To Grieve, Learn and Let Go (Pedro Pascal/Joel Miller Inspired Story)

The Visitor from The Past

All I have left to rely on is my monthly disability pay of $500. At least the amount I receive will increase once I transfer my disability case in California.

I'm angry right now. I feel like the world is working against me. I'm being punished for no reason. I have severe life-threatening asthma, my grandparents passed away, and I get let go from my job that I've been working my butt off at for years.

I hear my name being called at the pickup and I get up. The pharmacist tells me everything I need to know about my medications, including the EpiPen. After the brief explanation, I'm billed $700 for the three EpiPens.

"Um-I'm sorry but why am I being charged $700 for the EpiPens? My insurance is supposed to cover that."

"Unfortunately, your insurance doesn't cover it."

"W-what? No, this isn't right. My insurance is supposed to cover all of my medical needs."

"Your insurance has had a change in policy in regard to what medications they can cover so unfortunately, the EpiPens will not cover it. You'll have to pay out of pocket."

I'm too stunned to do anything else and pay for the EpiPens. My luck seems to be wearing out. I hope a miracle comes before I move or else.

As I leave the pharmacy, feeling very upset I get a text from Nicky. I unlock my phone and click on the text and read it.

Hey Mari! I hope your appointment went well! I just started my shift and won't be able to pick you up. I don't want you to take the train back so I sent you a $100 gift card to use so you can take a Lyft home and save money. Let me know when you're on the way back to the hotel! Love ya!

Although I'm still feeling very upset and having second thoughts about life, I'm grateful for Nicky for thinking of me. It's as if she knew I was going through hell and I needed something to cheer me up.

I text her back letting her know I'm on my way back and getting a Lyft. I requested a Lyft to pick me up at the hospital's parking lot. In about ten minutes, the driver arrives, and I get in and head to the hotel. Traffic is getting congested now that it's rush hour. Cars are honking and drivers are taking deadly routes just to get out of traffic. Being raised in a city like this is something I'll never get over. I hear that LA traffic is just as bad and the drivers are just as impatient, which is why I've always been afraid to even take driving lessons. I just hope the public transportation in LA is just as reliable as New York.

I'm dropped off at the main street. The sidewalks are filled with tourists and commuters and I'm trying my best to not let my poor mental state trigger an asthma attack. I walk in the hotel and say hello to the receptionist and head to the elevators where five people are waiting. I'm yet again seeing a happy father and daughter interaction. I'm again reminded that I have missed out on having both parents in my life. The more I look at them the more depressed I feel. I use my phone as a distraction.

The elevator on the left opens and people come out. Once it's emptied the five individuals go in. Because of my anxiety and dislike being in a small space cramped with other people, I decide to wait for the one on the right.

The elevator is empty thankfully and I step in and press the button to my floor, and it closes. It's a smooth ride getting to my floor, and I step out once it lands on my floor. I get to the door, tap my card and let myself in. As soon as the door closes, I take off my shoes and lay on my bed, and sigh. As much as I miss my old bed, this bed feels quite comfy. Staying in a hotel room feels odd when you don't have a permanent home to live in. I'm technically homeless until I'm moved into my dorm. I'm also jobless and that doesn't take away the lingering anger I have towards the manager that let me go. I wonder what else is in store for me. More disappointment? More bad news about my health? Another family loss? All of these worries and stresses have earned me a well-deserved nap.

I wake up from my forty-five-minute nap and I wake up feeling lightheaded. My mouth is dry, and my stomach is growling. It's three in the afternoon which means rush hour is about to die out. The New York summer's heat is seeping through the window, and I turn on the AC. I go into the bathroom to take a quick shower and brush my teeth. I get dressed in my sweatpants and sweater, and take my medication, with water, as instructed by my doctor. Since I have nothing else to do, I'm in the mood to binge watch some TV. Since I've never used room service before, I decided to be brave and order room service.

Before I can even attempt to do so, the hotel phone rings, startling me. I hesitantly answer.

"Hello, is this Mariana Smith?"

"Y-yes, this is her."

"I'm sorry to disturb you but you have a visitor in the lobby."

"A visitor?"

"Yes, Miss Smith."

"Okay, I'll be there in a moment." I hang up the phone and I scratch my head. I don't know anyone who could be visiting. Suddenly, I remembered something. Yesterday morning, the neighbor next door had something for me and wanted to give it to me before I left this morning. I completely forgot. I should hurry.

I slip on my shoes, grab my phone and hotel key and leave. I hurry to the elevator and press the button several times. A minute later it arrives, and I hop in and press the button to the lobby, and it closes. I tap my foot with each ding until it finally reaches the lobby and I quickly step out and make a left. I see someone standing in front of the receptionist desk. I don't recognize the person even just looking at the back of their head. It is a man about five feet, eleven inches tall, wearing a worn out looking long sleeved white and blue flannel shirt and scruffy jeans. He looks to be white. 

I'm inching closer to the receptionist desk, hoping that my incoming presence would get the receptionist to finally see me. I can smell an oaky and warm vanilla scent coming from the desk. As I'm just a few inches away, I see the receptionist turn his head to me and smile warmly at me and motions his hand towards the person standing in front of the desk.

"Miss Smith, here is your visitor."

The man who had been standing there has finally turned around and a warm grin spreads across his mustached, middle-aged face. "Well, if it isn't my baby girl, Mia!"