Dayna Leah Wilson P.O.V-
I couldn't make myself watch Noah leave the hospital steps so I stayed in the lobby ever so often looking over my shoulder at the commotion.
Maybe it's that I'm sad that I was not able to fully help the boy, irrelevant of that fact that he was my first client ever.
I felt that could do better but I didn't. I thought I had time. Guess I don't.
Maybe I'm sad because of my momentum of compliance was broken in the middle, or rather, in the start of the procedure.
Or maybe it's because of that man, whose name I never can forget ever practically forged into my skull for some unknown reason, but who cares? I am a promised woman and I really don't have time for a headache, especially now.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Looking at the caller ID, I sigh and pick up my remaining inner strength in me and accept the call.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Or at least call to makes sure that eventful night play again and again in my mind, reminding me that he exists despite trying to fool myself otherwise.
"Elijah?"
"Hello Dayna, how was your day?" A deep voice that I was just starting to get familiar with starts to talk. No introductions, no hellos back. Just a flat, plain and boring start to the conversation I am least interested in.
Well, here goes...
"It was...eventful, to say the least. How was yours?"
"Fine. Did you have dinner?"
"No, not yet. Why?"
"I'd like to take you out for dinner. I've already made the reservations, I hope you don't mind. I'll be there in an hour and a half."
"Okay." That came out as more of a question than an answer, which I'm probably sure that he doesn't mind, or care, or pay attention to.
"Oh! And it's a date." I can already imagine the teasingly lazy smile on his face, especially on the latter part of his sentence.
"Right."
"See you soon darling." He waits a beat and then he cuts the line. No surprise there.
-----
Life. For some people, it's hard. For others who refuse to think of it like that, it just goes by and surprises you.
For me, I would describe it as hard. Definitely hard.
I've had to force myself to study, I've had to work my ass off to get into University of my choice and I had to work my bills off for college and my lifestyle along the way.
People have different kinds of hard though. If you are tested, you're only tested according to what you can handle. Sometimes, you have to break and rebuild yourself to change you and make your stronger.
I don't think there are people who succeed without working for their success. Your mind should be focused on your goal, and you should most definitely have them drilled on the inside of your skull.
Again, success is subjective.
Mistake happen all the time. More times than they come out as successes, which is frustrating and incredibly annoying even when you think you've got it all right and can't figure out where it went wrong.
Never let past mistakes happen. Not that they don't, they often happen again and again. Like not getting the appropriate marks necessary for the SATs , so repeating the examinations again and again to achieve that.
I have done that. Multiple times, which I haven't really admitted to anyone besides the people who already knows and those that are required to do so, and one that I don't plan to share much in the future either.
Everyone has skeletons in their past hidden in their closets, no matter how small and faint they be. Everyone has a life story. That might be what makes them interesting. But it doesn't also mean that one has to dwell on it and focus on the past, it will disrupt your present and future. Nobody wants that to happen.
People often have regrets their life in small or larger quantities. I rather don't fancy myself to think in such a manner since it often makes my life feel difficult, when it might be heaven compared to others in worse situations.
I'd rather embrace my choices and decisions. Make them my stepping stop by learning from the mistakes and keep looking forward. Who knows, there might be a light at the end after all.
But I do sometimes fall into the temptation, I am human after all. What I do honest-to-God regret more often than I like is that dreadful night in that horribly expensive bar an hour away from the Melon Hospital where I first met Elijah.
Then force myself to change my direction of thoughts. Doesn't really work though, considering the fact that a million thoughts process in a person's mind together but happens unconsciously, and what you do think about one or a few at a time proceeds to come forward into to your conscious state as your thoughts and all that.
But somehow, for some reason the night remains part of my conscious thoughts making me restless every time it pops up unwantedly. It makes me feel...sad. And I hate feeling sorry for myself.
Then I realize that nothing happens for a reason. Everything has a purpose. The brush of a hand, the sudden favoritism to a particular smell of a fragrance, the fall of an empire and the swell of a kingdom.
The engagement of a woman to a stranger.
Sigh.
Everything has an ultimate meaning, it may not reveal itself to you now, but with time it might be the cause of something great- or something horrible.
Elijah isn't exactly a bad man. But I don't really know him either, so I really can't judge him or segregate him into good and bad. But according to my very limited information, he isn't not what I would not want to see in my potential future partner. He's nice, to me at least and if we did get married, I'd presume he'll stand by my side as an ally. I guess, I'll cross the bridge when we get to it.
No use in obsessing over that now and make myself more confused and frustrated at what my life will become. I should probably still wait for that bridge.
Stepping stones I remind myself, stepping stones.
.
I turn to Evelyn, whose busy going through a report opposite my desk. "Wanna join the first ever dinner I'm gonna have with my fiancée?"
We're in my office, in the psychiatrist block of the hospital.
My private room consists of a standard set of furniture- a brown wood-like table, matching chairs behind the lengths of the said table, a long sofa on one corner of the room and a low tea-table in front of it.
Grey and pink colored walls lay outlining the room with colorful portraits of art, a few children's drawing that I've collected and kept as mementos, and a few other things like the classic set f wall plants that helps brightening up the place and give it an aesthetic feel with its green shade on the pink walls.
She faces forward, looks at me as if I'm crazy and replies, "Oh hell no lady, I'm fine with my booty at home watching episodes of Brooklyn Nine-nine."
"You're a great friend, buddy." I reply sarcastically. She winks and looks back down at her papers but still continues jesting me.
"You know Dayna, your fiancée is quiet hot and all if you look closely with your grandma glasses. You need to have fun with your new specimen honey, and I don't think I'll be a catalyst in the process. You are in a desperate need of wham-bam-thank you ma'am moment. Immediately. Oh! And also wear your lenses before you go. "
"Firstly, eww and secondly, thanks oh wise Yoda" I reply dejectedly.
She does the mistake of looking at me and cringing at my expression.
"How often does a person somehow get engaged to a wealthy man, young and handsome one at that too! and not say a prayer to the sex gods before you go on, what I desperately hope, is the best night of your miserable life?"
I roll my eyes at her dramatics. Ever the supporter, this one.
She's the one who introduced me to him in the first place and persuaded me go talk to him on that dreadful night. Something, that I still don't understand how it came to be, happened and after a twist and turn of events, we ended up engaged. I didn't even say yes!
Gosh, my nosy neighbour still thinks that I had an affair behind her back. Ugh!
Priorities people, get your life straight.
"You might even like the guy, giving him time of course! Come on cheer up! I'm sure he won't be as bad, in fact if I remember correctly, he is a work of art in terms of the bod, but also I've never met a sweet talker like him in my life Dayna, but the bod. Thou shall not forget the bod." Evelyn closes her eyes as if concentration on the useless importance and effectiveness of what she just said.
"People may even call you lucky, you little minx! And you put the feminine population to shame with your reaction. You look like you're going to a funeral instead of a date."
"I wish I was going to a funeral." I mumble under my breath, and snort in response to her head moving side to side at my pitiful state.
To state it plainly, I don't like Elijah that way, and I'm pretty positive that it's mutual. I'm also sure that this would remain that way the rest of our lives.
Exhaling loudly at the bleak looking future, I bid Evelyn good night as I collect my things and leave what I call now 'a second home'.
I get a call exactly half an hour later, and I leave the hospital reception to the awaiting black Mercedes that belongs to the very man I dread to stay alone with.
I get in, and he drives off with yet again no hello, but he does look at me like I need to explain economics to him.
"What's that smell?" His asks a little gruff. I remember putting on some perfume before I left my office.
Does he not like it? I thought lavender scents helps people calm down.
"What smell?" To which he doesn't reply. Not that I expected him to or anything.
Our first dinner was surrounded by awkward silence that looms over my head. And the only relief that I get is when he gets a call, excuse himself and attends it for the rest of our, rather my, dinner. And when he comes back, he apologizes for his behaviour, pays the bill and drives me home.
As I walk towards my apartment, I feel my neighbour's eyes poke holes at my back at my unexpected timing back home.
I'm telling you, some people have no life.
Tired, after entering the two bedroom apartment that I share with Evelyn, I don't even bother to look around the place as I already hear the soft snores coming from her room, kept open for some reason that may or may not involve noticing my safe arrival back home. I head to the bathroom with a smile on my face and a final goal in mind.
I remove whatever is left of my makeup, brush my teeth, take a bath, get clothed into my pajamas and head to the arms of my awaiting bed and finally fall asleep with the wrong man in the grey suit in my dreams.
What a long day.