Heal the Heart

4.

Tuesday was a blessing to my tired self. Classes weren't as brutal and a simple nap after my eight am class did wonders to my emotional stability. I shed all the Monday blues and promised myself that this year would be different. I would explore, meet new people, get out of my shell. None of that staying in the room, cocooned in a blanket, memorising the ceiling, and scrolling through cricket stats on my phone bullshit. No, this year, my room was only meant for catching up on sleep and that's it.

I needed to step out more. I wanted to give a good answer when someone asked me what my hobbies were. Just yesterday, in class, when prof had paired us up for the rest of the term, my partner and I tried to figure out how to divide the work between us when our thoughts soon meandered somewhere way further than it was supposed to go. He babbled about how he loved skateboarding and hiking and sometimes camping out in the forests when the chill was bearable. The focus shifted on me then when he asked what I did in my free time.

What did I do in my free time?

I slouched on my side of the room and stared at the dry wall above my roommate's bed, wondering how my life would have been had my diagnosis not come to light. I rewatched tapes of back when I still had dreams to pursue and records to break. When academics was so far out of my head, I didn't even know how to spell it. I scrolled through YouTube, picking each video highlight of Arya's and scrutinising it till my eyes bled.

My answer ended up being even more basic than baking soda. I don't have free time.

So, to prove my words of not having enough free time, I decided to get a job. That, and my bank balance was starting to thin.

Accepting a part-time job as a receptionist at a physical rehab centre might not have been the most glamorous job for most, but for me, it was a life jacket to save me from the whirlpool I was drowning in. My major was kinesiology, and I was hoping to have a hands-on approach to actually learning what people of my major even do. Of course, staying on the outside and smiling at people as they entered would not get me anywhere, but perhaps the therapists there could provide me with some pointers.

The lady, Rebecca, who took my interview seemed a little fascinated by my major and I had a slight inkling she gave me the job upfront because of that.

A few seconds after she dropped the nuke saying I got the job, she ushered me into the break room, handed me three new bright green polos that had H&P, Health and Prosper, embroidered in blue on the top left, and then had her fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging me behind her as she gave me a tour of the centre that I was sure I wouldn't remember the next day.

Couple more formalities later and I officially signed off on my first job, and this was the very first interview I even sat on!

Jessica called the moment I walked out of the sliding doors of the rehab centre, and the spring in my step seemingly had an effect on my voice, too.

"You sound like you're spitting rainbows," she said.

"I got a job!"

"Really? Congratulations, Neil! Where? When? What are you going to be doing?"

"Okay, I know it doesn't sound too fancy, but I feel like this is a good direction for figuring out what I want to do after graduation. You're talking to the new receptionist at Health & Prosper, because only with good health can you prosper."

"That sounds like something a salesman would say when he's trying to sell coupons for a clinic."

"I'm not a salesman. H&P is this physical rehabilitation clinic nearby. It's close enough to walk. The hours are not too bad. I get Mondays off, and the pay is decent." I felt a wetness graze my cheek. The sky swirled in shades of grey with dark clouds hanging around like they belonged.