when I noticed another plate with a slice of double chocolate cake, I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion at the lady behind the counter, "I didn't order this."

"Oh, I know," she responded with a grin. "It's on the house."

"That's very generous of you," I said with an awkward laugh. "But may I ask why? Is there a special occasion you're celebrating today?"

"No," she began. "It's simply to thank you for your hard work. Keep going, doc."

I couldn't keep myself from blushing out of embarrassment at that - but the good kind of embarrassment, "Thank you very much, I appreciate this." 

And with that, I gathered the plates one by one with the help of another staff member and made my way over to my table before pulling out my laptop and setting it aside, on top of some of the sheets that were still sprawled across the table.

What I'd been told about this area being incredibly peaceful hadn't been a lie after all. Though there were a decent amount of people, none of them spoke too loudly nor did they make any disturbing noises with their silverware - and for that exact reason, I was able to organize my notes pretty quickly. 

However, whilst sorting through the sheets, I came across a photograph that must've slipped into my bag mistakenly. The words on the back of said photograph read 'Amos - 7' and I made the mistake of turning it around to get a look at what it could be.

It was a picture of myself, aged 7, standing in between both of my now-late parents. I had a cheeky grin on my face and was holding onto each of their hands whilst my mother looked down at me with unmatched pride and joy, her dark hair that fell below her lower back flying with the wind. My father, on the other hand, was pointing at the camera, in the middle of a laugh. 

I remembered neither the day nor the photograph though I'm pretty sure I must've stared at it every single day during my time in college. The topic of my parents passing away had always been a sensitive one for me, especially since the three of us were so tight-knit. At least I was able to come out to them as bisexual before them passing. 

This picture was what kept me motivated whilst in college - when the thought of dropping out would enter my mind, I'd look at the picture and think of what made me begin this tedious journey in the first place. 

And now I've made it this far.

I let my thumb graze over my father's face and my vision blurred. Quickly, I set the photograph aside and blinked furiously, going back to organizing the notes in order to distract myself. 

I had always been cautious of the aftermath of death, even as a child. I would constantly shower my parents with love and affection at a young age because I knew I wouldn't be able to one day. However, what I didn't know was that that one day would come so soon. 

Even now, I feel like the amount of love I gave them wasn't enough. Even if I gave them all I had, it still wasn't enough - and I would give anything in the world to be able to tell them how much they mean to me just one last time. 

The memory of my mother's last day came floating back into my mind, her being wired to all those machines and having so much of her blood drawn. My mother who once had healthy brown skin and a pure twinkle in her dark brown eyes had now turned a sick shade of pale. The twinkle in her eyes gradually disintegrated into nothingness. 

If only I could turn back time.