"It just doesn't work like this in the real world! Now I know you've seen that in every cliche Hallmark film you used to conjure up for us to watch, but-"
Sometimes, she's nothing short of dumbfounded by her husband's spontaneity. Especially in lieu of the fact that he hasn't even pretended to feign this much interest in them as a...well, a them...for a long time.
"Addison. We're going. It's a beautiful state that neither you or I have seen on this side of the past decade."
And for what it's worth, they're in desperate need of some revival. This atmosphere, this homogeny, this omnipotent sense of void...it's all damaging in a way he may not exactly be able to pinpoint, but knows that the end of won't be pretty. Whatever "the end" would be, anyway.
"Patients, Derek. Patients!"
"You're telling me to have patience? Now for that, I have to laugh. This is coming from the woman who seemed to be all on board with me practically mulling over that car the other day- and every other one down the line- so we could get to Bergdorf Goodman's before it closed for you to acquire yet another ridiculously overpriced handbag. Why did I need to be there in the first place? And all because-"
"The audacity you have to marginalize an expression of art- Oh, never mind. That wasn't the point, to begin with. I didn't say 'patience': I said 'patients'. Plural. As in human beings. You know, because we're physicians who have commitments that confine us to the premises of this state..."
"We're department heads."
She's certainly aware of that implication.
"Oh now that would just be a blatant abuse of authority I couldn't possibly justify invoking for us to go take some wild venture into the Coloradan wilderness. I can't forge a reason on your whim."
"Well luckily for you, you don't have to...because I already did! Pack your bags. Gird your loins. We've got to be at the airport by midnight to catch the plane."
Midnight. She looks down at her watch. Nine o'clock. A few simple calculations lead her to the conclusion that they'll need to be out the door by eleven to make this happen. Oh, he's got to be kidding.
"Derek, I hate this! Hate-hate! There's no way I can possibly pack for a week's worth of tomfoolery in less than two hours. Besides, I need an itinerary! Are we going to be near Breckenridge? You know I haven't been skiing since that dreadful excursion my parents insisted we accompany Skippy Gold and his family on as some misguided matchmaking attempt. Or were you thinking more along the lines of an urban encounter? Now that, I'm amenable to. I did hear about Saavy's lovely experience in Cherry Creek this past spring and-"
"No itinerary."
"Excuse me?"
"N-o i-t-i-n-"
"Oh, for the love of- I'm not dense. I just like to be prepared, is all. I mean, the disaster of that one Florida trip was all caused because you wanted our activities to be a surprise. They weren't a surprise to you since you planned the whole thing and packed accordingly, but I felt like a complete idiot because I had to wear my spare surgery crocs for your stupid swamp excursion! I mean, who thinks of a swamp when their husband says, 'Florida!' and 'vacation'?! By all means, I get that you enjoy surprising people, but I happen to hate surprises because I can't prepare for something I'm not aware of and nearly being mangled by a crocodile was not high on my to-do list."
Right now, he's trying with all of his might to not crack and let out a laugh at her expense. Leave it to Addison to reduce the entirety of the state's renowned Everglades to a swamp. Already though, he feels an indiscernible force lift. This is the most lively conversation they've had in too long. That is, before he'd begun to stop noticing her. Before she'd all but reclused at the sight of his arrival after a long night, anticipating a resentful glance in place of what used to be an adorning gleam. Yes, this trip is exactly what they need. Not that they'll ever get there at the rate Addison is...not going because she's too busy unleashing each and every less-than-splendid account of their calamities in Florida that, fine, really weren't being exaggerated by much. Her tendency to ramble in times of distress or apprehension, while hard to sift through to find the most pressing points, has always been something that he finds endearing about her. It's reflective of her perpetual interlacing of thoughts, and frankly, it's just plain adorable. There it is again! Even a few hours ago, Derek acknowledges that he'd have grimaced at it. Something he used to love. Someone he knows he does love. What happened to him? Well, he may not have an answer to that question, but he sends a quick thank you up towards some ambiguous spot in the ceiling. Whatever's up there (beyond the ceiling)- if anything- is doing him a great service as of late.
Ok. Where is Derek and what has this man done with her (present day)husband? She could've sworn he'd smiled at her. An actual smile, not the Addison-just-take-this-as-a-social-cue-to-leave-me-alone sort of smile she'd grown accustomed to. Where on earth had he derived the inspiration to whisk her away- alright, that phrase may be setting the bar a little too high- to take her on trip to a vastly contrasting part of the country...willingly? This reminds of who her husband used to be, come to think of it. Though, if you ask anyone else, they'd say he's exactly the same, and indeed, he is...when he has to project a fabrication imitating what once was to the outside world. To his audience. In any case, tonight seems different. Innately so. Ok, Addison, don't just stand here mumbling. Pack! As she gathers an array of belongings she hopes will suffice to serve her well on whatever this trip is, an all-enveloping sense of nostalgia seems to find its way into the space, and how could it not? For example, the ridiculous ski goggles she optimistically (as optimistic as a pragmatist can be, to be clear) believes won't actually call to be used in their upcoming excursions? Derek had purchased them for her subsequent to the massive blizzard of 1996 because lives are always in need of saving, no matter the weather, and he knew she preferred not to traverse the halls of the hospital first thing in the morning looking like a (her words, not his) raccoon due to the adverse toll relentless moisture partakes on a person's makeup. That's what her husband used to do. It's a fond memory to reminisce over.
"Addison?"
She whirls around to find a slightly inquisitive look on Derek's face.
"I uh, well I was just-"
"Pretty fond of the ceiling, dear?" Did I just say, "dear"?!
Did he just say, "dear"?!
"Um." Pause. "I-"
"Well, I hope you're done doing...whatever it is that you were doing because we've got to get going."
He cocks his head slightly, still unable to fathom what on earth he'd just witnessed, but pleased to see her happy. In fact, he's pleased with himself that he's pleased to see her happy. It's almost like he…
...cares about me again! Though now she's convinced he's pegged as her as a bit looney...whatever. He cares that she's coming off as a bit looney! This calls for a celebration. Clearly, though, it'll have to wait until they've made it to the airport in time.
"I'm ready!" Too enthusiastic, Addie...let's not push our luck. "Erm, I'm ready. Meet you in the garage at ten-after? I just need to touch up my...my makeup."
He follows her gaze over to a little blob on the flannel adorned bed. Presumably, it's a pair of glasses that have been travel-proofed. She's still staring, eyes affixed on the little bundle.
"Addison. Are you sure you're ok?"
"Of course! Ahem. Of course."
Why is she repeating every other phrase coming our of her mouth? He's a neurosurgeon. Surely, he'd know if something was seriously off...cognitively? He speculates over the plausible symptoms: darting gaze, poor concentration (that's a bit of a stretch)...nope. It's not adding up. He'll just take her word for it that things are alright. For now, anyway.
"Ok...see you in ten."
By some miracle, they manage to get out of the garage before 11:20. Sure, 11:00 had been the original target, but Derek figures he'll pick his battles and take what he can get. Heaven knows that enduring a four-hour plane flight with the likes of a notably passive-aggressive wife on the prowl- though the extents to which one can prowl are certainly more limited on an airborne piece of machinery- is not high on his to-do list.
- xx -
If you love someone, tell them. Mark continues to blare this repeatedly in his inner monologue, trying to create some semblance of calm for what happens to be the polar opposite of such. If anything helps, it's reminding himself that he'd been sent by Derek to attend the events that were by all means milestones in his wife's extraordinary career. That Derek had either forgotten or intentionally blown off- he's not sure which is worse- their past two anniversary dates, leaving him to comfort (and that was all that had happened) the woman his best friend had vowed to share the rest of his life with. He hadn't planned for any feelings to arise. Nevertheless, they accrued. It isn't fair, he resolves. It isn't fair that she has to feel inadequate and discarded day in and day out while her supposed husband goes about his days without a care in the world. Without a care...that's the problem. Enough is enough. He's going to tell her how he feels. And with this, he takes his last few resounding steps over to the brownstone.