Blonde Ivory

Number Twenty-Three: h.m.s

Hayden Sterling

Diary Entry #6

Date: December 18th

Journal, I'm sorry I had to leave my last entry without a conclusion. Don't hold that against me. I passed out and then I was hospitalized and yada yada. A lot has gone down, and that's why I haven't bothered to write to you in a little bit of time. I'm still in the hospital, but my parents have been keeping me company.

I think I scared my dad half to death because every time he speaks to me, tears form in his eyes and he gets choked up on his sobs. Whenever he asks me about 'Ami, he looks at my face in hesitation and whenever I answer, he leaves for awhile and then he comes back.

That's one of the reasons I hate my parents being divorced. They've got a toxic mindset that they didn't have back in London. Now, they think that they can't be in the same room together, so whenever my dad steps out, 'Ami comes in and holds my hand as she scolds me.

"Hayden," She'll say through watery-green eyes, "You can't keep doing this to us. You can't keep hurting us this way. You have us both worried half-to-death." I'll nod slowly and apologize profusely for not visiting either of them as often as I should.

There's truth to that though. I feel as though I truly have not taken the time to visit them since the tour ended. The last time I saw them both in person was in London and that was so long ago. I've noticed new lines deepening on my father's forehead and new gray hairs coming out of his scalp. All signs that I haven't seen him as I much as I should.

'Ami still looks the same. Her skin looks healthy and clear. Her hair is growing thick and shiny. She always looks like that, and she tells me it's because she eats healthy and gets plenty of sleep at night. She tells me that if I start living a healthy lifestyle that she's sure I'll look like her when I'm her age.

Whenever my dad comes back in with bags under his eyes and tear stains on his cheeks, 'Ami scoots past him with a dull smile and he's too stubborn to even acknowledge her. If I ever divorce the father or mother of my children, I hope we'll look past our differences and disagreements for the bettering of our children. My parents don't seem to understand that.

Another thing I must note is that the nurses here talk to me as if I'm a dumb child. Of which, I am neither. They keep asking about 'Ami and when she'll be arriving as if they didn't see her in the waiting room before they came in. Then they'll ask my father questions about my mental health and if 'Ami suffered from anything that could've been passed along to me.

My father took one look at me and knew I wasn't having it. I hate when people ask that. My mother and I have both suffered from depression since I was in high school. That seems quite obvious. Why else would I be taking antidepressants?

Either way, my father didn't feel comfortable answering in front of me so he led one of the doctors outside to speak in private. I believe they asked 'Ami those questions since that isn't something my father feels comfortable answering for her. Regardless, they returned after a few, long minutes and the doctor was wearing one of those fake smiles.

"Hayden, can I ask you a few questions about your Ammii?" She asked politely. I didn't really care, so I just shrugged and focused on my dad biting his fingernails.

"It's pronounced 'Ami actually. You can just say mother, though." My dad's voice was like nails on a chalkboard. So scratchy and sounded as though it must hurt his throat. The doctor looked at him and smiled before she turned back to me.