Second Chance [Four/Tobias]

Twenty Three

ᴀᴠʏᴀɴɴᴀ

I wait at the Central Hospital for my name to be called.

"Ms Avyanna Gill." The lady peeps out from an office.

I stand up and walk there.

A man sits behind a desk, his fingers interlinked below his chin

I present my file.

"Take a seat," He says, with much professionalism, his skin, illuminated by the sunlight falling in.

The room wasn't very grand but it wasn't like something you'd find in a hospital. It too comfortable, less professional. Not that I'm complaining.

"You signed up for?" He asks.

"Paremedic," I answer.

He pushed his glasses up and scanned the file.

A couple of questions later, he looks at me straight in the eye.

"Are you sure you're up for this job, Ms Gill?"

I don't hesitate.

"Yes."

"You're confident," He says, as though that's illegal.

I nod, mildly.

He gives my file back to me, holding a steady gaze.

"We'll contact you," He says.

I nod. "Thank you."

I really want the job here. It's in a really nice location and has great timings.

But being a paramedic, you can't really argue about timings. You gotta be there when the emergency strikes.

"Email, right?" I ask.

"Email. Unless you prefer any other means?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Email will do, thanks," I nod and stand up.

He stretches his hand out and I take it.

The rest two went the same way.

And then, I remember it's Friday, so I text Christina to meet me in her lunch break at TPC.

"So, what's the matter?" She asks.

"I have a lot to say," I sigh.

"Go on," She nods as she orders a sandwich.

I can't believe I'm telling the story again.

But I do. I start from old Chicago to Itasca.

By now, Christina finished her sandwich by long.

I finished my story.

She was silent, looking down at the table.

Then, she slowly looked up.

"And...you didn't I was important enough to share?" She asked, so quietly.

"I wanted to-"

"Bullshit!" She slammed her hand on the table.

Giving me a glare, she walked away.

I sit there, mouth agape.

I didn't think she'd lash out like that. Never.

I feel anger building up inside me. I know it's correct for her to feel angry but I don't understand why I'm feeling angry.

I sit there, glaring at the table.

The waiter clears his throat beside me.

"Bill,"

I quietly pay and he returns the change. I leave it as a tip and walk out.

The sky is cloudy and it's windy. It looks like it might rain. I would love rain right now.

To take my mind off, I visit the library.

I don't know how many hours pass before I decide to return home.

My anger isn't any better. I tried to keep myself calm. That it's my fault. But it's difficult.

I return home to see Tobias inside.

He looks at me hesitantly as I walk in.

"Hey, do you have time?" He asks.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I need to talk," He says and pats the space beside him.

"What is it, Tob?" I repeat.

"Do you remember Chicago's...politicians?" He asks.

I know he means the old Chicago.

"Some of them. Why?" I ask.

"A certain Marcus?"

"Marcus Eaton?" I guess.

"Yeah," He nods, his jaw clenched.

"I remember him. Poor man, lost his wife and then troubled over his son," I shake my head in pity. I remember feeling my heart sink at that time because I was going to do the same.

"That son is me," He says. And he says it like it's nothing.

"Huh?" I look at him.

"Yeah,"

"And...your mother?" I ask. "I mean, isn't she supposed to be dead?"

I'm still not following.

He tells me who he actually is.

I don't know why I am so shocked but everything fits in.

"So...you...you are Tobias Eaton?" I ask.

"Tobias Johnson. I don't go by that name anymore," He says.

It probably is the anger that was building up since earlier, because-

"And I can't believe you didn't tell me!" I stand up.

"Well, I was going to-"

"Were you?!" I glare at him. I'm asking myself to stop. But I can't.

"I was!" He stands up too.

"I know your father after a year in relationship?!"

"Hey, you didn't tell me anything either!" He glares at me. "Did you?! Did you tell me anything? You didn't tell me your parents were alive or your life back in Chicago!"

"I told you not to bring that up-"

"I'm not talking about what you told me. I'm talking about when you told me,"

"That's different!" I shout, a little louder than I like.

"It's not!" He shouts back.

I feel my heart racing. I grab my purse and walk out.
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