A Change of Heart

Chapter 17

In the middle of the night, my phone buzzes, waking me up. I see that it's an email from Joanna. Who sends someone an email at midnight?

Greetings Mr. Nicholi,

This is Ms. Clieve's butler. She is not in proper condition to be using electronic devices. We have informed her about your email, and she is grateful for your concern. Rest assured that she will be well in a few days.

Best regards,

Thomas Rivers

I'm glad to know it isn't as bad as I suspected, but a few days means it is serious. I still feel concerned and... moved to pray for her.

So, for the first time, I pray for Joanna. For her health and well-being. After praying, I go back to sleep.

The next day people are grouped in different feelings. Some have cheerful expressions about Joanna still not being here, others share worried glances about her well-being. And some have the same depressed faces as always because they have given up on happiness.

I go to my cubicle and work. At 7pm, I drive over to the grocery store. I want to talk to Arthur, just simple small talk. Leave Joanna out of it for once. Once I get there, I can't seem to put my foot on the brakes. I just keep driving until I've completely passed the grocery store.

What am I doing? I take random turns and keep driving. It's as if I've lost control of my body. Suddenly I park at a huge mall. I realise it's the mall to Joanna's house. Why did I drive here?

Walk. The voice is soft, and comforting. Like a breath into my mind. I realise that I didn't come here by my own will. I was led by the holy spirit, literally.

"Walk... to Joanna's house? Why, though? Thomas told me it isn't serious anyways," I ask out loud.

Walk. Am I really about to argue with God? I sigh and step out of my car. I drag myself to her street. Nobody's outside tonight, but most of the house's lights are on. I stop once I reach her house.

"Joanna's probably just going to leave me here waiting in front of her house. Can I please go back?" I whisper. The silence is deafening, it feels like when my mom used to give me one of her 'Mhmm' looks. I'm guessing God's giving me that look right now. I go to the box and do the retinal scan.

I lean on her gate and wait. 5 minutes go by, and the gate hasn't opened. It's clear she's not going to let me in. I sit on the concrete. Just then, her gate opens.

I walk into her front yard. It looks the same as last time, but I can see the colours better since it's 7:30 pm. I knock on the door. The same old woman from last time opens it.

"Oh, Mr. Howard. Did Joanna invite you?" she asks.

"No, I came to check on her," I explain. She nods and lets me through.

"I'll take you to Joanna's room. She's not allowed to get out of her bed in her state," she explains, with a glum expression. She takes me up the stairs and through a long hallway that has a right turn.

I'm not going to be able to get out of this place once I leave. She knocks on one of the doors.

"Come in," Joanna's voice is higher and weaker. We go inside. There she is, lying in bed. Her eyes are red and she's pale. Her chocolate orbs look clouded.

"Howard, what are you doing here?" she asks. Well, the holy spirit dragged me to your house for a reason I don't know. Obviously, I'm not going to tell her that.

"I wanted to check up on you," I answer. I can't read her expressions because of how tired she is.

"Thank you," she mumbled. I could hear sincerity in her voice. Guess I'm the first to visit her.

I ask the old woman if I can talk to her outside. She nods and we walk out of her room.

"What happened?" I ask.

"She's been working herself to the bone these past weeks. She's skipped a lot of meals and is barely sleeping. It's made her too weak. She can barely hold a glass of water now," she answers. Oh my gosh. I know she works a lot, but this!? She's trying to kill herself by working! I walk back inside, Joanna's already asleep.

"We've been giving her pills to make her sleep. She keeps trying to work and refuses to rest," the old woman explains. I ask the old woman to lead me to the front door.

I thank her for letting me visit, and leave. Driving home, my mind reverts to Joanna. How pale and weak she looked. Her dull eyes. It tugs at my heart for some reason.

I shouldn't even be worried. They said she'll be fine in a few days. I should just enjoy my Joanna free days. Yet, I can't help but think about her. Why does she work so much? I can't think of a single person who could willingly do this to themselves, and still try to keep working in such a state. She's insane.

Even in my dreams she's there. Weak, frail, tired. I toss and turn, trying not to think about it. What's pushed her to be working so much? Maybe I should ask her the next time God makes me go to her house.