Chapter 2 Dr Williams

I open my eyes only to see my mother staring back at me. Her pale white skin and black straight hair looked just the same as the last time I saw her.

"Elsa" she looked sad as she tried brushing my hair and failed completely. "I'm not good at this," she admitted. "Let's ask your daddy for help," she said with a smile as she grabbed my hand and walked over to the living room where he was watching tv.

"Himari!" my father exclaimed as he looked at my hair "I've told you a thousand times, her hair is different than yours" My Asian mother had no idea how to deal with afro-textured hair. And my father never expected her to. But she tried, she really did.

"I know," she said with a sad smile "But I wanted to do one of the hairstyles your mother does." My nana lived in Jamaica but she had come to visit us last summer.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaving his frustration aside. "Come 'ere Elsa," he said as he started braiding my hair.

Now that I think about it, I never had the chance to ask my father how he learned to braid hair in such a precise and beautiful way. My mother only stood there watching astonished.

My father smiled sweetly at my mother "Everything okay, Dr. Nakamura?" she hated when he called her that.

"Just admiring you from afar, Dr. Williams" she responded, deciding to sit next to him.

My mother was a world-famous brain surgeon and my father was a pediatrician. They met at a conference my mother held the first time she was invited to the country. My father fell head over heels for her and once they started dating he decided to follow her back to Japan.

They eventually moved back to Canada, got married, and had me. I didn't get a lot of time with them but they were the best parents I could ever ask for.

"Ready?" He said as he helped me get up.

I remember this day, it was one of the last ones I had with them.

"I still do not approve of this," my mother said, looking worried "You know what sugar does to her."

"A little ice cream never hurt anyone," he said as he winked at me.

"Fine, but don't come crying to me once she's bouncing all over the walls" She held my hand. She looked beautiful in that yellow dress. My mother loved fashion and she had an impeccable style. I always wondered what she might have worn to my graduation... She would have been so proud.

I often dreamt about this day, seeing my parents almost every night. Be it in good memories or bad, they always visited my dreams.

And it is not like I had many bad memories about them, only one. The night they died.

I remember my dad was funny and extremely handsome. My mother would always say she fell in love with him because he made her laugh.

My father in turn, shamelessly admitted he had fallen for her because she was, in his words, 'Smoking hot'.

I wish I could remember more about them, but they died when I was six years old. My paternal grandmother raised me, and when she died five years ago I lost the last of my family.

I was completely alone.

I was half awake at this point. Why are my eyelids so heavy? Why can't I open my eyes?

"Her wounds are healing well" I hear a male voice say calmly.

"When will she wake up?" a melodious female voice asks.

"Sooner than you realize."