One Night In Amsterdam (26 page)

“Fuck you, Dylan! You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No. I can’t let you ruin the business that we built so hard together. You need time, I get that. Take all the time you need, but don’t rush into making irrational decisions. You are acting emotionally and not making any sense.”

“I am not acting emotionally. I know what I want and do not want.”

“I know what you want. You want Emma and all this ‘getting out and selling your business crap’ is because you can’t have one girl, but guess what! None of this bullshit will bring her back. If you want her back, grow up and be the determined, strong willed, strong minded person you’ve always been. Do something. Instead of staying in this god damn house, living like a loser, come back and win her back.”

“She was pretty damn clear Max. She doesn’t want me or anything to do with me.”

“Since when has Dylan Hamilton accepted ‘no’ for an answer?”

I couldn’t reply. He was right. I’ve never accepted defeat or taken ‘no’ for answer, until Emma. With her, I was helpless. Defenseless. Yes, I wanted her more than anything else in my life; however, I wasn’t ready to go back to the city yet.

Hours after Max left, I was still thinking about our conversation. Could I win her back? Did I still have a chance with her? I wasn’t sure what to do. I was ambivalent about everything, work, company, my family, my future. So, instead of contemplating my painful life, I did what I’d been doing best for five weeks, I grabbed my sledgehammer and started knocking down old cabinets, and it felt so good!

CHAPTER 19

 EMMA

I was sitting in the very back row of the big auditorium, pretending I was listening. Professor Bissette, a visiting scholar from France, started his seminar on principles of intradural spine surgery with a video compilation of his past surgeries. He was one of the most highly praised, esteemed neurosurgeons in Europe, also teaching at Faculte de Medecine Pierre et Marie Curie in Paris.  Since he was extremely busy year round, he was very selective about the seminars he presented at. It was rumored that our dean, Professor Harris, was Professor Bissette’s old college roommate and that he used his close ties to convince him to participate in our ‘end of the year’ seminar. It was a privilege to have him at our university, even if it was only for one day. Students, residents, and even faculty members filled up the auditorium half an hour before he arrived.  Completely engaged with his presentation, I could see everyone around me taking notes. Everybody was excited to be part of this rare opportunity, listening to him attentively. Well, almost everybody, there was one exception: me.

I was staring blankly through the tall windows of the auditorium and scribbling circles in my notepad instead of paying attention. Amy, Sam, Chris…all my classmates were asking questions about his non-traditional surgery techniques.  Even the most introverted, reserved person in our group, Adam, raised his hand and asked about the professor’s approach to unruptured intracranial aneurysms. I, on the other hand, looked down and stayed quiet during the entire lecture.

I was at the end of this long, tiring journey. My life as a medical student was almost over. My dissertation was complete. I was done with my defense too, in spite of Kyle’s, my ex-fiancé’s, presence and many hard, challenging questions.  I was nervous about Kyle attending my defense at first. I hated that he was selected to be part of my research committee, however, he was kind. More than kind, he was very helpful. He shared his past experiences with Doctor Reuben, the toughest professor in my committee, and helped me finish my experiments and present the results in the format Doctor Reuben liked. All my grades were posted. I earned a 3.88 GPA, which put me in the top ten in my class. Everybody was telling me that with my credentials, GPA and recommendations, I could get accepted to any residency program in the States.

So, as far as work and school were concerned, everything was going well.  On the outside, my life seemed to be perfect, or so my friends thought. Maybe they were right.   I was about to achieve what I had wanted for years. Soon, I would be Doctor Collins. Doctor Emma Collins… such an impressive, fascinating title in front of my name. Something I wanted since I was a kid, playing ‘operation’.  Considering the last ten years, pre-med, med school, PhD program and just a week away from graduation, I should have been feeling more excited, joyful. Then, why was I feeling so dejected and sad? Why wasn’t this, the most important success of my life giving me the satisfaction I desired for years?

It was disheartening and demoralizing to realize, after longing for this day for years, I felt nothing. It was as if I lost all my emotions. After I told Dylan that it was over between us, my life continued as usual, however, nothing felt the same.

Ending our relationship was my decision.  I listened to all of his messages on my phone. Some of them over and over again. He was sincere, open and honest, declaring his love for me, begging for me to forgive him. The problem was that there wasn’t anything to forgive.  He didn’t cheat on me, or lie to me. He didn’t do anything to me personally to forgive him for. From the beginning, he had been honest with me and told me what he felt for me, and what I meant for him. I was certain that I was the only woman in his life that he loved with such deep affection. My problem was neither about his feelings for me, nor about forgiving him for what he did. It was about him.

He was Dylan Hamilton. The infamous bachelor of Manhattan. I had heard enough about him to scare me off before I agreed to give him a chance, therefore I shouldn’t have been surprised. However, my heart disagreed with my conscience from the first moment we met. He had such a compelling smile and charming manners. He was full of surprises, coming up with new unexpected romantic gestures all the time. My heart disobeyed my brain and convinced me that the Dylan I fell in love with was different than the Dylan people talked about. He wasn’t the licentious man, living a life of debauchery, adultery and lechery that people talked about. He was a romantic, loving person with an incredible artistic talent. I shut my eyes to all the talk and rumors about him. Maybe love made me blind. Maybe, I was so infatuated that I couldn’t see the obvious facts. However, ever since I saw those awful images in front of me, I couldn’t let it go. Regardless of how much I loved him, or wanted to be with him, I couldn’t deal with his past. The wicked images of him with all those girls kept coming back. All the stories I heard about him that I chose to ignore, now appeared as the ugly truth.

I had to break up with him, although my heart was fighting with my reasoning.  I knew if I saw him again, I wouldn’t be able to do it. I couldn’t look into his eyes and tell him that it was over. So, I took the easy way out and sent him one last email. Short, concise.  I told him that we couldn’t be together and I didn’t want to see him again. However, my harsh, blunt words didn’t reflect my true feelings. I was still madly in love with him. He was the only one I opened my heart to, the only one I truly loved. I never felt such a deep affection to anyone else before, not even for Kyle. Trying to continue my life without Dylan was like living without fresh air. I had to remind myself to take deep breaths.  Every day was a fight, and I had to survive.

After not seeing him for over a month, loneliness settled in and became my norm. I felt numb. The wound stopped bleeding. I wouldn’t say that I was healed, but at least it scabbed over.  I still had to force myself not to think about him. I avoided everything that would bring sweet, painful memories. However, as I listened to Professor Bissette talking in his thick French accent, I fell into another reverie, thinking about Dylan unwittingly again.

I was wondering where he was and what he was doing when I heard Amy jabbering next to me. “Earth to Emma…answer me Emma. Do you hear me?”

I was caught off guard while I was daydreaming, about things I promised myself I wouldn’t think about, “What?” I muttered dolefully.

“You haven’t heard a word I said. Did you? What’s going on with you, Emma?”

“Sorry, I spaced out for a second.” I said, evading the questions I was asked almost every day lately, as if they didn’t know …What’s the matter with you Emma? “What were you saying?” I asked her, feigning interest.

“We are going to Quills for a drink. Are you coming with us?” She asked. Chris and Jackson joined us too as we walked out of the auditorium.

“No. I can’t. I am very tired. I think I’d like to go home, take a long bath and sleep.” I said, coming up with my usual excuse to ditch the group and be alone. I was living an automated life, like a robot since I broke up with Dylan. School, work, clinics and my research. Nothing else, and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Oh, come on! Emma! This is our last week. We will end up working in different parts of the country soon. Let’s enjoy our final days together a little.” She insisted.

I was dragging my feet, coming up with more excuses when Kyle showed up and stood right next to us unexpectedly.  “You have to come.” He chimed in. “We still haven’t celebrated your successful defense yet. You were amazing.”

“I was just another doctorate student, trying to graduate. I wouldn’t call that amazing.” I replied.

“You have no idea what you have accomplished, Emma. Dr. Reuben, Dr. Howard and Dr. McKenzie, they all told me that your research and defense was one of the best they had seen in years.  You deserve a celebration.”

“Thank you Kyle!” Amy exclaimed. “I’ve been telling her the same thing for days, but she doesn’t listen. She’s put her walls up again and it’s hard to get through,” she added.

“I have not...” I tried to object.

“I haven’t seen you smiling, doing anything fun since...” She paused, probably wondering if she should say his name, and then muttered quietly. “Since Dylan.”

Hearing his name out loud had the same effect even after six weeks. My grin turned into a frown immediately. I bit my lips, evading my eyes from Kyle’s intense glare.

“Come on Emma. Just one drink.” Kyle insisted and put his hand on my arm. His unexpected closeness bothered me. He was acting unusually friendly. I didn’t want to go drinking and certainly not with Kyle, but I couldn’t reject him in front of all the other students. I felt compelled to acquiesce.

Outside, the weather was warm. It was a glorious, beautiful evening; the sky was dappled with white clouds and had many shades of color; from amethyst to amber to dark blue, giving the tall skyscrapers a colorful glow. It was a typical New York moment with vivid displays, lit windows on tall buildings, busy streets, long lines of cars waiting in the traffic and people standing on sidewalks, impatiently waiting to cross the street. The ‘City that never sleeps’ was its usual self, lively and vibrant as ever. However, I felt lonely and despondent amidst its liveliness.  I wanted take a cab and rush back to Sydney’s apartment where I’d been staying for the last couple of weeks. I couldn’t stand to be alone in my house in Brooklyn. Although Dylan had been there only a few times, it still brought back memories I wanted to suppress.  Living with Sydney was my only escape; she was the only one who could quell my continuous bickering with myself and self-doubt. Did I do the right thing?

I walked quietly and slowly next to Amy following Kyle, Chris and Jackson. Kyle turned his head and smiled a few times, checking on me unnecessarily. Then he stopped and waited for me and Amy to catch up with him. For the rest of the way, he walked next to me, making me more uncomfortable.

We arrived at the Quills Brewery in less than five minutes. A block away from the medical center, it was a favorite hang-out spot for many med students after school. Since it was Friday night, they had live music, and the place was packed. We managed to find a tall table at the back corner. Amy and I took the only available bar stools. Jackson, Chris and Kyle hung around the table.  A young waitress, Claire, soon showed up to take our orders. Jackson, Chris and Amy ordered their favorite beer, ‘Blondie’, a locally brewed pale ale, and Kyle asked for a dark lager. He turned to me and started telling me why their lagers tasted better and then asked if I wanted to try.

“No. I just want some water,” I said tersely, cutting him short. The words came out harsher than I’d planned. I didn’t want him to buy me a drink, but I wasn’t upset about that. His chit-chat about lagers and ales reminded me of Dylan and our first day in Amsterdam. I hated when some silly little thing brought up memories I tried to bury. I scowled inevitably, closed my eyes and rested my chin on the back of my hand.

“Emma, Are you alright?”  Kyle asked.

“Yes, I am fine.” I said, still agitated. “I’m just not in the mood for a beer.” I yelled to be heard. The place was so loud that it was impossible to have a normal conversation, for which I was grateful. I didn’t want to talk to Kyle. I was already resenting my decision to join them.

By the time everybody finished their first drink, the band took a break and the uncomfortable silence in the air became more obvious.

“What’s your plan after graduation?” Amy asked, trying to get me to talk and soften the heaviness in the air.