You Can Have L.A.

Beeeep! "Hey, baby, okay, so I'm not panicking or anything, but this is my sixth call and third voicemail and I've sent you at least nine text messages and there has been no response. If, uh, you don't want me to get on a plane right now or… or… or call the police, call me back in the next hour. I love you," he said vehemently into the phone. "Bye."

He checked his phone's call log. There was no incoming or missed call from Miranda in almost two days. That was so unlike her. She was like clockwork. Everything in the world could be a mess and be bassackwards, but she was his constant. Where was she? He got paged by his attending and somehow he managed to focus on the details of his patients and push his absentee wife to the back. He rushed around the hospital following his attending and the other interns. He kept his hand on his phone waiting for it to buzz. When the day was over, he called her cell phone as he changed and packed up his stuff. He had some more disappointing news—which is why he'd been trying to get in touch with her. This was another weekend he was going to have to skip. He wasn't going to be able to make it to Seattle. He had too much to do. Ever since his solo surgery, all of the other interns had been stepping up their games. He was stressing out lately and he really needed to talk to Miranda. The phone had been ringing for thirty seconds and he was about ready to leave a fourth message when she picked up. Finally. "Miranda?" He said exasperatedly.

"Yes, sweetheart?" She said sweetly, but it wasn't authentic, he could tell.

"'Yes, sweetheart'," he repeated. "Where have you been?"

"I've been here."

"Damn, Miranda, you know what I mean."

"I know, I know. And I know that I haven't returned your calls or m-messages, baby, but… everything is perfect," she stuttered. "There were just… traumas everywhere. What you call 'hot mess art'." She laughed. "And, see? I'm answering your calls now. It's mellow now."

Ben took a deep breath. Something was wrong. He didn't know if he should panic or not, but he just waited. Miranda would tell him if he held out long enough. "Perfect?"

"Yes, perfect." He licked his bottom lip. She never said everything was perfect: if you're not here, it can't be perfect, he remembered her saying. Even though he tried to debate her, she wouldn't hear of it. "Am I going to see you this weekend?" Miranda said rushing the question.

"Um, no, actually, that's what I was calling to tell you."

"You're not coming?"

"No, so don't be mad, okay? I will see you sometime…," he checked the calendar on his phone. "I guess early next month."

"Oh, good. Early next month. That's good. Good. I'm… we'll be waiting for you; me and Tuck." He heard someone talking in the background. "I think I have to go."

"No, wait a second," Ben said. "I finally got you on the phone. And you're hanging up?"

"I have to go."

"You didn't even…"

"What?!"

"You didn't even complain that I wouldn't be home this weekend." He blushed saying it.

"Oh! So you want me to make a big deal about you not coming home—again?"

"Miranda?"

"What?" She snapped. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me what's going on." He heard more talking and Miranda exchanged words with someone. The background conversation stopped. "Miranda?"

"Yes, my love!"

"Baby, talk to me."

"I'm talking, Ben."

"Do I need to come to you? I feel like something's up." She didn't answer. "Screw this schedule, I'm coming to Seattle."

"No, no, no. You can't do that," she said hurriedly. "I mean, you don't have to do that."

"And why not?"

Miranda paused a second and he wanted to tell her to forget it. Arguing wasn't what he had in mind when he made this phone call. He just wanted to make sure that she was okay. That Tuck was okay. "Because you need to be on your A-game. I know every other intern is gunning for you. As they should," she laughed a real laugh and Ben relaxed a little. Maybe he was overreacting. "Baby, we're fine. I promise."

Ben smiled. "Okay."

"Okay."

"So how's soccer going for my boy?"

"He loves it. He's the starting goalie. He has very quick hands."

"Like his momma."

"Hush!" Miranda said and he knew that she was smiling. What had he been so pressed about? "Now, I really have to go this time, okay?"

"Fine, but answer my calls and messages please. You know I get worried about you."

"I know, sweetheart. I know, but…"

"I got it. Y'all are… 'perfect'." He gritted his teeth.

"Exactly," she said with a small laugh. "I love you."

"I… I…," Ben stammered. He took a deep breath. "I love you, too, babe."

Ben hung up the phone reluctantly. He reached into the fridge and got a beer. He went into his room, rolled in the bed and tried to feel better about the conversation he'd just had with his wife. But her 'perfect' had unnerved him. On his back, he looked up at his ceiling. An hour later, he had dozed off a couple of times without getting any real rest. His phone rang loudly. He answered quickly seeing that it was Miranda. He listened and waited for her to say something. With her silence, he spoke first, turning the ring on his finger: "Baby, listen, I know I pried earlier. And, look, I'm sorry." No answer, but he could hear her breathing softly. "I just get so… I agonize over you two all of the time. I love you so much. You're my family. I'm so in love with you. I get carried away. You're my forever." She still hadn't answered. "Miranda?"

"I'm here."

"Good."

"I'll see you in two weekends."

"Yeah, two weekends," she echoed.