The Sick Wife, Lost Loretta [top 10 motivational books .TXT] 📗

I still miss Gabriel like crazy, but I am much less depressed about everything. I am more accepting of the circumstances, and I know that I made a terrible mistake to get into a relationship with a married man in the first place. It was a huge lapse in judgement, and I was probably already falling into depression before we got close. I think I already felt like I was drowning, and I was clutching at straws for survival.

Gabriel was a straw. I was trying to grasp at anything to keep afloat, and there he was. I held on so tightly, more tightly than was reasonable. He was the only thing I could focus on for a while. I should have let go on my own, but he was rudely ripped away before I was ready. I almost drowned, but I somehow found the strength to kick and swim my way to the surface. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? I haven’t found a raft to climb onto yet, and I’m nowhere near dry land, but I hope I will figure it out soon.

I just can’t keep wishing that Gabriel will be the source of my happiness anymore. Still, I could never regret all those special moments we shared together. There was something about our love that felt really special. Like a magical feeling you only get to have once in your lifetime. Maybe I’ll never feel that way again, and I’ll just have to cherish those memories, and store them away in my heart. I’ll just have to be more practical, going forward. I’ll have to make better choices, and find a relationship that makes more logical sense.

When my doorbell rings, I remove my cleaning gloves and continue humming as I head to the front door. I peek through the peephole, and I am confused when I see that it’s blocked by a blurry dark red object. Blood? That is my first thought. Must be a nurse thing. But I’m sure that no one sent me a body part or a threatening telegram. Unless Yvette was feeling vengeful…

I shrug off those thoughts and pull the front door open.

It’s roses.

Blood red roses.

The same color as the ones that filled my apartment not too long ago. And there’s a man standing there, holding them tightly, with his fingers around the stems.

Chapter 21

Gabriel? The roses are covering the man’s face, and all I can see is his fist wrapped around the flowers. How did he get into America? My heart jumps with happiness. I want to run forward into his arms. I am stepping forward, flustered with emotion and ready to squeeze the life out of him… until the roses are lowered to reveal the face of Doctor Mike. I am startled. Shocked.

Disappointment washes over me, but I try to conceal it from my face.

“They’re beautiful,” I tell him forcing a smile onto my face. “What’s the occasion?”

“I was just thinking of you,” he answers.

“Thank you, Mike. Come in—I’ll put these in some water.”

Speaking of practical and logical choices—Doctor Mike has been coming over to my apartment sometimes, lately, to visit.

I don’t really remember when it started, because I was too depressed to notice or care. I think it was when I first missed a few shifts at work, and he thought I was physically ill and brought over a bowl of chicken soup. That’s sweet, right? He didn’t step inside, just delivered the soup and left, but it was quite thoughtful. Even though I couldn’t eat much of the soup. I looked and felt physically ill back then, so he never really knew what was going on with me—although I think he suspected. He always asked a lot of questions about my bad breakup.

But when I got fired from the hospital, I think that’s when Mike started visiting more often.

I fill a tall vase with water, and add the packet of flower food. I then grab a pair of kitchen shears to trim the bottom of the rose stems, before placing them in the vase and arranging them carefully. I then lean forward and put my nose close to the flowers, and inhale. They aren’t from Gabriel, but they smell just as nice as the roses he sent.

It’s important to appreciate the love you have.

“I’ll make some coffee for us,” Mike says.

“That would be great,” I tell him, moving to the living room to make things a bit presentable, putting away my cleaning supplies so we can sit down and chat.

Maybe I’m just not one of the lucky ones who get to be with the person they care for most. That doesn’t mean I should be alone and miserable forever. That doesn’t mean I should be unloved and unwanted (in addition to unemployed) and crawl into a corner, curl up and die.

Mike is somehow an expert at making coffee. You would think he was a Starbucks barista in a past life. I stare at his back as he moves around in my kitchen, and try to list positive things about him. Trick myself into developing feelings. He’s tall, handsome, a fairly good doctor, kind. Already divorced, not just lying or exaggerating about how he wants to be.

Best of all, Gabriel always seemed a little annoyed and jealous of Mike.

Put on the ring. Maybe that creep Doctor Mike will stop hitting on you if he knows that you’re no longer a single woman.

He seemed territorial and insecure about me working with him. Maybe if Gabriel knows I’m getting closer to Mike, it would somehow make him more afraid of losing me. Maybe it will make him reach out and do something… try to fix us.

I know it’s wishful thinking, and it’s wrong. I should only get close to Mike if I like him. And I think I do. At least—something has been different between us lately. Mike has been very comforting, caring, and sincere. I still remember when he placed his hand on my shoulder when