My Kind of Perfect (25 page)

Neither of us uttered a word again and another restless hour
had passed. Then finally, after the long wait, the operating room door opened.
I hurriedly got up and so did John. As I focused my gaze at the people who came
out, that was when I noticed that the doctor was not smiling, neither did he
looked pleased. I fell back to my seat, my blamable conscience getting in the
way and wouldn't let me ask what had happened.

“How did the surgery go, doc?” I heard John ask.

The doctor took off his glasses and wiped away the
perspiration from his eyes. Then he faintly smiled and answered, “We did what
we can. Your grandmother's stable but we still need to monitor her condition.
We'll make the arrangements to transfer her to the intensive care unit.”

“Will she make it through?” he asked again.

After several agonizing seconds, the doctor finally uttered,
“Let's just hope for the best, son.”

Then the doctor excused himself, leaving behind an anxious
and perplexed John who seemed to be in a shock. I closed my eyes again, feeling
the gravity of the situation pressing down on me once more. Then in a while, I
heard John's footsteps walking away.

Opening my eyes, I hurriedly got up and was about to follow
him. Then he looked back, upset at the sight of me. Repulsion heavy in his
eyes. With a fed up voice, he warned, “I told you to stay away from us. We
don't need you, Kayla. Go home.”

I knew what he meant by that. But I couldn’t bring myself to
leave the hospital even after hearing those words. Not until I knew that she
would recover completely. That she wouldn’t die.

And that was what I did for the next few hours—hoped and
prayed that she wouldn’t leave us like that. That she’d still be around. Bossy,
evil, or not, I only wanted her around.

“Miss Brooks,” I heard a voice as someone tapped me on the
shoulders.

I fluttered my eyes and was momentarily blinded by the
staggering light of the passing car. Looking around to see where I was, I
suddenly recalled that I was still in the parking lot of the hospital. I looked
up to the one who called me and saw Nate.

“How is she?” I asked him.

He faintly smiled and answered, “I made arrangements for you
to visit her for a while. Mr. Brooks is sleeping now.”

Still in a daze, I nodded and picked myself up and started
to walk towards the entrance of the hospital. When we were several steps from
the entryway, I suddenly felt hesitant and stopped on walking.

Nate seemed to notice it. He turned back to my direction and
curiously asked, “Is everything alright, Miss?”

“Nate, is it really okay for me to see her? I mean...” I
stuttered.

“Madam is fond of you and she treats you as her own. I'm
sure she will be happy to hear your voice,” he simply answered.

“Are you sure?” I doubtfully asked. From what I could
recall, she had never taken a liking to me.

“Yes, trust me, Miss. I’ve been with her for the last twenty
years,” he answered.

“Really?” I asked.

He only smiled and nodded. “We should get going now. Mr.
Brooks might wake up anytime soon.”

Realizing what he had said, I immediately followed after
him. When John chased me out from his sight this afternoon, I asked Nate for a
favor to let me see Dorothy when John fell asleep. He agreed. And after waiting
outside until nighttime, John finally gave in to exhaustion and decided to take
a nap. Visiting hours was way over hours ago but Nate made the necessary
arrangements for me to enter the premises.

The pallid corridors of the hospital were empty. Silence was
piercingly echoed across the halls. And it was as if every deafening and
screeching wordless sound pierced straight into my heart, reminding me of what
I had done.

Nate led me to the fifth floor, towards the end of the hall.
I then noticed two more men-in-black outside the farthest room at my right.
Outside, I saw a figure of a man, with jacket placed over him and his head
resting against the wall. I stopped for a moment to look. He was fast asleep.

Nate opened the door for me, gesturing for me to get in. I
silently nodded and entered the dimly lit room. Beeping sounds came from
everywhere. And in the middle was the nurse station.

“Let me lead you to her unit,” the nurse said. She seemed to
know who I was so I only nodded.

From outside, I could see that it was Dorothy. Like John,
she was sound asleep. Only that there were different tubes and machines placed
on her. The sight of it made me want to cry but I kept myself together.

“I can give you ten minutes,” the nurse told me as she was about
to slide the door again.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

I went closer to Dorothy’s side, pulling myself along.
Without her make-up, I realized that she was really old. Her wrinkled skin
sagged on her small frame.

I tucked a misplaced strand of hair behind her ear and
winced when I touched her. Just like what John had said, she was already old
and fragile. I should have had known better than scaring an elder lady.

“I'm sorry,” I silently whispered to her. Looking away, I
forced back the tears. I placed my hand on Dorothy's and told her, “Get well
soon. I'll be waiting for you.”

It must have been my imagination, but I swore that I felt
her hand moved. Blinking twice, I shoved away the thoughts, reasoning that
maybe it was just my wishful thinking that made me think all that. I faintly
smiled at her, lingering and taking in mind that she was okay. I only hoped
that she would be so and gain back her spunk. I kind of missed that.

When the ten minutes was over, I left the ICU. I was about
to go but I suddenly felt that urge to take one more glance at John. I didn’t
know what exactly had gotten into me.

But I found myself doing just that.

Giving in to the want, I went to his side as soundless as I
could possibly be. I saw his worn out figure and the depths of his worry that
was shown on his pale face. I bent down a little as I watched as his chest went
up and down.

Then I softly whispered to him, “Are you okay?”

I was thankful that he finally gave in to the fatigue. I
knew that he would be in need of energy to face whatever might happen. Tracing
the outline of his face without placing my fingers on his skin, my fingertips
lingered a little longer on the creases that were placed in between his brows.
He must be having a nightmare that was bothering his sleep.

“Kayla!” I turned around and saw that boy with the glasses
again. He climbed up and got inside the secret door of my tree house even
before I could even tell him not to.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, annoyed that he found my
hiding place.

“You told me that if I could find you, you'd let me inside
your secret tree house,” he answered, adjusting his glasses and snorting like a
pig.

“You're gross,” I told him.

He just smiled, welcoming himself to my tree house and walking
around.

I protested, “No fair! You shouldn't be here. This tree is
mine.”

“But you told me that...” he stuttered, sounding a bit
frightened. But only a little. I wasn’t that scary. Only monsters were scary
enough.

“Okay, don't repeat what I said over and over again,” I
replied, wondering if he will keep on snorting all day.

“What do you have up there?” he asked, looking over to the box
where I kept my notebook.

“Stop being nosy or I'll be mad at you,” I warned him, placing
my hands on my hips.

“Okay,” he agreed.

“If you're nice, I'll let you stay here,” I said to him.

Instead of answering, he just yawned.

So I asked, “Did you watch movies again last night?”

“No,” John answered.

“They why are you sleepy? It's only nine in the morning,” I
said.

He hesitated for a while, looking up to me and fidgeting with
his glasses nervously. I crossed my arms over my chest. Then he finally
admitted, “I have nightmares.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yes,” he answered, “about Mom leaving me at Grandma's.”

“Really?” I echoed.

He simply nodded.

I felt sorry for him so I made up my mind to make him feel
better. I grabbed my pillow and placed it on the wooden floor. “Here, use this
and sleep. I'll sing you a song.”

He hesitated for a while before taking the cushion and lying
down.

Then I confidently said to him, “You will not have nightmares
anymore. I'll sing you the song Mom sings to me whenever I have bad dreams.”

He nodded again, closing his eyes and folding to his side. I
cleared my throat and started singing, “Sleep, little one. The nightmares will
go, the nightmares will go...”

“Think of happy dreams and jelly beans. I will be here. I
will be here. And when you wake up, everything will be alright. The nightmares
will go away.”

I saw the folds in between his brows finally relaxed until
it disappeared completely. I vaguely smiled and felt good that I was able to do
something for him. I had done a fair enough damage and making him lighten up a
bit felt like I was somehow able to make it up with him in a small way. Being
forgiven was such a hefty thing to ask and I was afraid that it would never be
given to me. Somehow, I just wanted to ease the guilt that I was feeling. Let
myself take a few more breathes without pulling it back, thinking that I did
not deserve it anymore.

I held my hand beside his face, wanting to touch him. I
wanted to caress his face and tell him that everything would be alright. But
how could I? I was the one who caused all this.

Then suddenly, making me jump a little, a hand caught mine.
I almost fell on my back. Slowly, John started opening his eyes, making my heart
beat fast in my chest. I tried pulling my hand from his but he prevented me
from doing so. Then he met my stare and I just stayed there—left hand against
the wall to steady myself and the other one caught in his.

His gaze was calm now, appeased as it had always been ever
since I met him. It was different from what he showed me this afternoon. I felt
my lips trembled a bit, not knowing what to say.

“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly as he let my hand go.
The tenderness in his voice made me feel like a lump started forming in my
throat. He was supposed to be mad at me and stay that way. It was against all
rules for him to show some form of care for me.

It made me feel horrible about myself.

“I'm fine,” I answered. “I’m just feeling apologetic to you
and Dorothy. But really, I'm fine. How about you?”

“Not sure,” he said with a shrug. Then lightly patting the
seat beside his, I heard him add, “Here, take a seat for a while.”

I looked around, noticing that Nate and the other two
men-in-black had left us alone. The hall was as silent like it was when I came
here. Two in the morning tend to give this kind of vibes.

“Is it okay?” I asked, unsure whether I should sit or not.

He nodded, a weak smile tracing his lips.

I took the other one next to where he placed his hand on. A
seat apart seemed to be appropriate now. Not closeness. Because I knew that it
could break him apart even more. This was the space he was trying to tell me
before. I knew now what he meant. The heavy stares despite him trying to ease
them up, it was clearly there.

After a moment, he finally spoke, “Kayla, this is getting
hard for me and I'm sure that it's the same for you. I can't look at you
without blaming you for what happened to my grandmother.”

I stayed silent.

“Seeing her this way makes my heart ache. And every time I
see you...” He stopped. I was convinced that he was assessing his words,
thinking of what to say to at least not completely hurt me.

John was that kind of person.

“No, it's okay. Don't worry about me. I completely understand
if you feel that way,” I assured him.

He briefly smiled. “But still, I can't go on and blame you
for everything. That will be unfair to you. So I'm thinking that we should put
an end to all this instead.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling confused where this
conversation was going.

Clasping both of his hands, he answered, “I'm calling a
press conference tomorrow. I'm going to tell everyone what really happened and
get us both out of this mess.”

I thought about what he said. Thinking that I heard it wrong,
I looked at his face and he simply nodded. Forget about my reputation, John
here was going to take the blame. It wasn’t like I would really be a divorcee
at such a young age since there wasn’t really any paper involved. I wasn’t
famous either to worry a thing. But then, John's credibility here would be
thoroughly tarnished with this mess.

“John, what about—”

“I can handle it. And besides, this will all happen in three
months. Why not do it now?” he said, fully grasping what I was about to say.

“Are you sure?” I asked him again.

He nodded and stared at me for a while. “Don't worry about
it. An issue like this won't bring the hotel and all of our other businesses
down.”

“I'm really sorry for everything,” I apologized.

“I guess we're both sorry. But it's not all your fault. I
was the one who asked you to be my bride in the first place. So really, don't
take it that hard,” he said, letting out an undermined sigh.

“So tomorrow, everything will come to an end?” I murmured,
feeling my chest tightened.

“Yes, I think it is better this way. For both of us not see
each other again for a while,” he replied.

“Maybe you’re right.” For what reason I said that, I had no
clue. Perhaps for John. With what I had realized, for sure, all I wanted now
was to stay by his side. But for John, I wanted to make myself feel different
this time. Realizing that I was free from the contract, a part of me was happy.
But a certain voice inside my head was being pained to see things turning out
this way. It was a sharp and throbbing pain inside my chest, piercing through
and through. And the cry for the latter surpassed all the momentarily bliss I
felt.