I posted this last week on the More Than Coffee board. It's meant to be a one-shot, one that's reflecting my own sleepiness. Thanks to those who reviewed it. Not an emotional piece, but if you could put your imagination into it, it could mean something...
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Cristina threw her keys on the coffee table, her traveling mug into the sink, and her notebooks onto the floor, all banging hard.
Startled, Burke looked up from his book. It was a look of frustration on Cristina's face, one suggesting she would blow up anytime.
Without saying a word, he removed the arm he had been comfortably putting beneath the back of his head and pulled her into bed.
Still cranky, Cristina remained silent and rigid.
Burke could tell that she was mad at somebody or something, and he kept his fingers crossed that it wasn't him.
Cristina was angry because her patient died. She tried her best but his lungs gave out. It reminded her of her favorite art teacher in high school, who refused to stop smoking even after he was diagnosed with lung cancer. She was angry because people died when she cared the most.
She knew her reassuring boyfriend would listen to her grumble, but she felt so completely drained that she knew she would snap if he initiated a conversation.
He knew it must have been a rough day for Cristina and he had learned to be patient. He wanted to ask how she's doing but he knew she would not let anything out.
Slowly, he drew her closer to him. Her body twitched a little and she turned, now her back facing him. Burke was a determined man. He was not put off by her edginess. He laid his big warm hands on her temples, gently massaging her head, then her neck.
Cristina closed her eyes. She was not sure how best to describe the feeling. She lifted one of her hands and without turning around to look, it fell perfectly on his blushing cheek.
No word was spoken, no deep gaze exchanged, but there they were, two people in love, savoring the moment.
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Cristina lay sprawled on her back as she watched the hand tenderly placed across her chest rise and fall in synchrony with her heartbeat.
Unlike other days, it went very gentle tonight, without the intensity of a volcanic eruption. To her surprise, Cristina was not the one who fell asleep. In fact she was fully invigorated afterwards.
Burke shut his eyes, but not his other senses. He loved the ruffling of the blanket as Cristina pulled it up, the faint smell of coffee from the kitchen, and the finger tips brushing his thick eyebrows.
He wondered if she would whisper his favorite phrase to him again. Instead, he felt that Cristina suddenly pulled away, for the second time this very night. He might never fully understand his girlfriend, but experience taught him there was no reason to be alarmed, for his Cristina would always come back.
She was taken aback by her own inconsistency. She was ashamed that a minute ago she felt like telling Burke she would love to spend the rest of her life with him and the next moment she almost jumped off the bed.
No, she was not afraid of commitment. No, she was not trying to escape from anything. Yes, she loved Burke. Yes, he was the man. These past few months Cristina had learned how important he was to her. And that was the problem.
She knew it was silly, but a pang of fear swept through her at the spur of the moment—everyone whom she truly cared did not have a happy ending. Her love for him was much deeper than she thought. What if he got hurt because of her? Already he had been through the bomb and the gunshot, what if…
Cristina shook her head and turned again, widening the gap between the couple. Burke knew something was on her mind, but he innocently rolled over a little and wrapped his arm around her once again, taking possession.