Room 36

Green light. Wheels screeching and high pitch honks. The jolt. Then the crunch. A flash of blue disappearing in smoke. Her mother's cries and broken glass scattering across her lap. Sirens. Ambulance lights, red and white flashing above her against the car ceiling as she lost consciousness. The last thing Mia Conner saw was her leg stuck underneath metal.

That was seven years ago.

***

Room 36. The white door silently opened, revealing a middle-aged man in a hospital bed. Underneath tubes, wires, and the blinking lights of the monitor, he looked at young Mia as she entered.

"Mia. I have something to give you."

She closed the door behind her, blinking as she put weight on her right foot. "Mr….?"

He watched the lights on the monitor and coughed. "I just wanted to give something to you and then you can, well, see what you think from there…"

Mia watched him reach to the drawer beside his bed and put out a little black notebook. She raised her dark eyebrows and curiosity made her step forward despite the discomfort it gave her.

"Perhaps you could explain just a little bit... So, you know…" She laughed and glanced at her hands. "So…I'm not completely in the dark…like perhaps your name?"

He waved the little notebook towards her right leg. "Have you had the brace a long time?"

She glanced at her leg, wishing he wouldn't ask personal questions. The brace ran from her thigh to below her knee giving her an unmistakable limp.

"Yeah" She recalled of the days she was stuck in a wheelchair, at times having to wait for friends who went upstairs or places she couldn't go and she remembered standing on weak legs, holding on to bars on both sides as she tested the brace for the first time. It didn't seem that long ago, and even though she felt grateful for the ability to walk now, she wished she didn't have the limp or brace as he gazed at her now.

"Here." He gave her the notebook, his blue eyes sober. "John Haywood"

John Haywood. Mia didn't recognize the name.

"Be sure to read it in order." He said as she started back towards the door.

"Thanks. Um, ...see you later." She closed the door. See you later? She wondered why she said those words, as she had no idea if she ever would. Much less who John Haywood really was. The whole thing felt strange. Her doctor told her to go, and had she not trusted him more, she would have never walked into a stranger's room. The fact John knew her name before she knew his unnerved her.

Sunlight glowed through the blinds, making lines on the tile flooring and taking the depressing edge out of the hospital halls.

The receptionist waved at Mia as she walked towards the hospital doors and left the building. Outside, a soft breeze brushed against her as she looked for a place to sit down and read the notebook. Surrounded by brick pillars and cement hospital walls, she sat on a bench in the warm afternoon sun a little off to the side.

She opened the soft cover. On the first page on the top right corner in squiggly writing was his name: John Haywood.

She read.

August 23, 1994

At eight years of age I had a brain tumor on the left side of my head just above my ear. I needed surgery and coming from the background to which I don't wish to expound on, my mother could not afford such a surgery and we did not have coverage of any kind. As I have found in the last months that you are very familiar with Dr. Albert Hartman -

Albert Hartman. Her doctor. Mia recognized the name immediately. A thin dark-haired older man with serious eyes that didn't quite match his constant smile. He was like a grandfather to her and he was the one who told her to go to room 36 and meet this mysterious John Haywood. He had been her doctor and helped for the last seven years since the accident. It was his words that had kept her going and encouraged Mia when she fell to the ground one too many times after trying so hard to keep her footing. When she could no longer keep her frustration inside and remembered trying to hide the tears that filled her eyes at that moment, it was Dr. Hartman who encouraged her. She knew that Dr. Hartman had seen the tears, but he never pointed it out or stared. He simply lifted her back to her feet and said with all soberness that he knew she could do it, and somehow, she did.

Albert Hartman did an unspeakable kindness to myself and my mother, by paying the fees needed to complete the surgery. I was young at the time and believe my mother better understood the act of kindness than myself. I had the surgery and after several days in the hospital to which I remember a younger Dr. Hartman visiting me often, I healed, came home, and grew a relatively normal life. At age 29 I did a terrible regrettable thing. It bothered me for years, but I did little about it and was up until now not found out. Now at an age that could be your father's age, I have once again ended up in the hospital for complicated unrelated reasons.

Dr. Hartman is still around and is coincidentally now my doctor a second time. Over the last few months we have become good friends. I did something I vowed to never do and told him what I did…

Mia stood up from the bench and started to walk towards the side of the building along the pathway that some of the elderly confined patients strolled. Her hands gripped the notebook and her eyes glued to the page, she kept reading.

I bought a black Mazda 3 with someone else's earnings and was a selfish reckless driver. I will not judge you if you hate me.

Mia stopped. Her palms began to sweat as she looked at her braced leg. Sirens turned to silence and then silence to the inside of an ambulance surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Her cries for her mother as an emergency transfer nurse held her hand and tried to calm her, echoed off the vehicle's walls. Her fifth birthday, driving home from the amusement park would be the last birthday she enjoyed.

I wasn't in my right mind and ran a red light. I hit a smaller car and saw it spin out into a ditch.

"Mia!"

She turned around to see Dr. Hartman walking towards her briskly.

"Mia, I wanted to find you, how are you?"

The lump that had been building in Mia's throat and the tears that burned in the back of her eyes suddenly couldn't stay hidden. She coughed a small choking cry and tears slipped down her cheeks. She clenched her fist. "I'm fine."

Dr. Hartman stopped. Having been his patient and a family friend for so many years, he was more like a grandfather than a doctor.

She took a shaky breath. "I'd almost rather have not gone to see him."

Dr. Hartman nodded. "I wasn't so sure of the idea myself, though he insisted…"

Mia dropped the book on the ground and kicked it gently into the bushes. A pain shot up her braced leg and she paused, regaining balance. She had mixed feelings, one part of her wanted to burn the notebook, but the other part wanted to keep it and read it over and over. Deep down she knew she wouldn't actually leave it there in the bushes.

Dr. Hartman picked it up and brushed off the few crumbles of dirt that clustered the edges.

"Why did you tell me to see him?" She glared. "I never needed to know who did it, because now I won't rest knowing he's just lying there getting food and watching TV. Why do you have to help him anyway?"

"Mia, enough. I'm a doctor. It's my job to help people the best that I can despite the reasons there are in my care."

She looked away. Now there was a man who would haunt her for as long as she knew he was alive, being cared for by the same nurses and people who helped and cared for herself. She stiffened as Dr. Hartman's hand rested on her thin shoulders.

He tried to give her the small notebook, but she refused to take it.

"Did you read to the end?"

"Pretty much."

"The very last page?"

"No."

"Here. Read it."

She took it and read.

Stunned, I only had escaping on my mind and drove away, sold my car, and tried to forget. In the newspaper the next week I read of the hit and run and the young couple and five-year-old girl who were on the receiving end of my selfishness. Between Dr. Hartman who has been there for you since the accident, and myself, we put the pieces together…

She turned the page.

…and once we knew that you were that girl who could have been saved so much hardship, I wanted to give you this money. I am aware it does not change the past, but it's the least I can do.

A cheque of $20,000 sat neatly tucked inside the back cover.

"He tried to pay me back for the surgery I covered years ago. Shortly afterwards was when we found out about you." Dr. Hartman gave her a small pat on the shoulder, then said. "Break the cycle this time. Don't have regrets."

***

Room 36. The white door creaked opened as a nurse walked into the room. She pushed a trolley that carried new sheets and bedding. The quiet hum of the monitor filled the silence as she spread the sheets over the empty hospital bed. Fresh with new pillows and blankets, she proceeded to take down the last of the tubes and wires and leaned down to unplug the monitor. Silence. A strip of light came through the crack in the door lighting the room with a dim glow. As she wiped down the desk and drawers, she paused. Inside the top drawer lay an open black notebook. A sticky note attached to the page read:

It was a blue car that hit us.

- Mia

In the notebook the words "black" were underlined.

"I bought a black Mazda 3 with someone else's earnings and was a selfish reckless driver."

The nurse's eyes widened at the cheque underneath.