My Kind of Perfect (24 page)

Rigid.

His face instantly turned rigid and so as his stance, almost
dropping the phone that he was holding in his hand. I wondered what the other
line was saying for him to be this astounded. Who was that caller that had this
kind of effect on him? The once calm and composed John that I knew now turned
into someone so disoriented and his stares suddenly had that certain sharpness
that were almost deadly. And the worse thing was it was directed towards me. If
looks could kill, then I was already dead seconds ago.

Intent and frightening gazes met my confused ones. Anger.
There was none that could clearly define the looks on his face than one who was
completely enraged. For what reason and why, I hadn't got a single clue.

“John?” I stuttered.

There was no audible answer.

Instead, his ruddy and unsteady eyes took away all the need
for words. They were enough to tell me that something was wrong, incredibly
wrong. Inhaling the air that told me that things were getting a lot serious
that I had thought, I tried thinking about the reasons for what was going on.

I looked around and realized that if he’d suddenly throw a
fit, then that would send me flying forty floors down to the ground. I
swallowed the nervousness I felt, reminding myself that John couldn't harm a
fly. So the possibilities of him harming me were close to none. I crossed my
fingers for that, even my legs, my feet, everything!

With a sharp voice, he ended the conversation that he was
having and said, “Call the ambulance. Hurry! I'll be there right away.”

Pressing the end call button, he placed his phone back to
his pocket. I saw how his right hand quivered as he held it inside his pocket,
formed in a tight fist. I immediately thought to myself,
‘Okay, none of this looks any good. Anyone wants to tell me
what's going on?’

He looked straight at me, feeling that irresistible feeling
to meet his gaze. It was as if he was calling me by using unspoken words. And
by that, he held my eyes in his trembling and moistened ones.

Feelings were conveyed—hurt, disappointment, confusion, and
distress. One by one, they were disregarded by the other. But what had
outstayed was the fact that there was wrath. I tried to look away but his sharp
gaze planted my eyes firmly on his, as if making one wrong turn, at the worst,
would end my own life.

Forcing myself not to blink and miss the emotions that was
held in that staggering stare, my eyes also started to wet and quiver a bit. My
chest tightened and my knees began to feel weak. For the first time in my
entire life, I was afraid of John Emerson Brooks.

There was no denying that.

And after staring at me like he wanted to kill me right
then, he turned his back and mumbled a curse before running towards the door
that led to the emergency stairs of the hotel. Though I was frightful, I still
ran after him, worried and puzzled on what was going on. At the very least,
what I needed was a concrete explanation for his behavior.

I caught up as he was opening the door, pulling his left arm
to stop him from running. “What's wrong?”

He forcefully pulled his arm from me, as if disgusted with
my touch. I took a step back, breathing hard and thinking what was going on. He
excruciatingly exhaled and forced himself to turn back and face me.

Looking straight in his eyes, there was no hint of
recognition that I was the Kayla Wilson he once knew. No Kaye. The Nerd and Ms.
Perfect were long forgotten, as well as the friendship that we once had, and
the mixed-up confession that was uttered a while ago. He all said that with his
apathetic gaze. All those were all buried by the sudden turn of events, one
that I was completely clueless about.

With a stern voice he warned, “If something happens to her,
I will never forgive you. Stay away from us and don't ever show yourself again.
I don’t even know why a person like you exists.”

And with his last words, he closed the door in front of my
face. I flinched. When I opened my eyes, I started breathing unevenly. Then I
pondered on the reason why he acted that way.

‘If something happens to her...’
the words faded in my head. Dorothy—the name resounded in my mind like a dagger
pointing straight to the red dot on the paper. Something must have had happened
to her.

‘Call the ambulance...’

My eyes widened in shock and my heart pounded wildly in
alarm, realizing what might have occurred. Despite my faltering balance, I
found my way down the stairs, clacking my heels heavily on each step. It
couldn’t be.

One wrong pace and I slipped down a course of three steps,
making me wince in pain as I landed on the ground. “Ouch.”

‘Dorothy,’
the name echoed in
my head. She must be going through something dreadful right now and I was the
reason for it. Because of what I had done.

But what exactly?

With confused thoughts, I picked up myself and removed the
pumps that obscured my running. Holding both of my shoes in hand, I disregarded
the pain in my ankle and continued running. I made my way outside the emergency
stairs and hurried to go inside the elevator.

‘I just gave your grandma a little
scare...’
I was forced back by my thoughts. Tumbling two steps back, the
elevator wall caught me in time. What had I done? Feeling my back against it,
the gravity of what I had done sunk into me.

It was just a little scare. What could one little scare do?

Inquisitive stares were thrown to me from all sides as
people went inside the elevator. Crowded and pressed to the wall, I felt the
heaviness of my guilt resounding in my mind. Conscience was killing me more
than what a sharp knife could ever do. I suddenly became impatient. I needed to
know what had happened. Was she all right?

As if a way of letting my struggling thoughts out, I
exclaimed to the others who were so slow in going inside the elevator, “Hurry
up!”

Of course, they were alarmed and thrown me irritated looks.
I closed my eyes and pressed the ground floor button continuously, praying that
nothing bad had happened to John's grandmother. After several agonizing
minutes, the elevator door opened up and ground floor came in sight. I hastily made
my way across the peeved crowd.

“John! Wait!” I tried calling for the man who was boarding
on the ambulance.

But seeing that I wasn't even halfway across the hall, he
hadn't heard a single word I said. I saw the ambulance began moving. And so I
hastily called out once more, “Wait!”

It was Mr. Smith whom I had caught up with as I made my way
outside the front door. With a surprised look, he uttered, “Miss Brooks, are
you alright?”

“What happened to her?” I asked, looking around in daze and
searching for some kind of assurance that what I had seen was not that bad.
Walking to and fro in daze, I suddenly wanted to follow the ambulance. Cab. I
wanted a cab but there was no cab in sight.

“Where's the cab? Call a car... a cab...” I faltered.

“Calm down, Miss Brooks.” Mr. Smith then held me in the
arms, preventing me from walking across the street with my bare feet.

“Tell me what happened. Please, tell me,” I asked for
assurance.

A plea.

“She had a heart attack,” Mr. Smith answered, sadness
eminent in his voice. He shook his head for a while. I felt my tears
unceasingly escaped my eyes in response.

“A... heart attack?” I stuttered.

He silently nodded in response.

“How bad?” I demanded, holding Mr. Smith tightly on the
arms. “Surely, it must not be that bad. Just something mild, right?”

“I'm sorry, Miss. I have no idea,” he answered, shaking his
head.

If it was because I never wanted to be blamed for it or for
the reason that I had cared for her more than I was aware of, I hadn't got a
clue. But at this point in time, I only wanted her to be alright. I eagerly
prayed to God that she was alright. That at the end of the day, she would turn
out fine.

I shouldn't have had said that. If I could turn back time, I
would prevent my useless mouth from uttering those words to her. Falling to the
ground, I held myself in my own arms, with no comfort in sight. I was the one
to blame for it all. If something bad would happen to her, would I ever be
forgiven?

Would I still be worthy of forgiveness?

Letting out my cries, I cried out, “I'm sorry. I'm sorry,
Dorothy. I shouldn't have said that. I knew I was wrong. Please, God, let her
be alright.”

I felt some careful hands placed on my shoulders. With a
hesitant voice, Mr. Smith informed me, “Miss Brooks, I called you a cab. I
received a call from the hospital. I think you should go there now.”

A little before twelve in the afternoon, the lobby in front
of the operating room was practically barren. Only one or two people were
passing by every now and then. But of course, I constantly got those stares for
the last few hours. You know, those kind of stares wherein people were like
asking who was that or why did they let me in.

I actually ran here in haste—without shoes, my stockings
worn out that there were now holes everywhere, my make-up smudged, and my hair
tangled in a huge mess. That explained a lot about the stares. But right now,
none of those even mattered. Not even my bloated ankle or the fact that I
looked hideous. All I wanted was to hear from the doctors that Dorothy would
make it through.

I exhaled, clasping my hands together and closing my eyes. I
silently prayed for Dorothy's operation to go well. As the clock ticked on, my
heart pounded madly in my chest and my mind grew restless with worries. Three
agonizing hours had already passed.

How much longer would it be?

All I did was gave her a little scare. I didn't mean to put
her in so much shock that she ended up having a heart attack and was now having
a bypass operation. She should have known better that I was not suicidal and
that I was only babbling nonsense to her. She had believed my bluff. It was her
fault.

‘If something happens to her, I will
never forgive you,’
John's words reiterated in my head. And guilty as
I’d been since then, the reminder only made me even more restless.

Of what I had done.

Even though I wanted to point out that the blame was
Dorothy's and not mine, but as clear as the sun in the noontime skies, I knew
that I was the one who triggered all this. That no matter how I pointed fingers
to whoever, at the end of the day, it would all go back to me. I was the one to
blame.

But I never wanted any of this. Sure, she was mean to me and
had been all bossy throughout the first month of the contract. But then, her
making me do that contract and forcing me to stay with John made me realize
something. I realized that one thing that I always hushed away from my heart
for years. A thing that opened up my mind. But as soon as I came to that
realization, what did she do? Bidding us goodbye? It wasn't fair. She was
ruining everything again.

I furiously wiped away the tears that formed at the corner
of my eyes. And ever so silently, I whispered, “Dorothy, please come back.”

She was my enemy. She needed to stay alive and torture me
for as long as she wanted to. She had to see with her own eyes—me confessing
directly to John and getting mortified after. She had to. I wanted her to be
there. I wanted her to laugh at me and tell me that she had done a great job in
making me miserable.

The finale was not yet reached. The climax was only
beginning. She had no right to leave whatsoever. She needed to see the end of
this mess that she created. Because if not for her, nothing like this would
have happened.

All in all, despite my ramblings and useless thoughts, deep
inside, I knew that I just didn't want her to die. I forced back the tears that
were welling up in my eyes, pulling up my legs and burrowing my face to hide
the droplets of grief that streamed down my cheeks. In between the soft sobs, I
caught my breaths and told myself to stop all this humiliating acts. I’d done
enough mortification for the day.

“What are you doing here?” A sharp and displeased voice
suddenly called out to me. I wiped away the tears before looking up to him.
From the tone of his voice, I didn't even need to see his face to know that he
was the one who was talking to me.

As soon as I met his gaze, I muttered, “John... I'm sorry.”

He weakly scoffed. “And you’re saying sorry now?”

“I never imagined that something like this would happen,” I
tried defending myself.

“So now you see what those needless words of yours can
actually do? You've finally learned your lesson and you even dragged my
grandmother along. Are you happy now?” he scorned, anger flaring in his eyes.

“I'm not happy.” I breathed, closing my eyes.

“I'm sure you're ecstatic that—”

I cut him off, raising my voice higher so that he would
listen to me, “I'm not. And I’m sorry for being this way. I'm sorry for scaring
her like that. But you must know that I didn't want any of this.”

He stopped talking and just stared at me, disbelief evident
in his glares.

I prevented the tears from falling as I continued, “I never
wanted any of this to happen, John.”

“Oh, really?” He was far from believing my words.

I opened my eyes and lifted my face. I saw him unfastened
his tie and loosened up the button of his shirt. Fervently shaking his head, he
was oblivious to the fact that I was not jumping for joy right at this moment.

Did he really believe that I was that kind of person?

I faintly smiled, realizing that he wouldn't change his mind
no matter how hard I tried explaining myself. After all, I did a fair amount of
damage. Letting out a weakened sigh, I rested my forehead on my knees and shut
the whole world out. Seeing that I had chosen not to answer him, he just took a
seat opposite from where I was. I felt the heaviness of his stare as his eyes
solidly placed on mine.