CHAPTER 27

LIAM

How does one describe the worst period of their life? In a way, it was somewhat comforting, knowing that the last three months were unequivocally the worst I had ever lived through, and in all likelihood, they would be the worst I would ever have to live through. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself on those sleepless nights when everything felt overwhelming.

After Kate broke up with me, I couldn’t find any sort of joy in my life. There were no bright spots and no hope on the horizon. My loneliness was a vast depressing darkness that enveloped my entire world, and for a while there, I thought it was going to take me down with it.

Nothing was the same after that day. Food tasted bitter, the nights were long and cold, and the days were longer and lonely. I didn't laugh or smile, I barely slept, and everything I did had a pointless feel to it. Even the act of literally saving lives didn't bring with it the same buzz that it once did.

The first few weeks were the worst. Probably because I clung to the desperate hope that maybe Kate would forgive me. I woke up every morning and told myself that today would be the day that she would come around.

But then I would try to call her, only to have her block my calls. I would try to visit her, only for her to avoid me. I would leave her messages, send her gifts, do anything I could to reestablish contact, only for her to ignore it all entirely.

It was that constant, crushing rejection that made those first weeks hell.

But after a while, I began to see the light. It wasn't easy. It took every ounce of my will power to do so, but eventually, I picked myself up. I began to go about my days as I had before Kate came into the hospital, even though it was mostly a joyless existence.

I worked, I ate, and I slept. When I had free time, I met up with friends, or watched a movie, or went for long walks to clear my head. It was hard at first, but after three months, I was a semblance of the man I used to be.

Really, the hardest part of it all wasn't the rejection. It was that I knew I had hurt the woman that I loved. When it was all said and done, it was thoughts of her being upset and broken that kept me up at night. It was knowing that she was hurting that made surviving each day as tough as it was.

I had expected her to drop me. I knew she would hate me. But I hadn't accounted for her own feelings and what they would do to her. I just hoped that she was okay.

After three long months, I was able to push her from my mind. Sure, I still thought about her every day. The odd thought still crept in every now and then. But I was able to handle that. I was able to tell myself that she was doing better without me and that her life was back on track now that I was out of it. I had assured myself that everything was for the best, and it was thoughts of that which kept me going.

--

It was a Sunday morning, and the first day I had off from work in over two weeks. As luck would have it, Clint had the morning off, too. I asked him out for a cup of coffee. This would have been totally par for the course with nothing suspicious in it whatsoever. Or at least that was what Clint would have thought.

I actually had some pretty big news that I had been sitting on for a while, and Clint was the only person that I really wanted to tell. Well, he and one other, but Clint was the only one who would listen.

"Sorry I'm late," Clint said as he pulled up a seat at the table I was at.

We met at a small café near the hospital. For a while there, I had started visiting Split Bean daily in the hopes of catching Kate, but I hadn't once seen her. Presumably, she had changed up her routine, so I changed up mine. I needed to stop trying to see her and just admit that we were over.

"That's fine," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. I had ordered already. I knew Clint was going to be late. He always was. I figured I could just order another coffee if need be. "I'm actually surprised you're here as early as you are."

"Ah, careful," he said. "I'd almost interpret that as a joke. And I didn't think you made those anymore."

"I'm at one a week now,” I said with a smile. “I'm hoping to graduate to two."

"Well, that was two. So I guess you're there. Congratulations. And just to show how happy for you I am, the coffee is on me."

Clint had every right to joke. The last three months, I had been pretty average company. It had only been recently that I had started to come back into my own again.

"In that case, get me another latte, will you? I need to take advantage of your hospitality while I can."

"Coming right up." He jumped up from his seat and hurried over to the counter to order.

As he did, I watched him with a smile. Clint had been as solid a friend as one could ask for. I was a total mess after Kate dumped me, and he hadn't once complained or told me to move on. He had been a shoulder for me to cry on and was more than happy to wait until I had worked through this misery at my own pace.

It was because of this unwavering friendship that I felt somewhat guilty about the news I was going to spring on him. But he had a right to know, and I wanted his blessing, too. I just wouldn’t have felt right without it.

"Here you are," he said as he brought the two coffees back. "I may be wrong, too, but does that foam pattern look like a heart? I think the girl behind the counter has a thing for you. Maybe it's time for you to, you know?"

"Clint," I said, shaking my head.

"What? Too soon? If it is, just tell me, and I'll back off. If not, I'll go and get her number for you. She has blonde hair so I figured that's a perfect distraction from—"

"No, it's not that," I said, taking a deep breath as I prepared myself to tell him. "I've got something I need to tell you."

"Oh?"

"I'm leaving the hospital." It was short and to the point. I wasn't going to beat around the bush, not with Clint anyway.

"Thank god," he said with an exasperated sigh. "For a second there you had me worried. But if that's the news, then well, thank fuck." He chuckled into his mug, shaking his head to himself as he took a sip from his coffee.

"You're not surprised? Or upset? Or confused? Or, well, anything really?" I had been expecting a slightly different reaction to the one I was receiving.

"Not really, no. I know you'd been thinking about leaving a few months ago. Considering how things have played out the last few months, I'm honestly surprised it didn't happen sooner."

Before the whole Kate incident went down, I had voiced to Clint my desire to leave the hospital. Not to quit being a doctor, but just to open up my own practice somewhere. The humdrum of the hospital had always been a little too much for me, and I was after a different pace. But then Kate happened, and well, the idea of leaving kind of petered out.

"So, when are you leaving?" he asked casually.

"One week," I said with a grimace. That was the other part of the news, and the part that I was sure would catch him off guard. In that I was right.

"What?" he asked, nearly spraying the mouthful of coffee he had taken. "One week?"

"Yeah. A bit rushed I know."

"Well, that's the understatement of the day. I mean, rushed is when you don't do your hair before leaving your apartment in the morning. Rushed is forgetting to put a tie on. This is something else."

"I just have to get out," I said with a sigh. "Every day I go in there, I feel my soul being sucked out."

"Is it Kate?" he asked cautiously. "Is she the reason for this?"

"To a degree, yes. I'd be lying if I said the hospital didn't remind me of her, and every time I went to work, a piece of her seemed to be there. But it's more than that. I just need to get out. I need to change my life. I thought that Kate was going to be that change, but she wasn't. No, I need something else.

"Well, congratulations, I suppose," Clint said, raising his mug in the air. "May all your future endeavors come to pass and blah blah blah."

"Thanks," I said chuckling.

"And where are you going exactly?" he asked.

"To that, I'm not sure," I answered truthfully. "I'm going to take a few months off and think about it. But somewhere out of the country. Away from it all. It's going to be a fresh start, and I think I need it."

The words felt right coming out of my mouth, and I smiled.

"Careful, you've been smiling a lot lately, and it's starting to get on my nerves–hey!" Clint cut himself off as he looked over my shoulder to yell to the man sitting at the nearest table. "Can I grab that paper, if you're done?"

The man looked a bit taken aback at first but then nodded, handing Clint his discarded newspaper.

"Thank you," Clint said as he grabbed for the paper. "I put a little money on Sunday Dancer, and I wanted to see how she went," he muttered as he opened the paper in front of me.

The second he opened the paper I saw it, and just like that, my whole world came tumbling down. On the front page, in the bottom corner, was a photo of Kate. "What the fuck?" I snatched the paper from Clint.

"Hey!" he said as the paper was torn from his hands. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Look," I said, folding the paper and putting it on the table so we could both see. "It's Kate. What is she doing in the paper?"

I skimmed the article. And then read it again, taking in every word. The photo was of her, holding up a book. The article claimed that she had recently released a book that was fast becoming a best seller. The book was called Forget Me Not. It was a romance thriller that involved a woman who was suffering from amnesia. I couldn't believe it.

"Well that's funny," Clint said, more to himself than anyone. "Maybe you should ask for royalties?"

I shot him a “that's not funny look,” before going back to the article and reading it for the third time. "She's having a book signing," I said. "Today."

"And?"

I was torn. Obviously, I was nothing but happy for her. More than that even. I was ecstatic. No one deserved it more than her, and the fact that she had managed to make something of herself with her writing was all that I could have hoped for her.

It was because of that success that I desperately wanted to congratulate her. I had always told her that if she put her mind to it, she would be a success. Now that she was, all I wanted to do was hug her and tell her how proud I was. But I couldn't. Or at least I shouldn't.

But as I looked down at the photo and at the address for the book signing, a part of me wondered if it would be so bad for me to go down there and tell her myself. It didn't have to be anything weird, just a “hello” and “well done.” Would it really be that weird?

"Hello," Clint was saying. "Earth to Liam." But I wasn't listening. I was locked on that photo as I tried to decide what to do. There was no right answer, though. I would have to rely on my gut and hope that whatever I ended up doing was the right decision.