Living in the Moment
Tomorrow was a new day. Tomorrow she'd wake up and today wouldn't matter. What she was feeling right now wouldn't matter. It would be over, no longer of any importance. It would be done.
Tomorrow, she wouldn't care anymore.
She hoped.
Why was it affecting her this way?
It wasn't like it was that big of a deal. She'd never actually been hired in the first place, so she wasn't really fired. It was just a failed job interview. It happened. Admittedly, it didn't happen to her often. Even so, it wasn't like it was the end of the world.
So why couldn't she stop crying?
Why did she start crying in the first place? That wasn't her. She didn't react emotionally like this. She wasn't weak.
She couldn't control it. The others kept looking at her; with surprise, with pity. She wished they'd stop. It was bad enough that she physically couldn't stand under the weight of the emotion, that she couldn't release her grip on the desk in front of her. But they kept looking at her like they'd never seen her before. They thought she was weak, she knew it. They thought the past few weeks had been a charade. They'd never think she was mentally strong or capable again.
Why did it have to happen in front of them? Of all the places to lose control, it had to happen in front of the people she'd lied to, manipulated, competed against.
At least they'd never be able to use it against her. She'd never see them again.
Thirteen didn't cry when she was fired. She was able to handle the situation with dignity. It wasn't right. Thirteen was the more emotional of the two; Thirteen was the one who cared.
Or so she tried to convince herself. Deep down, Amber knew Thirteen hadn't been as keen on winning as she had been. It wasn't about the competition for her, it was about the job. It was about being a good doctor.
Amber cared about that too, of course. She'd always wanted to be a doctor. And what patient would want a second-rate doctor? What hospital would hire a second-rate doctor? When their life was at stake, everyone wanted the best. They deserved the best. She had to be the best. Working under House would make her that, she knew it. It was why she'd wanted the position so badly.
Now she wouldn't be the best. She wasn't the best. If she was, she would have been hired. Instead, she'd failed. She was a failure, and the failure could only continue. For a moment, she felt a kind of bitter glee. This was the moment she'd be able to pin all her future shortcomings on. They wouldn't be her fault. They would all trace back to House not giving her an opportunity.
The thought passed quickly. She hated the fact that it had been there at all.
She wasn't good enough, that's what it came down to. Her willingness to do whatever it took to be right, which she'd always considered a positive, had proven to be detrimental to her dreams. It had cost her the position of a lifetime. Now, she felt like she had to re-evaluate herself.
She didn't want to accept it, but she was coming to realise that she did care what people thought of her. She did want people to like her. But they didn't like her the way she was. And it wasn't fair to ask her to change.
This was who she was. This cold, manipulative personality got things done. How could she be expected to do her job without it?
She couldn't care what they thought, she decided. She'd managed to achieve everything she had because she hadn't cared what people thought of her. And the only reason she'd lost out on this job was because she'd cared too much about winning. The caring had to end. It only ever led to disappointment
She couldn't stop caring, though, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't turn the emotion off, not even when she went to check on the patient, trying to prove to herself that she was a professional, capable doctor who didn't let something so minor as a failed job interview get to her. She cared, still, when Taub handed her a flower and wished her luck. She struggled to hold back the tears when Kutner gave her a hug. She had to work hard to convince herself that it didn't matter that Thirteen had apparently already left without saying goodbye. But that was alright. She'd let herself have today to wallow, to pity, to grieve. It was only one day, after all. There were plenty more to come.
Today, she could cry.
Tomorrow, she wouldn't care anymore.
End.
Thoughts, anyone?