Chapter 1

Of Conservatories and Residencies

She stood there, alone. The melodies of unfinished serenades and late night arabesques from three halls down permeated the empty ballroom, its gentle tune brushing the hollow walls and glass mirrors.

She felt so far away already, from all that she knew, but the warmth that the familiar melodies carried from yonder reminded her that she had not yet left the place she had grown to know so intimately through the years. The unkempt music stands. The reverberating sounds of too many notes played together. The elegant gold strings of pedal harps and antique violas.

 It was a simple bliss, the disarray and untidiness spewing memories that did not matter and mattered a lot all at the same time. The reality before her was all too familiar, but a sharp sense of excitement of unknowing and mystique that she had not felt in much too long had budded and bloomed from a curious little thing into wave of heightened senses and neurotic insomnia.

This was it. She was finally going home.   

And still, like any night, a bit like yester night and the night before, she'd listen to her muffled footsteps as she dawdled around the Orchestra Halls. Her habit of taking late night walks had not at all waned.

It was an untimely hour to be lingering in the deserted ballroom of Russia’s most Elite Conservatory of Music, but then again, she had always been a strange one. She’d be the odd one out wherever she went. No matter how much she tried to run away.

And she admitted to it. She admitted to running away whenever she could. She realized it was her thing to do, to escape from reality and to have reality find her in strange, unconventional ways.

And alas, reality had found her once again in the shape and form of a stubborn, white invitation card with gold letters that had read:

‘To Miss Ella Chen

You are invited to play at the New York Carnegie Hall Conservatory of Music, Orchestra Division.

It is an honor to have you.’

And as much as she did not like the prospect of returning to the States, she knew that her strong love for music could not bring herself to turn down the offer. She had to give every chance a chance, and in her head, returning to New York seemed more than just logical. It was necessary. It was her life’s biggest wish and greatest accomplishment. One of her biggest, at least.

And amidst her fragmented thoughts, she could not help but wonder-- would she see people again, people she had once known? Would they remember her? And mostly, would they still care…even after all these years of keeping everything from them? Of what felt like an eternity of discreet isolation?

She stared at herself expressionlessly into the mirrors that bordered the walls of the empty ballroom, the silhouette of her small figure reflecting from all sides. If it was even possible, she had gotten even thinner; her form-fitting black dress clung to her like an old towel. Staring back at her in that dismal mirror reflection was, to her surprise, a woman. She had finally grown up.

After all, it had been four years. She would return home a changed person. There was once in her teen years when she had been one of those boys-- always on the basketball courts, running to places on her mountain bike, enthusiastic about track meets, accidentally pushed to the “boys” side during choir practices, and most of all, always thinking about food. She had stayed as skinny as ever and diet was completely out of the question.

She’d run around in big T-shirts and baggy jeans, without much care in the world. She dove into the fields without worrying about soiling her clothes. She scraped her knees often without any visible pain. She’d talk to him, she’d talk to her. To her, it didn’t matter and she preferred not to judge others and not to be judged.

Now, she stood dressed up, like she would any other day, as if dresses, black slacks, and high heels were her idea of “casual-wear” in the days at the conservatory. Her idea of comfort no longer came with clothing. Comfort and ‘casual’ came to her in the shape and form of soothing summer sonatas and gentle heart-caressing concertos. Comfort was black and white piano keys. It was note-dotted music sheets and the bland scent of rosin. It was a tune of long forgotten compositions. It was voices that murmured and seeped in through dorm room walls under a moon-lit darkness.

And as the days melted into years, this comforting atmosphere had made her stronger. She no longer cried on weak knees. She no longer acted like one of those boys just to disguise her porcelain-like emotions. She became Ella, herself, and no one else.  

But just like delicate porcelain, her wave of thoughts and flutter of memories was broken by the loud opening of the ballroom’s heavy double doors.

And in walked reality.  

 “Ella, dear! There you are! Your daughter’s been looking all over the place for you!” Lucy, the conservatory’s caretaker scolded kindly, relief and worry b in her voice. Lucy was an optimistic and plump, middle-aged woman that Ella was ever so thankful for at her times in Russia.

“Cammie? I thought I put her to bed hours ago!”

Cammie. It had always been her. Her soft breathing accompanying Ella during late nights whilst she composed her long overdue pieces for the next morning. Her laughter and wails had taken away prolonged moments of boredom and dreariness. Cammie had given Ella the familiarity that she needed whilst living in a foreign country. That much, she could be grateful for.

But with that, she had lost time for herself.

“Mummy, Mummy! I couldn’t find you, Mummy.”

“Cammie, it’s way past your bedtime.”

And yet, her attention had always been divided between two things: her daughter and music. It had already been more than three years since Cammie was born, and in those years, her daughter had grown with Ella and with Ella’s budding music career. But even at the age of three, Cammie seeked her mother’s attention more than ever.

“But mommy--”

Ella sighed, but before she could begin scolding, Lucy spoke up, “Ella dear, you’ve got a long day ahead of you. You ought to get some rest too,”

“It’s alright, Lucy. I’ll be sleeping on the plane anyways,”

“Don’t bet on it. You’ve got Cammie to look after.” Lucy jerked her thumb towards the floor.

Cammie was hopping and tumbling about the ballroom now, not at all aware that it was well past her bedtime.  

“Alright, alright. Come on, Cammie. Let’s get to bed,” Ella took her daughter’s small palms into hers and headed towards the door, “thanks again, Lucy.”

“Not at all, Ella dear. After all, this may be the last time that I may be of any help to you and your daughter.”

Immediately, there was a tinge of sadness and nostalgia and a natural unwillingness to let go with her response. And just as naturally, the embraces and tears came shortly after. 

“I hope that you and your daughter have a lovely time living in New York. I know I did.”

“Yes Lucy, we’ll try our best.”

Lucy lowered her voice considerably before she said, “You ought to pay a visit to your family too, you know. Cammie deserves to have one.”

“I-I’ll try…” Ella’s voice stalled, a mixture of uncertainty and indecision etched in her reply. She had almost forgotten, but now that she remembered again, an entirely new set of worries had resurfaced.

She had never thought that much about it whilst living out here, in the middle of Russia, in which everyone was like everyone else to her-- strangers. But back home, people would remember, people would notice differences…and people, no doubt, would wonder.

“It’s easy to avoid things for awhile and not have to make any choices, but you are 26 now. It’s time to face the truth, Ella.”

Ella nodded and told Lucy she would, but inside, her conscience was prodding at her, reminding her and urging her that she wouldn’t.

And with each step that she took, her biggest fear was becoming closer and closer to reality.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

It was a morning b with hope, with the poking feeling of unknown excitement that lay intertwined with the day ahead of her.

It was 4:23 am.

Mornings, from that day onwards, would begin just as early for Selina Ren.

And yet, she lingered idly under her covers, awake but still slumbering. She had never been a morning person.

“Get up. Get up, Selina!” her rather pristine roommate and best friend of 10 years, Hebe Tian, called out from the other side of the room.

Selina groaned.

“I knew it! I knew this would happen! I knew you’d completely fail to wake up in time once we started interning for residency,” Hebe grabbed a mass of crumpled clothing and stomped into the bathroom, shutting the door loudly.

For Selina, waking up early was like feeding her poison for breakfast. It was like a tarantula amongst the daisies, the Voldemort in a group of Weasleys. And despite her excitement and love to start residency training at the University Hospital, being an early bird was also a requirement. Of course, she had lied about that on her work application.

But as she did not want to risk the chance of losing her residency position and repeating her last semester of medical school, she scurried out of bed in spite of herself.

In minutes, Selina was dressed in white from head to toe, whiter than that bag of marshmallows she had, regretfully, eaten the night before. It was a rather bland attire for such an exciting occupation, Selina had often noted aloud to Hebe on those restless nights in which both lay awake, dreamlessly.

“And finally, the highness has awaken,” Hebe, who was waiting at their apartment door, smirked immensely.

“Oh, give me a break. I had four hours of sleep last night, okay? Four!” Selina grumbled as they hurried down the hall and into the lift.

“Beats mine any day,”

“How much did you sleep, then? Ten hours?” Selina prodded, disbelieving.

“None actually, I didn’t think there was a point to sleeping if--”

“Hebe! How can you not sleep? This isn’t finals week in med school! You’ve got 10 hours of work ahead of you!”

Hebe shrugged, not a bit unnerved, “I’ll survive. I usually do.”

And it was true. Hebe was always one of those with a backbone to do anything and everything. With her, Selina had managed to live through 8 years of university. Hebe had always been with her.

Now she was finally starting work at the hospital, and still, Hebe walked right beside her.

“Rainie Yang, 6 o’clock. Don’t look back,” Hebe hissed dangerously.

Selina looked anyway. Rainie, one of the nurses in the west wing of the emergency area, reminded Selina of something between a tabby cat and a useless mop. She’d always be giggling and always be gossiping and always be gushing about things that didn’t matter in the least. Another thing that bothered her was that Rainie was so excessively, cute. A wanting to be cute wasn’t a bad thing, of course. Selina herself was guilty, as charged. But Rainie’s cute-esque way of talking sometimes made both her and Hebe want to vomit on dead patients.

“Selina! Selina! Selineee-aaahh!” Rainie gushed as she skidded down the hallway of the Intensive Care Unit, her hands clapping as she started excitedly, “so there’s this new doctor who just transferred here from Columbia University Medical Center, and he is so freaking cute!”

Cute. There it was again. 

“Oh really…” Selina hummed a bit in her head distractedly, catching only fragments of the conversation,

“-And he’s tall too--and you should check out his muscular build…--but his rear end is really worth a glance too...--and I told Ariel that his button nose is even prettier than mine!”

At this time, Hebe who was known for her direct-mannered language, retorted, “Excuse me Rainie, but we’re in the Intensive Care Unit of the hospital. People are dying in their beds right now, and you still have time to do an analysis on the anatomy of a good-looking male doctor? Please Rainie, get real.”

“Looks like someone didn’t get laid last night,” Rainie snapped irritably.

“That because, unlike you, I’m not desperate.”

Thank goodness for Hebe and her way of words.

“--Anyways, I’m going to head for the pharmacy. See you around, Selina…and Rainie,” Hebe added the latter name with great hesitancy.

“Whatever,” Rainie pouted, folding her arms as she watched Hebe turn the corner, “Come on, Selina. He’s working in the emergency care unit just like we are, so you’ll see him there anyways.”

At times like these, Selina ever so wished that she had chosen to become a pharmacist like Hebe was or an oncologist, even. Being stuck with Rainie and a hoard of Rainie-like nurses all day was not something that had been in her daydreams.

And no matter how much Selina tried to avoid the crowd, they would be her colleagues and working with them was inevitable. It was life and Selina settled in accepting what she had to.

Life.

Life in New York was a busy one, filled with schedules to meet and things to accomplish. And working in Manhattan’s high maintenance hospitals did not make life any easier.

But things were passing along well. She had grown and matured considerably through the years. Time was hurrying her life along, pushing her from high school, to undergrad, to medical school, and now, finally to work.

There was no chance to really pause and look back, no time to stop and ties her shoes and get caught in a knot of dilemmas. Life was moving ahead and Selina didn’t want to miss any of it.

 In the busyness, she found serenity in the littlest of things and that was enough.

She liked the clicking of high heels against the tile floors as she walked down the hallways of the hospital, not as a volunteer, an assistant, a receptionist, jobs she had all taken up at hospitals throughout college, but as a doctor.

She liked the thought of stressing out about medical records and laboratory test results because she knew that amidst the anxiety, she was helping people. And by healing others, she was healing herself as well.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she also internally fan-girled about those single, male doctors that walked so gracefully down the halls-- clipboards, stethoscopes, and everything else.

“Selina, dear. Is this your first official day in residency?” Clara, the head nurse greeted Selina when she entered the Office for New Interns in Residency. Thank goodness Rainie was assigned to assist the first surgery that morning and had taken off without another word.

“Yes, Clara. It’s great to finally start work,”

“That’s lovely to hear. Oh and Selina, you don’t mind bring this tray of supplies into Room 5, do you? It’s for the new doctor that arrived yesterday. You’re a new intern, so you’ll be working with him and a few other doctors coming in the next few weeks.”

“Oh no problem, Clara!”

She began to smile as she headed towards Room 5. Finally, there would be her turn to experience the conventions of a hospital workplace.  

But when she opened the door, there was arguing, a female voice rising considerably through the doors, “--and if my daughter cannot be trusted in your hands, then I guess I’ll have to find a more competent doctor elsewhere!”

A male voice, presumably the doctor’s, countered, “Whoa, whoa wait. Please, c-calm down. I said that she needs to be put into intensive care--“

“A-And why should I be okay with that? Or t-trust you in any way?”

“We are a medicinally certified hospital and to ensure your daughter’s survival--“

“ these assumptions. My daughter is NOT going to die!”

Selina, curiously but ever so cautiously, stepped into view. The scene before her petrified her senses even more as the two arguing silhouette figures became visible beings. She stood, half gasping and half crying out in a mixture of joy, fear and confusion,

“Chun? Ella!? What the heck are you guys doing here?”

And thus, a little high school reunion had fallen unexpectedly in place.

In which, Selina almost dropped the tray of supplies.

A/N:

Hi everyone! This was recently uploaded onto winglin, but the site's not letting me log in...so I decided I'd put the story up here!

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This chapter image was edit by me (Amoretti)! Don't you guys just dig it? ;)