"You don't want me..." I breathed, selfishly leaning into his touch. But I quickly pull away.
"I'm different and so not your type," I muttered, looking everywhere else but at him. He frowns slightly, eyes simmering.
"God, Anna." He exhaled, cool bre...
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ANNA
A sudden knock on the door has me sitting up in bed. It's been two days since Michaels broken hands incident at the hospital and I haven't been better since then.
"Come on in." I say, tugging the covers closer to my pajama clothed body. The door slowly opens and I look up, waiting on the visitor. I was exhausted when I came home from work the other night. My feet were swollen. Zara scolded me a little bit but softened up soon after. But then the following morning I was rushed to the hospital when I suddenly lost consciousness and had a fever.
How convenient.
I don't know if it's a sign to just let everything go and give Michael a chance. Before something bad happens to me or the baby, considering the stress is not good for me. I won't be ab,w to forgive myself if that happens.
Zara stayed with me at the hospital. On numerous counts, she asked if I wanted to let Michael in on it. But I refused. Aaliyah and Zelma came by. My father, who had only been in touch through phone calls, came over quickly the moment he touched down at the airport. His tired eyes looking over me. Concern, etched on his aging face. I hate making him worry about me. Even though he's busy, the difference between him and my mother was, he knew how to sacrifice. She didn't. All I got from her were phone calls. And Zara had to make those calls because she never did.
My phone buzzed, I looked over at it on the nightstand, a text sitting on the screen. Speaking of which.
Mom: Anna, honey. Please call me.
Those are the words she's been texting me for the past 24 hours.
Me: I don't want to talk to you, but I suppose Zara already filled you in. And if you're worried? I'm doing fine mom.
With that I shut off the screen and sink into the bed.
After a day or two of running lab tests and monitoring me. Dr. Johnson talking my ears off—I was cleared to go home, and take it easy.
That sentence is getting too real for me.
Take it easy Anna.
You're overworking yourself Anna.
But what else could I do? It's the only place where I can unwind my racing heart and wandering mind. Working is the only escape I have from all of this. It makes the time go faster. It keeps my mind off worrying if Michael is able to take care of himself with his injured hands. It's all I have. My own peace and quiet in the chaos. I love my job, and it's the only control I somehow still have in my life. I go to the beach. I've been to the library a few times, but there's nothing like the emotional rush that I feel when I check on my patients and their doing better than they used to be. Even though Michael has infested the place with his presence and I have annoying higher power supervisors who make it clear they dont like me, it is still a surreal feeling.
