Page 5 of What Should Have Been Ours

I was actually relieved when we were finally able to get a break. It’s been brutal.

I absolutely love what I do for a living, nothing feels better than being able to help and make a difference in children’s lives. Just like the doctors and nurses did for me growing up.

I’ve always wanted to be able to bring a little bit of light into their lives when they’re going through some pretty dark times.

Somehow, almost twelve years later, the exact place that gave me that still feels the same.

There’s something about the rhythm of it all, the constant chaos that happens here, the gossip from the nurses at their station, the sound of wheels rolling against floor as IV poles and gurneys pass by. The steady beeping of all the monitors that once tied me to this place now feels more like a song I enjoy rather than an obnoxious sound that always kept me up.

I’ve missed the warmth that every person brings who loves working here that’s hidden behind the cold, sterile walls people see. The way the pediatric floor is its own little universe, separate from the rest of the hospital. How the nurses keep stickers and lollipops in their pockets, even for kids too old to ask for them. How the walls are painted with bright murals full of cartoon animals and superheroes meant to distract kids from the fact that they’re here for chemo instead of being at school with all their friends.

I’ve missed the smell of the café downstairs, where the coffee is terrible, but the hot chocolate is exactly the same as it was when I was a kid. That hot chocolate got me through more bad days than I can count.

And the people—

All the nurses who still sneak extra pudding cups to the kids, even though they pretend they don’t. The social workers who sit on the edge of hospital beds, talking to kids about anything but their illness, just so they feel normal for five minutes. The fresh residents who still move through the halls wide-eyed and overwhelmed, just like I was two years ago, back in D.C.

I’ve missed the rooftop here, where you can see the entire city stretching out in every direction, where I used to sit and dream about getting out of here, only to find myself wanting to come back.

I’ve missed the quiet moments in the middle of the night, when the halls were still, when it was just me and the other kids, whispering about everything we’d do when we got better.

I’ve missed her.

I take a slow breath, letting it all settle. The memories. The weight of them.

Even with the bad start to my day, even with my new attending making my life hell, I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I also know exactly what I need right now, and that’s a fat cup of premium hospital hot chocolate, the best in the country.

At least, that’s what we used to tell ourselves. And honestly, I’ve never found one anywhere else that could touch this hospital cafe’s hot chocolate or the cafe across the street.

Maybe that’s just the nostalgia talking, but it really is that good, and it’s always been the best pick-me-up.

I catch up with Wes and the other residents I met today, who are in the same group as me, and we all head to the cafe.

They want coffee, and I want a taste of the past.

The aroma that hits you as you walk into the little cafe near the hospital’s main entrance will stick with me for the rest of my life and every lifetime after this.

The scent settles somewhere deep in my bones, warming my soul. It’s exactly the feeling I intend to chase as long as I’m back in New York.

After I ordered a large hot chocolate, the barista turns the screen towards me so I can pay. “Cash or card, sir?”

“Card. Thank you,” I reply, swiping my card.

I tuck it back in my wallet and go to put it in the pocket of my scrubs when I hear someone call my name.

“Cam?”

Very few people call me that still.

As I turn around fully to face whoever it is, I’m hit like a freight train carrying the memories I’ve never been able to outrun.

For years, I’ve told myself time would dull the feelings that I was left with from her. That eventually, she would just become a permanent part of my past, the memories would fade.

But the more that time went on, the more I kept questioning when that was going to happen. If it was ever going to happen.

I guess right now proves—that time was never going to come.