PLEASE SEE CHAPTER 1 FOR NOTES, DISCLAIMER, ETC.
Song Title: Unsettled Scores (from the musical "Whistle Down the Wind")
Lyrics by: Jim Steinman
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So many cries in the night that you try to ignore
Why didn't I do that, why didn't I do this
So many unbroken chains, so many unsettled scores
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tapping her foot impatiently, Kerry silently cursed the slow mechanism
of the elevator. The compartment seemed to shudder slightly as it passed
by each floor and she made a mental note to have maintenance look into it.
The descent finally came to a halt and she bolted into the hallway
before the doors were even halfway open.
"Pardon me," she murmured, sidestepping around an older couple who were
standing right by the doors. They drew back in surprise as she brushed
past them, their ankles almost clipped by her crutch. She kept on the
lookout for him as she hurried down the hall, hoping she wasn't too late.
"Has anyone seen Carter?" she called out, approaching the admitting area
slightly out of breath.
"I think you just missed him," Abby Lockheart informed her, tapping away
at the computer keyboard. She made a small sound of frustration as she
lost the internet connection again. That was twice now in the last
ten minutes. She realized Kerry was still standing there and glanced up
at her. "Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing's wrong." Kerry held back a sigh, wishing she hadn't
misjudged the time. She gave a weary smile. "Have a good night, Abby.
I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Dr. Weaver."
Kerry headed for the lounge, her pace unrushed now. Considering they'd
been working the same shift, she'd barely seen John all day.
The afternoon had been busy and then she had gotten tied up in a
dinner meeting. But that was no excuse. She should have made a point
of seeking him out and telling him they needed to talk. Another day
of lost opportunity had slipped by and she regretted it. Dave wasn't
the only one who was worried about him.
She pushed open the lounge door, only to find exactly who she was
looking for. "Hi, I'm glad you're still here."
John barely turned his head, closing the locker. "Not for long.
I just forgot something."
"Do you have plans for tonight?"
"Nope."
"Well, I'm off now too. Have a beer with me."
He turned around fully to stare at her. "What?"
"We can make it something stronger if that doesn't suit you."
He didn't even crack a smile at her joke. "Let me take you out for
a drink."
"Uh, I don't think so, Kerry."
He was so transparent. She could almost visualize his brain trying to
formulate a reasonable excuse. But she wasn't going to take no for
an answer. "Why not?"
"I'm tired. All I want to do is go home and sleep."
"That doesn't sound like much fun on your birthday."
Looking faintly surprised, he leaned back against the locker,
fiddling with his keys in the palm of one hand. "You remembered."
"Yes, but apparently everyone else forgot. That can be quickly
remedied, of course. All I have to do is go out there and make
an announcement."
The sweetness of Kerry's smile was contrasted by the gleam in
her eye. John ducked his head, one corner of his mouth curling
upwards in spite of himself. "Isn't this called blackmail?"
"Such a nasty word. I prefer to call it enticement."
She was up to something. That much was obvious but John wasn't quite
sure what her true intention was. But what the hell, it had been a
lousy day. Two patients had died under his care despite his best
efforts; one an elderly heart attack victim and the other a teenager
gunned down in a drive-by shooting. He could definitely use a drink.
He'd been slightly uneasy all day, expecting to walk into the lounge
or an exam room and have all of the ER staff yelling 'surprise'.
Cake, a little music and some party hats were usually in order
whenever someone's birthday came around. He used to enjoy those
impromptu celebrations but these days he shrank away from being the
center of attention. He'd been relieved that no one had remembered.
And now here was Kerry, practically demanding that he join her.
He'd always enjoyed her company and it had been a long time since
they'd done anything together. On the other hand, he truly was tired.
Maybe he should decline and just head home. He hovered in a state
of indecision.
Kerry watched the emotions play across his expressive features.
He was going to say no. "All right, have it your way."
She spun briskly on her heel but didn't quite make it to the door
before he stepped in front of her path, his eyes beseeching.
"Wait. Come on, Kerry." When she didn't respond, he sighed.
"Okay, okay. One beer," he relented. There was only one other
matter to settle. "Your car or mine?"
***************
Since Kerry had the day off tomorrow and needed her car to run
some errands, John decided to leave his Jeep at the hospital.
He would just take the El in tomorrow.
The ride was a mostly silent one, each preoccupied with their own
thoughts. The radio playing softly in the background kept the
mood from growing too uncomfortable.
John gazed out the window, contemplating that his birthday was
almost over. He'd received the obligatory phone call from his
mother early this morning. She'd accompanied his father on another
one of his business trips overseas, this time to Germany.
They'd only chatted for a few minutes, their conversation touching
upon the weather and her numerous complaints about the hotel.
When he'd asked to speak to his father, she had apologized and
told him he'd already left for a meeting. She'd quickly ended
the call at that point and had wished him a wonderful day.
John really wasn't surprised that his father couldn't be bothered
to talk to him on his birthday. But it still stung. And the fact
that he cared enough to be hurt by it annoyed the hell out of him.
He was now thirty years old, for God's sake. One would think he
would've developed thicker skin by now. He had to stop being
so damned, foolishly sensitive.
Kerry occasionally stole glances at his profile as she drove,
absently gnawing on her lower lip. Now that she would finally
be sitting down to talk to him, she found herself growing
strangely nervous. The feeling was rather vague, a sort of jittery
flutter in the pit of her stomach. Nervousness wasn't something
she was accustomed to but she realized she only felt this way because
this was so important to her. John was important to her.
She cared about all of her colleagues at work, of course.
But somehow she'd grown to care about John a little more than
the others, unfair as that seemed. She knew this was a result of
John having been a former boarder in her home. Initially, she'd tried
to keep a professional distance from him, treating him as just
another tenant. But gradually the walls had come down and they'd
shared many lengthy conversations, lingering over dinner or coffee
and sharing the problems and strains of each day. Without question,
he understood her better than anyone else at County. He knew the
real Kerry Weaver, not the evil administrative bitch that most others
believed her to be.
Unfortunately, it had taken John's brush with death to make her
realize how precious their friendship was to her. Even now, so many
months later, she could recall with vivid clarity the horrific scene
that she'd stumbled across in Exam Room 3. Two bodies sprawled on
the cold floor, their lifeblood spreading in wide pools around them.
In the weeks after the incident, she'd had numerous nightmares and
would awaken gasping and trembling, her heart pounding wildly.
The disturbing dreams had faded now but whenever she thought back
to that night she felt ill.
Kerry swallowed hard, fighting the greasy swell of nausea that rose
in her throat, threatening to choke her.
"Hey, you drove right by it."
John's voice startled her and she jerked the wheel, causing the car
to veer off to the left for a moment before she straightened out again.
"Sorry, what?" she questioned, her voice sounding strained.
"Are you okay?"
Kerry almost snorted with disgust at herself as John gave her a
concerned look. She was supposed to be asking him that. "I'm fine.
I passed by it, didn't I."
John leaned back in his seat, relaxing once again. For a second,
he had thought he'd have to grab the steering wheel. "Yeah, assuming
we're going to The Arms."
He was referring to The Wincester Arms, an English pub near Kerry's
home that they had sometimes frequented.
Forcing her thoughts back to the present, Kerry turned the car around
at the next set of lights. When they entered the smokiness of the pub,
they decided to sit outside on the patio. The night was still warm but
the air seemed to be getting colder. Kerry removed her light jacket,
the cool breeze feeling delicious on her bare arms. She ordered a
dark ale while John asked for anything that was on tap. It wasn't too
busy for a Sunday evening and the waitress was prompt to return with
their drinks.
John looked rather pensive as he took his first sip. Whenever he
became quiet like this, it meant something was bothering him.
"So how does it feel to hit the big three-oh?" she inquired,
sipping her own drink.
He shrugged. "I don't feel any different from yesterday. How did
you feel?"
"When I turned thirty? Hmm, that was so long ago, I don't remember."
He gave a small smile at her joke. "Are you telling me five years can
feel like a lifetime?"
Kerry chuckled softly, thinking back to her thirtieth birthday.
"Maybe. Actually, it was fine. I thought it would be quite traumatic
but the day passed like any other birthday. Just another year older."
"Did you do anything special?"
"Not really. I think I just went out to dinner with friends. I'm a
little surprised that you didn't have other plans for tonight.
Are you getting together with some friends later?"
"No, I don't think so. Kevin is away for the weekend but he'll be
back tomorrow. We might do something after work."
"So how is Kevin?"
After a few more minutes of small talk, Kerry was anxious to get to
the heart of the matter. She'd been hoping to get some sort of
inspiration in how to approach the subject but nothing seemed to be
forthcoming. She decided to be blunt. "I'm worried about you, John."
He felt a sudden urge to slink away from the table. So that's what
Kerry was up to. If he'd known the real reason behind her invitation
for tonight, he would have turned her down flat. All this birthday
talk had just been a pretense for wanting to corner him. "I'm fine,"
he stated shortly, his annoyance just barely concealed.
"Bullshit. You're far from fine and you know it."
"Did Dave put you up to this? Because I don't appreciate..."
"Dave is concerned about you," Kerry interrupted. "But I wanted to
talk to you. And I'm not going to let you brush me off by saying
'I'm fine' anymore. I thought maybe you just needed more time to
heal but you seem to be getting worse, not better. I know that your
physical scars have healed but I want to know what's going on inside
of you." She paused, watching as he traced the rim of his glass
with one finger, seemingly fascinated by its contents. He refused
to look at her. "We used to be able to talk about all sorts of things,"
she continued quietly. "I only want to help you. Please let me try."
Kerry fell silent, having tossed the ball into his court. She could
only wait to see what he would do with it. Much as she wished to,
she couldn't force him to speak, any more than she could read his mind.
In order for her or anyone else to help him get through this, he had
to be willing to open up.
She sat back in her chair, taking slow sips of her beer. A minute
passed and then two. She began to think that he wasn't ready or was
simply unwilling to reveal his feelings.
"I don't know what's wrong with me, Kerry," he said finally.
She leaned forward slightly, straining to hear him above the rumble
of conversation from other tables and the noise from the street.
He was speaking very quietly, continuing to stare into his beer.
Placing her glass back on the table, she waited to hear more.
"I feel like I've been walking around in a daze the past few months.
I go to work. I come home. Sometimes I eat, sometimes I don't.
I go to bed and then the next day it starts all over again."
"Well, sad as it may seem, that sounds like a pretty familiar scenario.
You could be describing my life." Kerry spoke in a light-hearted tone
but for the most part, she was entirely serious. She suspected that in
a nutshell, that was the routine for many people.
John knew he wasn't expressing himself very well. How could he make
her understand when he couldn't quite explain it to himself? This was
something that he had never discussed with his counsellor. For about
a month after the stabbing, he'd talked regularly with Dr. Sandra Horton,
a staff psychiatrist at County. They'd spent the majority of their
time discussing his lingering feelings of guilt over Lucy's death.
He knew that he would never completely erase those feelings. Part of
him would always wonder, had he chosen a different course of action
that fateful day, would Lucy still be alive? It was a question that
had haunted him relentlessly for a month or so. There had been times
when he'd been sure the guilt would drive him mad but gradually,
it was beginning to ease.
And yet there was something else that plagued him. He knew he was
unhappy but had been avoiding the issue. Sitting here with Kerry,
he almost felt forced into confronting the root of the problem.
She had poked a hole into the barrier he'd built up and now it was
starting to crumble around him. While he felt rather reluctant to
talk about his true feelings, he also felt some relief by unloading
his burden.
"I guess I don't feel the same passion for my work anymore. Being a
doctor used to mean everything to me. It was what I lived for.
I just don't feel the same way anymore."
"I think that's a natural reaction after what you went through."
"Maybe." John finally raised his eyes to meet Kerry's gaze.
"It scares me," he confessed. "I'm afraid I've lost the part of
me that makes me a good doctor. I just..." He struggled to find
the right words. "I just don't care the way I used to. I've lost
the edge. And I'm afraid that I'll never get it back."
"You will," Kerry said, trying to assure him as well as herself.
"Just give yourself time. Maybe you should get away from the ER for
a while. Take some time off."
He shook his head. "I've taken a month off already. I can't do that."
"That was right after the attack. Back then, you had to concentrate
on recovering physically. Now you have to heal your soul. It might
help to be outside of the hospital environment."
John was tempted, he had to admit. But he didn't want to abandon
his responsibilities. "I don't know..."
"It's ultimately your decision, John. Much as I'd like to, I can't
force you to take the time off. I can't say that your work is being
affected. From what I've seen, you seem to be a little more distant
with your patients but perhaps that's not such a bad thing."
She hesitated, almost reaching out to touch his hand, hating to see
him looking so lost. But her hand remained in her lap. "Will you
at least think about it?"
"Yeah, sure," he murmured.
The waitress came by then and asked if everything was all right.
Kerry wondered how honest her reply should be. Of course, she only
smiled briefly, stating that everything was fine, thank you.
The interruption seemed to sever the connection between them and
they returned to sipping their drinks. Kerry considered whether
she should pursue the subject further but she didn't want to push
too strongly. She truly believed that John would benefit from
a leave of absence. It concerned her more than she had let on
when he'd talked about losing his passion for his work. She knew
how important his work was to him so it disturbed her to hear
him talking like this. She could hear the confusion in his voice;
could see the beginnings of defeat in his eyes. If he continued
on in this manner, he would burn himself out. She hoped that
a break from the hospital would help him regain some perspective.
Seeing that John was looking self-conscious again, she tried to
steer the conversation to more neutral ground. They chatted for
another half hour or so before deciding to head home. The air
had grown a little chilly and Kerry was glad she had brought
her jacket. Once back in her car, John gave directions on how
to get to Kevin's apartment. In less than fifteen minutes,
she pulled in front of the lobby doors.
"Thanks for the beer, Kerry."
"You're welcome. And Happy Birthday. Let me know what you decide
about the time off."
John nodded, already starting to open the car door. He'd had
enough discussion for one night and was anxious to escape before
Kerry had the chance to add anything else. With all that he
had to ponder, he already anticipated another night of tossing
and turning before he'd be able to sleep.
Grateful that Kevin was away, he entered the stillness of the
apartment. He needed this solitude right now. Finding the room
stuffy from the build-up of heat during the day but not wanting
to turn on the air conditioning, he opened the main balcony doors.
The glass panel slid open noiselessly, allowing fresh air to stream in.
Leaning against the wall and closing his eyes, he breathed deeply,
filling his lungs to capacity and then exhaling slowly.
He didn't want to think about whether or not he should take a leave.
That decision could wait until tomorrow. In truth, he didn't want
to think about anything. But random thoughts kept popping into
his head. He wondered if his father had even remembered that today
was his birthday. Had he entered his father's thoughts at all, today?
He wondered if Kerry had ever gotten another tenant to fill the
vacancy in her basement. She'd never volunteered the information and
he'd never asked. He wondered if Lucy was now in a better place.
John's eyes snapped open and he wrapped his arms around himself,
as if warding off a sudden chill in the air. That thought had snuck
up on him without warning. He recalled a conversation with her
in which she'd revealed that she was agnostic. She had never believed
in God or fate. He, on the other hand, had been raised to believe
in Him whole heartedly. It would be a grave sin for him to admit that
he sometimes had his doubts. But after witnessing the things he had
in the ER, how could he not? Not just the attack on Lucy and himself,
but the all too frequent acts of violence that human beings committed
against strangers, family members, children.
A strong gust of wind ruffled his hair, his shirt rippling crisply
against his skin. He welcomed the cold air. It helped to clear
his mind. He remained standing there for a long while, continuing his
train of strange, unconnected thoughts. Only when the exhaustion
overcame him did he move slowly towards the bedroom. He wondered
what tomorrow would bring.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
There's a prayer for the living and the dying
There's a prayer to soothe the savage sea
There's a prayer, it seems for almost everything
But you haven't got a prayer for me
And I haven't got a prayer
TO BE CONTINUED
Song Title: Unsettled Scores (from the musical "Whistle Down the Wind")
Lyrics by: Jim Steinman
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So many cries in the night that you try to ignore
Why didn't I do that, why didn't I do this
So many unbroken chains, so many unsettled scores
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tapping her foot impatiently, Kerry silently cursed the slow mechanism
of the elevator. The compartment seemed to shudder slightly as it passed
by each floor and she made a mental note to have maintenance look into it.
The descent finally came to a halt and she bolted into the hallway
before the doors were even halfway open.
"Pardon me," she murmured, sidestepping around an older couple who were
standing right by the doors. They drew back in surprise as she brushed
past them, their ankles almost clipped by her crutch. She kept on the
lookout for him as she hurried down the hall, hoping she wasn't too late.
"Has anyone seen Carter?" she called out, approaching the admitting area
slightly out of breath.
"I think you just missed him," Abby Lockheart informed her, tapping away
at the computer keyboard. She made a small sound of frustration as she
lost the internet connection again. That was twice now in the last
ten minutes. She realized Kerry was still standing there and glanced up
at her. "Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing's wrong." Kerry held back a sigh, wishing she hadn't
misjudged the time. She gave a weary smile. "Have a good night, Abby.
I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Dr. Weaver."
Kerry headed for the lounge, her pace unrushed now. Considering they'd
been working the same shift, she'd barely seen John all day.
The afternoon had been busy and then she had gotten tied up in a
dinner meeting. But that was no excuse. She should have made a point
of seeking him out and telling him they needed to talk. Another day
of lost opportunity had slipped by and she regretted it. Dave wasn't
the only one who was worried about him.
She pushed open the lounge door, only to find exactly who she was
looking for. "Hi, I'm glad you're still here."
John barely turned his head, closing the locker. "Not for long.
I just forgot something."
"Do you have plans for tonight?"
"Nope."
"Well, I'm off now too. Have a beer with me."
He turned around fully to stare at her. "What?"
"We can make it something stronger if that doesn't suit you."
He didn't even crack a smile at her joke. "Let me take you out for
a drink."
"Uh, I don't think so, Kerry."
He was so transparent. She could almost visualize his brain trying to
formulate a reasonable excuse. But she wasn't going to take no for
an answer. "Why not?"
"I'm tired. All I want to do is go home and sleep."
"That doesn't sound like much fun on your birthday."
Looking faintly surprised, he leaned back against the locker,
fiddling with his keys in the palm of one hand. "You remembered."
"Yes, but apparently everyone else forgot. That can be quickly
remedied, of course. All I have to do is go out there and make
an announcement."
The sweetness of Kerry's smile was contrasted by the gleam in
her eye. John ducked his head, one corner of his mouth curling
upwards in spite of himself. "Isn't this called blackmail?"
"Such a nasty word. I prefer to call it enticement."
She was up to something. That much was obvious but John wasn't quite
sure what her true intention was. But what the hell, it had been a
lousy day. Two patients had died under his care despite his best
efforts; one an elderly heart attack victim and the other a teenager
gunned down in a drive-by shooting. He could definitely use a drink.
He'd been slightly uneasy all day, expecting to walk into the lounge
or an exam room and have all of the ER staff yelling 'surprise'.
Cake, a little music and some party hats were usually in order
whenever someone's birthday came around. He used to enjoy those
impromptu celebrations but these days he shrank away from being the
center of attention. He'd been relieved that no one had remembered.
And now here was Kerry, practically demanding that he join her.
He'd always enjoyed her company and it had been a long time since
they'd done anything together. On the other hand, he truly was tired.
Maybe he should decline and just head home. He hovered in a state
of indecision.
Kerry watched the emotions play across his expressive features.
He was going to say no. "All right, have it your way."
She spun briskly on her heel but didn't quite make it to the door
before he stepped in front of her path, his eyes beseeching.
"Wait. Come on, Kerry." When she didn't respond, he sighed.
"Okay, okay. One beer," he relented. There was only one other
matter to settle. "Your car or mine?"
***************
Since Kerry had the day off tomorrow and needed her car to run
some errands, John decided to leave his Jeep at the hospital.
He would just take the El in tomorrow.
The ride was a mostly silent one, each preoccupied with their own
thoughts. The radio playing softly in the background kept the
mood from growing too uncomfortable.
John gazed out the window, contemplating that his birthday was
almost over. He'd received the obligatory phone call from his
mother early this morning. She'd accompanied his father on another
one of his business trips overseas, this time to Germany.
They'd only chatted for a few minutes, their conversation touching
upon the weather and her numerous complaints about the hotel.
When he'd asked to speak to his father, she had apologized and
told him he'd already left for a meeting. She'd quickly ended
the call at that point and had wished him a wonderful day.
John really wasn't surprised that his father couldn't be bothered
to talk to him on his birthday. But it still stung. And the fact
that he cared enough to be hurt by it annoyed the hell out of him.
He was now thirty years old, for God's sake. One would think he
would've developed thicker skin by now. He had to stop being
so damned, foolishly sensitive.
Kerry occasionally stole glances at his profile as she drove,
absently gnawing on her lower lip. Now that she would finally
be sitting down to talk to him, she found herself growing
strangely nervous. The feeling was rather vague, a sort of jittery
flutter in the pit of her stomach. Nervousness wasn't something
she was accustomed to but she realized she only felt this way because
this was so important to her. John was important to her.
She cared about all of her colleagues at work, of course.
But somehow she'd grown to care about John a little more than
the others, unfair as that seemed. She knew this was a result of
John having been a former boarder in her home. Initially, she'd tried
to keep a professional distance from him, treating him as just
another tenant. But gradually the walls had come down and they'd
shared many lengthy conversations, lingering over dinner or coffee
and sharing the problems and strains of each day. Without question,
he understood her better than anyone else at County. He knew the
real Kerry Weaver, not the evil administrative bitch that most others
believed her to be.
Unfortunately, it had taken John's brush with death to make her
realize how precious their friendship was to her. Even now, so many
months later, she could recall with vivid clarity the horrific scene
that she'd stumbled across in Exam Room 3. Two bodies sprawled on
the cold floor, their lifeblood spreading in wide pools around them.
In the weeks after the incident, she'd had numerous nightmares and
would awaken gasping and trembling, her heart pounding wildly.
The disturbing dreams had faded now but whenever she thought back
to that night she felt ill.
Kerry swallowed hard, fighting the greasy swell of nausea that rose
in her throat, threatening to choke her.
"Hey, you drove right by it."
John's voice startled her and she jerked the wheel, causing the car
to veer off to the left for a moment before she straightened out again.
"Sorry, what?" she questioned, her voice sounding strained.
"Are you okay?"
Kerry almost snorted with disgust at herself as John gave her a
concerned look. She was supposed to be asking him that. "I'm fine.
I passed by it, didn't I."
John leaned back in his seat, relaxing once again. For a second,
he had thought he'd have to grab the steering wheel. "Yeah, assuming
we're going to The Arms."
He was referring to The Wincester Arms, an English pub near Kerry's
home that they had sometimes frequented.
Forcing her thoughts back to the present, Kerry turned the car around
at the next set of lights. When they entered the smokiness of the pub,
they decided to sit outside on the patio. The night was still warm but
the air seemed to be getting colder. Kerry removed her light jacket,
the cool breeze feeling delicious on her bare arms. She ordered a
dark ale while John asked for anything that was on tap. It wasn't too
busy for a Sunday evening and the waitress was prompt to return with
their drinks.
John looked rather pensive as he took his first sip. Whenever he
became quiet like this, it meant something was bothering him.
"So how does it feel to hit the big three-oh?" she inquired,
sipping her own drink.
He shrugged. "I don't feel any different from yesterday. How did
you feel?"
"When I turned thirty? Hmm, that was so long ago, I don't remember."
He gave a small smile at her joke. "Are you telling me five years can
feel like a lifetime?"
Kerry chuckled softly, thinking back to her thirtieth birthday.
"Maybe. Actually, it was fine. I thought it would be quite traumatic
but the day passed like any other birthday. Just another year older."
"Did you do anything special?"
"Not really. I think I just went out to dinner with friends. I'm a
little surprised that you didn't have other plans for tonight.
Are you getting together with some friends later?"
"No, I don't think so. Kevin is away for the weekend but he'll be
back tomorrow. We might do something after work."
"So how is Kevin?"
After a few more minutes of small talk, Kerry was anxious to get to
the heart of the matter. She'd been hoping to get some sort of
inspiration in how to approach the subject but nothing seemed to be
forthcoming. She decided to be blunt. "I'm worried about you, John."
He felt a sudden urge to slink away from the table. So that's what
Kerry was up to. If he'd known the real reason behind her invitation
for tonight, he would have turned her down flat. All this birthday
talk had just been a pretense for wanting to corner him. "I'm fine,"
he stated shortly, his annoyance just barely concealed.
"Bullshit. You're far from fine and you know it."
"Did Dave put you up to this? Because I don't appreciate..."
"Dave is concerned about you," Kerry interrupted. "But I wanted to
talk to you. And I'm not going to let you brush me off by saying
'I'm fine' anymore. I thought maybe you just needed more time to
heal but you seem to be getting worse, not better. I know that your
physical scars have healed but I want to know what's going on inside
of you." She paused, watching as he traced the rim of his glass
with one finger, seemingly fascinated by its contents. He refused
to look at her. "We used to be able to talk about all sorts of things,"
she continued quietly. "I only want to help you. Please let me try."
Kerry fell silent, having tossed the ball into his court. She could
only wait to see what he would do with it. Much as she wished to,
she couldn't force him to speak, any more than she could read his mind.
In order for her or anyone else to help him get through this, he had
to be willing to open up.
She sat back in her chair, taking slow sips of her beer. A minute
passed and then two. She began to think that he wasn't ready or was
simply unwilling to reveal his feelings.
"I don't know what's wrong with me, Kerry," he said finally.
She leaned forward slightly, straining to hear him above the rumble
of conversation from other tables and the noise from the street.
He was speaking very quietly, continuing to stare into his beer.
Placing her glass back on the table, she waited to hear more.
"I feel like I've been walking around in a daze the past few months.
I go to work. I come home. Sometimes I eat, sometimes I don't.
I go to bed and then the next day it starts all over again."
"Well, sad as it may seem, that sounds like a pretty familiar scenario.
You could be describing my life." Kerry spoke in a light-hearted tone
but for the most part, she was entirely serious. She suspected that in
a nutshell, that was the routine for many people.
John knew he wasn't expressing himself very well. How could he make
her understand when he couldn't quite explain it to himself? This was
something that he had never discussed with his counsellor. For about
a month after the stabbing, he'd talked regularly with Dr. Sandra Horton,
a staff psychiatrist at County. They'd spent the majority of their
time discussing his lingering feelings of guilt over Lucy's death.
He knew that he would never completely erase those feelings. Part of
him would always wonder, had he chosen a different course of action
that fateful day, would Lucy still be alive? It was a question that
had haunted him relentlessly for a month or so. There had been times
when he'd been sure the guilt would drive him mad but gradually,
it was beginning to ease.
And yet there was something else that plagued him. He knew he was
unhappy but had been avoiding the issue. Sitting here with Kerry,
he almost felt forced into confronting the root of the problem.
She had poked a hole into the barrier he'd built up and now it was
starting to crumble around him. While he felt rather reluctant to
talk about his true feelings, he also felt some relief by unloading
his burden.
"I guess I don't feel the same passion for my work anymore. Being a
doctor used to mean everything to me. It was what I lived for.
I just don't feel the same way anymore."
"I think that's a natural reaction after what you went through."
"Maybe." John finally raised his eyes to meet Kerry's gaze.
"It scares me," he confessed. "I'm afraid I've lost the part of
me that makes me a good doctor. I just..." He struggled to find
the right words. "I just don't care the way I used to. I've lost
the edge. And I'm afraid that I'll never get it back."
"You will," Kerry said, trying to assure him as well as herself.
"Just give yourself time. Maybe you should get away from the ER for
a while. Take some time off."
He shook his head. "I've taken a month off already. I can't do that."
"That was right after the attack. Back then, you had to concentrate
on recovering physically. Now you have to heal your soul. It might
help to be outside of the hospital environment."
John was tempted, he had to admit. But he didn't want to abandon
his responsibilities. "I don't know..."
"It's ultimately your decision, John. Much as I'd like to, I can't
force you to take the time off. I can't say that your work is being
affected. From what I've seen, you seem to be a little more distant
with your patients but perhaps that's not such a bad thing."
She hesitated, almost reaching out to touch his hand, hating to see
him looking so lost. But her hand remained in her lap. "Will you
at least think about it?"
"Yeah, sure," he murmured.
The waitress came by then and asked if everything was all right.
Kerry wondered how honest her reply should be. Of course, she only
smiled briefly, stating that everything was fine, thank you.
The interruption seemed to sever the connection between them and
they returned to sipping their drinks. Kerry considered whether
she should pursue the subject further but she didn't want to push
too strongly. She truly believed that John would benefit from
a leave of absence. It concerned her more than she had let on
when he'd talked about losing his passion for his work. She knew
how important his work was to him so it disturbed her to hear
him talking like this. She could hear the confusion in his voice;
could see the beginnings of defeat in his eyes. If he continued
on in this manner, he would burn himself out. She hoped that
a break from the hospital would help him regain some perspective.
Seeing that John was looking self-conscious again, she tried to
steer the conversation to more neutral ground. They chatted for
another half hour or so before deciding to head home. The air
had grown a little chilly and Kerry was glad she had brought
her jacket. Once back in her car, John gave directions on how
to get to Kevin's apartment. In less than fifteen minutes,
she pulled in front of the lobby doors.
"Thanks for the beer, Kerry."
"You're welcome. And Happy Birthday. Let me know what you decide
about the time off."
John nodded, already starting to open the car door. He'd had
enough discussion for one night and was anxious to escape before
Kerry had the chance to add anything else. With all that he
had to ponder, he already anticipated another night of tossing
and turning before he'd be able to sleep.
Grateful that Kevin was away, he entered the stillness of the
apartment. He needed this solitude right now. Finding the room
stuffy from the build-up of heat during the day but not wanting
to turn on the air conditioning, he opened the main balcony doors.
The glass panel slid open noiselessly, allowing fresh air to stream in.
Leaning against the wall and closing his eyes, he breathed deeply,
filling his lungs to capacity and then exhaling slowly.
He didn't want to think about whether or not he should take a leave.
That decision could wait until tomorrow. In truth, he didn't want
to think about anything. But random thoughts kept popping into
his head. He wondered if his father had even remembered that today
was his birthday. Had he entered his father's thoughts at all, today?
He wondered if Kerry had ever gotten another tenant to fill the
vacancy in her basement. She'd never volunteered the information and
he'd never asked. He wondered if Lucy was now in a better place.
John's eyes snapped open and he wrapped his arms around himself,
as if warding off a sudden chill in the air. That thought had snuck
up on him without warning. He recalled a conversation with her
in which she'd revealed that she was agnostic. She had never believed
in God or fate. He, on the other hand, had been raised to believe
in Him whole heartedly. It would be a grave sin for him to admit that
he sometimes had his doubts. But after witnessing the things he had
in the ER, how could he not? Not just the attack on Lucy and himself,
but the all too frequent acts of violence that human beings committed
against strangers, family members, children.
A strong gust of wind ruffled his hair, his shirt rippling crisply
against his skin. He welcomed the cold air. It helped to clear
his mind. He remained standing there for a long while, continuing his
train of strange, unconnected thoughts. Only when the exhaustion
overcame him did he move slowly towards the bedroom. He wondered
what tomorrow would bring.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
There's a prayer for the living and the dying
There's a prayer to soothe the savage sea
There's a prayer, it seems for almost everything
But you haven't got a prayer for me
And I haven't got a prayer
TO BE CONTINUED