Life For Rent. Part 4 free porn video

Life for rent Part 4 Chapter 20 I think about the bizarre sexual encounter I just had. What the hell it meant. The psychotic manipulativeness of it. The actions of an extremely unhinged unstable woman. I think about all the pressure on me. All the expectations. The way I'm supposed to behave. The things I'm supposed to do. I don't understand the world any more. I don't fit in. I just don't belong. I just don't remember. I think about the razor blade in my hand. The cold steel of it. I hold it over my wrist. I'm not sure where to cut, but I do anyway. Blood spurts forth. I'm surprised by the ferocity of it. But it's the right thing to do. I lie back on my childhood bed. In my childhood room. That I couldn't remember. But it all seems so familiar to me now. Maybe I am remembering. Maybe too late. It doesn't matter anymore. As the blood gushes out everywhere I know it will be over soon. I feel dizzy. I close my eyes. OH MY GOD! I open my eyes with a start. It thankfully only takes a mere moment to reorient. I am not of course in my childhood bedroom, but in the driver's seat of my hire car, parked off the road that leads to the airport. But Anthony is in his childhood bedroom. Right now. Bleeding to death. "Oh Anthony," I scream out loud. "What have you done?" But what I'm really saying internally is 'Oh Kimberley. What have you made him do?' In one swift movement I ignite the cars engine and do a swift wheel skidding U turn. I flatten the accelerator to the floor and the car responds, screaming down the street. Maybe it's not real. I tell myself. Try to justify to myself. Or maybe it hasn't happened yet. Like the first vision. It's some undefined time in the future. But I know it is real. Rupert told me I'd know. And I know! And I also know it is right now. Thankfully I hadn't driven far on my away journey before emotion overwhelmed me, so I screech into the Wilkins' driveway in under a minute. But even that may be too long. As I leap from the car the house door swings open and an aggravated Clare comes out to meet me. "Fuck Kim!" She begins. "I told you to stay away.. I'm serious." She assumes a threatening posture. "He's in danger Clare," I scream as I run straight by her and into the house. "What?" She replies, puzzled, as I fly by her. But she responds by pursuing me. I bound up the stairs with Clare close behind and we burst into the bedroom together. It's what I envisaged I'd see, but still had hoped I won't, but for Clare it is completely unexpected. A sea of red. A mad splattering of blood from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. She screams in terror. I traverse the room in an instant and grab a belt from the wardrobe, where I always used to hang them, and a random piece of shelved clothing. Moving as fast as I'm able I encircle his left bicep with the belt and pull it as tight as I can. In the micromoments before I do that I see his pulsating radial artery, still spewing out blood, and it tells me, at least for now, his heart is still pumping, he still has volume circulating. But he is deathly pale, and deeply unconscious. The artery stops spurting the moment my tourniquet tightens, and now it's just an ooze. I stuff the t-shirt I'd grabbed down onto the wound, pressing hard. "So much blood," Clare mumbles. Still standing in the doorway. Petrified. "It always looks like more than it actually is Clarebear. You know that," I try to reassure, but my own voice is panicked. I can feel myself shaking. "Kim. This is litres." Her voice trails off in despair. It's a hollow empty sound. "I know Hun." My voice quivers. "But he's got 5." I don't believe my own insincere optimism. "Triple Oh. Clare. Now. Please," I beg. (Triple zero is the Australian equivalent of 911) Her trance seems to break and she complies. She conveys with urgent efficiency all the details dispatch needs to know, accompanied by a please hurry. It was a task for her to do. I could keep her in the present if she remained task oriented. Meanwhile, as I'm still applying pressure to the incised wound, I reach across him for the other wrist. His right radial pulse is barely palpable. It is fast weak and thready. He is so so pale. He is in haemorrhagic shock. "Lift his legs Clare," I encourage. "Right up." She does. It's about all we can do. Autoinfuse him. I feel so helpless. Two Doctors. Without a skerrick of medical equipment with us. We may as well be lay people. He's about to die. And all we can do is watch it. His breathing is rapid but effective, but he remains unrousable. Now we wait. It would only be minutes to be counted on one hand but it seems like an age as we maintain a silent vigil, blood loss stemmed, his body shutting down in response to the sheer lack of it. Where can they be? On cue we hear the wail of a siren as an ambulance pulls into the drive. "Go get them," I say to Clare, with emphatic encouragement in my voice, as I press on the cut with one hand and wrap my other arm behind the knees of his skyward pointing legs, relieving her of her leg holding assignment. "And IV stuff. He needs volume Clare. Until we can get him blood." She scurries off. In moments she returns with what looks like a fishing tackle box. "It's the IV kit," she proffers. "He's so shut down though Kim." She's losing her way again. "Here, take over," I say. And she relieves me of both my duties. No sooner has she when the ambos roll in the door. The older fatter one takes one look and says. "I think we need to call for a MICA." "No time," I say. As I tourniquet the right arm now. Not as tightly as the left. "Get ready to load and go. He needs blood. We need to signal one him to The Base. I just need to get an IV in and get some saline on board." He is shut down. And so volume deplete. But if I can get an IV in a 24 week premmie then I can get one in a shocked emaciated adult. If only I can control my random shaking. Come on Kim, I psych myself internally, you've got this. Just get the damn IV in. I do. It's an 18 gauge. It's the biggest I dare. I quickly hook up a litre of saline and squeeze with all my might. "Okay. Let's go." I'm losing the battle to contain my panic. But I need to fight. For Clare. She can only function if I look like I am. The paramedics comply, and assemble the stretcher around him. They're not stupid. They can see his life ebbing away. We hoist him down the stairs and run for the ambulance in the driveway. On board I get Clare to squeeze in fluid whilst still applying pressure to the cut, and with the paramedics help, the one that's not driving, we apply a proper arterial tourniquet to the forearm of the injured limb, and I release my belt, Anthony's belt I mean, which allows me to place a second IV in his other cubital fossa. Now the paramedic squeezes one bag of fluid on one side of the body whilst Clare squeezes the other. By the time we reach the hospital he will have had his two litres of crystalloid. Beyond that he needs blood, and he needs it fast. I momentarily freed and panic when I can't feel his radial pulse on his good arm. But his carotid is still there. His blood pressure is less than 70, by my reckoning. I turn my attention to the driver. "Radio," I say. "We need to signal in." He understands my brevity. He presses some buttons and hands me the microphone. There is an extremely loud beep beep beep followed by a voice. "Wullendonga Base Hospital. Receiving." "Who are we?" I ask the driver. "Brolgaville." He understands exactly what I'm asking. "This is Brolgaville coming signal 1." I peer through the windscreen. "We're under five minutes out," I estimate. "We're coming with a 31 year old male. Incised wound. Radial artery puncture. Estimated blood loss well over 2 litres. Haemorrhagic shock. Palpable carotid only. We need Uncrossmatched O neg at the ready. As much as you have. Massive transfusion protocol activated. And vascular on standby for an arterial repair." That's as much as I think I can impart. "Who is this?" The hospital enquires. I pause for just a moment. Then I know what to do. "I'm Clare Wilkins," I lie. And Clare shoots me a glance. "I'm a Doctor." "Understood Clare. We'll be ready." And they were. In the ambulance bay I've already snatched 2 units of blood from the esky they'd brought out to us and replaced the near empty salines with them. Squeezing still. I tell myself that still having a pulse on arrival means he has a chance. But I'm not sure I believe it. I cannot comprehend that Anthony may be about to die. Because of what I did to him. Oh God. I well and truly deserve whatever hell awaits me. He gets ushered into resus and engulfed by a team of Doctors and nurses, working frenetically in response to the severity of the situation. As we try to follow Clare and I get stopped. "Who are you?" A nurse enquires. "I'm his sister," Clare responds instantly. "You're the Doctor?" She clarifies. "Yes." "Come on through," the nurse says to Clare. "You wait out there please," she says to me. I stand there for a moment, shaking, red fluid dripping from me onto the ground beneath me. Then, when I can control the shaking enough to walk, head to the space in front of triage and sit in the waiting room chairs. As the adrenaline dissipates from me I feel a wave of nausea and tiredness. And then it's such an acute blast of dejavu it's unfathomable and indescribable. I'm in the exact same chair I was sitting in 13 years ago. In virtually the same scenario. Bringing an unconscious Anthony to hospital. That time I was in a skimpy cheerleader outfit. This time I'm in jeans and a t-shirt, but covered head to toe with blood. Anthony's blood. Once again I ask the triage nurse for a blanket, and she rapidly complies. The sight of a blood splattered me is gruesome for all. I sit there alone for an inordinate amount of time. Or maybe not. It all becomes so distorted I'm no longer able to tell. I'm thinking I may as well cry. I did last time. And the parallels continue. Last time I'd realised I may be stuck forever as a woman. Today I'd had that made definitive. And that was independent of whether Anthony survives or not. Sure maybe it always was from the outset, and everyone else knew that but me. But today I had finally accepted it. Beyond any doubt. This is who I am to live the rest of my days as. To die as. To have written on my gravestone as for all perpetuity. And maybe if I'd just accepted that earlier, then Anthony would not be potentially about to die, and I wouldn't be feeling like I don't deserve to live either. To continue with the whole history repeating thing, now, just like last time, my mum comes rushing in. No dad yet, but it still felt the same. She sees me, which is different I suppose; last time they just brushed past me. "Melanie?" She spots the blood I can't hide with the blanket. "Oh my god. Are you hurt?" "No Jan," I say sadly. "It's not my blood." I'm not sure how well my accent is holding up under emotional duress. "Anthony?" She says fearfully, and I see her colour dissipate. I move quickly to seat her. "What happened?" She tries to compose her question. There is no point lying. She needs the truth. "He cut his wrist. He lost a lot of blood. But we... Clare did everything she could." I need to cover my tracks. "She's an amazing Doctor your daughter." "I know," Mum says proudly. It just makes me sad. "But I haven't heard any more," I continue, gathering more composure. "And it's been quite a while," I clarify. "I'll ask." "Melanie?" She interrupts before I can walk off. "How did he cut his wrist? Did he? Did he do it himself?" "I don't know Jan," I lie. She probably knows it. She looks downcast. My enquiries produce Clare. We, both Jan and I, look at her eagerly, expectantly, as she approaches us. She smiles a little smile, which is actually a massive reassurance. "He's stable," she announces. "He's in theatre as we speak. They're repairing his wrist." "The median nerve?" I probe. Forgetting I'm supposed to be Melanie. But my instinctive question heartens me. If the median nerve is damaged his hand will end up a useless claw really. But me wanting to know that meant it was no longer a matter of saving his life. It was now a question of saving his limb. He was going to live. The ecstasy I feel for that revelation is a wonderful feeling. "It appears intact," Clare confirms. "They're not sure about the radial." "Okay." I exhale. The radial nerve is a lot closer to the radial artery, as the name indicates, and certainly helps work the thumb. But it's not the deal breaker the median nerve is. "What does that mean?" mum looks perplexed. Perhaps she's puzzled by why Melanie Clarke is asking medical questions. I could always say I had a nursing background if I was quizzed. It flew in the face of the finance job she really had, which I'd told them about, but surely she had much more on her mind than little inconsistencies in my back story. "He's gonna be fine mum," Clare reassures. "Oh honey," Mum cries with joy. And throws her arms around her daughter. I look on awkwardly. And wistfully. "We can go in soon mum," Clare announces. "I just need a quick word with..." "Melanie," I interject, before Clare can say anything. Making it sound as if Clare may have forgotten, or not been introduced in all the commotion. My fear is that she will refer to me by my real name. As Kim. And mum's not stupid. Things could turn very ugly, very quickly. "Okay dear," Mum says. "Thankyou for your help Melanie. You clearly were involved. You've got more blood on you than my daughter has." "I only did what your daughter told me to Jan. She certainly knows her stuff," I say, and we walk out of earshot. "You need to get out of here," Clare barks straight off. "But.." "When mum finds out who you really are...." "By which you mean Kimberley, I assume," I say. Interrupting. "Rather than her former son." Clare sneers and regathers. "When she finds out who you are. And what you tried to do to him. And that you caused him to do this. Which she will soon, because Anthony's going to be awake any minute. She's going to come for you. And I'm worried she might actually kill you. And end up in jail." "Okay," I relent. "I just need to clean up first. I look like a horror movie extra." "Take mum's car. Go back to our house. Shower and clean up. Take some of my clothes if you want. But then get the hell out of town." "I don't need clothes. My suitcase is in the hire car." "Fine," she snaps. Then turns. "Mum, give me your car keys. Melanie needs to get back to our house and clean herself up. We'll taxi home later." "Yes. Of course dear," Jan says and complies. Clare places the keys roughly into my hands. "Thanks," I say meekly. "Fuck you Kimberley!" She snarls. "If you were just content on destroying your own life, fine. But you have to drag just absolutely everybody down with you." "I'm sorry," I squeak. "I'll see you when I'm back in Melbourne. We have a lot to sort out." It sounds ominous. "Bye." I try anyway. "Goodbye," she harrumphs. She turns back to her mum, and I leave. Mum's car wasn't the same as 13 years ago, but I'd seen her drive off in it earlier. So I found it easily. I still had the hospital blanket. I used it to protect the car as best I could from blood. I didn't like the idea of leaving blood in mum's car. At my old home I grabbed some fresh clothes and my toiletry bag from my suitcase and headed for the shower. I felt nostalgic. Everything I'd taken for granted as Anthony was now a precious memory. The shower I'd showered in countless times before, but never would again. And so on, with absolutely everything. When I was clean I re-entered Anthony's room, looking every bit the crime scene. Was there anything I wanted to take? I wanted to keep? Something that had sentimental value to me, but meant nothing to Anthony, so he would never miss it. The thing I gravitated to most, was a picture of Lucinda and I. The photo was sitting by the bed, in a frame. I picked it up and wiped some of the congealed splatter off with my hand. I was beyond worrying about body fluid exposure anymore. In some sense I suppose this used to be my blood, so I'm not really worried about catching anything from it. I study the picture. I remember the circumstances of it so very well. We would have been 16. It was taken in summer. At Dove Lake. She was in her bikini, I was in boardies. Our arms were around each others waists. Just a couple of mates having a swim on a hot summer's day. But I could see so much more now. These were two childhood sweethearts, who loved each other dearly and didn't know it. And there was the unfair dichotomy. I may well have saved original Kimberley from a horrible future, an awful fate. But I could see in this picture now, as clear as day, the future I lost. It was not horrible. It was better than any future that was now available to me. And I was supposed to be gracious about that. But I wasn't. And because I wasn't I brought my whole house of cards down on top of myself. And furthermore incurred the wrath of seemingly every deity available to worship. Fuck this. I put the photo back down. Because as everyone is at pains to remind me. It's not my memory to keep. None of this is. This is Anthony's room. And Anthony's stuff. And I simply don't belong here. I close over his bedroom door. I exit the house. I drive my hire car to Wullendonga airport. No tears this time. I'll return to Melbourne. Gather what I think I need. Then disappear. Maybe I could be Melanie Clarke. She's O'Regan now, and she lives on the other side of the world. She probably doesn't need that identity anymore. I left Wullendonga 13 years ago, with Caitlin then, facing a frightening and uncertain future. Here I am again. This time alone. Doing exactly the same. Leaving Wullendonga to a future that may not be uncertain, if my vision is correct, but certainly frightening. I guess you can't escape fate. Even if it wasn't your fate to begin with. Because it does not seem to distinguish between birth and inheritance. It's probably a good thing I just don't care anymore. Chapter 21 I'm back home in Melbourne by late Monday night. It's hard to believe it's still the same day. A day that had started in my hotel in Sydney, checking out with brand new coloured and styled hair. A day that had then involved a trip to the Blue Mountains and a visit to a magic shop. (For want of a better name.) Topped off with a visit to my childhood home in Wullendonga, where my actions forced a man to try and kill himself. And even more startling is that it was only really 5 or 6 days ago I'd left Melbourne. I'm unable even to think about sleep. I shower again. I still feel like I smell of blood. Whether I really do or not I'm no longer sure. I open the email that I'd received earlier in the day. One of many, but the one that I could probably least avoid. From AHPRA. Because of my continued media saturation and ongoing tainting of the name of all things medical my 'show cause' hearing has been rushed through and scheduled for Thursday. There's even to be an announcement about it in the papers, to allow members of the general public, who feel strongly enough, to come and voice their concerns, and explain how my behaviour has adversely affected them. Not that I was planning on going; but imagine that. There might even be protestors with placards. "Burn the witch." Just like I'd joked. Anyway, no point wasting much thought on that. Foremost in my mind is how Anthony is. Both physically, and mentally. I had driven him to attempt suicide. However his thoughts, the thoughts I felt in my vision suggested that I was perhaps the final straw. I felt the need to impart what I knew. I could text Clare and ask how he is, maybe see if she's willing to start a dialogue. Primarily I guess to have her understand how overwhelmed he is. But I doubt she would respond, and it flew directly in the face of my plan. Maybe he'll articulate all that to them himself. But I didn't really trust him to. He needs their help and support. I guess his actions are a gleaming beacon of that. But I'm actually worried they'll just fixate on me and my actions being the instigator of his suicidality. I'm not going to shy away from the evil I did, but to ignore the rest of his issues may mean at some point he'll try again. And maybe that time no-one will be there to save him. I suppose in the wash-up, as I lie on my bed restless, I'm also disappointed that in discovering the path back to being Anthony was forever lost, that this so called promised contentment Beth and Caitlin seemed certain awaited me was debunked. I wasn't at peace as a result of this newfound permanency. I was just more disheartened than ever. Maybe that is to come, if I ever get the wheels back on my cart. What I decided on the trip home though is that I must never again have contact with anyone who knows my secret. Not if I really want to move forward. I can't have anyone in my life anymore who knew I used to be Anthony. A lot of that has been achieved already. Clare will only interact with me insolong as it takes her to move out of my flat, and then I expect I'll never hear from her again. Lucinda's already gone. Maybe once Cait and Beth hear what I did that will be self solving too. How long before they hear what I did I wonder? Not long. But then perhaps I should be proactive about that. At least I know it will be the truth that they hear then, if it comes from me. "Kim," Cait says as she answers her mobile. "What's up? Are you okay?" At least that affirms she hasn't heard, in that she's not screaming at me. "I'm sorry to ring so late," I say and my voice starts to quiver. "That's fine," she says reflexly. "Where are you?" "I'm back home in Melbourne," I say, containing myself from blubbering. "I thought you were going to Wullendonga." "I did." I breathe deeply. "Cait, something really bad happened." "What?" She seems more alert. I tell her. As honestly as I can. I start by filling her in on the parts of my recent life that I'd previously omitted. Particularly the visions. I then tell her about the trip to the Apothecary. My exchange with Rupert and his interpretation of said visions. Finally I tell her about Wullendonga. All about deceiving and seducing Anthony, and what he did, what I made him do. "I'm so sorry Cait. I should have listened. I never meant to hurt him. But he's in more peril than you realise. Everyone's just going to blame me for driving him to suicide, but I've seen inside his mind. It's so much more complex than that. And if everyone's going to be looking at me, nailing me to the cross, I'm worried what might happen when no-one's looking at him. And who's going to listen to me?" "Well I am Kim." "Will you help him?" I plead. "Of course. I'm his friend remember. We were Biochem prac partners after all, before the coma." "Oh." I don't know what to say to that. "As far as the world knows, and specifically, as far as he knows," she adds, pointedly. "I'm worried about him," I re-emphasise. "Well you've certainly changed your tune." "I guess meeting him was the right idea. I just wish I hadn't molested him." "I suppose these visions mean you're interconnected somehow still." "Yeah. I'm not sure that's a good thing. I mean I thought the whole idea now was for me to make a clean break from my former self. Not find myself channelling him at random times." "I'm sure it won't be random." "Okay. So only when he tries to off himself then." "If you hadn't had that vision, he'd be dead." "I feel like I should be saying to myself. Okay. You caused him to be so destructive, but then you saved him, so that balances out. But that's not how I feel. I feel awful. I feel evil. I feel like I truly deserve all the bad things that have happened to me." "What you don't realise Kim was the mistake wasn't yours. It was ours. Your friends. We just assumed you'd be happy to take our word for it, that Anthony was Anthony, and accept your lot, so to speak. When you didn't we all assumed the worst. That you were going to try and get your life back no matter what. We underestimated you. We should have trusted you. We should have helped you. What you did was heavy handed because you went in there unsupported. And it was all so unnecessary. You were always going to do the right thing, when the time came. We just lost sight of that." It feels like the most supportive thing anyone had ever said to me in days. "Honestly Caitlin. I think a lot of the reason I tried so hard is because of Lucinda. I was determined to be Anthony again so I would mean something to her again. Anything. She hates me like this. But she hates me more when I try and remind her I used to be Anthony. You should see her. It's like I'm denigrating his memory if I dare mention our shared past. And that guy I was photographed with. He's a friend of hers. She warned me off him pretty ferociously when all I was doing was spending time with someone who didn't hate me. Which he probably does now. Lucinda would have seen to that." "You know I don't understand her actions any better than you do Kim." Caitlin sighs. "I guess. Anyway. I'm all done with that. I'm done with her. Which brings me to my next point. I think I should go away. I mean away away. Change my name, start afresh. Not have anything to do with anyone who knew me as Anthony. And maybe even anyone who knew me as Kimberley." "Not if that includes me you're not." "I'm unhappy Caitlin. Not that it was a promise but your argument was that as soon as I gave up on being Anthony and accept being Kimberley, everything would be better. But it's not." "You were expecting instantaneous?" "No. But you know what I mean. I was expecting some direction. Like some hope or something. I don't have any." "Because your job is only half done." "What?" "A few hours ago yes, you finally gave up on your quest to take a major backward step with your life. But the other thing you have to do, you haven't even started." "I don't understand?" "You need to start seeing what I see. What everyone else sees. I've known you as Kimberley a hell of a lot longer than I knew you as Anthony. And I like you so much better than I ever did him." "That's because you're a lesbian Cait." "Don't be smart. What I mean is you have grown; and evolved; and achieved. Although I concede you are pretty hot. But so not my type. Or more precisely, I'm not yours." "That's another thing I have a major issue with Cait. That has annoyed me greatly for the past 13 years. Why aren't I a lesbian? It would have made my life so less complicated." "That is such a straight woman thing to say Kim. And so untrue." "I know. I was being facetious. But when I was Anthony I was into girls. And as it's clearly established now Cait, I didn't actually become original Kimberley when I transformed. Once I sorted out my shit I mean. I was still me in every other essence. Except that." "How many times do we have to go over this Kim. You're straight because you were born that way. When you were Anthony you were straight. When you became Kimberley you were still straight. You just cannot escape your heterosexuality." I sigh. I suppose that argument made sense. I just didn't really want it to. "It just would be so much easier to find a decent life partner Cait, if I was like you. I see the douchebags that crack on to Ally, and I suppose me sometimes. I mean she still sleeps with them. Which personally I think sends the wrong message. Because it's rewarding them for being the dickheads that they are. But they are never worth conversation the next morning. And then I have to come get her. But that's a by the by. I have to face that now. I have to sort through scores of shit ones to find a decent one. Because I just can't feel this lonely anymore." "Okay," is all Caitlin can say in response to that. "I mean it was easy to stay celibate for years for two reasons. The psychological damage that being raped did to me. And my unfaltering belief I would get my penis back. So I guess if anything is truly different about today, how I am now, then it's the realization I can't hide behind what happened to me 13 years ago anymore." It's true. The emotional scars have faded enough that finding a human being to connect with, is now worth the risk. "I think I'm a woman out of control Cait," I continue. "In a mere 6 days I've come on to my sister's fianc?. Kissed a random footballer; the exact type of man I claim to hate. And ultimately been turned on by fondling my former body's genitals. These are not the actions of a sane woman." "I think they're pretty much the actions of someone who's still a virgin at 31." "Oh God. I think I'm just about to make bad choices aren't I? Can you both go on the pill and get an Implanon Cait? Because according to my vision, which I feel like I'm bound to given how precise my one of Anthony was, I'm getting knocked up no matter what I do." "I don't remember anything about clinical Medicine anymore Kim. But it doesn't sound wise." "I could ask one of the gynaecologists at work. If I still had a job." I'm not even sure if I'm serious now. "Or even better," I add. "I think we should try conversion therapy! If it allegedly turns gay people straight, then could it do the reverse?" I jest. Just to prove I know the difference. "No wonder you're being deregistered, you quack!" Caitlin sniggers. "I shouldn't be laughing at that Cait. It's my career we're talking about." "Speaking of your job. What can you do about it?" "Nothing. It's all official on Thursday. 'Dr Kimberley Jacobs' no more. Hence the plan to disappear." "But can't you fight it?" "I'm invited to 'show cause' why I shouldn't be deregistered. I don't know what that means. I'm not going to go. If I did I'm just as likely to tell them what I think of them. I sorta did that when they first rang me. Tell them all to go F themselves and confirm that I am exactly what they think me to be." "You have to go Kim. You have to fight. This is the first step to moving forward as you. We both know how much it means to you. Being a paediatrician was your whole life. You can't just let it be taken from you. Not without them ripping it from your metaphorical cold dead hands." "I suppose. I'm just worried about making things worse though." "And how can it actually be worse?" "Good point. Well I could flash them." "But you won't. So go to your hearing alright." "Okay." "If I could I'd fly down and come with but I can't take any more time off work after last week." "I know. But will you be able to do something about Anthony?" "I'll talk to Clare tomorrow. I doubt I'll have any trouble convincing her about your vision, given how you appeared in the nick of time." "Did you mean the pun?" "What pun?" "Never mind. I was thinking how he kind of nicked the artery." I think it's probably bad taste as I say it. But I feel like black humour is okay if you survive it, which he did. "Oh Kim." It's an audible eye roll. "Anyway, I will talk to Clare and we'll make sure Anthony gets the help he needs." "Thanks Cait. I'm sorry for keeping you up." "Don't be. Just go to your hearing. Call me before if you need encouragement. But definitely call me after." "Okay. It's just really scary to think that I have no way to earn a living once I'm deregistered." "It must be. It's such a shame you don't already have a biomedical science degree and a friend who's high up at CSL and would give you a reasonably paying medical research job straight away if you needed it." "Really?" "Of course. We both know it was Anthony's dream. And we both know it's not yours. But it's the silver lining in the event of a bad outcome. You come back to Sydney and I get you back. And you don't have to run away and change your identity... again." "That really helps Cait. In terms of hope. Anything that extricates me further from my doomsday prophecy makes me feel more like I can escape it." "Do you seriously think I would ever let anything like that happen to you?" She doesn't wait for or expect an answer. "You're not going to end up a homeless whore. Now go to sleep Kim." "I'll try." And I do try. My efforts aren't completely fruitless either. Perhaps it because I'm beginning to think maybe my luck is turning. But then, tomorrow is Tuesday. Not that it's significant. It's just that with each new day there is the strong potential that new disaster awaits. Chapter 22 I'm awoken the next morning by the sound of an incoming text. I had slept. Attributable more to exhaustion than contentment I'm sure but nonetheless. It's Alice. "Where are you?" I probably should turn my location services back on. No more stealth required. Although I'm not sure she knows she can use it to find me just like I do her. She may have assumed egocentrically, it was a one way find Alice app. Designed solely for her rescue. But then up until recently she wouldn't have needed to worry where I might be. I was supposed to be the sensible one. On the couch reading a journal. Or a novel. Or running around Princes' Park. But only in daylight. I don't feel so sensible now. "I'm home Alice," is my reply. "Yay" she texts back. "I'll come see you tonight." "K" "How was it?" The texting continues in spite of my attempted termination. I type after thought. "Find out tonight." I remain determined to not to do this any way other than face to face. "Saw the notice about your hearing in yesterday's paper. Sure to draw a crowd," my phone reads. I couldn't decide if it was arrogance of the medical board or just their determination to be rid of me. This hearing was arranged with very little notice and was proceeding completely independently of whether I was able to be there or not. I think for them it was preferable I wasn't. Rubber stamping at its best. Caitlin was right. For that reason alone I should go. "I guess," I reply. "Here's the latest on you. By the way," she texts back. "In this morning's paper." Attached was another Herald sun link. It's always the Herald sun. It was definitely the trashier of the two newspapers. I'd probably never even rated a mention in Melbourne's other paper. The left leaning one. "It's my favourite so far," Alice adds provocatively. Followed by "#thanksdrkim" That annoyed me a bit. We'd said we were never going to be hashtag people. We didn't use social media much and I had been so thankful for my relative stringent Facebook privacy settings. And even if accessed there were no embarrassing drunken shots on there. I figure she's just winding me up. My finger hovers over the link. Do I really want to do this to myself? Do I really want to know? But then forewarned is forearmed. What is there left anyway? Had the media found out about yesterday? What had happened in Wullendonga? I was not without trail. Hire car. Plane ticket. I suppose it would be a coup if they knew what I'd made Anthony do. It was time to find out. It opens. My heart races already. An article by the newspaper's most staunch feminist writer. Susie Hall. She was mostly about the man hating. She had personalized one of her female empowerment books with a handwritten quote. "Have you killed any men today? If not why not?" It was laughed off. Of course if a man had written the opposite I couldn't imagine the vilification and peril he would have faced. He might have even be charged. In any case, I was under no illusions what this woman was like. How brutal she could be. If I thought Tracey Singer had roughed me up, I best be bracing myself and puckering the date. The title set the tone: "Lets all slut shame this dirty Doctor!" Oh God. Hardly inventive. Or creative. No surprise that the hard-line feminists wanted my blood. I haven't really upheld their cause. I draw an extremely large breath before I begin to read. Well hasn't Ms Kimberley Jacobs certainly had her 15 minutes of fame. An unheard of nobody two weeks ago, we have since had to endure a near daily saturation of her exploits. Thanks to meticulous journalistic endeavours we have learnt this former cheerleader slept with a peck of footballers in her youth. How dare she think she'd be entitled or that she be entrusted to look after the most fragile vulnerable members of society. Letting a slut like that near our children is a travesty of the highest order. I pause for a moment to recompose. This is quite savage. Maybe even more than I anticipated. I was sure there were many more horrors to learn about this abominable woman. So I did my own due diligence. A graduate of prestigious Melbourne university medical school the only way someone who looks like her would have succeeded is clearly by sleeping her way through her degree. Many of her lecturers must have been suitably served to give her a pass mark. Is this libellous? Can she truly say these things? It wasn't hard to track down her alumni. Her graduating classmates. And let me say it was quite easy to get them to dish the dirt on her. They certainly weren't backward about stating their opinions. Common themes quickly emerged. This is what I learnt about her.... My classmates? Really? I thought I'd got along okay with everybody. If I have enemies I don't know about I'm just stupider than I thought. Studious. Quiet. Kind. Helpful. These are how her classmates described her. Words such as intelligent and friendly were also used. Which we all know is clearly synonymous with slut. And as to her outrageous claims made on 'The Footy Show' she was too busy with her career for dating. For a start wasn't she just being an insult to us all in this patriarchal society? What woman in her right mind would put her career ahead of securing a man? Then quickly reassuring us all it was completely just fallacy by being seen lunching with one. At least we can feel the status quo is restored. Of course my search for the plethora of ex boyfriends and one night stands she's clearly truly had and is now deceiving us about proved fruitless. Maybe she's like a black widow spider and kills them all after mating. I mean we certainly have the testimony of a coma victim with no memory to support that. I'm confused now. What exactly is this? So even though I was unable to find one jilted ex to refute her claims she was too dedicated to date. I still refuse to believe it. She is after all pretty. And pretty girls just live to date. Surely that's the real reason she studied medicine. To find a rich husband. To be a surgeon's wife. Undeterred I thought her former work colleagues, from the job she was recently dismissed from, without any requirement to justify why they fired her, would give me the lowdown on what this charlatan is truly like. A competent and caring doctor they would all gladly trust with their lives. And more specifically the lives of their children. Clearly they are biased. Their reality skewed by her siren-esque trickery. Next stop then was her patients. Here's where the truth lies. They won't be so easily fooled. The families of the babies she supposedly treated. Luckily for me they had already mobilized themselves. Such was there desire to show the world who this woman truly was that a series of confronting photos are easily found on the insta hashtag. #thanksdrkim. Scores and scores of Photos of babies filled with lines and tubes at their weakest. Accompanied by now photos of the same happy little tots now recovered and grown. Thank God she's about to be deregistered. So that she will never be allowed to save babies' lives again. This, my dear readers, is the society we live in. Where a young Doctor whose life saving work is disregarded because she is a woman. Who is pretty. And may have a past. I don't know this woman. And I may never. But she has become the face, the epitome of the struggle that women still face in society today. And it's not just from men. We are our own worst enemy when we join the bandwagon of hate when it appears her sole crime is being female. If God forbid I ever had a sick or premature child, it would reassure me to know that someone like Dr Kimberley Jacobs is out there. But come Thursday, if the medical board have their way, she no longer will be. And we'll only have ourselves to blame. Wow. It's all I can think after a significant time gap of stunned silence. The feminists have come out swinging. And I'm their poster child. I suppose, maybe yesterday I would have been uncomfortable with that notion, and I'm sure Lucinda would still try to make me feel that way, if she was any part of my life. But not today. Not from now on. I'm one of them in every sense of the word. And Susie Hall is right in everything she says. I open instagram and search the hashtag. It's exactly how Susie described it. And now I understand why Ally wrote it. It's a photo collage of most, if not all, of the babies I've saved with brief words of praise and messages of thanks. To see how some of them have grown fills me with an indescribable joy. And for the first time in so long I've forgotten, I cry happy tears. Alice had predicted this. Pessimist that I was I hadn't believed her. But there was no denying it now. The tide was turning. And it was building into quite a wave. Maybe not a tsunami of support, but at the very least a 'Bell's Beach' sized swell. I just to hang on and ride it like my future depended on it. Which it really kinda did. Chapter 23 I feel relief. It's a great weight off my shoulders. It makes me feel a lot more confident about facing the world. It probably doesn't change a lot. But to have the support of the families I've cared for makes all the difference. I don't want to run anymore, and I do want to fight. I take my suit to the dry cleaners in preparation for Thursday. I figure it will help to look professional. I'll behave. I'll be contrite. All I can do is hope. It's not just that though. Not just the hearing. There's something else I have to fight for. I need to know if I still have a family. I wait till early afternoon to text. "How is he?" I text to Clare. I don't know if she'll reply but it's the only opening line I can use. "He's Okay," is the quick reply. I exhale with relief. It's dialogue. Another text soon follows. "Hb is over 100, and just some thenar numbness. Full function." She assumes that's what the Doctor in me wants to know. "That's great. But not what I meant." "Shaken up. Confused. Glad he didn't die I think." "Did you talk to Caitlin?" "So you're psychic now?" "Hardly. I think we just still have some sort of connection. But there's so much going on in that head Clare." "I got that. We're onto it." "I'm glad." I compose my thoughts for a moment then send another text. "I'm so sorry Clare. I promise I'll leave him alone. I'll never go anywhere near him ever again." "Okay." I could probably leave it there. And I do for a while. Caitlin has told Clare what she needs to know so Anthony gets the help he needs. But after a time I text again. I'm anxious and I just have to know. "Are we still sisters?" As I watch the little dots it seems to take a ridiculously long time to formulate a reply, and my nerves increase by the moment. "There isn't a human being alive that can piss me off as much as you do. It'll always be yes." More happy tears. "How's mum?" I hope I'm not pushing my luck. "The lies I've had to tell for you!!" "Does she know I'm not Melanie?" "She knows you're Kimberley. She also knows you saved his life." "You didn't need to tell her that." I meant the second part. "I did." "Did she believe it?" "The fact you looked like 'Carrie at the prom' quashed any doubt." "Does she still hate me?" "Maybe not as much." That's all I want to know about that. "How much longer will you stay?" "A few more days." "Not back by Thursday?" "Probably not. Why?" "No reason." "Better go." She's over the texts it seems. "See you soon Clarebear. I'm so sorry. I love you." "You too. Even though you're an idiot." That's my sister alright. I decide I need a run. It's been a few days. I ran on Friday, in Sydney, around some random parks, whilst going over what "push in the back" was, and "holding the man", and all the other stupid rules of football. It only occurs to me now that I did exactly what Linda, my NETS nurse friend said I should. I showed interest in their silly little boy games. What would Susie Hall say about that? But it didn't feel like selling out. If I liked this guy, which I had, showing a bit of interest in the things important to him, in this case his livelihood, was just being a normal human being. Not some star struck fan-girl by any stretch. It was all a bit pointless now. But then if Linda was right, and it probably was true for Victorian men, that it was their religion, then maybe my crash course will prove to be useful currency when I start dating them. Which it seems I'm finally ready to do. Perhaps, as I set off on my well worn running route, I can think of strategy about how I'm going to approach that, whilst I exercise, because I truly think I have no idea where to start. Chapter 24 By The time Alice arrives after her shift, I'd completed my run, showered and was lounging around in my fairly standard home uniform of trackies. She gives me a gleeful hug when I answered the door. I return in kind. It was hard to believe that the last time I saw her was when I stormed off the set of "The Footy show", still only 12 days ago now. "Oh my God; your hair!" "I warned you." "I love it. Although it's not strictly brunette." "Dark brown is close enough." "I guess." We plonk on the couch. She had brought sparkling wine which she dutifully opens. In celebration of Susie Hall's article apparently. She wants to know all about Sydney, by which she primarily means Damon. She wants to hear about the happy stuff, or what she thinks is the happy stuff. But I want to talk about the other stuff. "Ally; aren't you at all curious about the things you learnt on 'The Footy Show', and then on 'A Current Affair.' The revelations and accusations that got me fired?" "What do you mean?" "Don't you want to ask about it?" "Not really. I mean there were 3 main themes weren't there? And only one of them was true. And I gotta admit, seeing you as a cheerleader blew me away a bit. Because you've always been so prim and proper since I've known you. But you were really good. And super hot. Like I said to you on the phone. Sexy A.F. It was just a side of you I'd never seen before. I really like that you have secrets Kimberley Jacobs. I knew you were my best friend for a reason. You're more like me than you'd ever care to admit." I fidget on the spot embarrassed but Alice continues before I speak. "As for the rest. Being a drug cheat and a murderess. Well I've never heard anything so ridiculous." "But did you want to hear the real story." "I don't need to Kim. But if you want to talk about it then of course. I don't care who or what you used to be Kim. So you don't have to make excuses for yourself at all. I know who you really are." I wondered if she'd really feel that way, if she actually knew who I used to be. She probably wouldn't care. Still. There was absolutely nothing to be gained by telling her. Because she was right again. She did know who I really was. I guess the difference now was so did I. I finally knew who I was too. "I think I need to tell you Ally. A bit about what happened. I think I need your advice. Or maybe your absolution." "Why?" "Something kinda bad happened on my trip. And I'm still just struggling to reconcile myself with it." "Oh God. Nothing happened to you did it?" She's concerned. "No," I reassure. "One sexual assault is enough for a life time," I had told her, one drunken night, what had happened to me as a teen, when I had rejected another guys advances and Alice had laid into me about why. "Although I'm not so sure I wasn't in fact a perpetrator of the same offence yesterday," I say what I'm thinking. "What?" That certainly sparked her up. "I need to start at the beginning," I explain. Then pause. I decide to take a moment to work out what parts are relevant. What she needs to know. I need to set the theme for the story of my life right here. Because this has to be the definitive version. I have to take ownership of the part of my life that I didn't actually live. I can't say things like "old Kimberley," or "Original Kimberley," anymore. It all just has to be me. "I was a little bit of a miss when I was young Alice. Only child of rich distant parents. My mum was awful. She cheated on dad. But she was a terrible role model and just not a nice person. So I became the classic mean girl. Think of every bad teen movie villain. That was me. Cheer captain. General haughty bitch. I was smart, but I hid that. I never set my ambitions higher than marrying the football captain. But who I really was underneath, was who I am now. So underneath the fa?ade, the people I really cared about were two childhood friends, Anthony and Lucinda. But I couldn't dare let anyone know about the relationship I had with them." "Anthony. As in the coma guy?" Alice seeks clarification. "Yes." "He seems a bit simple." True Alice style. "He's recovering from a 13 year coma. I suspect it will be a while before he comes back into his own. But back then he was a nice, intelligent guy." I think that's fair. To describe my former self like that. It does seem a bit awkward though. "Anyway. Anthony and I had a bit of a secret relationship. It kind of put strain on my relationship with Lucinda though. Even though she was dating the football captain. Who as you well know, turned out to be not so nice a person." "So I was with Anthony when he collapsed. That's true. We weren't doing it or anything," I clarify. Though not sure why. I think to rule out a subarachnoid haemorrhage in Alice's mind. A fatal cause of collapse during sex. "Like I said on the tellie though Ally I didn't know what happened coz I was just a kid. I still don't really. But because our relationship was secret and no-one knew we knew each other I got accused of terrible things. Even Lucinda blamed me and our relationship degenerated into revenge and counter revenge. That's why I made the sex tape with Brian, Lucinda's boyfriend. Which provoked him to rape me. And also why that state championships race was so heated." It was making sense to me as I told it, so I assumed it would to Alice. "She was a dear friend to me Alice. And our fallout kind of broke my heart. Along with the psychological damage from the assault. So I hung around Wullendonga for a few months. But Anthony never awoke and Lucinda hated me. And the whole town still thought I caused his coma. So in the end I just ran away to Melbourne. Never to go back. But I was able to leave that false person behind. And be the person I was. Albeit a much more reserved, frightened one. Because of the rape. That's the one you met at medical school. Who for two years never said much more than Hi to you, because she was too shy, but gave you her study notes whenever you asked. And I guess you know the rest." And there it is. My back story. More truths than lies I suppose, but an unhealthy mix of both. "So seeing Anthony awake after 13 years was a shock. I mean I'm not still in love with him." Well I was still in love with the other character in my story, but at least I'm recently cured of that. "But to hear him spouting the same lies about me hurting him as everyone else did. I mean he truthfully had been poisoned. By the people around him. Against me. So I rushed up to Sydney. Primarily to challenge Lucinda. Because I felt she was behind the lies. Anthony couldn't remember anything but she knew about our relationship. I needed her to tell the truth. I thought it was pure coincidence I ran into Damon Wall. And we did have a lovely lunch and flirted a bit and he invited me to the football. But it turns out he and Lucinda were friends. And as soon as she got wind we were becoming involved she warded Damon off. By propagating the same old lies. So he probably thinks I'm the Black widow killer or something." Just like the throwaway line from Susie Hall's article, I think. I take a break, but Alice says nothing. "I'm not even up to the worst bit," I explain. "I'm listening," Alice finally replies. "So when Lucinda was giving me nothing but obstruction I decided to go to the source. I went to Wullendonga yesterday to see Anthony." I think about how to construct my words. "He didn't remember me at all. I'm not sure if it was an ego thing, coz like I said I don't feel anything for him anymore. I think because I grieved his death really." I'm not quite at that place in reality I think. But I'm on my way there. "But I wanted him to remember. To know that I was innocent. So I kissed him. Hoping to jog his memory. When that didn't work I... I tried a little bit of manual stimulation." "You vixen," Alice jokes. "This is when it gets awful. Midway through we get interrupted and he just gets up and walks out the room. He went straight up to his bedroom and slashed his wrist." "Oh My God!" "By the time I went to find him. To apologise I guess. For... well the word I've been using is molesting him. He'd already lost a couple of litres of blood and I had to move fast to save him. He nearly died Ally. It was so touch and go. He's fine now but to think a matter of seconds more and he may have lost output and just be gone." "But it didn't happen." "I know. I really don't think I could have lived with myself if it did." "Stop speculating on maybe's Kim." "I feel awful. Really awful." "You're bound to beat yourself up about it Kim. Because you're you. But just remember it was never your intent to hurt him. You were just sticking up for yourself." "I suppose." I stare at the ground reflectively. "There's one more thing Al." "What now?" She says. But it's with a sense of wicked anticipation. "Clare's not my cousin." "Okay. That's a surprise. Is there a but?" "She's Anthony's little sister." "There it is!" She exclaims. "I did notice that they had the same surname after the show but I figured your home town was like Tasmania. A lot of distant rellies." "Clare knew about my relationship with Anthony. And after he was gone I kind of took over with the big sibling thing. That's why she's like a sister to me." Sounds plausible surely. "I can see that." "Well it was her that caught us. Interrupted us. So she knows I precipitated his suicide attempt." "Is she mad?" "She was. Unlike I've ever seen. But we texted today and I think she's kind of forgiving me. She was there when I saved him, so I kind of redeemed myself." "Well you have had an eventful time," Alice jokes. "I know. I kind of have to live with the 'Kimberley poisoned Anthony' story now. And brace myself for the possibility it may also become the 'then she made him attempt suicide' story as well." "No more unsupervised trips to Sydney for you." "I know." "I think it will be alright Kim. I mean I can imagine that you did a really pathetic job at working on a guy's dick but I don't think that was the sole reason he tried to kill himself." "It wasn't. He's got a lot of issues. Clare's taken family leave to help him." I ignore her critique, even if it is funny. We are both silent. There's probably not much more to say on that. "So how are you preparing for Thursday?" "I'm getting my suit dry cleaned." It's suddenly getting a lot of wear lately I think. "That's not what I meant. In terms of a defence. Have you written anything down." "No. Couldn't I just use Susie Hall's article? She's so more eloquent than me. I thought I'd lead with, 'You just all hate me because I'm pretty.'" "There's the mean girl you promised me!" "I'll think of something Alice. When the time comes. Can you be there?" "No. I feel like Dr Michaels is making sure I can't. I imagine he's been in my Director's ear. No Consultant around on Thursday so the buck stops with me. I've got to run the NICU round and oversee everyone." "Never mind. It's probably better I face this on my own. Clare won't be back. Caitlin can't get out of work in Sydney." "I feel like you need a support person though. Is there anybody else? What about your footballer? The Giants are playing at the 'G Friday night. Maybe he could come down a day earlier?" "I didn't know that," I remark. "But I'm pretty sure he's not my footballer anymore. Not that he ever really was." "Because of this Lucinda woman. She sounds awful." "She has been. For the last 13 years I suppose to be precise. But we were friends once. She used to mean to me what you do now." "Well aren't you lucky you have me." "That goes without saying. Can you stay tonight?" "I can. But I didn't bring any stuff. For tomorrow. For work." "Borrow mine. I've got work scrubs from last time I was in NICU. I may well never need them again." "Oh for goodness sake pessimist girl. Of course you will. Anyway I'll have to roll the legs up, but fine." "I've got new toothbrushes. Too." "For when all your men sleep over?" She jokes. "I just like to have spares." "Because of your OCD." "I don't have OCD." "You do. Just a bit." I ponder. "Am I too crazy to ever get a date?" "Since when have you ever wanted to "date"? And for the record no-one calls it dating anymore Ms last century. It's called hooking up." "Okay. Whatever. But will all my neuroses scare men off?" "Geez. Kim. Haven't you ever heard of the hot-crazy ratio. The hotter you are the more acceptable men are if you're barmy. So you've got a fair bit of leeway. But are you serious?" "All that's happened has caused me to re-evaluate my priorities Alice. Clare's engaged and will want a place of her own with Mark. Everything I've worked for could be taken away on a whim. My last pseudo boyfriend returning from the dead, even without any memory of me. It's made me realise I can't just live for my work. Not that I have a job or a career any more. And I don't particularly want to be alone all the time." Of course I omitted the most important part. That I had accepted the finality of my life. "So? When guys crack onto you when we're out you might be receptive to that?" "I guess. But the thought of going home with them like you do terrifies me. What if they hurt me?" "They're not going to hurt you." "How do you know?" "Because most people are decent human beings who just want to have fun." "Yes but not as many as you think. 4% of the population are sociopaths Ally. That's 1 in 25. That's a lot of bad people." "Why on Earth do you know so much about sociopaths Kim?" "I had cause to look it up on the plane home. I wanted to make sure I wasn't one!" "You're so silly. But even then Kim. I think sociopaths are only really a problem if you're in a relationship with them. And you and I would spot them long before that was an issue. I've probably slept with my share of sociopaths. But they only want what I want. I've never felt in danger. It's probably the psychopaths you're worried about. But they are so much rarer." "That's still not helping. But I can't be fearless like you Ally. I can't go home with a stranger and not worry about being assaulted again." "So don't. There are plenty of other ways to meet guys and sound them out a bit first." "I suppose. It just seems a bit bleak. And I still don't know if I'll make bad choices." "Bad choices are about being human Kim. I'm the queen of bad choices. And no offense, but I'm a much healthier well rounded human being than you are." "I suppose." "You're like that kitten on the edge of the glass table. Putting out a tentative paw. You can feel the hard surface but you still don't believe in it because of what your eyes see beneath it, beyond it." "Your analogies just confuse me Alice." "It's about taking a leap of faith. Step out on it. The glass won't break." "I'll try." I sound uncertain. "Well I suppose that's progress. Perhaps you need to find a sugar daddy given you're unemployed. What did Susie Hall say? You should marry a surgeon or something." "Now you're just making me nauseated," I scowl at her. We change topics then. We move onto her, which I'm much more comfortable with. I find out far more about my NETS colleague Dave Runyon than I'd ever want to know, and other general topics that Ally can natter about to make me laugh. I know it's the disappearing champagne that's contributing to me feeling this way. But right now, in Melbourne flat, laughing and chatting with my best friend, I feel safe, and happy, and a little bit hopeful that my future is not as doomed as I perceive it to be. Chapter 25. I get up early the next morning and make Ally a fancy breakfast with all her favourite things. Which involved smashed avocado and spinach leaves and so forth. I'd restocked our rather sparse fridge when I'd put in my dry cleaning. It was a good prompt to remind me to pick it up. As I see her off to work she tells me what a good wife I'd make and I feel suitably patronised. It's only one day to my hearing now. I don't have any plans. I suppose I can't really make any. It all depends on tomorrow. But what does my life look like beyond being deregistered? What do I do? Do I head to Centrelink? I think I just have to do what Caitlin says. Head back up to Sydney and take her job. Maybe I can do some on-line courses or something. Find a new career. I couldn't totally discount reigniting my passion for research. Well Anthony's passion I suppose if we were to be pedantic about it. But am I really so different now? I don't know whether I should be downplaying and de-emphasising any supposed disparity or heightening it. It's probably immaterial, especially now, but I had always tried a little to tether myself to aspects of the former me. 'That's such an Anthony thing to do' I might have said to myself from time to time. Often it wasn't specifically true, but it served my psyche well to say it. I just couldn't and probably shouldn't say that anymore. I would take the research job because I had a background in biomedical science and I would probably be good at it. But I wouldn't be taking the job because it was something Anthony had always aspired towards. I was not Anthony. And his hopes and dreams had nothing to do with me. I probably could use the same rationale with Lucinda. She had always been at pains to point out I wasn't Anthony. She had never been interested in any sort of relationship with me as I was now. I should just accept that. The reason I found that so hard was the way I once felt about her. And how some part of me still did I guess. The physiological changes I noticed when I first saw her in her office a week ago I could not completely ignore. As the only human being I'd been in love with in my 31 years she would always be unique. Anyway that was over now. I didn't need anything from her now, and she had the version of Anthony back she wanted. I just needed to work on making her less unique. I needed to find out if I was capable of falling in love again. And in the meantime I just had to compartmentalise her out of my life. If I was the woman I claimed to be, that should prove to be an easy task. Starting right now I had to ensure I never thought of her again. I was still one for bold declarations I guess. You'd think I'd learn that as soon as I make them, the universe takes pleasure in some way turning me into a contradiction. For I would be thinking of Lucinda again, far sooner than I'd like. Alice stayed a second night. For support. But she went home for essentials this time after work