Reminiscing

Bella's POV

"Where is Nurse Isabella?" I could hear them asking outside the cramped storage room where I was hiding. I tried to squeeze into the small space where mops and other cleaning tools were kept. I've always dreamed of being a nurse, but even I know I'm only human and can't push my body beyond its limits.

After earning my high school diploma, I managed to convince my dad to let me pursue my RN (Registered Nurse) diploma, which I completed in a year. Thanks to my dad's connections, I landed a job at a hospital. It's been six months since I started working officially as a nurse, and it's been anything but easy. I feel like I'm enduring torture under the guise of nursing.

Today, for the seventh time, I was instructed to tepidly sponge a patient with a fever of 39°C. I couldn't take it anymore, so I decided to hide here until my shift ended. Don't misunderstand; I know nurses are supposed to be compassionate and always ready to assist patients, but I am exhausted. My workaholic spirit just didn't accompany me to work today. I want to go home.

"Isabella," I heard Christine whispering my name from outside.

"Isabella... I know you're in there, dummy. I'm going to leave without you," she teased. I quickly scrambled out of my hiding spot to meet my friend Christine.

"Is it six o'clock already?" I asked her while glancing at my watch.

"Can we just go, please? I'm really tired," Christine said, her mood noticeably downcast.

Her demeanor had dimmed since before I went into hiding. I learned she had been asked to attend to the patient I had refused to help. Poor girl, she must be very annoyed with me, but I couldn't dwell on that now. All I could think about was getting home, taking a bath, and enjoying a long nap.

Once home, I slipped into my comfy pajamas and jumped into bed. I prioritize sleep above all else; it helps me recover from the day's work.

"I left all the doors unlocked, and you said you're on your way..." My phone's ringtone cut through the silence. I lazily searched for it and put it to my ear without checking the caller ID.

"Hey, sweetie," I heard my dad's voice on the other end.

"Hi, Dad," I replied, punctuated by a loud yawn.

"I figured you'd be back from work by now and wanted to check on you. How are you holding up, cupcake?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Just tired and ready for sleep."

"Alright, sweetie. I'll be coming to New Jersey this weekend."

"Seriously, Dad? Why?" I asked, my interest waning, accompanied by another yawn.

"What do you mean 'why'? I want to see my little cupcake," my dad replied, a hint of disappointment in his voice. But I was too tired to care and huffed loudly.

"Oh, come on, Dad. Don't pretend you're coming here for me. You're probably coming for business or something, then you'll stay in a hotel, have dinner with me for 30 minutes, and act like you've spent a lot of time with me," I said bluntly, intending to sting him with my words.

"Come on, cakes. You know I have responsibilities back home, and I can't leave everything in the hands of my inexperienced workers."

"Okay, I promise to spend more time with you this visit," my dad said, repeating his usual line to appease me.

"Whatever, Dad. I can't wait," I said, snuggling into my pillow for comfort.

"Okay, sweetie. See you soon. I love you," he said.

"I love you too," I replied, ending the call.

Don't misunderstand; I love my dad, but his sporadic way of showing care frustrates me. He's always preoccupied with his work, which I suspect might be illicit. How else could I explain all the connections he seems to have? Since graduating high school, I've never really had to fend for myself. From part-time jobs to my position at the hospital, it's all been thanks to my dad. He may not be around much, but I know he loves me.

I live in a well-furnished apartment in New Jersey, all thanks to my dad. He may not be filthy rich, but he ensures I live in luxury and have everything I need. I've asked him countless times about his job, but he always gives me a different story. I've stopped prying, but something tells me it's not entirely legal.

When I was younger, my parents would often argue behind closed doors. Despite this, I could always sense their deep love for each other. Whether it was for my sake or not, most of my memories with them are filled with affection. After their arguments, my dad would act as if nothing had happened, but my mom was an open book, visibly irritated and sometimes even looking unwell. I learned to keep my distance on those days, although I couldn't escape her sharp tongue. Thankfully, those days were rare.

My parents separated when I was 12. I love and miss my mom, but she has since remarried. She calls occasionally, ensuring we spend quality time together. I miss the days when we were a family. I resolved to call her after my nap, then closed my eyes, reminiscing about moments with her before drifting off to sleep.