Part Four
Sydney stares at her clothing selection inside the closet and sighs. Why is it so difficult to simply pick out something to wear? It is not like she is going anywhere special this Sunday; she is just going to the hospital again. That funny feeling is back from that Sunday, the day with that mystery patient. Her fingers quickly stream down all the hanging dresses and shirts. Too fancy. Too boring. Too green. She can't believe she had even bothered to buy these. Too eighties.
" Oh forget this!" she huffs and slumps on the bed with nothing but her bra and pajama bottoms.
" Forget what?" Francie pops her head in from the door-frame.
" Clothes!" she flops back onto her pillow in frustration.
Francie gives her an amused look as if she were crazy.
" How did you ever let me buy this?" Sydney exhibits a puffy sleeved peach- colored blouse.
" Are you okay Syd?" Francie asks in a concerned manner.
" Yes . . .but my clothes are not okay. I don't know. Nothing is right." Sydney knows how much she sounds like a teenager.
" Right for what? Where are you going that needs." Francie uses finger quotes: the right clothes.
" No where," she whispers in embarrassment.
" Maybe the better question is who will be seeing you in these right clothes?" She gives Sydney a sly smile. Now Francie is intrigued.
" No one," she denies flatly. Francie displays an unconvinced expression.
" Seriously," Sydney states rather sadly. " There's no one. I don't know why I'm having such a hard time with this today."
Francie is a little worried about her friend. She doesn't know what happened months ago that changed Sydney. She figured that if she wanted to say something, she would have. The last two months, Francie was beginning to see her old best friend again. But what is it with today?
" Maybe I can help," Francie marches to the closet. " But you have promise to wear whatever I pick because you are never going to get out at your pace . . ."
Sydney is quite relieved. She doesn't care what Francie picks out, she just wants something so she can get to the hospital as soon as possible. She lets out a giggle as Francie examines every piece of clothing carefully. How did she get such a great friend? All of a sudden, her thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.
Sydney reaches over the nightstand to bring the cordless phone to her ear. "Hello?"
Silence on the other end.
" Hello?" she tries again. And a third time. She hears heavy breathing and then a click. She blinks rapidly and thinks who it might have been. Before she could contemplate the worse, Francie's cheerful voice interrupts.
" Okay, I found it. The right dress for today. . ." Francie says proudly as she holds it up.
Sydney turns around and her smile quickly freezes into a blank stare. It was that blue dress. The one she wore that awful day. Her whole heart sinks to the pit of her stomach.
" I thought I burned that." She begins to shake her head.
" But you look beautiful in it."
" Anything but that one."
" Syd, you promised," Francie will not let her get out of a promise. " You can't go out in whatever you have on now. Just try it."
Sydney's eyes travel down the dress and his voice comes into her head. Cruel, hurtful words. " you made it so easy.you weren't just a thrill.you served me in other ways." Her breathing becomes heavier as she tries to control her emotions. Stop. She can't let him get to her like this. Why should she be afraid to wear that dress? Because of him? No! She's not going to let him dictate anything she does anymore. She's going to wear that dress and be happy wearing it!
She forcefully grabs the dress from Francie's grasp and puts it on in one swift move.
As she elevator door opens to the fourth floor, she takes one more look down at her dress. It feels peculiarly right. She smiles at the irony. How did Francie pick this one? She passes the front desk and sees Julie staring at her with the same look Francie.
" What . . ." she asks in wonder.
Julie gives her a cryptic smile. " Guess who's back?"
" Who?"
" Room 470." Sydney feels her heart skip a beat.
Sydney stares at her clothing selection inside the closet and sighs. Why is it so difficult to simply pick out something to wear? It is not like she is going anywhere special this Sunday; she is just going to the hospital again. That funny feeling is back from that Sunday, the day with that mystery patient. Her fingers quickly stream down all the hanging dresses and shirts. Too fancy. Too boring. Too green. She can't believe she had even bothered to buy these. Too eighties.
" Oh forget this!" she huffs and slumps on the bed with nothing but her bra and pajama bottoms.
" Forget what?" Francie pops her head in from the door-frame.
" Clothes!" she flops back onto her pillow in frustration.
Francie gives her an amused look as if she were crazy.
" How did you ever let me buy this?" Sydney exhibits a puffy sleeved peach- colored blouse.
" Are you okay Syd?" Francie asks in a concerned manner.
" Yes . . .but my clothes are not okay. I don't know. Nothing is right." Sydney knows how much she sounds like a teenager.
" Right for what? Where are you going that needs." Francie uses finger quotes: the right clothes.
" No where," she whispers in embarrassment.
" Maybe the better question is who will be seeing you in these right clothes?" She gives Sydney a sly smile. Now Francie is intrigued.
" No one," she denies flatly. Francie displays an unconvinced expression.
" Seriously," Sydney states rather sadly. " There's no one. I don't know why I'm having such a hard time with this today."
Francie is a little worried about her friend. She doesn't know what happened months ago that changed Sydney. She figured that if she wanted to say something, she would have. The last two months, Francie was beginning to see her old best friend again. But what is it with today?
" Maybe I can help," Francie marches to the closet. " But you have promise to wear whatever I pick because you are never going to get out at your pace . . ."
Sydney is quite relieved. She doesn't care what Francie picks out, she just wants something so she can get to the hospital as soon as possible. She lets out a giggle as Francie examines every piece of clothing carefully. How did she get such a great friend? All of a sudden, her thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.
Sydney reaches over the nightstand to bring the cordless phone to her ear. "Hello?"
Silence on the other end.
" Hello?" she tries again. And a third time. She hears heavy breathing and then a click. She blinks rapidly and thinks who it might have been. Before she could contemplate the worse, Francie's cheerful voice interrupts.
" Okay, I found it. The right dress for today. . ." Francie says proudly as she holds it up.
Sydney turns around and her smile quickly freezes into a blank stare. It was that blue dress. The one she wore that awful day. Her whole heart sinks to the pit of her stomach.
" I thought I burned that." She begins to shake her head.
" But you look beautiful in it."
" Anything but that one."
" Syd, you promised," Francie will not let her get out of a promise. " You can't go out in whatever you have on now. Just try it."
Sydney's eyes travel down the dress and his voice comes into her head. Cruel, hurtful words. " you made it so easy.you weren't just a thrill.you served me in other ways." Her breathing becomes heavier as she tries to control her emotions. Stop. She can't let him get to her like this. Why should she be afraid to wear that dress? Because of him? No! She's not going to let him dictate anything she does anymore. She's going to wear that dress and be happy wearing it!
She forcefully grabs the dress from Francie's grasp and puts it on in one swift move.
As she elevator door opens to the fourth floor, she takes one more look down at her dress. It feels peculiarly right. She smiles at the irony. How did Francie pick this one? She passes the front desk and sees Julie staring at her with the same look Francie.
" What . . ." she asks in wonder.
Julie gives her a cryptic smile. " Guess who's back?"
" Who?"
" Room 470." Sydney feels her heart skip a beat.