Her beauty wasn’t the obvious kind, it was the kind that grew on you over time. After a while, you’d come to appreciate her messy auburn locks, her crooked smile, the uneven olive skin and the freckles that adorned her face. She also had a certain kindness to her appearance, it was in the way that she smiled and her gentle sing-song voice that made her so approachable to others. Though everyone agrees that she’s the the good-natured, “okay” looking girl with the curly hair, people won’t tell you that when you ask them about her. Say the name “Franky” and they would immediately tell you that she’s “the tall girl”.

At fourth grade she stood at 5 ft 8 and was always mistaken for a high school student. In middle school, her so called friends would make her buy alcohol for them because her height made her look like a passable adult. She spent her high school prom sitting alone because no boy would dance with the 6 ft 1 tall girl, she looked intimidating, they’d tell her. And so, she spent most of her teenage years slouching and keeping her head down, even though this did nothing to hide her height.

It was only after graduating high school that Franky stopped caring about her height so much, not because she wasn’t insecure about it anymore, but because it was pushed to the bottom of her long list of problems. It was around that time when her mother, the only relative she knows, fell ill and passed away. The whole situation also left her a huge hospital debt that she had no choice but to pay. Because  her mother was disowned when they found out that she was pregnant with Franky, she had no contact with her mother's side of the family. In the end, her mother’s funeral was attended by her, a priest, and the nurse who had been treating her mother. The nurse, who after spending so much time with the mother and daughter during hospital visits eventually became a friend to both, was the one who helped Franky get medical training afterwards to also become a nurse.

And then there was the issue with her father. Truth be told, Franky knows not a single thing about her father. You’d think that with the technology and internet today, she would’ve found him easily. Unfortunately, she had no useful information about the man, not even pictures or records that may lead her to him. She didn’t even know his surname (Franky adapted her mother’s maiden name). All she recalls was that her mother lovingly called him “Gabby”.

“Gabby” left them when she was barely a year old. Franky wished she had known him, to find out if he really was the heartless man she always assumed him to be. She wanted to hate him for leaving them both, then at least she would have someone to blame. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to do so, it was her mother’s wish after all, for Franky to never come to hate her father. She told Franky stories of how kind, compassionate and doting a man her father was. That he left them because he had no choice and it was the right thing to do. And that if her father ever came back, it would be great if Franky could welcome him back again. She wasn’t sure if she could accept him so easily if he ever came back though, she didn’t like to think about it. After all, it’s highly unlikely that her father would ever come back after being gone for 29 long years so there’s really no point in mulling over it anymore.

Right now, there are other problems she should be taking care of. Like, for example, avoiding direct eye contact with her co-nurse who was currently approaching her, she has that “will you please do me a favor” look Franky knows all too well.

“Franky, dear. I have a favor to ask you,” asked the lady with a troubled expression on her face.

There it is, thought Franky.

“Hi Mara. You’d like me to take your shift tonight, am I right?” replied Franky. She had heard Mara ask the other nurses if she could trade shifts with them earlier in the day, it was because her kid was sick and she needed to be home. Franky hated the night shift but she also felt bad for her workmate, she decided that if Mara were to ask her (though she really hoped that it wouldn’t come to that point), she’d agree.

“Yes, dear. Will you? My son is ill and I don’t want him to spend the night alone.” She looked at Franky expectantly as if she were her last sliver of hope.

“Sure. No problem. I really do hope your son will get better soon, Mara," said Franky, thoughtfully. She hated how sympathy always won over her but she also knew her conscience wouldn't let her sleep had she not helped out.

“Really? Thank you! Thank you so much Franky! I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” replied Mara, her troubled expression now replaced with a smile.

Mara hugged her and walked back to her station. Franky watched her stroll down the mostly desolate hospital halls, she wondered how many coffee cups she’d have to drink later to survive the night shift.