The room was dark. She doesn't remember it being dark. Was it in the afternoon? Morning? She doesn't remember it at all.
Funny that.
She does remember the colour of her dress. White for a girl woman who was a virgin in more than one way. She clutched red roses; no sorry it was peach. It was a small ceremony with friends and family. Her mother thinks it was the right thing to do. Her brother just smiled at her. Her father was gone. She hardly remembers now – I think that's what she wants.
"Why do you love me?" He coughs. He knows. Oh, he knows her secret. Her dirty little secret of walks around the hospital with a friend-who-is-not-a-friend.
She remembers his ring – so gold, so new. She can't remember his hand though. Was it small, weak, frail, large, comfortable? .. She can't remember if she cried - she must have (or had to). She does remember coming first but losing. Brother, Science fairs, Cross-Country and Cancer: always losing. Stupid Cancer.
She remembers the whispers of "I'm sorry, he was so young" followed by the "he's in a better place." Whispers she drinks. Whispers she hates. Whispers she hears at night. Alone.
"I don't know".
The room was too bright. It should stop spinning too. Why is it loud? Too loud. Too much bass. She loved the sound of bass in high school. She use to love so many things.
Funny that.
She remembers drowning, tasting a sea of white likes the lost in Wonderland –I need to follow House the white rabbit. Let me follow the white rabbit. He is always too late. Too late, too late he shouts and off comes his her head.
"Is it always going to be about House?" He says. He likes her. She knows it. She hates it.
She remembers standing in the bathtub, scrubbing and scrubbing like Cinderella. She needs her skin to be white – pure, clean white like her forgotten wedding dress. I have to get it clean, what will stepmother say if she finds out? She remembers that remembers coming first but losing.
Stacy, Stacy, Stacy and Stacy: always coming Stacy.
She remembers the "don't turn good on me", "are you high?" and the whispers of pleasure. Whispers she drowns. Whispers she hears in that one elevator. Whispers she hears as she dials his number again. Alone again and hopefully for the last time.
"I don't know".
The room was not bright or dark. She likes it. She likes how his office holds a certain light. The light you get at dusk when it can't decide if it's day or night – kind of like their relationship-that-is-not-a-relationship.
Funny that.
She remembers hearing her voice after she entered his glass door. The voice is cold, "Emma (oops, she really means the patient) is doing well and here's your charting". When did her voice get cold?
"Do you love him?" He asks again but it's too late. She knows. He knows. He always knows. Damn him.
She remembers the room turning dark as he twirls his cane. She remembers the "Be patient, she's going through all of us". His whispers are the loudest in her brain, everywhere but nowhere. He never whispers, he always shouts. Shouts she hates but craves. Alone again always she should have learnt it by now.
She remembers him again while she crushes her lips against lips so sweet (so naïve). She remembers him as she grabs a fist of blonde hair and touches the clean-shaven face of a gullible man. Oh, how proud he must be. She remembers coming first but losing: always coming second. Stupid Cameron.
"I don't know".