I drive into the Wilshire Memorial parking lot and step out of my car. It had been four months since I had been in California. When I went into a coma, my mother took my back to Ohio to be with her and presumed to tell everyone I knew I had flat lined. I escaped from her controlling clutches and made it back here. If she ever found out where I was, she might just lose it. She told me everyday, "After everything I've done for you, you can't ever go back to that horrible place." Of course, I didn't listen. Every time she would tell me that, I would just nod in agreement so she would shut the hell up.
The past doesn't matter now, well it does, but not where my mother's concerned; I have other things to worry about. I slowly walk in the automatic doors to the hospital and begin walking to the on call room. I get some weird looks in the hallways; after all, people did think I was dead.
When I come up to the on call room, I hear a familiar voice, Michael, I thought. I stood outside the door and listened to the conversation he was having with an unknown person; unknown until I heard her voice.
"Michael, I'm your wife, let me help you." I heard Sydney tell Michael. Of course I had no clue what they were talking about, but I was positive I could help him better than she ever could.
"I know you are Syd, but this just isn't the time. I have lots to do and I want a hot meal on the table when I get home from work." I hear footsteps moving towards the door so I quickly dart into the nearest bathroom and hide there until I'm sure they're gone.
I quietly slip into the on call room and open up my old locker, they didn't change anything. Michael would have been the one called to do it, but he didn't, that must mean something. I decide that now is the time I have to let him know I'm back, besides the whole hospital will know soon enough, these kinds of things spread like wildfire.
I walk up behind the medium size, dark haired doctor and tap him on the shoulder. "Could you ho…" He freezes when he sees it's me. "Kimberly?" He looks back at the other doctors to make sure they are seeing the same thing he is.
"It's me, Michael." I smile softly, I didn't want to overwhelm him, but I wanted him to know that I came back to pick up things where we left them.
"Um, let's go somewhere and talk." Michael rubs his temples. I can see he's finding it hard to believe it's actually me.
About thirty minutes later, we are sitting in an intimate Italian restaurant, the one that he proposed to me in.
"You're uh, still wearing the ring?" He motions towards my left ring finger, on it lay the ring he gave me five months ago.
"Yeah, it wasn't my choice to leave. I was hoping we could pick up where we left off." I smile at you and place my hand on top of yours. I keep looking at Michael, hoping for an answer. He smiles and strokes my hand; that gave me the answer I was looking for.