Stitched 'X'

The doll lay down on the floor with its deep diamond aquatic eyes, placed on a pile of clothes as I folded them while sitting down. Something about it was deep, I thought. Until I heard someone or something step inside the room. Then I heard a mediocrely heavy door shut, thinking that it was on its own at the time without using context. The one who shut the door was a man that I knew who was doing his best to stand tall. In fact, maybe as the tallest in the room. As soon as I tried to greet him back into our home, my heart felt heavy. When I tried to open my mouth, even a peep... I felt something familiar as if my heart was about to ache. I couldn't speak, and my heart had started aching. Afraid, not wanting to tell my partner, I had remembered the promise I made to him. So I told him everything and when I did, my breath was shallow, and my heart was hurting again.

Although, he looked down on me from his height when I stood up. He didn't want me to say a word to him like usual. Naturally, I gave him a solution, that I should just go see the doctor discussed months ago. Once I looked down, the doll was blank. No face, no clothes, no expression.

My partner kept his distance as he reluctantly drove me to the hospital. As I sat on the bed for patients, the doctor was discussing solutions for myself, that I needed to replace a heart valve to breathe better because something wasn't circulating right. Immediately, I thought this was right because my grandpa had the same thing. Immediately, my partner agreed to go with the procedure for me and I didn't see so much of a problem. 

When I came out of the procedure, I walked out of the hospital, not so happy seeing my partner's temporary smile. Some stitches waved across my chest and an 'X' placed on my heart were stitches. After he saw my stitches, he went away and drove to who knows where. I guessed he didn't care, so I walked home, trying to cover my stitches with my oversized beige shirt. 

I noticed as I walked through the neighborhood streets that there were pumpkin decorations, and fabricated autumn leaves, with mostly a fall theme. Clearly, when the kids came out on their bikes with orange-striped long socks and leaves, it was the season of Halloween. I passed by a white round object that sat on a white picket fence with straw to appear as hair and stitches for a smile with an 'X' stitch for eyes. My stitches looked like those stitches and everything around, even if it didn't seem so. It led me to uncover my stitches. Having for anyone to see as I smiled with a bit of guilt inside my heart.

The white object with stitches was on the house fence gate where my family lived. I saw my beautiful mom's smile and giggles, my preoccupied and busy aunt with her spunk, my extravagantly adventurous cousins who are all unique from the same pain, and my plundering growing brothers. But, where was my Grandma? I knew Grandpa wasn't home for a while, he was sick. Fighting cancer every single damn day. Where I thought like usual, that was going to be okay. I didn't see her when I walked by everyone who was getting the food ready for pumpkin pie or pumpkin spices. And I assumed, Grandma was at the hospital with Grandpa.

Everyone was busy, they minded their own business. Walking around almost near a celebration, it was strange. It felt like a distraction, that these smiles weren't from their warmth. It was coldly mannered in a way, watching everyone get together. And I joined them as jazz played vaguely in the background as we were all outside. I sat down and ate my Grandma's posole she left for everyone, the pieces of pie that were bought from the store. I stayed and petted my chihuahua who rolled around wanting belly rubs that I reluctantly pet her on because of how soft and smooth it always is. But as time rolled by, I knew that I wouldn't be able to last long without my antibiotics from the heart surgery. After socializing with my brothers and cousins and hugging my mom, I walked myself back miles to the hospital. 

After miles of walking to get to the hospital door, did I really need the antibiotics? It started to rain, as if the storm was telling me to push the under shelter, near the entrance of the hospital. As it rained, nothing really hurt. I couldn't feel pain and I wasn't afraid of only the rain. Maybe my heart didn't need an anecdote in the first place. Maybe I didn't have the surgery at all. I was fine. As I put my hand forth, reaching towards the door. I no longer wanted an anecdote. Not for me, anyway.