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April Kepner was a woman of contradictions.
I knew that she would be someone to look out for on my first day of internship. She was the dark horse. You wouldn't expect her to be the one to take charge in any situation, least of all one including the chaos of trauma when you saw her behind the red notebook she used to scribble in all day. But she chose trauma as her speciality and became chief resident.
I knew it next when she kissed me that night in San Francisco and my hands went to her waist. Marveling the contrast between her soft, supple skin under my hands and the force with which her lips were moving against mine. Her moans of pure abandon and her blushes after she realized how loud she had been, her image as a straight-laced, goody two shoes and the feel of her body moving above mine threw my mind into a spin.
April Kepner would be the death of me.
She was broken by the news from her boards, but she was still strong enough reject all the pity that came her way. She tried to be happy when she had lost everything. And she was beautiful even in her tears.
"You look really nice."
"So do you."
My voice broke, so had hers and maybe for once we were on the same page.
There were times when her contradictions were infuriating. She loved Jesus with all her heart and couldn't bear that she broke a promise, but I think that she loved me too and couldn't be away from me even though neither of us could see it then. She kept beating herself up, but told me that I was perfect. She was a woman who was usually so sorted in life, a woman who understood feelings better than others, but she didn't know what to do with mine.
She had a dream of getting married to a man with the same beliefs as her. A kind man who understood her and treated her well, but she kept coming back to me. A man who seemingly used her for sex, who never reassured her of how beautiful she really was and didn't understand her faith. And for that I will be eternally grateful.
She loved things to be perfectly clear. She liked clarity in her dealings, in her relationships and in her work. She liked honesty, but she wasn't honest to herself when she convinced herself she could live with Matthew (until the point it mattered most.)
"I love you, and I think that you love me too. Do you?"
She wanted a wedding in a field with butterflies, but she eloped with me. Maybe it is her contradictions that make me so in love with her, because when I look at the sleeping woman (my wife!) next to me I think she must be an angel of sorts. And then I remember the events of the past 24 hours and I feel a grin spread across my face. As the sun lights up my apartment, I know that I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to figure her out.
"I… I do, Jackson, I do love you."
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