Every One I Know Goes Away In the End
Prologue
She catches herself staring at the pager as if it was some kind of sacred item and is glad that she is alone so that she doesn't have to attempt to hide her internal struggle. Her thumb absently stroking the white sticker that was slowly in the process of peeling away from the device. The name neatly written upon it was like a constant force she never really wanted to escape from not matter how much it pained her.
It was the name that fell softly from her lips in the private darkness of her home, the only time she would allow herself to be foolish enough to believe that he could somehow hear her plea and come back for her.
But when she woke in the morning she was still alone.
He had phoned once since his sudden exit from her world and then never again. It was probably her own fault. She had been so heartbroken that his absence was a physical tightening pain in her chest. She had wanted to beg for him to come back. To tell him she did not know how to be acquainted with his love and yet learn to live with his absence.
There was a catch in his voice that convinced her that maybe he felt the same way and then she knew she couldn't do that to him, to both of them. She was too proud and he was trying to do the right thing for his son. She had to respect that.
And so she had been overly curt keeping the conversation strictly on the superficial and as many miles away from anything emotional as she possibly could. Harry was settling in well and she had replied that she was glad and then she had informed him that she thought it was a bad idea for them to stay in contact. That moving on would be easier if they severed ties completely.
It had never been so difficult to keep her voice neutral and characteristically cold when every syllable caught in her throat and chocked her. Then there had been a steely silence from the other end of the call. She had closed her eyes against his unspoken defiance and held her mobile so tightly against her ear it hurt as she told herself wordlessly over and over it was for the best. Like ripping of a plaster.
Eventually he replied in a voice that brought back their explosive confrontation after his father's funeral. 'If that's what you think is best.' He had not even tried to disagree with her and in that moment she knew she was making the right decision. Their lives where pulling them in separate directions and she was becoming part of his past. It was truly for the best no matter how the idea of saying goodbye again physically crippled her. Even though part of her wanted to scream at him to fight back, to prove that she really did mean something to him.
Instead they said goodbye as if they had never shared years of being consumed by one another and then she had punched a wall because it saved her from analysing what she had so brashly done.
She makes a fist around the pager, knuckles stretched and pale. Blocking it from view and with it the onslaught of memories. She slips the offending object back into the pocket of her scrubs knowing that if she did not return to the ward soon people would start to ask questions.
It takes a deep breath for her to put the façade back in place. Life had taught her that everyone she cared for would leave. That rationally she should expect it. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing but fighting for the Consultant position. Her career was all she had and it had to be the one thing to show she would survive no matter how much she lost. She did not need a mother and she was just as good a doctor as her perky cupcake making colleague.
Pulling her long hair back into a messy bun she heads back to work.