Set Fire To The Rain
New York, present time
Slowly and carefully, Derek Shepherd traced the outlines of engravings that had been carved into the wooden tables of Margie's Diner on 38th St. His fingers followed the faded lines of promise and faith. How had everything fallen apart with them standing by passively? Or maybe they had not simply stood by, but furthermore they had pushed and pulled with mighty force - drowned the idea of a forever in a gigantic sea of silence.
He brought the glass of Scotch he had ordered to his mouth and let the amber liquid fill his mouth and throat with a comfortable warmness he had been longing for all of today. It was a gray December afternoon. It had been drizzling since dawn.
The bell above the door jingled and his head shot up quickly as though he was expecting someone. Her. But, there, he knew was no chance of her walking into this – their bar.
Unconsciously he had drawn circles on the wood with his left index finger. He stared at his hand so intensely it must have hurt his eyes. But if Derek Shepherd focused hard he could still make out a faded tan line of where once was a wedding band.
Derek let his head fall against the wall behind him, took in a deep breath and closed his eyes in resignation.
Columbia School of Medicine, 1994
"Kurt Tocholsky once said that when someone gives a speech the audience must remain silent. So, I will use this opportunity or rather abuse it!
So bear with me while I am trying to share the wisdom I have gained in those last four years with you, my teachers, fellow students and friends.
It's over.
The fact that I am allowed to stand up here and speak to you about the last four years we have spent together and the forty plus years that are yet come, proves without a doubt that a chapter in the book of our lives has been closed.
Firstly I want to take this chance to congratulate everyone who has successfully graduated from the Medical School of the University of Columbia and wish all those of you well who will be standing in our places in the years to come.
Every one of us has collected different memories throughout the years in the corridors of this historic school. And every one of you would share different stories, reminisce over different moments, contemplate different decisions and come to a different conclusion.
Unfortunately, there is not enough time to let every one of you share just one moment that made a special impression with us today, or so I was told.
So I'll stand here by proxy reminiscing over the moments that I have treasured and praying that friendships we have formed will last for decades to come. Also I hope that once we leave that the anger, disappointment and frustration we left with our teachers and their insatiable desire for perfection will vanish. Furthermore I hope that we will have learned from them, that from now on we will strive for wisdom, knowledge, grace and discipline.
We will need to be wise enough to know when a battle we have fought with all we had is not for us to win.
We will need to know… so we can save a life in the first place.
We will need grace when it is on us to save the villain rather than the victim, for it is not our choice who lives or dies.
Mostly, though, we will need discipline to be wise, to gain knowledge and have grace.
- Those who fight may lose, but those of us who have never fought have already lost.-
A German poet once shared his philosophy of life with us hoping that we would understand.
I hope that you will take these words with you, wherever you might go and that you will learn to live by them.
I want you to be brave when your actions are needed. I want you to speak up when your voice needs to be heard. Mostly I want you to be the extra-ordinary doctors that we have studied so hard for.
This is the end.
We have come together to celebrate so I will no longer hold your time captive in my futile attempt to hold onto the past. I always felt honored to walk these halls and therefore I am leaving with a sad smile on my face and the curiosity of an unknown future in my heart. I am looking forward to the challenges that will be awaiting me once I leave this school.
There is nothing more to say now than my best wishes for every single one of you in the lives that you choose and for the obstacles that may arise.
Good luck! Farewell!"
New York, present time
In the end he thought there were too many obstacles, too few courage and not enough mercy.
Derek took a sip from his scotch; let it burn his lips in a need to feel something, anything apart from the helplessness that was beginning to drown him from top to bottom.
He nodded cautiously as if admitting his failure in the mess they had created was still avertable and giving away seemed to only strengthen the guilt he felt.
Or maybe they had lacked the discipline and the faith to look past the anger and disappointment and constant strive for perfection, to realize the kind of love they shared was not found yet it was still a work in progress.
Derek sat in silence contemplating the events of the day, the news he had learned; learned to hate. He emptied the half full glass of liqueur before gesturing to the waitress to bring him another tumbler filled to the brim with oblivion.
Sometimes Derek wondered how his life would have turned out if he had never applied to Columbia, if he had never met Addison Adrienne Forbes Montgomery. In those few moments regret seemed to plague his restless soul. He remembered the way her hair shone in the spring sunshine, the way her eyes were filled with pride and faith when she stood in front of students, teachers, friends and family voicing her gratitude and her well wishes. She wore a light yellow dress underneath her black robe. Her skin was as pale as it had ever been, her lips took on the sinful red he had come to desire most. On that day she radiated, driven by the urge to leave behind and start with the rest of her life, their life.
Thinking about that happy day in their lives almost broke his heart for a second time in the last twenty-four hours. Derek had understood all of those years ago on the Columbia Campus of Medicine that he wanted to marry his girlfriend for she enabled him to believe, to support and to create. She kept him on course when he seemed to drift away and she needed him to do the same for her. He wondered if they had stood a chance had they only realized earlier that growing up sometimes meant giving up on recent plans and forming new goals together instead of clinging to what once was familiar until the threat you were hanging onto was to hollow to hold your weight anymore.
If only they had talked about what they wanted and needed instead of keeping quiet to avoid confrontation, they could have had a chance. They deserved a chance, Derek whispered harshly into noise of the crowded restaurant.
The glass in Derek's hand slipped out of his grasp and burst into pieces as it smashed onto the tiled floor. For a moment he did not move. Only when the waitress came over to his table to ask him if he was alright did he realize that the glass had fallen to the ground. There was a trail of blood running down his thumb. He nodded briefly to show the concerned waitress that he was fine, left a couple of bills on the table and excused himself to flee into the cold winter dusk.
As Derek wandered through the streets of Manhattan he bumped into shoulders, was yelled at in more than one language he did not recognize and he nearly missed the street he had aimed for.
He took the steps two at a time, hastily knocked on the door and jumped from foot to foot in an attempt to calm his nerves.
As the door opened he looked into her eyes which appeared grayer than he remembered. She looked frail, her skin was pale like ashes, and her once vibrant red hair had taken on a hint of grey and was tied together in a knot on the back of her head. When Addison spoke, she did so in a quiet, fragile tone. She spoke slowly as if the forming of words was costing her too much energy she could not afford to lose in this battle she was fighting.
"Derek, what are you doing?"
He looked at her; saw the movement of her lips and all he really heard was something she had told him 18 hours ago.
"It's cancer, Derek."
"What," Derek could barely hear himself utter these words over the long distance line.
-
A couple of months earlier
Addison sat waiting patiently to board her plane. It was an odd feeling after everything was said and done. She toyed with her phone and shuffled through her carry on trying to look important and busy but the truth was she was no such thing for the next two weeks.
Leaving her failed attempt at establishing a new life was probably the easiest choice Addison had made in the last three or so years. She did not take decisions like this lightly and after she weighed out the possible pros and cons she could not find a good enough reason not to leave the rainy hell hole that had destroyed whatever shred of dignity she had arrived with that long year ago. One horribly lengthy year fraught with choices that could have been made better and too many series of broken hearts to count left her standing a little shorter and a little less hopeful. She is at an all time low, even for her, and it is time for a change. Feeling as though it is her turn for something good to happen, after all she had endured lately; she boarded and took her seat rapidly. What she knew was that if something good could not happen to her then she would quickly settle for something happening at all and going back was the first step in being able to move forward.
This undoubtedly should have happened long before now. It had been neglected, put off, and avoided until the possibility was no longer in question. Now, which was about a week and a half before she needed to be in Santa Monica to start the new segment of her life, Addison must return to the house of ghosts. She thought about having movers come in and pack her stuff under the supervision of Savvy, her best friend, but ultimately decided that she was uncomfortable with strange men going through her personal belongings and throwing them into boxes. So she decided it would be best if she went and cleared out the house herself, backing up memories in many boxes, some stored somewhere in New York City and some making it to sunny California and the new life of Addison Adrienne Forbes Montgomery.
Addison swallowed hard as the blurring lights outside of her window began to slow and gravity forced her further into her seat. Instead of getting a hotel room so she would be able to not deal with the brownstone until tomorrow, Addison hopped into the first cab she could flag down and recited the address she knew by heart. She tried to remind herself that not all of the times within the façade of a house were bad but the good memories only made her feel worse as she sensed the threatening tears in the corner of her eyes.
When the cab came to a rest amidst the rest of the busy street outside her old home she seemed to be unable to breath. She gasped and tried valiantly to keep her composure until she could at least make it inside. The cab driver struggled with the luggage and growled as she handed him the cash before darting back inside and tearing off. She stood, mostly alone with the exception of the foot traffic teetering around her, staring up at the front door. The only memory that coursed through her was that of the night where her husband, correction ex-husband, threw her into the rain. Feeling utterly ridiculous and childish, she shook her head at no one in particular and forced her feet forward on the dry concrete.
She entered the house slowly half expecting and half hoping to be met by something other than the darkness that encased the room. After flicking on the lights Addison kicked off her heels, letting them fall against the wooden staircase, and left her coat draped over the banister. Taking slow deliberate steps so as not to disturb the museum she had just penetrated Addison made her way to the kitchen. The tears set in after about the third stride and she spent the remainder of the night crying at the old kitchen table. She let the carefully crafted guards fall to her knees and openly sobbed for all of the dreams she had lost in the last year.
Morning found her completely exhausted and sleeping with most of her body on the couch and the other portion hanging off in an awkward position. After trying to make it upstairs last night she hastily resigned to the fact that there was no way she was sleeping in their old bed. She had allotted for two days of packing to guarantee that she did not linger with photographs and mementos for too long. She did not want the memories that coursed through her body anymore, she wanted to neatly pack them into boxes, seal the top with clear tape, and throw them in the back of some closet that awaited her by the ocean. Standing she felt her back try to realign itself and her knees cracked from the sudden weight placed upon them. She made quick work of getting ready for the day and was certain that after last night's display that wearing any form of make up today would just be futile. She popped a Xanax to help quell the inner emotions and reasoned that having an anxiety attack with no one around to help her was the last thing she needs on her plate.
The autographed 1978 Yankees World Series Ball sat on the same shelf of the bookshelf which Addison had left it on after Derek tossed it aside the day after their ninth wedding anniversary. She got him the ball, as a token, because he used to be such a huge fan and he bought her roses that were delivered to her office twenty minutes after she had left for the day.
For their fifth wedding anniversary someone had managed to abide by the protocol and got them a wooden picture frame that held Addison's favorite picture of her old life. It was un-staged and they did not even know there was a camera near them as they melted into each other next to the roaring fireplace of his mother's house. It was their season; now it was a season that brought about a resounding feeling of guilt and regret. It went into the box next to the ball.
By the time her 35th birthday, which she strenuously refused to recognize, rolled around the gifts had become more lavish. She actually had wondered if her husband thought that the more money he spent on it the more it would mean to her. She stared back at the sculpture and debated tossing it against the wall just to watch it shatter. The irony would be too overwhelming so into the box it went.
His copy of The Sun Also Rises, her trashy novels, numerous medical journals, and old classics all get dumped into the next box. Most of the literature belonged to Derek who enjoyed a good strenuous read from time to time. She preferred to read for entertainment and stuck to "chick lit". She left the furniture, all of the electronics, and the appliances behind. Honestly she could not care less about what happened to them after she signed off on this place. It was not on the market yet (she wasn't ready to part ways) but she knew now that this had to be done. The past and all of its memories, good, bad, or indifferent needed to be put to rest.
She found herself stuck in the doorway, eyes locked on the place where the treachery took place. It was betrayal, through and through. It was a simple act that ended a life she was not living in anymore. She merely existed within the shell of a fantastic marriage and a man who did not care if she woke up the next morning or not. It was also something that she hated thinking about because she never anticipated being that woman. So she stepped inside, switched off her brain, and worked methodically through the room. Clothes still on their hangers and fresh with his scent get discarded into a box that she will send him and will promptly get thrown away. It stung a little, even now, that he still chose to disown everything from his former life. He did not want the clothes, the pictures, the books, the china, or the literature. What her once best friend wanted was a good dose of amnesia and to never have to mutter the name, "Addison" ever again.
She took her jewelry, sans wedding bands, and placed them into the next box. She adamantly declined to touch the bed and anything on it. It's a line, a boundary that she could not handle crossing yet. She collected another box of Derek's belongings to ship to Boston and secretly hoped that he would at least look inside before throwing it away and erasing every last part of her , his wife. Ex-wife.
Two whole days later, wrought with grief and riddled by her old life left her emotionally hung over as she watched people board the flight she had planned to escape New York with. Instead she exhaled the breath she had been holding since she had sat food on New York soil two days ago, turned around and started walking towards the exit of JFK. She was in dear need of a new bed so she could rest her sore muscles and catch up on the sleep she had been missing for months.
-
New York, present time
"I came for you," Derek whispered as he stepped forward to embrace Addison in a tight hug. Her body was frail, her face the palest he had ever seen and her lips were cracked. Her breathing became rapidly heavier as she fought against the tears welling up in her eyes.
As she sobbed vehemently against his shoulder, Derek let his hands wander over her back in soothing circles as he repeated over and over again, "We'll get through this!"