Sandra Bullock
In the kitchen, you ask me if I am going to break your heart. I’m wearing your clothes and have half a piece of toast with eggs you made on my plate. I’m in the middle of a thought about your bicep and the feeling of your lips on my body. If anyone is going to do the breaking here, I hope it’s not me. I’d rather love you leave than make me go. For you, I want to surrender myself, lay myself down belly up, show you all my flaws. You’d make me laugh about them and then tell me that even the trees have knots. We sit on the fire escape and I am not afraid. We’ve kissed in the darkness and the light and I like both. I can feel myself bloom. I couldn’t finish my toast after that. I, like a frozen daffodil, stayed still wondering who’s going to break hearts.
“Dr. Bullock, time for rounds.”
I folded the letter and slid it back to its envelope. I couldn’t well remember when did I write it, but the year on the top stated that it dated two years back. Maybe, I wrote it when I was ruined by my whiskey. The feeling of having to go through it was numbing; there was no pain at all and I didn’t resent her anymore. And now, it was clear to me: she did not break my heart, I broke hers.
I got up from my seat, took the white coat on and wore it. The plated name on my table: Sandra Bullock, M.D somehow felt a little strange, but I knew deep down that I did the right thing. I trudged towards the door and kissed my way out. The hospital hallway felt haunted. The white walls seemed to move and followed every action that I would be making. The clinking of my hells against the marbled floor was not music, it was an annoying thumping. I felt strange today, and I wanted to tell myself that this was not because of her, but the more I convinced myself, the more I failed.
“Hi, how are you feeling?” I greeted to the first patient I visited. She was an old woman, eighty-five years old and was suffering from a congenital heart disease.
“Ive been feeling fine, darling.” Her voice was sweet and so warm, she gave me a smile, “Thanks to you.”
I only gave a smile as an answer. I took a chair, dragged it towards her bed to check if everything that was attached to her body was fine. While doing so, I knew she was looking at me and I felt exposed as if I had been subjected to the limelights. After a few minutes, she asked me again.
“How old are you my darling?”
“I’m… I’m thirty-seven.”
“You’re so young. You will have fine years ahead of you and I am sure that when you reach my age, you will not be in a hospital bed.” She reached for my hand and squeezed it, like how grandmothers do to their grandkids, “You will be in far away places with the love of your life.” She let go of my hand and sunk back to the pillows behind her, “But I hope that you will be in Spain, drinking and dancing because I’ve never been there and I wished I did.”
Suddenly, my heart narrowed and I felt the slow forming of the lumps inside my throat, slowly choking me.
“Baby, what do you think about Spain?”
I heard her shout from the outside. It was one A.M and I was studying for a long exam and she was memorizing a script outside. I took the eyeglasses off the bridge of my nose and placed it on the table.
“What do you mean Spain?” I shouted back, stretching my arms, trying to fight off the sudden urge to sleep.
I listened to the quick steps and when I looked back, Cate was smiling while she leaned on the doorframe. The bright moon and the gleaming stars were behind her, but still, none of those could equate to the beauty that was she. Her script was long gone and she stood on the doorway full of excitement.
“Baby, for our retirement!”
Her face was beaming as she stood on the door and in that moment, I could not think about my exams anymore – all I ever thought was the sweet smile on her lips, the sound of her giggles and her in Spain with me. I could not see any other thing other than her and I knew in that very moment that I was going to marry her. I knew that she would be the woman I would be spending my remaining years with.
“What do you think?” She asked enthuasiastically again.
I stood up, walked and met her by the door. She was so beautiful in the light of dawn, and I couldn’t help myself but to snake my arms on her waist. God, how could she be so beautiful?
“What do I think?” I placed some of her loose hairs behind her left ear, “I think about marrying you, growing old with you and spending my remaining years with you in wherever place you want.”
“Love, promise me.” She placed her arms on my neck.
“Promise you what?”
“That it is I who you will be spending your retirement with.”
I breathed and gave her a peck on the lips, “I promised.”
And I broke that promise.
I shook my head, trying to not let my tears spill, “That’s sweet of you to say.” I murmured and breathed, “Anyway, I still have other patients to —”
“Dr. Bullock?”
I turned my head to the door where I saw a nurse calling me.
“A very, very, very important person is waiting at your office.” She grinned, and I saw how she struggled to deliver her sentence as if she just saw something she couldn’t believe.
Important person? I stood from the chair and bid my goodbye to my patient as I went out, “Important person?” I asked as I closed the door behind me, “Who?”
“Cate. Cate Blanchett.” She whispered and grinned trying to contain her fangirl scream from coming out.
“What?” I asked in disbelief.
“The highest paid actress of all time.” Her eyes gleamed,”Cate Blanchett!”
And there, in my scrub, I heard the sounds of my soul flying out of my body. This couldn’t be.
***
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