"Hello? Mary?" my mother's voice came through the phone.
"Hey, Mom! It's me," I said, trying hard to make my voice sound cheerful.
"Mary! Finally, I hear from you again! Where have you been? We've been so worried!"
"I'm sorry I haven't reached out in so long. It's just been really busy here. I didn't want to worry you," I explained, staring at the sofa as if I could find answers there. "Everything happened so suddenly, and I didn't want you to stress unnecessarily. I'm really learning a lot here, and the experiences I'm having are incredible," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Mary, we're your parents. It's our job to worry! We love you and want to know what's going on in your life," she said, and I felt a lump form in my throat.
"I know, and I love you too! Please believe me, everything is fine. Iâm just here for a couple of months, and then Iâll come home." I hoped I wasn't lying to my mother with this hope. I didnât want to break her heart. But time would tell what would happen.
"Now tell me about your internship," my mother urged, and I felt beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I needed to come up with something quickly to satisfy her curiosity and dispel her mistrust.
"Oh, it's really exciting, Mom!" I began, trying to make my voice sound enthusiastic. "Yesterday, I helped in the emergency room for the first time. It was amazing!"
"Really? What happened?" she asked, and I could hear the curiosity in her voice.
"Well, we had a patient who came in with an arm injury. It wasn't too bad, but I learned how to apply bandages and check pulses. Dr. Cullen even showed me how to disinfect the wound!" I told her, vividly picturing the scenes in my head as I spoke.
"That sounds impressive! Weren't you scared?" my mother asked, and I could feel her concern.
"A little, but Dr. Cullen was very reassuring. He told me it's important to stay calm, even when things get hectic. He also explained how to talk to the patients to help soothe them," I added, trying to describe the details. Then I asked her about her past few days. I enjoyed hearing her voice again. But soon it was time to say goodbye.
"Please take care of yourself," she pleaded, and I could hear the love in her voice.
"I will, Mom. I'll be careful. I promise I'll keep in touch more often," I said, feeling a bit relieved.
"Good. We love you, Mary. Take good care of yourself and don't forget to write us," she said, and I felt the warmth of her words helping to bridge the gap between us.
"I love you too! Talk to you soon!" I replied, and as I hung up, I started to sob. As much as it felt good to hear my mother's voice, the distance and the unknown hurt me deeply. I felt arms wrap around me, and when I looked up, I saw Esme looking at me with maternal concern. Her gaze was warm and inviting, as if she knew exactly how I felt. The thought of my mother made me sob again. Esme gently stroked my hair, and I felt her calming presence slowly soothe my tumultuous emotions.
"I know it's hard," Esme said in a voice that was like balm for my soul. She sounded caring, and I remembered that each of the Cullens had also lost people they loved. So it wasn't just a phrase from Esme; she truly understood how difficult it was. "We will find a solution. There's always a way!"
I knew she was right. But at that moment, everything seemed hopeless. Thoughts swirled in my head like a storm, and I felt lost in a sea of emotions. I longed to discuss everything with the pack, to get their opinions and advice. I glanced thoughtfully at the phone in my hand, wondering if it would be a good idea to call Paul. I found his contact and stared at his name glowing on the screen. But something inside me hesitated.
What if Paul didn't want to discuss things anymore? What if he hated me now or even despised me? The thought brought tears to my eyes again. It felt like a heavy stone was sitting in my chest, stealing my breath away.
I took a deep breath and dared to call Paul. The phone beeped, and I felt my heart race as I waited for him to pick up. But after just a few rings, I heard the sound I dreadedâthe sound that signaled he had hung up. A cold shiver ran down my spine, and I felt as if I had fallen into a deep abyss.
Desperate and hurt, I decided to send him a message. Maybe it was easier for him to respond to a text than to talk directly. I quickly typed: "Hey Paul, I hope you're doing well. I'd like to talk to you. Can we meet?"
With trembling fingers, I pressed "Send" and then stared at the screen as if I could will him to respond immediately. But the minutes passed, and the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall. I felt as if I were in a vacuum, where time stood still, and I was trapped in my own uncertainty.
Esme noticed my restlessness and placed a hand on my arm. "Give him some time. Sometimes it takes a moment to find the right words."
I nodded, even though I was battling internally. I didnât want him to feel distant from me, but I also knew I couldnât just give up. A part of me hoped he would reach out while another part reminded me that I might need more time than I thought to break through to him again.
The minutes felt like hours, and I struggled with the fear that I might have lost him for good. In my heart, I knew I didnât want to give up on him. I wanted him to understand me, to see how much I needed him. But all I could do was wait and hope that he would respond eventually.