Lavender

An unconventional short story about love off stereotypical pages.

I look up. 4:23am. I can hear my bed calling to me. Concentrate, Mark, concentrate. Where was I? Side effects may include headache, upset stomach, constipation, fatigue… Fatigue. Sleep… No! The final is in two days. I have to ace it. I hate this. But I have to. Constipation, fatigue, dizziness, shortness of breath…

I did ace the exam, with flying colours. I guess I had the motivation. I graduated with First Class Honours as a Bachelor of Medicine, top of class. The past years were a series of late night studying, numerous boring classes and a cluttered desk full of notes and books. I despise medicine and dislike the idea of becoming a doctor, but it is considered the best of professions, and offers the highest of wages. Therefore, considering my past, I want nothing more but to succeed in getting the qualifications.

In a few weeks, I land a job at Start New, a drug rehabilitation programme in Oxford. My work is to medically treat patients that are just entering, and check on them during their stay. My lack of compassion and tolerance immediately makes me unpopular with the rest of the staff. I sleep in the miserable building, an embodiment of depression and isolation. The old castle had been insufficiently funded to be converted into a medical facility for drug addicts around the country. Their stay would last anywhere between six months and a year, during which they are encouraged and given the resources to start afresh. Whilst the rest of the staff saw them as misled people, I saw them as a well-endowed pay check coming my way.

Within a year, I am severely dejected. I start off the day with a strong cup of coffee, which I sip whilst reading medical reports about the patients that I’ll be the seeing in the following hours. At 8am sharp, the first patient enters my office. Until 6pm, my day consists of blood tests, personal questions and report writing. Occasionally, I meet with the nurses to discuss the possibility of releasing certain individuals, depending on their progress. Once or twice a week, a new person is admitted, usually transferred from the local hospital. However, every so often we get people who enter on their own accord, recognising they need help. Like Amaya.

One morning, a young nurse entered my office and handed me a file. Amaya Blackpool was written on the front. I raise an eyebrow and she explains that she’s new.

“Hospital transfer?”

“No, independent admission.”

“Any particular reason?”

“She’s pregnant…”

“S**t.”

Pregnancy is not uncommon in the centre, but I have only dealt with two such cases in the past personally. The situation requires constant testing and supervision, since complications are very frequent.        

               

The door creaks open.
“Enter,” I say without looking up. I flip through the pages of the report I have just been handed. 14 weeks pregnant, and a very serious drug history. She played ugly. Domestic abuse, foster homes, jail time… Not the best of childhoods. But my lack of compassion doesn’t allow me to feel sympathy for the girl.

I look up.

Amaya Blackpool is simply beautiful.

For the very first time in my life, my heart skips a beat. I had never dated; never fell in love; never even considered any sexual relationship. However, for the very first time, I feel speechless. I, a master of words and dialogue, am at loss of all of it. The process I’ve been through a thousand times is a mystery at this moment, an enigma, a new paradox. I clumsily stand up and offer my hand awkwardly, which she shakes. Her hands are soft, and her shake is firmly fragile. My whole being is confused, until I look into her eyes.

Her large grey eyes calm me. For the first time ever, I feel at home. She smiles gently, which once again sends my world spinning. Her large brown curls imitate the apparent movement of my stomach inside me, as I struggle to take in air. She looks beautifully tired, splendidly lost. The perfect moment breaks as she lets go of my hand and sits down opposite to me. I regain my cool instantly, and sit down. My voice, however, shakes as I give the usual introduction. She nods slightly as I describe what we’ll be doing in the coming months. I begin to explain the process for her recovery but she immediately interrupts:

“What about the baby?”

Her voice is pleasant and forces a smile onto my lips. I don’t believe I have ever truly smiled in my experience at the clinic. It quickly turns sympathetic as I realise that Amaya couldn’t care less about herself as long as her child gets through it. Half-heartedly, I explain the harsh truth… The odds aren’t in the baby’s favour, especially since it is already 16 weeks old and has been subjected to such conditions. The conversation continues and I work hard to ease her worries. I have an impulse to cup her hands in mine as I never have. Physical contact with patients is largely against my nature. Nevertheless, I refrain from doing so. When she leaves the office, I ask the nurse to slightly delay the next meeting.

I get up and look out of the window. In the distance, a single lilac flower has bloomed on an otherwise bare lavender plant. The soil around is moist due to the nightfall rainfall. I continue to gaze onto the landscape with a vague smile. The knock on the door startles me, and I snap out of my uninhibited thoughts. I had been looking back at my past, remembering all that shaped me into the harsh man I am today, and gave me the perseverance to reach the sky. The door opens and another patient enters. I regain my professional nature and hard-hearted attitude and continue on my work.

As the days go by, I start to build a friendship with Amaya. My heart still skips a beat every time I see her, and her laugh induces mine. We work together for approximately an hour every day and I often invent excuses to spend more time with her. Our relationship starts to escape the professional limits that I usually have with my other patients, and we often exchange jokes and more personal information. She seems to have a liking to me too, and appears to be at ease when she’s around me. Nevertheless, the grim woman I see at lunchtime, throwing her food around her plate, her grey eyes as deep as her thoughts, reminds me of what she carries around with her- the weight of a troublesome past, as well as a child she’s working relentlessly to save.

“Do you want to know the sex, Amaya?”
“Urmm... I’m not sure. What do you think, Mark?” I cannot help but smile as she says my name. I had asked her to stop calling me doctor after a while, but she hadn’t until recently.
“It’s entirely up to you…” I respond.
“I think I would like to know.”
“You’re going to have a little girl,” I say, with a smile.
Her eyes fill with tears and her mouth splits into a broad smile.
“Thankyou Mark.”

I continue to work closely with her to ensure her health as well as her child’s. It’s too early to know whether the baby will make it, but I unfortunately do not have much faith that she will. However, Amaya makes immense progress, and doesn’t relapse or try to avoid treatment as most of the rest do.

I’m waiting for her in my office. Outside it’s raining, and the little lavender is swaying with the wind. More flowers have grown, and it looks much better and healthier. Amaya enters, and the usual small talk starts. As I inject a needle into her upper arm, she asks, “Why did you want to become a doctor?”

I hesitate. The question is more personal than she could have known. I’m not sure whether I should answer. I take a deep breath and reply, with a slow tone, “My mum fell ill when I was six years old. Every waking second, my dad would be on the sea, fishing, to earn an income and pay for her treatment. When he was young, he didn’t give a damn about school and dropped out early. He loved her to pieces and did all he could to see her on her feet again, but his income wasn’t sufficient. One day when I was 11, I came home to find him sprawled across the floor with an empty bottle of gin in one hand. Mum had died. After that, he was drunk mostly every day. I wanted a better future for myself. A guarantee of money for a rainy day, I guess.”

The silence rang in my ears. I could hear myself gulp. I wasn’t sure whether I should continue, or change the subject, but she spoke before I could choose.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked…”
“You couldn’t have known. Anyway, time has passed, and I reached my dreams. I learnt a lot from my father.”
She nodded and quickly changed the subject to the weather. She loved the rain apparently… Love. Could I? No. I had closed myself to all possibilities of breaking down due to love as my father did. I was unable to love. Or was I?

Our relationship grew much stronger, and we started to spend time together outside of the office. One day, she confided to me that she was allowed to spend an afternoon out of the facility, but she had no one to spend it with. So I decided to surprise her. I asked for leave for the afternoon, prepared some food and took her for a picnic in the park nearby, where the lavender plant was.

It was a beautiful day for a change, and we sat on the crisp green grass with a melody of birds’ songs in the background. Our conversation was as full and interesting as always, and I could never be tired of hearing her melodious voice talking about her dreams and thoughts. She was very intellectual, thus making me believe that outside the facility, she could go far. However, the thought of her leaving killed me inside.

By this time, she’s nearly six months pregnant. She would often interrupt our dialogue to remark about the baby’s kicks. I enjoyed listening to her babble on about the girl, and she often asked me for my thoughts and advice. Today, as we lay on the grass looking at the clouds, she suddenly asked:
“What shall I name her? It has to be related to the environment. It’s a family tradition.”
“What’s Amaya then?”
“It means night rain in Japanese.”
We stop to think for a moment.
“A flower’s name… How about Lavender?” I ask.
“Oh my God Mark I love it! Yes, definitely… My little beautiful Lavender,” she says whilst laughing and placing two hands on her stomach.

As I unconsciously smile, I look at the beautiful lavender plant just a few metres away. Ever since the winter season has been progressing and it has been receiving the necessary amount of water, it has grown beautifully.

It started to grow dark and it was time for Amaya to check back into the facility. However, we still had the night, so I took her up to the roof. It was my favourite spot in the place, or rather the only spot I didn’t detest. As we rested against the railing, I pointed out the stars and constellations. She was fascinated. Living in the city, she rarely got to see the beauty of the limitless universe around us. When I placed my hand back on the railing, I mistakenly placed it on hers. She looked at me and smiled. The night sky I was just admiring was dull in comparison to her glittering eyes. She moved in, and her soft lips touched mine. I had never kissed before and never considered I ever would.

Our relationship flourished.

As soon as the office door closed, her lips were my haven, the first source for my happiness in years. My fear of intimacy and love had disappeared, an issue I didn’t even consider anymore. My only worry was her child. I had grown attached to Lavender so much, that the truth that she might not make it was destroying me. The medical results, however, seemed to be quite promising and it appeared that Lavender was going to be fine.

When the nurses requested that I ask for parental details, I winced. I didn’t really care to know who Lavender’s father was, but it was necessary. So, one day, I asked her gently about the father. I had never wished I hadn’t had a certain conversation with Amaya until this one:
“I was raped by a foster brother. I can give you the name and address, as long as I don’t have to interact with him in any way myself, and that Lavender won’t have to ever meet him.”

A chill ran down my back. My throat dried up and I opened my mouth to speak but no words could come out. I just hugged her tight and let her cry on my shoulder. Outside the window opposite me, rain was falling heavily. The lavender plant seemed even more beautiful to me now than it ever had before.

Seven and a half months pregnant. I did remind Amaya that there was still a chance of miscarriage to ensure that I wasn’t building false hopes. However, I also confided that I was fairly certain that Lavender would be fine. Amaya was generally happy and healthy, and we were in our own little world when we were together. My hands felt out of place when they weren’t holding hers, and my thoughts were constantly about her. We told no one due to ethical reasons, and our exclusive relationship was our little beautiful secret.

I wanted to marry her.

I didn’t have to think this decision twice. I didn’t have to consider if it was too early, or if she would reject me. I wanted to marry her. So I bought her a ring, and started to devise a simple plan to propose. I had learnt that Amaya didn’t like grand gestures. All I needed was a ring, some beautiful words and the roof where it started.

Night after night, I composed a speech to be delivered to my lady before getting down on one knee. Finally, it was ready.

My love,
I have never felt this way in my life before. You have made me feel complete like no one else ever could. You’ve given me a reason to better myself, to build and keep relationships and to succeed. You’ve opened me up to beautiful world I had never noticed before, and showed me what it means to love and be loved. I am willing to work hand in hand with you for the rest of my life, whatever happens. I want to be by your side to guide and be guided through all the obstacles we may face. Our secret relationship has been my refuge for months now. When you’re beside me, I know I’m going to be OK. Right now, and forever. Regardless of all the money I have ever had, it was you who finally made me rich. Rich in happiness and peace. I love you.

 It was the night before the proposal, and I was in my office. 8:34pm. Amaya had been feeling ill during dinner and had gone to sleep early. The young nurse entered my office and remarked, “Doctor Mark, we have an issue- Oh my, you look so pale! What’s the matter?”
I needed to talk, to confide in someone.
“I’m going to propose tomorrow,” I blurted out.
“Congratulations! Who’s the lucky girl?”
And I told her the love story that I had composed with my beautiful Amaya, and how I planned to propose.

“Listen to this and tell me what do you think, will you?” I ask shyly.
“Sure.”
“My love,
I have never felt this way… No I can’t, I’m feeling too awkward. Can you read this in your spare time and tell me what you think?” I ask her, as I hold out the proposal for the next day, written down and memorised word by word.
“Of course, Mark,” she says as she takes it.
“Did you want to tell me something?”
“Oh yes… Very bad news.”
She hands me a few papers.
“What’s this?”
“Read.”

On the top, Maria Monto is written. A patient I had just starting seeing. Like Amaya, she was also expecting. I skim through the first few words. The results of a recent blood test. I felt a piercing pain in my heart. Maria had been tampering with drugs again. Levels were very high.
“Her baby… She’s going to have a miscarriage, nurse…”
“As I assumed…”
“She was progressing beautifully. I could have sworn the baby would make it.”
“Did you keep her aware that there might be complications?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Tell her tomorrow?”
“I will.”
The nurse nods and leaves the office, my speech folded on top of a batch of files she holds in her arms. Before she leaves, she waves the paper at me and grins.

I look out the window and a sudden realisation hits me. Six months ago, news like this wouldn’t have affected me at all. But Amaya, Amaya had really changed me. I was in touch with my feelings like I never was before. Suddenly the emotions of agitation and anxiety dissolve inside me. I reaffirm my decision to propose with a smile, switch off the lights and leave the office.

That night I couldn’t sleep. The rain outside was heavy and furious. Thunder raged around the old castle and the wind slapped hard against the exterior walls. I tossed and turned on the tough mattress and pulled my blankets as close to me as possible. Thoughts swirled around in my head. I was slipping in and out of sleep, and was often unsure what was real and what was a dream. Finally, I slept.

I woke up late, and quickly got dressed and grabbed a piece of toast, which I ate whilst walking to my office. When I enter, an elderly patient is already sitting on my chair. Once a botanist, the man lost everything in a fire and used drugs to cover his painful memories.
“Mornin’,” he said with his deep voice.
“Good morning, John,” I respond.
A single folded paper lies on my desk. ‘TO MARK. URGENT’ has been written hastily on the front. I smile. Must be the nurse’s views on my speech to Amaya for tonight. I pick it up and open it. The paper seems tear stained, and the words appear to be written in rage and impulse. I glance at the bottom. ‘From Amaya’.

My heart stops.

“Give me a minute John, will you?”

I don’t give him time to answer.

To Mark,

You little b***h.
How stupid do you think I am? Did you think your little plan would work out perfectly? Well it didn’t. And Lavender??! You told me she will be fine…
Yesterday, I had a nightmare, so I came to you. I came to you because I lov thought you care, that what we hav had was real. As I was about to enter your office, I hear voices. I heard you speaking about Lavender with the nurse. My little beautiful Lavender. YOU TOLD ME THAT SHE’S GOING TO BE OK!!! YOU EVIL B*****D! I LOVED HER!
I’m lost. Speechless outside your door. So I start walking away, to anywhere. And then I decide to go after the nurse. Talk to her. I walk behind her and a letter falls off of her things. I pick it up. Probably the report about my precious Lavender, I thought. No. That’s why you wanted to keep us a secret?! To be able to cheat on me so f*****g easily?!
Goodbye Mark. Not only are we over, but I am also ending it all. I have nothing left. Not you, not Lavender. Thank you for the false beliefs. For making me think for the past few months that I have a future. After tonight, I won’t have. 
From Amaya

I’m in a big sea. I knew where I wanted to go. I had my directions all figured out. Suddenly, I’m lost again. The calm blue water is now raging around me. I’m drowning. I can’t breathe. I don’t know if I want to, actually. Too stunned to speak. To even cry. To feel anything. Maybe there’s still chance. Maybe I can find her.

Suddenly out of nowhere, John pulls me back to reality with his voice.
“That lavender, look at it.”

I glance outside. My beautiful little lavender’s flowers have fell off and died.

“All because of the night rain. The rain that was its origins, was its demise. And now the night rain is over, and so is the lavender.”

And after that, I fell apart.

 

 

               

 

 

 

                 

 

 

Author's Note

Be honest :) This is my first writing piece, so I'd really love to know what you guys think :D