Multiple Loves

"The moment that I fell in love with you."

My mother believed that the most important people that walked among us were doctors; people with "magical hands," as she believed. In her case, she could only manage a scrape, as long as we had Neosporin: her favorite sidekick.

The world is a scary place; it's full of sharp corners and 90 degree turns with dead ends and round-a-bouts. Due to that, doctors became more needed than any other occupation, according to my mom. Perhaps I wanted to do what she couldn't, or maybe I wanted to save lives, so I began to learn more and more as the days passed.

I began my career as a doctor on my first day of kindergarten; my mornings began with Doctor McStuffins and a glass of orange juice. My stuffed animals soon became my patients with amputated limbs and one on one sessions with a careful evaluation of mental stability.

Soon, I realized that no doctor can do everything; the minds of the doctors themselves would become chaotic due to so much knowledge whirling around inside their minds. With that came my biggest dilemma of the century: what will my five year old self grow up to be?

A veterinarian like every other kindergartener?

A teacher?

An astronaut?

Or maybe a psychiatrist? I'm not sure why a five year old girl full of excitement and energy knew what a psychiatrist was or how much I truly understood at that moment, maybe nothing at all; however, I believe that no age can prevent a person from knowing their calling. Not to say that a calling can't change, but I knew from the beginning why I was here.

After my epiphany, my life only went up. I refused to sleep unless my mother read from the Handbook of Psychiatry by Fernando Hogan, no matter how many times she yawned. Apparently, that book was the most boring thing she's ever read, but my eyes never dulled.

Today, I am the doctor that I dreamt of becoming: a psychiatrist. I've found that the world isn't so dark and mysterious if you have someone to hold your hand as you step around the corner. That's what I am to my patients, to the people who walk through my door: a guiding hand.

A blaring alarm knocks me out of my reverie, pulling me back into my office.

"Lacey, what the hell are you doing? You've been out of it for 30 minutes," rattled my best friend Catrina, or Cat, according to me.

I sighed, sticking out my lip while letting out a long sigh, swaying my bangs. "Sorry babe, I was just thinking about work." I give a cheeky smile and my best puppy eyes, begging Cat to forgive me for slacking off work.

Catrina eventually sighs in reply and shakes her head before turning around and stalking off, shutting the door behind her. As much as she loves me, she and I both know that it's impossible for her to let me off the hook for forever. Cat and I work at Dentwood Hospital; we came here together straight after graduating McAfee University. While I work solely in the psychiatry ward, she is in charge of all of the staff; her job is to make sure we are doing our jobs according to textbook standards and regulations.

First rule for all doctors, not just psychiatrists: never lose focus while on the job.

Cat was already doing me a huge favor by letting my lack-luster attention slide by without any bumps, but she can't guarantee that it'll happen again.

I hear a knock on my office door and within seconds the door swings open with a mountain of force behind it; the already faulty hinges creak with the weight and soon the wooden slab connects with plaster emitting a loud sound. My mouth has fallen open at this point, still in shock that someone would have the nerve to treat my office door with such disrespect.

I whimper a small eulogy in my mind to the fallen soldier. "You held on for far too long. I will never forget you," I finish my internal farewells to my office door and raise my eyes slowly.

Black combat boots? Check.

Ripped jeans? Check. Check.

Studded leather jacket? CHECK.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. Don't look up, don't look up, don't look up.

My eyes betray me and slowly move upwards.

After taking in this terrifying attire, you can only imagine who would be wearing such a thing. A murderer? A guitarist? A lunatic?

Out of all of my imaginative thoughts, not once did I picture a stunning, dark, attractive man full of anger, confusion, loneliness, and regret. His eyes were as dark as his clothing, a rich black with no source of light, yet, I could practically taste his emotions. Never have I ever felt such raw feelings.

I slowly snap out of my trance, realizing that it's been far too long since I began admiring him. When I sincerely focus on his facial expression, I realize that I wasn't the only one in a trance. He was gazing intensely at my face, while a smirk steadily appeared upon his lips.

"Doctor, doctor, doctor," he muttered. One foot in front of the other: one, two, three steps towards me. "You've created a problem for me."

Stuttering, I back up one step at a time, matching his pace, "I-i-I'm so-sorry, I didn't realize. D-do you mind explaining th-the problem to me? Why don't you t-take a seat and we can work through it together, yeah?"

His smirk grew wider and his eyes grew pointier, accentuated by black eyeliner and long lashes.

"Oh, my darling. I didn't realize this was a counseling session; I didn't bring any shits to give."

Thrown back into a constant nightmare, a man stalks towards me with his hand raised high. Each heavy step he took in my direction brought a new wave of tears, "You little bitch, I told you to stop your stuttering! I oughta get ridda' you while I got the chance."

A gentle, firm grasp wraps around my chin, while a calloused thumb rubs my cheek: back and forth, back and forth.

"Darling? Come back to me, love. I'm here, I'm right here."

My eyes refocus as air returns to my lungs. As I catch my breath, I realize my eyes are full of unshed tears while my throat burns with the intensity of the dream.

The man's smirk is gone, but a different emotion has taken place of the overconfidence: curiosity. He begins to whisper into my ear as he wraps me in a tight embrace, "I hate to break it to ya, baby, but it seems like you need me just as much as I need you."

After what felt like a mere second, his arms pull back from my skin, leaving me cold and lacking. His hand slides down my arm, and his fingers casually grab my wrist; he turns my hand over so the face of my watch is legible.

I count the seconds, confused by why it was taking so long for him to read the time. My eyes keep drifting to his face; he was staring blankly at the watch and every so often he looks up at me, his eyes unblinking.

Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of standing in silence, my wrist in his hand, and awkward eye contact.

"February 29, 2019 at 8:15PM: the moment that I fell in love with you."