Blurry
Casey grabbed her jacket and sped out of her apartment door. She started to go for the elevator, but decided against it. If she took the stairs she could avoid the anxiety of feeling as if she was getting nowhere. Elevators always feel like I'm waiting for something. I'm a go-get-'em kinda girl. I hate waiting, too. If impatience were a virtue, I would be very virtuous. Not to mention that they go at about the pace of a snail. Well, this one does.
When she reached the ground floor she barely managed a smile to the attendant at the door before bolting into her car and speeding out of the parking lot. With the exception of a few traffic jams here and there, she managed to make it at a reasonable time. I love having the night shift. The lights are so pretty. She flashed her ID card and the guard raised the yellow and black horizontal beam, allowing her to pass through.
Rushing to the entrance and into the busy emergency room, Casey found where she was supposed be. She had been paged.
"Ah, Dr. MacDonald, I'm glad you could make it," her assistant said. Her name was Jacey, and although she could be a ditz at times, was in all actuality a very smart woman. Blond hair, hazel eyes, and Casey's height – she was very pretty.
"Yeah, sorry I wasn't here earlier. I got caught up." She had actually been sleeping, but there was no need to be bitter, now, was there?
"It's fine. Here's the thing: there was a fire near Central Park and someone got stuck in building. They jumped; broken bones all over," Jacey said, handing Casey the file and following her to the pateint's room. It wasn't too hard to find – there were agonizing screams coming from it.
Casey entered the room and sighed at the man's appearance. "Didn't the paramedics give him any sedatives?" She walked over to the hutch at the right side of the room, found a fresh needle, and put the proper dosage in the injector.
"Please! Make it stop!" the man cried.
"I will, sir, I will," Casey said as she wrapped a piece of cloth around the man's upper arm, just above his elbow. "I'll just clean this up and give you this sedative.. ." she drew out, gently injecting the morphine into his system, " . . . and we'll see what we can do about those injuries, hmm?" The man nodded his head and relaxed as the drug began to take affect. Casey smiled a bit and threw the needle away. "I want x-rays on him pronto, and clean up those wounds. I'll be back in a minute." She walked out.
There was a fire . . . couldn't get out . . .didn't make it . . .everything in ruins . . .
Casey briskly marched off towards the restroom, trying desperately to drown the memories. I've made it through this long, why does it have to come back now? She thought to herself. She opened the door and slid into a stall.
"Okay, Casey. You're fine. Just don't think about it. Give Pearson the case. Just walk over, give him the file, and run away so he can't find you," she chanted to herself. Placing her hands on the stall door in front of her, she pressed her forehead against the cool surface, calming her heated face. Stepping out of the stall, she waved her hands under the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. She grabbed the cheap, brown paper towels and dabbed her face clean, making sure no traces of her previous tears were there.
Painting her lips, she checked her reflection in the mirror once more. "Brace yourself, MacDonald. It's time to face the 'Big Bad World' again." She laughed bitterly at the familiar phrase and walked into the busy halls of her workplace.
"Dr. MacDonald! I'm glad I found you," Jacey said as she quickened her pace towards Casey. "Pearson heard about the case – he wanted to know if you were okay," she said, lowering her voice. "Are you okay, Case?" Casey winced at the nickname, but smiled up at her friend.
"I'll be okay. You can tell him that. Better yet – why don't I tell him? Where is that good ol' friend of mine?" Casey asked, feigning happiness. Jacey noticeably brightened at Casey's 'happiness,' and pointed down the hall.
"Last I saw he was near the elevators. He sounded a bit distracted, but he was concerned, nonetheless," she said. "You should be able to catch him, but he's still wearing that awful aftershave of his - beware." She wrinkled her nose at this.
Casey let out a little laugh and went down the hall, following the entertaining instructions from Jacey. She let out a little 'aha!' noise when she found him, where he was finally stepping into the elevator. Just barely managing to slide into it before the doors closed, Casey looked at James. He was a very intelligent man, with blue black hair and sapphire eyes, and over six feet tall. She sometimes got neck cramps if she talked to him for too long. Not that Casey was so short, or anything, just that looking up for so long can only lead to that. "James! I heard you were asking about me?"
He smiled warmly at her, "Yep. And how is my little intern?" He always says that. She interned here once, and he was just out of medical school, so he began to call her his 'little intern'.
She gave a small smile, "I'm holding up."
There was a moment of silence before James spoke again. "Casey, do you ever think that maybe you should go out of the medical field? I mean, all the cases you get seem to reopen wounds that never really healed-" he was interrupted by Casey holding a patient hand up.
"James, the very reason I joined the medical field is to help people. I never want to be in a situation where someone is hurt and I can't do anything about it. Not again," she said. The elevator stopped with a ding and James and Casey began to go out. "I need to ask you a favor, J," she said as they walked towards his office.
"Name it. Whatever you want."
"I need you take this case for me. It's too familiar. The others, well, they're not too bad, but this one is an exact replica of the very thing I ran away from."
He turned to her once they reached his door and looked down at her hopeful face. "All right," he sighed, "but this is the last time, Casey. You know I love to help you, but when the Big Man looks at all your transferred cases . . ." he trailed off.
Casey nodded her head in understanding. "Thank you," she said gratefully and pecked him on the cheek. Walking off, she didn't hear the mournful sigh come from her one of her best friends.
Seventeen-year-old Casey walked happily home, hardly able to contain her excitement. Her teacher had just informed her that one of the most prestigious colleges out there had been observing her and wanted to set up a meeting! A meeting! She was so happy, she'd begun to skip a bit. In her elated state, she didn't hear the car pull up until the horn beeped. Giving a startled jump – although it would've been unnoticeable were it not for the surprised look on her face – she turned to see who had interrupted her bliss.
"Hey, Doo-dah, are you gonna skip the whole way home or do you want a ride?" Derek asked with a wide smile.
Her initial shock worn off, Casey narrowed her eyes. "Why would I want to ride with someone who insults me constantly? How do I know you're not going to drive to some secluded area and dump me out, with no way home?"
He seemed a bit shocked at this, and raised amused eyebrows, "Someone's imagination is on overdrive. Get in the car, Case." He rolled the window back up and waited for her to get in. Casey snickered and got in the car George had bought Derek a year ago. She has her own, but she had felt like walking today so she just left it in the garage. "I knew you'd see it my way," he said as she buckled up.
She shoved him playfully in the arm, "Just drive, Derek. I've decided I much rather prefer your lips on mine than hearing words come out of them."
He took a fist to his chest, "Ouch, babe, that hurt."
"Well, I do what I can," she said and turned on the radio. Shortly after, they arrived home and walked in the house, hand in hand. "Mom! George! We're home!" Casey called once she'd discarded her jacket and shoes.
"Hi honey," Nora said as she breezed through the kitchen entrance and up the stairs. "Hey, Derek," she added, when she saw him wave. "George won't be home for another hour or two, he has to stay at the office a little late."
Derek's brow furrowed a bit, "What about the kids?"
Nora stopped halfway up the stairs and pulled a concerned look, "I thought it was your turn to pick them all up."
"No, that was yesterday – which he did. Today was your turn. Then tomorrow is mine, then George's," Casey interjected, counting off her fingers.
Nora let out a grumble that sounded vaguely like: 'Why me?' "Well, could one of you pick them up? I'm really busy." Casey nodded her head, not wanting to upset her pregnant mother.
"I'll never understand why they decided to have another baby. They can hardly keep up with us," Derek said as he opened the door for Casey while reaching for his discarded keys. Casey merely mumbled an agreement before going back in the red Chevy. It wasn't until five minutes later did she remember her happy news.
She turned in her seat, "Guess what?"
"What?" Derek said, sparing a quick glance her way before turning his eyes back on the road.
She let out an exasperated sigh, "Derek! You're supposed to guess!"
He dramatically rolled his eyes, "All right. Fine. Hmm . . . you've suddenly discovered a long-lost sister from Paraguay that your oh so lovely father forgot to mention?"
Casey cocked an eyebrow, "And you though my imagination was in overdrive. Speaking of which, my grandmother drives faster than you do!"
"Yes, and you grandmother also ended up in an insane asylum. Any more accusations on my driving?" he said with an 'all-knowing' smirk.
"No," Casey grumbled. "But you never guessed," she said as pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car. Derek walked around and began to walk with her to the building. It was past four and they would probably be in the office.
"Ugh. Fine, you caught me. Okay . . . you've become psychic overnight and had a vision of you in a white dress with me at the altar?" he asked, avoiding her eyes.
Casey stopped and grabbed his hand, making him stop as well. "Derek? Did you just say what I think you just said?"
"Well, that depends. What did you think I said?" he answered with a grin, finally looking her in the eye.
"Derek, did you just suggest that we get married?" she asked, hope and fear gleaming in her eyes. Derek leaned down and gave her a sweet kiss.
"Yes. But not now. Sometime after college, so we can have time for, um, college . . . stuff," he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck nervously.
Casey smiled at his obvious nervousness, "I would love to," and kissed him before heading off to the building. Not two seconds after she left a stunned Derek in the parking lot than she returned with very unhappy looking siblings. Edwin crossed his arms, Lizzie wore a frown, while Marti was stomping along – looking adorable – but still looking as if she was whining to Casey about something.
Derek just shook his head and climbed back into the car. Five minutes, five seat belts, and four slams of the doors later, they were out of the parking lot and on their way home.
"Derek, you still haven't guessed my good news!" Casey cried, obviously growing impatient.
Derek let out a huff, "How about you tell me, as the last time you asked we got on a completely different subject. Besides, you know I'm never going to guess right, anyway."
"Well, if you insist."
"I do."
"Mrs. Higgins told me today that one of the most prestigious colleges out there want to meet with me!" she managed to squeak out.
Derek's face lit up, "Really? Case, that's great!"
"I know! Isn't it, though?" she said in a dreamy voice, all ready imagining herself in the dorms. They rode the rest of the way home listening to radio in a happy – in Casey's and Derek's position – and bitter – Edwin, Lizzie, and Marti – air.
"So, how are you holdin' up?" Casey asked Kevin, the man who had just been wheeled in about ten minutes ago. He'd been in a car accident, one of many from the icy roads of winter. He looked pretty beat up, but there were only a few cuts bruises, a gash that would need stitching – he would most likely go home that night.
Kevin nodded weakly, "I'll be okay. You know, aside from the oozing blood coming out of me," he added with a grimace.
"I know, sir. I'm trying to get a room ready for you – there's just been so many fatal wrecks lately . . . You have to give me just a minute," she replied with a solemn face. I should be out there helping other people, but I'm stuck here making small talk with a bitter victim. This is my life, Casey thought bitterly.
"Yes, well. Could you at least give me some kinda drug or whatever? This giant cut on the side of my face is just doing wonders for my mood, you know."
"Look, Kevin. I'm sorry you were in a wreck, all right? There's nothing I can do about it. The only thing that I can do clean your cuts, which I've already done. You need stitches, and I've just sent Jacey for the supplies. You're just going to have to wait," she snapped. I'm not in the mood for this. Kevin shut up and laid his head back down on the stretcher pillow. They waited in silence for another minute or so before a flustered Jacey barged into the room.
"Casey, they need you next door, ASAP. I'll take care of . . . um . . ." she trailed off, "him." Casey nodded and quickly left the room, going to the room next door.
She shuddered involuntarily at the sight before her. Grimacing, she ran up to the present doctor in the room, Clifton Westerly. He was about Casey's height, and although he was a bit unfriendly at times, he was one of the best doctors out there. Well, in their district.
"Hurry! He's going into Cardiac Arrest!" He rubbed the pedals together and placed them on the victim's chest. "Now!" Bolts of electricity went the man's the body, making it jump and convulse briefly before falling back lifelessly onto the gurney. "Again!" Casey readied the machine. The bolts charged through, only to end with the same results as before. The heart monitor let off a resounding beep. Casey looked on in shock at the man on the gurney. He looked pretty tall, had red/brown hair, and looked remarkably handsome. Aside from the fact that he had huge gashes along his body, not to mention the bruises and visible broken bones.
"What happened to him?" Casey asked, her voice ringing in disbelief.
"Time of death: 2:54 AM," one of the nurses in the room stated. Westerly looked to be in utter pain, if not pain than complete shock – for he had never lost a patient in his life. At least, not so quickly.
"Car accident. There was a drunk driver, he died instantly. Someone called 911 when they saw what happened; they were on their way work . . ." he trailed off, the shock still not wearing down.
He looks like Derek. Oh, my God. Oh, God, please help me, Casey thought desperately and fled out of the building, not paying any heed to the chaos around her.
As the bitter cold of winter hit her cheeks, she covered her face with her hands, trying to contain her anguish.
"Derek, when will we get married?" Casey asked, snuggling herself further in his embrace on her bed.
He sighed, "I don't know. Nora and George still aren't too happy with us already, what with us being together and all. I guess they'd think it was official or something."
She cocked her head to look at him, "What do you mean, 'official'? Aren't we already?" Her tone was accusing and hurt.
"Oh, no, I don't mean it that way," Derek quickly amended. "What I mean to say is, I guess with us just being boyfriend and girlfriend they think we can break up any old time, but if – when – we get married, we would be inseparable in their eyes. I'm not sure how they'd handle it, is all."
Casey looked down at their intertwined hands, "Oh. So, when are we going to tell them?"
Derek's face contorted (although adorably, in Casey's opinion) in deep thought, "I honestly don't know Casey. When the time comes, I guess we'll just . . . know," he said slowly, as if thinking over every word carefully. Casey only nodded in response and placed her head on his shoulder, sighing almost dejectedly.
"Case?" he said, almost too quietly to hear.
"Yeah?" she replied, too comfortable to move her head.
"I love you," he said, looking down at her.
She looked up into his deep, brown eyes and knew she would never love anyone else. His eyes were filled with so much tenderness, if she hadn't been laying down already, she would've fallen. "I love you, too."
Driving southwards, Casey irritably hit the dial on the radio, cutting the annoying radio announcer's babble off. "It's been so long since I've visited, I'm not sure if I know where it is anymore," she spoke aloud into the deathly quiet car.
But no, I could never forget where he is. I wouldn't be able to live if ever forgot . . .
Coming to halt at the stoplight, Casey looked around. There was an abandoned store to her left, while a businessman came out of his office building to her right. Straight ahead, there was nothing. Nothing but the foreboding road and her growing pain. The pain of seeing him again.
Twenty year old Casey entered her shared apartment with Derek after her last class of the day at Columbia University. She was really tired, and wasn't really expecting all of the candles lit up around the small, yet comfortable space. Rose petals were all over the floor, consisting of pink, red, white, and dark hues of the like. She gasped in delight as she took in the beauty of it all.
Suddenly, warm, strong arms wrapped around her, and soft lips began to kiss the nape of her neck. She giggled, "Derek, what's going on?"
"Don't you know?" he asked between butterfly kisses just below her ear.
"Why don't you inform me," Casey said, turning in his embrace so she could talk to him properly.
Derek's teasing face turned to one of disbelief when he saw her confused one, "Casey, do you really not remember?"
Casey racked her brain for any clues. Let's see, today is Tuesday – nothing remotely special about that . . . Um, what's the date? What's the date . . .? Oh! It's – oh my gosh! It's the sixth, isn't it? Of August? It's . . . "Our anniversary?"
"Yeah," he pulled away a bit so as to get a better look at her. "Casey, are you okay? You're never one to forget these kinds of things . . ." he trailed off.
She smiled warmly at him, "I'm fine, hun. I'm just stressed is all." With a final look into his eyes, she rose up to kiss him sweetly.
"And here I was thinking that I wouldn't have to explain a thing, only get a loving glance and tug towards the bedroom after some champagne and chocolate covered strawberries," Derek pouted.
Casey looked at him, amusement evident in her eyes and written all over her face, "Oh, Derek, this is so wonderful. Thank you," she said sincerely, and kissed him again.
Derek gave a half smile, "C'mon, let's go eat," and pulled her in the direction of the kitchen. Only when he felt a tug on his hand did he stop and look at her.
"Derek, I have to go change. I mean, look at you," Casey said, indicating his black tuxedo jacket and blue undershirt, along with black pants and polished black shoes.
Derek nodded, "All right, but I'll get your dress." And before she could question him, he bolted in and after a few noises brought out her navy blue gown that she had worn only once before and her favorite pair of heels. "Go change in the bathroom," he said, and handed her the dress. She looked at him with confusion and amusement, but went to bathroom anyway. About ten minutes later Casey came out, smiling at Derek as he looked at her in awe. She had done her make up 'just so' so that it went perfectly with her dress, which brought out her eyes. "You look beautiful," was all he said, was all he could say, and they went into the kitchen.
Two hours later . . .
Casey snuggled into the bed sheets and rested her head on Derek's chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. "Derek, thank you. This means so much to me," she said, and kissed him on his lips before laying her head back down.
"You're welcome. I love you, Case," he added.
"I love you, too, Derek," she said, and they fell into a peaceful sleep.
Casey slowly got out of the car, dreading the moment that to come. She knew that she would have to face it sooner or later – she couldn't live with this all of her life. She had to say goodbye.
Walking to the gates of the cemetery, she took calming breaths, hoping that it would steady her racing heart. With clammy hands, she unhooked the gate and began to tread through the sea of tombstones.
Derek finished organizing the papers on his desk, knowing he had to get home. He had called Casey earlier to tell her not to wait up for him, for he would be working late and wouldn't be home until about midnight. Very rarely did he stay this late, but lately his job had been getting harder and harder, the work just kept piling on. He had no choice but to stay late – it was either that or get fired. His boss had told him earlier that he would have to lock up, as she had a date with her boyfriend that night and wouldn't be coming back.
Standing up, he groaned, I really need to get a better desk chair. That thing is killing my back. Cutting off the lamp he had on his desk, he was left in a pitch black office. It didn't matter, though. He had the place memorized by heart.
His face scrunched up as a foul smell reached his nose and he decided that it was just time for the janitors to actually do their job for once instead of just sitting around in the lounge and smoking, (when it was a 'No Smoking' zone) talking mindlessly about whatever was going on in their lives. He pulled his shirt over his nose and walked through the darkness. The whole building had the faint smell of smoke, but that was always there because of the stupid janitors and some of the ignorant employees. He didn't acknowledge the fact that it didn't smell of nicotine, but carbon dioxide.
He did notice that elevator was being particularly stubborn and slow that night, so he decided to take the stairs. Unfortunately, the fire spread to quickly before he could get to the doorway . . .
Hours later, at the police station . . .
"Mrs. Venturi, I'm terribly sorry, but there' s been a fire. Apparently, some kids decided to get high and play with matches. Your husband, Derek Venturi, was on his way to the stairwell, but he couldn't get out. I'm sorry, but, he didn't make it. Everything was in ruins, we couldn't find the body," the female officer told Casey sympathetically over the phone.
"A-are you sure he was in the building? I-I mean he could easily have left . . ." Casey managed to get out in a strangely calm voice, although the stuttering was evident that she was struggling not to cry.
"I'm afraid that his car was still in the parking lot, ma'am. I'm so sorry."
Casey hung up the phone. "No, no . . . this isn't happening. He'll come home and I'll give him a kiss and we'll wake up in the morning with smiles on our faces and go on with our lives. He's fine. He's fine. He's fine . . ." she said, hugging herself and sitting down on the couch, watching the door. "Any minute now he's going to open that door. Any minute . . . just a minute," she said to herself in a high-pitched, strangled voice. He's fine. He's alive and well. She repeated this mantra to herself for about an hour or two, watching the door the whole time.
It was well past five AM before she finally went to bed, but she didn't sleep. She just lied there, on his side of the bed, breathing in his scent. Not long after her alarm clock started to beep, telling her that it was almost time for her first class to start. She slowly stood up and went to the bathroom, not looking at anything but the floor. Peeling her clothing off, she stepped into the soothing water . . . and she cried.
She hadn't cried since. Not a single tear was shed at his funeral, where there was only an empty casket, six feet under.
Finding the barely familiar tombstone with an angel on the top of it, Casey clenched her fists, forcing herself to walk to it.
Marti spoke at the funeral. The sweet girl had loved her brother so much, Casey couldn't help but relinquish it to her. It was crowded, all right. All his old friends from high school, along with college buddies and coworkers. Lizzie had come back France – which she hadn't done since Casey's wedding – and Edwin from Florida. He'd come for the wedding, too. Nora and George came from home, all the way to New York. It stated in his will that everything would go to Casey, with a few sentiments for Marti and Edwin, and odd little things for Lizzie, Nora, and George. His tombstone read:
R.I.P.
Derek Venturi
January, 1989 – April, 2010
Loving husband, dedicated
brother and son
He was twenty one. Barely had a taste of life. He and Casey had been trying for a child since five months after their wedding, when they were still twenty. Casey had nothing left of him except for material items – they had not been successful when they were trying.
Casey stayed there hours after the funeral had ended. Marti had stayed for a while with her, but soon found it too painful and, after squeezing Casey's hand lovingly, left to go back to her home in Michigan. Finally the little, painful pricks from the blood-red rose stirred her out of her trance-like state. She gently placed the rose in the center of the fresh pile of dirt, away from the other flowers, which were at his feet.
She walked away.
"Hey," Casey said into the cold winter air, her eyes on the name on the tombstone. "It's been awhile, huh?" She absentmindedly fiddled with her wedding band, searching for the words to say . . . to help her let go. "I'm sorry I didn't bring any flowers for you, babe. I don't have a nice history with roses anymore. They prick me. They remind me of you."
She sighed and sat down at where (she figured) his feet would be if he were laying in front of her. "I'm sorry I haven't visited you. It just hurts too much. I mean, you left me so suddenly. I didn't even get to say goodbye . . ." she trailed off, blinking back the tears she'd been holding in for years. "Why? Why did you leave me?!" she screamed, jumping up and beginning to pace. "I loved you so much! We were going to have a life together! God, Derek, we were going to have children! Why did you have to stay late? Why didn't you just come home? I mean, what's worth more in the end: a job or your life? Why?! I loved you so much! I love you so much . . ." she finished quietly, finally collapsing on top of where he would be. "Derek, I love you," she said, and traced the letters of his name with her finger, loving the feel of what the letters spelled, yet hating them at the same time.
She soon fell into a half dazed state, where her mind was making up scenes of what their life could've been, were it not for that stupid, stupid fire. They would have three kids: Jake, Christie, and Melissa. Living in a nice home, they would have weekly parties and have family night; keeping in touch with George, Nora, and the kids, as Casey had not.
Seven years without contact to those whom she loved.
Seven years without the feel of his touch against her lips.
Seven years without him there to calm her down after a stressful day at school.
Seven years without his humor.
Seven years without Derek.
"Good bye, Derek," she said, slowly getting up, and kissing the headstone, walked away. "I'll always love you."
As if in response, a warming breeze whirled around her, and she shook her head at her over-active imagination.
That's funny, I thought I heard someone say 'I love you'