Mike made his way into St. John's Children's Hospital that morning, not at all happy to be back. He hated the thought of being practically threatened into working here, and having to endure the doctor lurking somewhere in the corner. Every where he turned, she was there. He was beginning to wonder if she had nothing better to do.

Pushing the janitorial cart, he pressed the button of the elevator and waited for the doors to part. He had been reassigned to the third floor that morning, and while he hoped his reassignment would mean seeing less of that nosey doctor, he doubted it.

A ding sound followed his thoughts, after which, the elevator doors opened. Thankfully, the elevator was empty; he smiled, pushing the cart in. He reached for the button of the third floor, and was about to push it, when his attention was immediately drawn to a nurse who was now practically racing down the hallways.

“Hold it!” she yelled, waving her hands in the air.

Glancing down in feigned ignorance of her request, Mike pushed the button; the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in an elevator with a stranger. She was halfway to him, when the doors began to close. Praying earnestly that the doors would close before she got to him, his prayers went unanswered when she got to the elevator quickly enough to stick her hand in between the doors just when they were only two inches from each other.

Mike groaned as he watched the elevator doors open fully once more, and the woman stepped in.

“Don't act like you didn't hear me hollering a few seconds ago.” She turned fully to him, her tone reprimanding him.

Shrugging, his gaze briefly moved from her cornrows to her oink scrubs, before settling on his cart. He moved toward the cart, holding it as a barrier between them because he wasn’t up for conversation.

“If I didn't know better, I would think you were trying to avoid me.”

“I was just trying to get to the third floor,” he murmured to himself.

“I find that hard to believe.” She folded her arms. “And what's with the cart shield? Think I'm going to cut you or something? Think just because I'm black, I'm going to try to rob you of your money?”

Mike sighed, wondering how the conversation escalated so quickly. “No, ma'am.”

She eyed him for a few seconds, a deep frown on her face. “You're gonna need to prove it.”

Mike was starting to wonder just how far the third floor was. He looked up, and sighed in exhaustion.

“Cause we don't need no racist working here, you know?”

“I can assure you, I ain't no racist.” Neither am I voluntarily working here.

“Are you being smart with me?” She stepped forward, and for a second, Mike did imagine her pulling out a gun and robbing him. What was wrong with this stupid elevator?!

“No, I'm not. I would just like to get to the third floor.”

“And I'd like you to prove to me that you're not racist.”

“How?” he finally asked, desperate for the conversation to end.

“I need a date for a surprise bridal shower tonight. My date bailed on me in the last minute, and I would hate to go alone. Wanna come?”

Mike would have agreed to anything at that point. “Sure,” he nodded swiftly.

She smiled then, eyes lightening up as she pulled out a card from her pocket and stuck it in his cart. “The address is on the card.” She turned from him and pushed the elevator button, causing him to realize in that second that they had not been moving.

Stunned, he stood frozen for several seconds; how on earth had he missed the fact that the elevator had been on standstill the whole time? He imagined it had everything to do with the nurse’s intimidating presence.

The loud ‘ding’ sound announced their arrival on the second floor in what felt like seconds. She turned back to him. “I'm Judie by the way.”

“Mike,” he heard himself say.

“Great, I'll see you tonight at eight?”

Unable to speak, Mike simply nodded, and watched the odd nurse make her way out of the elevator, the doors closing behind her.

Mike barely forgot Judie, or his conversation with her. He thought of ignoring her invitation to the bridal shower, but he imagined doing so would be worse for him -she'd probably begin stalking him and trapping him in every elevator if he did. He could however showed up and give her a reason not to like him, that way, she could decide to leave him alone?

Groaning, he turned a doorknob and pushed the door open, the sound of voices immediately drifting to him.

“Thanks for sharing, Macy.”

Frowning, Mike halted in his tracks for a few seconds.

“Luan, would you like to share with us today?”

A small pause followed the question, then another female voice.

“I-um...” He heard her take a deep breath. “She would have been ten years old yesterday. It was reliving the entire ordeal all over again and I just...”

“It's okay to cry, Luan.”

“I'm a mess,” Luan was saying, when Mike stepped further into the room, seeing a small group of women seated in a circle. “I'm a mess and even after so long, I can't seem to get it together.” His eyes traced the voice to a woman with chocolate brown hair. Her hand that clung to a handkerchief was now dabbing at her tear stained face.

“We are all a mess, Luan,” someone said. He tore his eyes off of Luan long enough to turn to yet another woman —A blonde head this time, and so much younger than he had imagined her to be; perhaps twenty five? She sat on a chair in the center of the circle, all eyes trained on her. “My dad died ten years ago, and ten years later, I feel like I'm only just really starting to grieve.” She offered Luan a smile; one he thought wasn't genuine.

Mike stood there for a few seconds, his legs seemingly glued to the floors. There was sorrow in this room; he felt it right down in his guts, and it gnawed at his heart. The part of him that was afraid of giving in to the pain of losing a child, advised him to turn and run.

Turning sharply, he made for the door.

“You could join us!” He recognized the blonde head's voice from where he stood with his hands poised over the cart.

He turned around stiffly, his gaze gently sweeping the room. All eyes were on him; most were red from crying, but they all seemed to stare at him with pity.

“I came to clean out this space.” He motioned nervously to the floor. “I guess I'll simply return when you guys are done.” For some reason, speaking was difficult.

Blond head woman rose to her feet, the sound of her heels clicking on the marbled floor as she made her way to him, reverberating in the room.

She came to a halt before him, his body stiffening as her brown eyes searched his.

“You can clean the floors while we talk,” she paused, tearing her gaze off of his face long enough to glance at his name tag, “Mike. And once you're finished, you could join us for a snack.”

Mike wanted to reject her offer, but she was already turning around and making her way back to her seat. Reluctantly, he pushed the cart into the room.

“What about you, Agnes, how did your week go?”

Mike took the broom and began sweeping the other end of the room, unable to get his mind off of the conversation going on around him.

“Bad. My husband's family came over for Thanksgiving and every time my mother-in-law spoke about our son, Anthony, it just felt like she was blaming me for his death. I really don't need that, Grace, I already bear so much guilt, I don't need the old witch adding to it.”

Mike lifted his head briefly to see the woman that was speaking. She was clearly Mexican, and while he could see she was grieving, he heard clearly the anger in her voice. She reminded him of himself, he thought, a bitter smile settling on his face. Like her, he was angry and grieving. In his case, he was more angry than he was grieving.

“Why do we carry so much guilt anyway?”

“Because it's the only way to punish myself for not dying in her place,” he thought, shaking his head as he focused his attention on cleaning out the room.

“What was that, Mike?”

His head jerked upright. “What?”

“You said you're punishing yourself for not taking her place.”

Shocked by the realization that his lips had so traitorously spoken the thoughts of his heart, his eyelids grew several notches.

“Mike?”

Shaking his head, he swallowed. “I'll leave you guys to your meeting.” He didn't want any part of it; to speak of Maddie, or her passing. It was the same reason he drank so much; to try to drown the pain he felt, until he felt absolutely nothing.

Reaching for his headphones, he turned on the music, drowning out the sound of the voices in the room. Yet, he was unable to drown out the pain in his heart out. He was desperate, so desperate to kill the pain that he was willing to kill himself. He just needed to wait until the twenty fifth.

~*~

The sweet chocolate cake melted on Eden's tongue, a sigh of delight drifting from her lips.

“Oh, these are all so good, I just simply cannot pick. Can I have another round of every single flavor once more?” Eden moaned, stuffing yet another slice into her mouth.

“Easy there, Sweety. You know what they say, sugar on the lips, heavy on the hips right?”

Her grandmother was such a hypocrite! Eden thought, grinning as she watched the older woman practically make eating a cake appear so murderous; the strawberry syrup dripping down her chin looked to Eden like blood, and with the way her shoulders were slouched over that cake, and her fingers clawed, she could have easily convinced anyone that she was a vampire in disguise in an old lady’s suit.

“Don't raise your brows at me, Eden,” she waved Eden off, “I'm not the one who's going to need to fit into a size eight wedding dress, am I?”

Deciding that her grandmother was right about the dress, she rolled her eyes and placed the piece of cake back on the plate. “You are right, Grammie.” She sighed, staring longingly at the abandoned cake that sat right before her.

“Of course, I'm always right. Now, since you're not going to eat that,”

Laughter erupted from her lips as her grandmother reached for her abandoned piece and stuffed it in her mouth. She watched the evil genius eat every last piece of cake until all that lay in the plate were crumbs.

By the time they were done with cake tasting four hours later, Eden could have sworn she saw the baker sigh in relief when they finally walked out of the shop.

She waited until her grandmother was settled in the car, before making her way around and turning on the ignition. Silence stood between them, a quick glance at her grandmother clarifying the reason for it; she had fallen asleep.

Focusing her eyes on the road ahead, her mind wandered to Mike Stacks. She had gotten the hospital management to reassign him to a new floor, and while it meant she would barely catch glimpses of him, she hoped he had walked in on the grief group. She knew she was hoping for a lot, but she also hoped he had gone ahead to let go of some of his grief as well. But it was all she could do; hope. In the end, it was up to him to make the decision for himself.

She pulled into the driveway and turned to her grandmother. “Grammie,” she nudged her on her shoulder, “let's get you to bed, shall we?”

Moaning, her grandmother sat upright and opened the door. They climbed out of the car and made their way to the front door.

“Surprise!” the sound erupted in the room just as the door swung open.

Taken aback, she clutched her chest as her gaze traveled the familiar faces in the room. “What in the world, guys?!”

“Your bridal shower!” Judie crossed the room, pulling her into an embrace.

“Guys, this is such a surprise!” she giggled in delight as all of her friends began crossing the room and hugging her.

“For you and me both.”

Eden turned sharply, stunned to find Mike standing behind her.

“Mike?” She stared wide eyed at him.

“Mike!” Judie appeared from nowhere and pulled Mike in for a hug. Eden was so busy staring wide eyed at him, she barely noticed anyone else.

Before she could say anything else to Mike, she was thrown into a whirlwind celebration. When she was finally able to pull away from the crowd, she made her way from the living room to the kitchen just in time to find Mike pouring himself a glass of wine.

“It's nonalcoholic,” she said, most likely startling him because he did a small jump but thankfully, the glass didn't slip from his hand.

“Who drinks nonalcoholic?” He frowned.

Eden covered the distance between them and took a glass of her own from the shelf. Pouring herself a glass, she turned to him. “Apparently, everybody in this party.”

He shook his head and placed the glass on the counter. “I hoped it would be alcoholic.”

She shrugged. “Sorry to burst your bubble. Why are you here anyway?”

“Same way you got me to resume working in the hospital,” he said. She raised a brow, confused. “Blackmail.”

“Oh?” she asked. Perhaps that was what it had been, but hearing him say it out loud made her feel oddly guilty.

“Your best friend Judie. I only agreed to this because I hoped there would be free booze. This sure sucks the fun right out of the entire thing.” He motioned to the bottle of wine.

Eden could not help the smile that claimed her face. “I don't know how Judie managed to convince you to show up, but I'm glad you came.”

“Yeah, and it turns out, I'm the only man in the room.”

She laughed then. “Well, it is a bridal shower, Mike.”

She thought she saw a ghost of a smile settle briefly on his face. “I guess I was also curious to know what goes on in these gatherings.”

“Well, this is it.” She gestured to the room. “We talk nonstop and gossip nonstop, and eat and then there's-”

“The gifts, Eden, It's time to open them, come on!” Judie called.

“...there's the gifts,” she finished, motioning to the living room.

Mike stood in the corner by the entryway while Eden sat with all of her friends opening gifts. Thankfully, her grandmother was safely tucked away in bed because some of the things contained in those gift boxes left her blushing.

“Come on, let's see!” Maxine called, when Eden sat staring wide eyed for several seconds at a lingerie she had no doubt was picked out by Judie.

Blushing, she shook her head.

“Oh, come on, where's the fun in that?” Mike called, surprising her. She lifted her head up to find him watching her with a smug look on his face, and his arms crossed.

Tilting her head to the side, she raised a brow in challenge. “Should you even be here, Mike?”

He shrugged. “I'm a legitimate date of one of the organizers, so yeah. And, we demand to see what's in the box, don't we, ladies?” He turned to the women in the room and rose a brow.

“Yeah!”

Eden stared wide eyed at her backstabbing friends.

“Open it!” Mike said, raising his fist up in protest. “Open it! Open it!”

The room erupted with chants of women shouting 'open it', and feeling trapped, Eden closed her eyes and pulled out the highly embarrassing red panty.

“That one's from me!” Judie raised her hands in delight.

“Nice one, babe!” Mike hollered from across the room. Eden shot him a look in annoyance, and he winked at her, forcing a smile to displace her frown; maybe he wasn't as bad as he seemed?

“You know, Mike, Deborah was saying there's not going to be a Santa Claus this Christmas,” Judie began, when they were done opening gift boxes, and everybody was seated for a glass of wine, “which is not news I wanna break to those kids. So, we were hoping you would dress up as Santa.”

Eden knew what Mike's response would be, and she couldn't say she'd blame him, he after all just endured an entire evening with women.

“Before you say no, I would like to add that the time you would spend dressed as Santa would count as part of your community service,” Deborah said.

“Would it take me out of the third floor?” he finally asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Well, no. You'd have to spend time with the kids.”

“Just the kids? Not a group of women griev—” Eden watched him stop speaking, her own heart sinking at his words. Today didn't go well then? He didn't let go of his grief, or join in the group meeting?

“Just the kids,” Deborah answered.

Eden hated the idea immediately, desperate for him to continue his work as a janitor; at least it would force him to involuntarily join the grief meetings! What was Judie thinking by suggesting he dressed up as Santa?!

Eden wasn't exactly happy when Mike agreed to dress up as Santa, and she was especially upset with Judie —who offered to drive Mike home that evening— for aiding Mike in his mission to hold on to his grief and eventually kill himself.