Chapter 121
Mira
It felt like my last day on earth.
I planned to come back, of course, but I had to accept that my plans might not matter once I joined Malachi’s team.
I wanted to be at the hospital early, and had a lot on my list of things to do. I couldn’t make it look like I was leaving, but I needed to be sure the things I cared about were also seen by others in whom I could put my trust.
It was harder than I thought to see Cinda.
Of course, she could tell something was wrong. She gave me the grace of not asking about it.
“Since you’re here, maybe you can check on the woman in five,” she said, looking at a chart. “She’s having abdominal pains and she has potential memory loss, if what she says is true.”
“Sure, I’m light on appointments today,” I said, taking the chart. “I have a lot of housekeeping to do, so—“
My voice cracked before it cut off.
“What?” Cinda grabbed my elbow, concerned. “Mira, are you okay?”
“Yes, fine,” I said, trying to shake it off. But my eyes were glued to the information on the page in front of me. “This patient is on Celeste’s supplement.”
“Oh, yeah,” Cinda said, “I told her I could only tell her so much about that.”
She rolled her eyes, then settled her gaze back on my face. I turned to look at her, giving her a soft smile. She smiled back, but looked suspicious.
“Let’s have lunch later?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too sentimental.
“Of course, m’ dear,” she said with a wink.
She picked up a folder and walked around me to sit back at the desk, swatting me on the butt as she passed by.
“Ow! I am at work!” I hissed at her, only to be met with snickers as she went back to work.
I walked away with a smile on my face, making it far enough away from the desk before I felt the frown take over as I thought of what I could be losing by going away.
The patient I visited had indeed been taking a new supplement, but luckily was not as bad as I might have thought. An herbal tea would help with abdominals and a low dose of a painkiller would help to bring the fever down while her body could detoxify.
“I just don’t understand,” the woman kept saying, “my husband has been fine. And his anxiety is way down, he’s so relaxed and calm. Why am I the one who has to have a reaction.”
“We can never be sure,” I told her in my best neutral clinical voice. Inside I was fuming. “That is why I don’t recommend anyone take something that hasn’t been sufficiently tested and approved by doctors and not just people trying to make money.”
She shook her head in disapproval, blaming the younger generation under her breath.
“If you still have memory loss after that, come back in,” I said as I wrapped up my visit. “And I’ll right down a list of mushrooms and herbs that are good for brain health.”
I spent much of my day making the rounds of the floors of the hospital that I had grown to know so well. I recognized most faces, was greeted with smiles as I passed by. Occasionally someone might bow their head or touch a hand to their chest, and I knew they were showing respect to the Luna as well, not just the Doctor.
I was finally comfortable as both, and yet now I was hanging up both hats and crossing a line I thought I’d never have to cross.
When I got home that evening, before settling into our apartment, I made a new set of rounds through the Alpha mansion.
My perspective on it had changed so much since that first night when Dominic brought me home months ago. I relished the feel of the wooden banister on every staircase, taking in the scattered artwork collected over generations. I tried to exchange a few words with everyone I passed, even just to be remembered as a kind person.
Perhaps it was this egoism that was driving me to make such a bold decision.
Dominic was cooking when I finally got home. I poked my head into the kitchen before going to change my clothes.
“Smells good, thank you for—“
“My pleasure, I wanted to.” he said quickly, then taking a breath.
We looked at each other, almost giddy with the conflicting emotions we felt for each other.
“I’ll be right in.”
We sat and ate dinner together, quiet but not silent, and I wondered if I should just spill everything and tell him my plans.
“You look…discouraged,” he said, pulling my focus from my plate to his face. “Maybe not that, but… Mira, can we please talk?”
I sighed, knowing I was foolish to think I could run away before I had to have this conversation.
“I guess, yeah,” I said, wondering if I should just be irritable and keep us in a rut. “I know we’ve both been hurt and been hurting one another, and it’s not good.”
“Mira, I never want to hurt you, that is never my goal—“
“I know, I know, that’s not what I… I don’t know what I mean.”
We were silent then, looking at each other.
“I love you more than I can ever say.”
His ears perked up as my thought reached him. A flicker of a smile at his mouth, even though he still looked sad.
“You are mine, and I am yours, in this life and the next.”
I felt goosebumps on my skin, and I ran my tongue across my lips.
In bed, the sorrow of our shared hurt swept over us like a weighted blanket. I felt afraid to touch him, yet still wanted to crawl inside him and knit my soul into his.
I didn’t realize I was crying until his thumb brushed my cheek to wipe away a tear. He didn’t say anything, he just kissed my forehead and let me quietly sob until I fell asleep.
At some point in the night, we woke each other up as our hands gently caressed each other's bodies. We made love without speaking, in that floating place between dreaming and reality. I slept the rest of the night in his arms, holding tight in case I floated away too soon.
I let him leave first in the morning.
His face was bright, his step lighter than it had been in days. I tried to remember every detail of how he looked in that moment, letting this be the mental image of the man I had to leave.
“I’ll see you tonight?”
His arm was around my back, his face inching closer to mine.
“Yup!”
He accepted my over-enthusiasm and sealed it with a kiss, then went out the door. I stared at the place where he had been for a while, too numb to cry anymore. After what I felt was an appropriate amount of time, I got moving.
Opening the hidden door in our bedroom, I found the bag I had stashed there before. I allowed myself one last wistful look around the bedroom, the home that I had come to love so much.
And then I left it all behind.
