Chapter 8 – Mood Swing

• Anna
• “How is he?” I asked, concerned.
• “Mr. Hamburg is stable. The tears could be a result of dry eyes, discomfort, or even him reacting to something he heard,” Dr. Anderson explained.
• “What does that mean?” I asked, still confused.
• “It means this is good news. His consciousness is showing signs of responding to his surroundings. There’s a chance he might recover,” Dr. Anderson replied.
• “How high is the chance?” I pressed.
• “Right now, I can’t give an exact percentage. I’ll need to monitor his condition more closely before I can say anything definitive,” he said.
• “Thank you.” I smiled, eyes brimming with tears. This was the first bit of good news I’d heard in two long, exhausting weeks.
• “Did you hear that, Tyler? Mr. Hamburg has a chance to recover!” I turned to him with joy.
• Tyler nodded and pulled me into a warm hug.
• “Ahem…” Dr. Anderson cleared his throat, reminding us he was still in the room.
• I quickly pulled myself together and recomposed.
• “What should I do next? I’ll do anything,” I said, unable to contain my excitement.
• “Keep him company. Talk to him,” Dr. Anderson instructed. “Most importantly, physical contact helps stimulate his sensory responses. Watch for any signs of reaction, and report to me immediately if there’s any complication.” He handed me a business card.
• I nodded eagerly.
• Though my leg hurt and my best friend had just gotten into trouble, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of joy. Mr. Hamburg had a chance to recover—that was all I needed to hear.
• After Dr. Anderson left, it was just me and Tyler in the room. I couldn’t bring myself to return to my food, so I took a seat beside the bed and stared at the man who had always seemed more like a shadow than a father.
• I felt like I should say something, but what?
• All my life, he had ignored me. I never turned to him for anything, and now, I had nothing to say or ask.
• “Um…” I tried to find the right words, but nothing came.
• Tyler, clearly frustrated, got up from the couch and walked behind me.
• “As much as I’d love to witness your heartfelt daughterly confession, I can’t wait around forever. I’m heading home,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be shy—express your love for him.”
• “Okay. Goodnight, Tyler,” I said, waving him off with a small smile.
• Once the room was quiet again, I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
• “Well… I don’t really know what to say, but I hope you can hear me.” I paused, my chest tightening with every word. “I’m sorry—for everything I’ve brought into your life. If I could turn back time, I wouldn’t have chosen to be born at all.”
• The silence that followed was heavy, but the guilt inside me weighed even more.
• “I know I can’t undo the past, but I promise… I’ll look after you as best I can. Maybe it’s my way of making amends. I hope you don’t mind. Just… pretend I’m not here. Like always.”
• I gave a small, bitter laugh to myself.
• “I won’t stick around forever. Once you recover, you’ll never have to see me again.”
• I exhaled shakily, suddenly aware of how long I’d been speaking.
• “Huh. I’m rambling now. Anyway… have a good night’s rest,” I whispered and turned to leave, slipping out of the room in search of fresh air.
• I like it up here. It makes me feel free—free of burden, free of sadness, free of the heavy weight pressing down on my heart. For a while, this rooftop has been my escape, a small sanctuary above all the chaos below.
• But it seems I’m not the only one who finds solace here.
• A few feet away, dressed in his hospital gown and bathed in the glow of the moonlight, stood Dr. Anderson.
• I froze.
• Seeing him here felt intrusive, even though I was the one intruding now. Afraid to upset him again, I turned to leave quietly.
• But then—he spoke.
• “Where are you going? Didn’t you want to get some fresh air?” Dr. Anderson asked. He knew I was there all along.
• “I don’t want to disturb you. Take your time,” I replied, turning to leave.
• “Stay. Keep me company,” he said.
• I hesitated. “Me? Are you sure?”
• He nodded.
• Honestly, I couldn’t tell if he was serious or just being polite. His mood swings left me unsure of what to expect from one moment to the next. But since he asked, I stayed. I needed the air too, and maybe… the quiet.
• The first ten minutes passed in complete silence.
• Not once did he look at me.
• And I didn’t dare look at him either.
• I’ve never been good at reading people, let alone someone as complicated as him. Starting a conversation felt impossible. So, we just sat there—two broken people sharing the same space, unsure of what to say or how to begin.
• While I was lost in my own monologue, he suddenly shifted and looked up.
• What is he staring at?
• Curious, I followed his gaze—and gasped.
• In the darkness of night, the stars glowed brilliantly. Individually, they were nothing more than tiny specks, but together, they painted a sky full of hope and unspoken wishes.
• “My parents liked to watch the stars,” he said aloud.
• “Oh…” I responded softly, still unsure if he was talking to me or just thinking out loud.
• “Cat got your tongue?” Dr. Anderson asked, glancing my way.
• I froze for a moment. Was that… a joke?
• “Huh?” I managed, caught off guard.
• He chuckled. He chuckled.
• “I’m talking to you. At least respond with an actual word, not weird sounds. Didn’t school teach you anything about social manners?” he said, a teasing edge to his voice.
• I panicked and blurted out, “No… wait, I mean yes… I mean… ugh!”
• I struggled to explain myself, which only made him laugh.
• “Why is it so hard for you to talk to me?” Dr. Anderson finally turned to look at me.
• His gaze made me squirm. It was too direct, too… much.
• “Why do we have to talk—just to occupy silence?” I asked, trying to deflect.
• “Because we’re human. Humans are social animals,” he replied casually.
• “Well, I’m no social butterfly, so don’t expect too much from me,” I muttered.
• “See? Not so hard after all, is it?” He smiled, softening the line of his mouth. “Just relax. Chat with me.”
• That simple smile—it chipped away at the brick wall I’d spent years building to protect myself. No one ever smiled at me like that. People usually looked at me with disdain, as if I were some sort of misfortune in human form.
• Except for Tyler. And now… maybe Dr. Anderson too.
• He was complicated, hard to read—but in that one moment, with that one smile, I let my guard down just a little.
• “Honestly, with your attitude and mood swings, I don’t even know how to talk to you. But okay—what do you want to talk about?” I tried to sound casual, though my tone betrayed me.
• Dr. Anderson chuckled. “What do you want to know?” he asked.
• “Nothing,” I replied.
• “Straight to the point, huh?” he commented.
• “I don’t like twist-and-turn schemes. They’re just too confusing,” I said aloud.
• “Yet, you schemed against me. And a good one at that,” he reminded me.
• “Let’s not talk about the past, please,” I interjected.
• “Yet it’s the past I can’t escape,” he said solemnly.
• Sensing the topic had shifted, I offered, “It’ll get better. There are still plenty of fish in the sea.”
• “I just got my heart broken—are you suggesting I start messing around already?” the doctor laughed.
• “So—an eye for an eye, a love for a love,” I said with a smile.
• “That makes no sense,” he replied, amused.
• “I’m sorry—a love for another love. Since your first love broke your heart, why not fix it with a different kind of love?” I suggested.
• “What if that love leaves me again?”
• “Then love something that won’t run from you,” I said, which earned a puzzled look from Dr. Anderson.
• I clarified, “There are different kinds of love. Love your job. Love your patients. Love your pets, your family… love yourself…” I kept listing everything that came to mind.
• “Or love you,” he added, pointing at me with a teasing smile.
• “Not funny.” I deadpanned.
• “I’m laughing,” Dr. Anderson chuckled.
• First, he’s complicated. Now he’s weird. Just hours ago, he was yelling at me, and now he’s laughing like he didn’t help shatter my legs—or my pride.
• “How’s your father? Any response from him yet?” he asked.
• I shook my head.
• “For someone in his condition, it could be worse. But don’t give up hope. We’ll keep trying,” he reassured me.
• “I know. I just wish I could do more for Mr. Hamburg,” I said softly.
• “Mr. Hamburg?” Dr. Anderson echoed, clearly intrigued.
• “Yeah… we don’t exactly get along,” I said, skimming over the mess of a backstory. “You know… you’re really lucky to have such a warm family. I’m kind of jealous,” I confessed.
• “Don’t you have siblings?” he asked.
• “Maybe I have a stepsister,” I said, scrunching my face.
• It felt so weird saying that out loud.
• “Maybe…?” Anderson raised an eyebrow, quizzically.
• “Maybe because we don’t get along,” I sighed.
• “So, who’s Cinderella—her or you?” Dr. Anderson asked.
• Teasing would be a more accurate word for it.
• “Take a wild guess,” I challenged.
• “Her,” he said without hesitation—and chuckled.
• “Really?” I deadpanned.
• “Okay, I get it now,” Dr. Anderson said with a smile.
• I nodded.
• “So… where’s your mother?” he asked.
• A lump formed in my throat at the question. “Um… she passed away. Maternal death,” I said, struggling to speak the truth.
• “Oh… I’m sorry,” he replied, his tone softening as he realized how sensitive the topic was.
• “It’s no big deal.” I forced a smile, but he saw right through it.
• “How come I never knew about this?” he asked.
• “Not a lot of people know,” I admitted. “It’s not a secret or anything. It’s just… no one ever cared enough about me to notice.”
• The words came out heavier than I expected, and for a moment, I felt that old weight settle on my shoulders again.
• “I’ll listen,” Dr. Anderson offered gently.
• “I don’t want to talk about it,” I replied, cutting the topic short.
• “Noted,” he nodded without pressing further.
• After that, we sat in silence, gazing at the stars above.
• “Huh! A shooting star!” I gasped, pointing to the flash streaking across the night sky.
• I closed my eyes and made a wish. There wasn’t much to it—I just wished for Mr. Hamburg’s fast recovery.