Ava Moore fell to her knees at the click of the door knob.
Her sobs were faint and tiring.
What had she just done? Hugging herself, she closed her eyes. Sadness welled up inside her, until she felt she was suffocating beneath the weight of it.
This man, whoever he was, was Dr Phyl's very special patient . He may be the only reason why he still attends to her son.
Thisjob was her life—Her only access to her son's medical care. Inexplicably, she felt like a frightened child desperately in need of her mother, but now, it was her son who really needed her.
It wasn't her strength he needed.
It was money.
Life was depressing without it. Her son was dying and Dr Phyl was the only one who cared to listen.
He admitted him only on one condition, that she would be employed in his hospital as a cleaner in exchange for his medical services to her son.
She was beyond grateful.
She may not have had a degree, but she is an intelligent, hardworking empath.
Alfred had a diagnosis.
Dr Phyl said he had a heart disease, his left ventricle had a septal defect.
"Ava, in simple terms, Alfred has a hole in his heart. His condition makes his heart work harder than it should in pumping blood his body needs."
"Will he be needingsurgery? Ava asked, trembling with weakness.
"That's the only way." Dr Phyl's expression was calm, but she wasn't comforted by it. Something more urgent, mattered to him. His eyes told her so.
Recently, he had always been in a hurry to leave Alfred's bedside, if he visited, leaving her confused at what the matter might be.
A knock, jolted her back from her thoughts.
"It's open." Ava called out. Not wanting to even know who it was. She rose slowly, kneading her legs gently because her muscles cramped from sitting too long.
The door opened slowly.
"Ava, the patient in room 203, passed on, half an hour ago. He's been moved to the morgue. You need to clean the room as soon as you can." A voice, she wasn't familiar with, announced.
"Another one down in just one week, where was Dr Phyl. How dare he leave his patients?" She mumbled, fatigued at the stress, her work was putting her through.
She would confront him and ask why he suddenly gave attention to only one patient. Other patients under his care, mattered just as much.
In other thoughts ,screaming for attention in her head.
She had become a woman who needed to clean, just to keep her son alive.
Ava closed her eyes again. Her mouth quivering.
Scrubbing at her tears, she dragged air in her nostrils, working hastily to clean Marcus' room.
What reason do l have to keep Alfred here. She pondered suddenly.
Convenience—Yes,
Survival— No.
It's been ten days since they got here . The only good thing Dr Phyl did, was to tell her what was wrong with her son, and giving him something to make him sleep.
A helpless desperation flowed over her.
If she needed to clean, then her son must survive.
Clenching her teeth, she determined to have a word with Dr Phyl.
She needed to have answers to the questions she must ask, or she's out of this place.
The deal was her strength in exchange for his best medical treatment on Alfred. Nothing short.
Now, she needed to finish cleaning here.
The ridiculous man, whose face and chest were all covered ,would soon be back. Meeting him a second time would spell disaster.
Ava stepped into the bathroom opposite Marcus' bed.
The air smelt of very rich fragrance, similar to the one she caught when she fell on her chest, a mingling solid masculine musk, mint oil and lavender.
Only a very expensive scent would last this long.
In a quick swift of movement, Ava turned away from the tub, only to meet Marcus, standing so close to her.
Terrified to panic, her heart raced like wings beating within her breast.
She placed her hands on her breasts, holding them firmly as if they would fall in an instant.
Marcus looked, then returned his eyes quickly.
"You startled me." Ava breathed heavily.
If she could just punch this man now, she would, without regrets.
Marcus didn't apologize, he looked like he was in a hurry to do something.
"My name is Marcus Jason Thompson." He blinked hard wishing to do what he was doing now, without thesebandages.
He waited for a response.
Every one knew him. Ava should too. Still his name aroused no surprise. No comment. No questions from her.
"The name means nothing still?" He asked pleasantly amused.
"Is it important?"
Ava saw him utter a laugh.
Her fist was clenched, ready for a blow. In her mind, she was taking far from him than she normally won't.
Marcus loved this woman. Strange but true. He had no clue about how he would see her often, deep down, he knew he must find a way.
Baltimore had given him in three hours, what NewYork hadn't in 8 years. He saw her face lined with anger enough to hit him, but he had no time explaining anything to her. Not yet.
"Can your name save my Alfred?" Ava's voice dripped sarcasm, halting his thoughts in a minute. She needed this man to mind his business, so she could mind hers, but since it was something she saw him struggle with, she darned boundaries .
She didn't care.
Who does this man think he is anyway! Her eyes fixed resentfully on him. She took full responsibility for her brokenness.
More than once, she wanted to get an education, but she felt it was a waste of time. Her mother had tried to encourage her to go back to school. If she had, she won't be broke and she won't have people mock her as this man in front of her was.
Promise me Ava, that you'll be rich. I don't care how long it will take, but you must be abillionaire.
Ava spoke to herself inwardly for the umpteenth time that day.
And in what seem like a scene from a movie she had watched recently, she heard him say boldly..
"Yes it can. Marry me Ava!"