Note: [ Italian-English dialogue translations in brackets ]

◇ KEL ◇ 

It was almost midnight and I still had lots to read up on to prep my brain.  I also had to start on my study plan for our scheduled rotation in the Surgery Department next week.   

Study.  Study.  Eat.  Sleep.  Study.  Give it my best.  Pass the assessments and trainings.  Study some more.

It was basically my routine for the past months, much like a full-time job I was tied to, actually.  In just a couple of months, we would then have to seriously prepare for the Shelf Exam.

"So proud of you, sweetie. Just keep up the momentum, get enough sleep, eat healthy, exercise," had been my mom's usual advice for me lately.  The 'exercise' part, I had been ignoring quite often—only because I preferred to read books in bed for hours than going to the gym by myself. 

This year, our third year of medical school, I had also learned not to focus on keeping my grades up so much.  Our mentors kept saying it would be best if we just focused more on our progress—improving our lacking skills—than obsessing over getting excellent marks.  The advice helped me a lot during our period of adjustment.  Well, to be fair,  every year I'd spent in med school felt like it warranted a good few months of adjustment.

In the hospital, every day felt like an exam.  Thus the large amount of concentration I needed during trainings.  I had also made it a point to befriend the nursing staff to brush up my patient care skills with their help, aside from trying my hardest not to piss off my superiors and the attending on duty. 

So far, only one had told me off—the reason: I forgot to track down the phlebotomist to get the patient's lab tests samples drawn 20 minutes earlier.  I'd almost perspired buckets during that late-evening shift.  The bright side: our resident didn't humiliate me and even gave me tips so I could easily work on my weaknesses. 

Constant sleep-deprivation was a normal thing for an in-demand physician like him, and, since then, I thought it best to ease more of his stressful workload for him.  In return, putting in the extra hours helped me push myself to perform better and improve my patient care knowledge and abilities.  It was essential;  I had been aiming to achieve honors on 90% of my evaluations at the least.

The months-long clinical rotations were part of our routine now.  All those extra hours, all those meticulous tasks, and all that pressure to perform well...  It should discourage me at this point, but, by now I was just used to it all.   

I knew Enzo was too busy with work as well.  But the second I heard his voice on the other line, my thoughts immediately switched to overdrive.  His voice just prompted memories I had been trying to smother with the busyness of my everyday life. 

Like a snap back to reality, I couldn't do much but heed his words as my brain could no longer focus on the anatomy and clinical surgery books laid out before me.  I could only pay attention to him and nothing else. 

"Why did you send me money?" he asked in his serious voice, the 'Mr. Lorenzio Tomassini - CEO' voice he used whenever he was talking about business with his subordinates.

"What?"  I muttered in reluctance.  Seeing his name and photo on my phone screen some ten seconds ago didn't quite prepare me.  It pretty much startled my brain to come up with a straight answer, leaving me rather hesitant to speak up.  

"The money you transferred to my account yesterday?"

"I just thought...I should pay some of it back at least," I reasoned. "I mean,  you gave me the money months ago. And I booked a quick photo shoot last weekend. Just a one-time thing; they paid me the same day, so I thought I should..."

"Didn't we talk about this already? You don't have to pay me back now. So you don't have to work on your off days. Alright?"

I bit on the inside of my cheek, heeding his rather authoritative tone.  "Okay. Sorry," was all I mumbled in response.

He was still insisting that I didn't need to pay him back right now.  But when?  We hadn't really talked about the terms in detail.  He just kept saying, whenever I started earning more than enough to financially support myself.  "Don't take up jobs if you feel like you have to just 'cause of the money I gave you," Enzo said after an awkward silence.

"Okay," I replied.  To my ears, he sounded like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed.  Or maybe I was just being overly anxious about having to talk to him again.  

"Don't send me money again. I don't need it. You, on the other hand, need it for school and living expenses."

"Okay," was all I said in response to his stubborn refusal to compromise.  I knew I sounded robotic and disinterested at this point.  But I didn't really expect he would just call me in the middle of the night, just to ask about why I sent him 5,000 euros in cash via online fund transfer.

"Why aren't you replying to my texts?" he then asked when we both fell silent.

"Sorry."

"Why? Maxim?" Enzo spoke a bit louder now. "He told you to stop talkin' to me?" He still called Miles "Maxim", which was Miles' nickname since childhood, as if they were close friends.  

It didn't ease our conversation for me in any way.   My hesitations doubled as I stood still next to my study desk.  "Yeah. Before I left Brescia." I held back a sigh, unwilling to share more details. 

It was mostly true;  I had been ignoring Enzo's messages because of Miles and Mrs. Falco's warning.  They thought I should stop communicating with Enzo because they didn't trust him or his family.  Ironic.  The Falcos had partnered up and had been doing business with the Tomassinis for almost a year now, but, apparently, trust was still a huge issue between the two families.

"Did he say why?" Enzo sighed, his question egging me on to say more.

Darn it.  I just didn't want to explain to him why—hence my recent efforts to keep our communication minimal.  If I told him the exact reasons Miles and Mrs. Falco told me, it would only spur a bigger rift between him and Miles, just because I didn't keep my trap shut.

"Mykaela..." Enzo sounded more impatient now.

"Sorry." I cleared my throat and mentally cursed myself for my crappy half-assed apologies.  "I just...I just thought it would be better if we didn't talk often."

"Why?" he sighed.   He sounded groggy,  weary,  and somewhat sad. 

It concerned me a little, but our conversation had to happen now.  I had put it off long enough.  I stopped talking to him but I didn't block his contact numbers—in case of emergencies.   

Now that he called me to hash it out, I should just get it over with.  Tell him everything.  But did he really expect me to believe him?  That he had no idea as to why I had been ignoring his texts the past weeks?   I was pretty sure he already had a good enough understanding of why I had been avoiding him.   

"Why would you think that?"  he asked after an awkward stretch of silence.

I gripped my phone, leaving it on speaker mode.  Then I went back to bed to hide under the covers.  His fairly incredulous tone made me frown.  As if he didn't know what I was talking about...   "Do we really have to talk about it now?"

"Yeah. I just wanna know what he said to you."

Oh drats...

"I don't want to say this, but..." He paused to clear his throat.  "They're the ones telling you lies. Alright?" Enzo mumbled on the other line with another sigh, letting faint static noise come through.

I scoffed. "Why would they lie?" It was past midnight and I should be reading through my new medical books, but he randomly rang me just to ask why I sent him money and why I was ignoring his efforts to keep in touch.  

Instead of answering my question, Enzo let out a quick grunt.  It sounded like he was badmouthing Miles and the Falcos.

It kind of made me regret picking up the phone.  But we had to talk things over or else the sneaking anxiety keeping me awake at night would never go away.  "It's just disappointing, y'know?" I said while a heavy feeling weighed me down.  It made my chest ache somewhat.  Although I'd been trying hard to distract myself from the constant anxious thoughts, it was not an easy feat at all.  "'Cause I actually thought...we could be friends."

"What?"

"Expected too much, apparently."

"Of course I'm a friend, Mykaela."

Friend?  If he was really my friend, he would've been totally honest with me and would've come clean sooner than the Falcos could tell me the real deal.  Then I wouldn't have felt this betrayed and unimportant.

Did he not trust me?  Probably.  He most likely thought I was just another sacrificial pawn he could make use of later.  

It hurt.  Definitely.  Because I trusted him.  Wholeheartedly.  I just never thought he would turn out to be a manipulative liar, like some people I had been trying not to think of for a while now.

"Come on..." Enzo sighed. "You know I'd never do that to you."

I frowned. Okay...now he was making me think Miles and his mother had been lying and brainwashing me.

"Just forget everything Maxim said. Please."

"I wish it were that easy, Lorenzio. Really."

"Bellezza..."

[Beauty...]

"I'm sorry, but..."  I massaged my forehead, feeling dizzy all of a sudden.  I really didn't expect we'd be having this talk tonight.  But since he had given me the opportunity, better yet address the issues that had been causing me more sleepless nights than usual.  "Please don't call if it's not an emergency—"

"Can we please not make a big deal—"

"You know what hurts most? You acted like you cared. All these months. Only for me to find out—"  None of it was real.  None of it mattered now.  It was all just pretend to him.  I was just too blind and naïve to have figured it out sooner.  The facts sank in again like a dull old knife wedged into my chest.

"No—  I mean, yes.  I didn't tell you a few things," he said in a calmer tone. "Doesn't change the fact that I care about you."

"I don't know anymore."  I sighed.  For some reason, hot tears filled my eyes.  Why wouldn't he just come clean?  "You lied. All those months."

"No." Enzo sighed louder. "I didn't tell you about Leo's plans. But I didn't lie to you."

"Forget it." I wiped the senseless tears off my cheeks.  "Look. I'm just gonna...find work again to get the money. Then I'll pay you back."

"Mykaela, come on..."

"I'll pay you back, every cent, but not now. Sorry."  Darn it.  The stupid tears blurred my vision even more.  I just hated losing friends, but I shouldn't think he wanted to keep up a friendship with me.  "It's gonna take a while."

"Bellezza, ti prego." 

[Beauty, please.]

"Thank you. For all your help. Thanks."

"Hey."  Enzo tsk-ed.  "Don't talk like I'm never gonna see you again."

I wanted to hang up on him but I didn't want to be rude.  While he droned on about why he didn't tell me everything, I left the phone on my pillow on speaker mode as I took a few deep breaths and let the tears flow.  I just cried to myself while my lungs felt like I was being suffocated.   My thoughts deteriorated as I stayed helplessly curled in a fetal position under my blanket.  Why did it hurt this bad?  Why was I even crying?

Ugh.  Grow up, Mykaela.  

It had been my routine: berating myself till I felt like the pessimism was just part of my daily routine.  I had to get over it because it would only give me more sleepless nights.  No sleep equals no concentration the next day.  With school, exams, and everything else, I should take care of my health first and foremost.  Mental, physical, the overall.  I really wish it were that easy.

"Bellezza?"  Enzo spoke softly now. He probably wondered why I wasn't responding to him anymore. "You going to sleep now?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna send you the terms. I mean, the payment agreement. Or do you prefer to sign it in person?"

"What? Agreement?" He sounded doubtful now. "We talking about this again?"

"Can we meet up soon? Like, next month or...whenever you're not too busy?"

"Erm...not sure. Sort of busy right now."

"Okay." I sighed, somewhat disappointed in his answer.  "I'll just email it. Take care."

"Mykaela—"

"Bye. G'night."

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