Welcome Home, Doctor Zack

Chapter 2

Amy

Turns out, nothing is different from when I was 18.

I drove for 5 hours, and finally found the ward where my dad was staying. As expected, before we could say a word, the moment our eyes met, he yelled us out of the ward.

Looking at Zim's horrified eyes, my chest tightened painfully, I could only sneer: "That's your grandpa, Zim, nice to meet him, huh?"

All those repeated reminders in the car on how to chat with grandpa were now useless.

I felt sorry for him, watching him shrink into himself beside me.

I know, my dad strangely blames Zim for my mistakes. Not that Zim was a mistake. He just found a way to blame the fact that his perfect daughter wasn’t that perfect on an innocent child. Deep down, I still carry hope that my father will one day accept my son as his grandchild. I don’t want to, but I do. Because Zim deserves to be wanted. Because none of this was his fault. It was my fault.

There is nothing more I can do. I can only find the doctor to decide what to do next, because standing still would only hurt Zim more.

“There is no easy way to say this, Amy. Lion is going to need at least a hundred days to rest, and he won’t be able to get out of bed during that period.” The doctor frowns. I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to deal with the medical expenses, already calculating shifts, hours, missed sleep.

“What about a full-time nurse?” I hope and pray that it will be the solution, that someone else can carry this weight for once, but the doctor shakes his head, dashing all my hopes. My mind races as the realization of the situation slowly starts to set in.

“We tried, Amy. We tried convincing him to go to one of our care facilities, but he refused. Besides, a full-time nurse is going to cost far more than he has available.” The doctor shrugs.

Okay, so I have to deal with a bill I can't afford for someone who doesn't want to see me and my boy. The irony stung sharper than I expected. I escaped this place for a reason. Now here I was, being dragged back in by duty — or guilt. Or maybe both. And Zim was stuck in the middle of it all. I really want to slap myself right now.

Fortunately, as I scan through the bill, I realize that my father has already spent quite a lot to try and settle it all. But if we insist on staying to take care of my dad, then I will have to find a new job to cope with the various living expenses that will arise. Because Zim needs food, school, stability — not excuses. My bar owner will never agree to my 100-day leave. They can find a new waiter tomorrow.

And a new school for Zim too. Another adjustment for him. Could it be any worse?

Sure can, and it happened all at once.

When I led Zim back to the ward dejectedly, trying to communicate with my dad again, my hand stayed locked around his, a figure that flashed by in the corridor startled me.

God, are you kidding me? The person I least wanted to see appeared at the most unexpected time. My hands were shaking. Just seeing his face triggered memories I had buried years ago, a wildfire of shame, anger, and something far worse. Things I never wanted near my son.

"Come on, boy." I grabbed Zim's hand and turned him around, positioning myself between him and the hallway.

I try to look calm for Zim’s sake, but it’s becoming incredibly difficult to keep it all together.

“Mommy, who was that man?” Unexpectedly, Zim suddenly asks. I stop walking and just look at him for a moment before we continue to the ward, choosing my words carefully.

"What, what man?" I played dumb.

Zim looked at me like I was dumb too. "Come on, that one, walked over there in the corridor."

I still played dumb: "Huh, I don't know who you're talking about. I don't see anyone familiar."

"Oh, I got it." Zim actually winked at me, "Is it someone you dated before but don't want to admit it? I got that. I'm fine with it, don't worry about me. That just the adults’ thing, right?"

I was surprised at when this kid learned to speak in this accent, and it somewhat distracted me from my previous panic. Thank God for his humor. Even in moments like this, he reminded me what was worth protecting, what I was doing all this for.

But I had to continue lying. Just in a different way. “No... He used to be in my school.” I give a perfunctory response, which is also true to some extent.

"Okay, if you say so, then so be it." Zim turned his head back and followed me. After walking a few steps, he added: "He smells good."

"What?" I paused, instinctively checking Zim’s face, "What smell? I don't smell it."

"It's a bit like the flowers you bought, lavender? Or something. It's not very heavy, maybe you just didn't notice it." He explained to me.

"Okay..." I wasn't sure how to continue this topic, so I chose to ignore it, mentally filing it away with everything else worrying me about him.

The chat was over, but I glanced at Zim's profile and was lost in thought for a moment.

He looked a bit like him. Although I didn't want to admit it. The eyes, most similar, and the smile, with dimples. A resemblance I’d sworn I’d buried.

Even though I don't want to see that asshole again, I still feel a little sorry that they can't meet. Not for his sake, but for Zim’s. Every child deserves a complete story of where they came from, even if the story ends in tragedy. But I just couldn't admit to Zim that that was his dad. No courage. I lied to him a long time ago, saying that his dad was dead. You can't bring back the dead.

Besides, he didn't want me or this son at all.

A few days after I received his breakup text message, his family announced his engagement with another girl. It's been 6 years, and things have changed. Maybe he and that girl have two children now.

Stop. Why are you still thinking about this? Focus. Zim needs you present.

I took Zim's hand and walked away from the ward. He shouted, "Where are we going? Aren't we going to see grandpa?"

"No. There are more important things to do right now."

"What?"

I looked at him, steadying my voice, "Find a job."

Thankfully, in my old hometown, jobs are fairly easy to find and now that I have some experience, it should be even easier, because waiting isn’t an option when you’re a mother.

That is when I almost see it as a sign from the heavens above when I see the help-wanted poster in the window of the bar. I make my way inside and decide against the drink at first as I fill in my application, keeping Zim close to my side.

Even more fortunately, the bar owner was a former classmate of mine. We were not familiar with each other, or we could say, not familiar at all, but at least we all knew there is a person with such a name in the school.

She offered me a job as a bartender. And he happened to know that I loved singing, so she also offered me a part-time job as a resident singer, as long as I was willing to accept a lower hourly wage. But there was no limit on tips, right? Money was money.

“I have to admit that I haven’t sung in a long time. But I love to try. Thanks for your offer.” I try my best to show my cheerfulness.

“Honey, I doubt that very much. It might take you a couple of tries just to get going, but I’m confident that you will be drawing the crowds soon enough. Come, let me introduce you to everyone, and then we can grab a drink at the bar.” My boss, Elsa, encouraged me. Oh, it was very touching.

We find a seat at the bar after she introduced me to the rest of the staff.

I’m about to refuse the drink when she insists and tells the bartender, Carl, to put it on her tab. And offered Zim a free glass of lemon juice. I watched him take the glass carefully, she takes one sip and is called away before we can talk.

I breathe a deep sigh of relief as I sit there and look at myself in the mirror behind all the bottles and wonder how I ended up here again, dragging my child through my past.

The past couple of hours just happened so damn fast, that it still feels as if I’m dreaming all of it.

Here I am. Back to what I do best. Talking to new people about everything I used to know. I don't deny that I still love this town and if there is any chance, I will come back to this place. But how long will it last? I don't know.

Besides, there are reasons why I can't stay here. I have to think about Zim. He deserves a happier life, and staying here may not be a good option. He needs more than just a strong mom. He needs peace. A clean slate. Something I never had. Something I owe him.

What should I do?

My mind was filled with anxiety and irritability. Couldn’t think straight, and before I knew it, I had finished all the wine. Have to asked Carl for a refill. I hated myself for needing it.

Zim seemed to be very curious about everything going on around him, but what he said made me confused. "They all smell good."

"Okay, we need to talk." I drunk another half a glass of wine, and the alcohol was on my brain, and my vision was a little blurry, and my voice didn't sound like a mommy, and I knew it. "Why do you keep smelling other people? I don't remember you doing this before. Who taught you?"

"No one." Zim sniffed. "It's weird. I never realized I could smell so many things before."

I started to get a little worried and couldn't help but put my hand to his forehead and asked, "Are you sick?" My pulse spiked.

"No, I'm fine, Mommy." As he was speaking, his eyes suddenly lit up and he became excited. "Oh look, the smell I smelled in the hospital is back. This time it's stronger than last time."

"What?" I really couldn't understand what he was saying, but somehow, a bad feeling began to emerge, the kind mothers learn to trust.

"That's the smell of the man in the hospital. Over there." Zim turned and pointed in the direction of the bar door.

"Oh, shit." I looked towards the door and sobered up instantly, my first instinct to shield Zim from whatever came next.

I know this town is small, but really? Twice in the same day? That can't be a coincidence.

What's more coincidental is that his eyes fell on me. Right now.

Is it too late to run now?