A/N: Drabble based on 3.15
One word can make a difference.
Nine days ago, Burke said to me, "Marry me."
Still fighting back the tears in my eyes from the guilt and my own fear about what our future held, I was too scared to give him a response—Neither of us was ready for a yes or a no.
One night ago, Burke asked me, "So, is that a yes?"
Trying to dissolve the anxious feelings residing in both of us, I finally took the leap and gave him a yes—All the intimacy that followed made me think I've done the right thing.
An hour ago, Burke ended his command with "Do you have a problem with that?"
It was the pit he wanted me to cover, it was sutures he wanted me to perform. He was withholding surgeries—I felt like he was punishing me, yet I replied with a no.
What would have happened if I gave a no last night?
I don't believe in fairy tales; all I want is simplicity. Am I asking for too much when I want things to be smooth and easy between Burke and I from now on?
I don't mind the overt display of affection this morning when we went to work. In fact, I love snuggling up from behind; now I feel like there's a legitimate reason for me to do that, without having others talk about it in a nasty, gossiping voice.
I don't mind working at the pit. In fact, I would have said yes very readily if I understood what Burke is trying to say to me through his action. The problem is that I don't know why he has to sound that harsh to me.
If he's trying to show me he can't be my fiancé or whatever at work, he could have told me, or treat me in a way that's less condescending. Right now, he was neither impartial nor polite. Not only wasn't he treating me as his fiancé, but he was not even treating me as a regular intern.
Everyone is out saving lives and I'm the only one left behind and I never once said no.
Yet, Burke had to force a no out of me by asking a rhetorical question if there's any problem.
Why would a yes last night turn into a no?
What if I said yes just now? How would Burke have reacted to my defiance?
Looking back, it is a problem actually. It makes me wonder about our communication and my decision—How many more nos will my yes entail?
Yes or no, it's the sense of uncertainties embedded that overwhelms me.
If they could tell me with a concrete no to my question of whether we should give up all hope of ever finding Meredith, I might have felt more ready to begin my mourning; if they could tell me with a confident yes that Meredith would be fine, I would probably have been able to keep praying.
It was the in-betweens that's unsettling. Whoever told me no news is good news is not using his or her brain to think—the last time they said nothing when I asked if my father was going to be Ok, he died.
The thought is creeping up like the phantom and it surely doesn't help at all when I'm all alone in the pit.
So when Burke came in and asked me, "Are you Ok, Cristina?" I decided not to respond with words, any single word.
One syllable can tilt my life either way, but a lingering hug will keep me steady. At least for now.
