Here We Go
They were at it again. Every morning before she left for work, Ben Warren found himself arguing with his wife. Miranda Bailey was the most stunning and intelligent person he'd ever known which is why he married her, locked her down with a ring and promises of forever. But damn it if she didn't make him want to strangle her from time to time. "You don't think four months is long enough for me to learn my lesson?" He asked her as she struggled to put on her jacket. The gentleman in him wanted to help her as he often did which usually led to at least a passionate make out session if not a quickie in their foyer. But neither one of them were in the mood to kiss the other. He touched his temple.
"On a six-month suspension?" She turned to look him in his eyes. "No, I don't."
Ben looked away. Her eyes were piercing and it was best not to even continue the conversation. He put his hands on his hips and let her talk. It was her favorite pastime. "If you think a scheduling glitch will suddenly make me trust you again in an OR—"
"Wait. 'Trust me'?" He repeated. She didn't trust him? His heart sank. Did she really feel that way? Trust him to do what? Be a surgeon or a father or a husband—"What do you mean 'trust me'?" Miranda didn't answer as Ben walked toward her. She continued to the door with him on her heels. Was she really going to just drop that bomb and walk away? "…but you don't trust me with patients?"
She finally turned around, sighing. "It was a grave error in judgment."
"And you're gonna trust me again in two more months?" The comment came off sarcastically and he wanted to take it back, but it was already out there. "That's what it will take?" Silence. He raised his eyebrows, trying to be patient. He waited. They'd been married for nearly four years and they knew each other so well. Sometimes she was able to read his mind before he even opened his mouth, answering a question that he hadn't even formed yet. And, other times, he was able to look at her face and see what direction her mood was going and either meet her there or take cover. But… nothing. Her face gave him nothing but the feeling of discontent and disappointment. "Miranda, should I be here at all?" Ben asked his wife. He held his breath and waited. He was actually afraid of what she'd say, afraid maybe her answer would rock his world. Even more than his suspension had; he was a surgeon and had been placed on suspension after a crucial error. He was glad that at least he'd found a way back into the OR by returning to his previous job as an Attending Anesthesiologist, the original direction of his career. And his wife, the Chief of Surgery, was definitely not happy about that, advising her department heads to obstruct him from being in their OR, but he'd prevailed—sort of. He was just glad that he was able to learn and earn a living. But four months without performing surgery was driving him beyond insane. Ever since he'd applied to become a surgical resident, it was all he wanted to do. That and make his family happy.
Ben waited for her response and was thrown to hear her say: "I'll see you at the wedding."
"'I'll see you at the wedding'," Ben said into the phone shaking his head and readjusting himself.
"That's it? That was all she said?" Ben's sister, Rosalind, said. Ben had called her right after Miranda had left the house. Well, not right after. He wallowed in his anger a bit before picking up the phone and making the call to his sister who was four years younger than he was. Even now it was odd calling his brother's number and hearing his voice, only to remember after a second that his brother didn't exist anymore. Rosalind was transgender and while Ben was supportive and happy that she was happy, it was still new and it still shocked him. He'd tried explaining to Miranda once, but he had just ended up sounding ignorant and exactly like a caveman. And she'd called him out on his bullshit. Eventually, he was able to get her to understand his feelings. That was the thing about Miranda, she could rip you a new one, but she was also a great listener. She was his best friend. And it sucked that he couldn't talk to his best friend about his issues with his wife. "That's all she said?"
"Yeah, that's it."
"What do you think that means?"
"Ros, I don't know. I mean…," he sighed. "I just don't know." Ben shrugged his shoulders and put her on speakerphone as he finished folding the sheets and comforter that he'd used last night. Every night he slept on the sofa in their living room was putting strain on his back and on his marriage with Miranda. He understood that he needed to discipline him at work. She was the Chief of Surgery after all. He sighed. That used to be a whole other thing. Miranda becoming Chief was an amazing day, an amazing journey and he was happy to share it with her, but it had been tough that his boss was becoming not only his actual boss, but his boss' boss. And just when he'd gotten over his ego and accepted it, this happened. The thing. His mistake, his one mistake, his only mistake. It had not only resurfaced the issue of power in their relationship, but pushed him and Miranda further apart. So, it seemed like, for the last couple of months, she, the Chief, his wife, was doing more than just disciplining him, it felt like she was punishing him and it was pissing him off. He stuffed the sofa with the cushions that he'd removed to give himself some more room, but it hadn't been nearly enough. He was six feet and weighed nearly two hundred pounds, so he damn sure needed more than thirty inches of sleeping space. He needed to be in the custom-made bed he and Miranda had purchased two years ago instead of putting a big ass dent in their living room sofa. "Shit!"
"What, Benji?" The concern in Rosalind's voice floated to his ears and brought him back to the present.
"Nothing. I'm just mad."
"You should be, but, to be fair, you did screw up."
"Don't you start."
"Well… "
"Well?"
"You're angry."
"What do you think?"
"I think that you need to get laid. Still no sex?" She chuckled, mocking him.
"I don't want to talk about it," Ben grumbled. He told his sister he'd call her back and shoved his phone into his pajama pants pockets. He took the sheets and covers up the stairs to the linen closet.
Ben peeked his head into Tuck's room and looked around quickly. One of Tuck's asthma pumps was on his dresser. Ben shook his head and hoped that it was the extra one. He picked up the pump and searched for the "2" that he'd written on it to help distinguish the extra from the one Tuck carried in his book bag. It was there. He breathed a sigh of relief, Tuck used the pump nearly once a week and with Miranda on edge about everything, now wasn't the time their son to be without it. Ben headed to the master bedroom that he shared with wife. It was the largest room in their five-bedroom house. He pushed the door open and walked into their bedroom, her bedroom. He didn't sleep in there anymore. Now he just used it to shower and to change his clothes; it was basically his locker room. If he didn't think he'd want to kick his own ass, he could have cried. Ben paced inside of the large room, eyeing everything like he was a visitor in a museum. Miranda's bra lay across the back of the chair that was in the corner of the chair. He scoffed and jumped into the shower. Stepping out of the shower and onto the warm bathroom rug, he wrapped a towel around the bottom half of his wet body and went to his closet. Reaching into his closet, he pulled out a crisp, long-sleeved dress shirt. Miranda had ironed it. Maybe she wasn't all that furious with him. A smile stayed on his face as he got dressed and headed to the church.
