It was a typical October morning. The sun was barely shining; the rays were weak and pale, shining feebly through the curtains. Lily yawned, and stretched. Bed was so lovely, and on a cold, crisp day like this one, it felt like heaven.
Despite her slow start, in thirty minutes Lily was showered and dressed, her eyes neatly lined, and downing a cup of coffee in intermittent sips as she checked her email. One from Mrs Beauchamp, informing all staff that there was a bug going around, and that they would need to be extra vigilant. As per usual, Lily vowed to as much overtime as possible, and tapped a message to the sharp-faced clinical lead to let her know. She decided to skip breakfast – it wasn't like she needed it, she hadn't exercised properly all week.
Now, work.
Stifling another yawn, Lily scooped up the keys to her moped, but as she did she caught sight of the calendar hanging over the sink – October was a pretty forest scene, golden leaves scattered across a winding path. But it wasn't the picture that interested her. Her eyes flicking to the date, she froze.
Her chest tightened, and the little numbers wavered and blurred, mingling with the delicate box round the date. Today! How – how could she have forgotten?
Another onslaught of guilt gripped her as she glanced down the hall and saw the little red light on the answerphone winking at her, harsh in the early morning light. She pressed her hands together, feeling her rings dig into her fingers. Of all the days. The department was under stress, her mother had been sending several worried messages about her father's increasing fragility…
Briefly, she wondered if her mother had remembered what day it was.
At that very moment, her mobile rang. She fumbled through her bag, her fingers brushing biros and forgotten slips and receipts.
'Lìlì, nǐzài ma?'
'Yes, Chénmò, I am,' Lily replied wearily. Of course her mother had remembered. And now she'd have to spend the next ten minutes wallowing in memories, and probably end up late for work. 'I've got work soon, though, so just a quick chat.' Her anxiety rose in her throat and clogged her airway, making it hard to breathe.
'Oh, Lìlì,' her mother said, the phone crackling with her sigh. 'Jīntiān? Wǒ xīwàng nǐ néng lái... Kàn dào nǐ de fùqīn... Tā zuò dé bù hǎo.'
'He is…okay, isn't he?'
A couple more lines of confusing, fast Chinese.
'Slow down, Chénmò, I can't understand you.'
'Nǐyǐjīng ràng nǐde dì yīyǔyán huádòng,' her mother said reprovingly. But then her voice grew tearful again. 'Tā xiànzài yīzhí zài kùnhuò. Ér jīntiān... Tā yīzhí wèn qǐ... Qǐyà shì- '
Lily slammed the phone down, breathing heavily. She didn't want to hear her mother's forlorn tones echoing down the line. She didn't want to hear about her father's weakening mental state. And she didn't want to hear…that name. Ever. Never again.
She took a moment to compose herself, her chest heaving beneath her buttoned silk blouse, and hissed angrily when she discovered leaking black tears trailing down her cheeks. To clear herself up would cost her valuable minutes. She was going to be late for work now.
Lily Chao strode into the hospital, her head in a blur. She didn't know what her problem was. Usually she got through this yearly trial by throwing herself into work, concentrating on everything except her feelings. But the phone call this morning had really shaken her. A panicky, anxious knot was lodged in her chest, constricting her windpipe. Perhaps it was because she hated hearing about her father's declining health.
But she suspected it was due to her mother mentioning the name that hadn't been mention in fifteen years.
She was so deep in thought she nearly walked smack-bang into her boss, coming in the other direction.
'Mrs Beauchamp!' Lily gasped, caught off guard.
'Doctor Chao,' Connie replied, lifting an eyebrow, unimpressed. 'You're late.'
'I know, I'm sorry…'Lily stumbled over her words. 'It won't happen again.'
'I should hope not,' Connie said, but her voice was warmer. 'Are you okay, Lily?'
Lily touched her freshly-applied eyeliner, praying the redness from her tears wasn't as obvious as it had been earlier. 'Fine, Mrs Beauchamp,' she replied evenly.
'Good.' Connie turned away. 'Now get to work.'
Three patients later, Lily was feeling pleasantly clear-headed. The knot in her chest had loosened somewhat, and even though she was on her fourth cup of coffee, she felt in control again – at least, until she saw three missed calls from her mother. She let out a heavy, put-upon sigh. Ethan caught it, and glanced over curiously.
'You okay?'
Lily nodded. 'Yes.'
'Patients getting you down?' Ethan smiled awkwardly.
'No, just…tired.' Lily reached for her phone, passing over the sandwich tucked next to it. She couldn't eat. The stress made her stomach feel heavy and cold – anyway, she'd had all that coffee. Enough calories for one morning. Shaking herself free from her thoughts, Lily gazed down at a text from her mother, the knot tightening again.
Qǐng gěi wǒdǎdiànhuà. Please call me.
As Lily watched, another message came through.
Wǒmen xūyào tán tán. Guānyú Qǐyà hé nǐde fùqīn. Nǐquèdìng nǐzhèngzài yìngduì?
Lily threw her phone into her locker, oblivious to the sound of cracking plastic, and slammed the door with a clang. The knot was swallowing her whole, and she tried to breathe deeply, her vision splintering like a kaleidoscope. Vaguely, she was aware of Ethan's eyes clinging to her back as she fled the room, her head spinning.
Why now? Why did her mother want to talk now?
After all these years…
'Could be a broken clavicle or collarbone, I can't be sure without the x-ray,' Lily pleaded. 'I promise it will not damage your daughter in any way.'
'I don't want those machines anywhere near her!' The man was flushed, gripping his daughter's hand. 'I know! They're all radiation and they cause cancer! They're dangerous!'
'Not as dangerous as a broken collarbone left untreated,' Lily countered calmly. Jack Binfield had been very resistive to any kind of treatment, but was now obstructing his daughter's care, which was far more serious. Olivia lay on the bed, scrabbling at the neck brace and whining at her daddy.
Jack rubbed his hands wearily over his face, huffing in exasperation. 'Fine. Fine! But you harm one hair on her head- '
'Your daughter will be fine, Mr Binfield,' Lily said curtly. She felt irritable. She hadn't eaten all day – probably a good thing, as she hadn't gone for a run all week, and felt unpleasantly heavy and bloated. And yesterday, she'd gone for that drink with Iain…alcohol was so fattening…
She was brought sharply back to the present by Jack Binfield's harsh tones. 'Don't take that tone with me! I can complain, you know!'
'Mr Binfield-'
'No!' he thundered, and Lily took a step back, unnerved by his shift in mood. Of all the days to have a difficult patient!
Ethan strode in, having heard the raised voices. He took in the situation – a pale but steady-eyed Lily staring down an angry man who had at least forty kilos on her.
'Excuse me, sir-' Ethan started.
'Tell that fat bitch to look after my daughter!' Jack Binfield exited the cubicle, throwing aside the flimsy paper curtain. Ethan heard his heavy tread fall away.
'Are you okay, Lily?'
Lily was milk-white. The man's words reverberated inside her skull, battering her brain. The knot tightened with a vengenance.
Fat bitch…
You fat bitch…
Fat bitch…
Fat…
FAT…