November 24, 2000
It snowed fairly heavily the week of Thanksgiving. The remnants of the snowstorm were still on the highway during Lisa's drive back to Princeton from her parent's house. By this point, she had been on several dates with Greg; most of which had been planned by him. He, not surprisingly, had more free time on his hands to come up with things for them to do. Most of their dates had been pretty great – they found it easier to fall back into their old habits with each other than either of them had anticipated.
After their third date, the night usually ended with some form of make-out session or heavy petting. It always stopped well before they got too close to the bedroom, but it left them both wanting. That was not to say that there weren't some missteps along the way. One date had been cancelled because of an argument that they had at work. The argument left them both so angry that they did not want to spend the evening in each other's company.
As it had been the case for the past couple of years, November turned their thoughts to their anniversary. Greg asked if she wanted to plan something special for that night or if she would still be with her family. She usually made a long weekend of the holiday, but she decided to come back the Friday and spend the evening with him since things were progressing well.
They had agreed to meet at his place and stay in keeping the evening low key. There seemed to be an understanding between them that there was not going to be sex that evening – that would be ridiculously cheesy – but there was an expectation that it would be a recommitment of sorts.
When she finally pulled into a spot outside his apartment, it was a little over an hour later than she planned to arrive. She called him en route to let him know that she was not going to be on time. He told her that it was no problem since the plan was to order out, and he would just have a snack to tide him over until her arrival.
She got out of her car carrying the bag of leftovers that her mother sent with her for Greg. She swung her purse over her shoulder and shifted the bag of food to her other hand before locking the car. She walked up the familiar path to his home and let herself into the lobby scrubbing the bottom of her boots against the mat to get rid of the snow.
Greg opened his door a few moments after her knock stepping aside to let her in the apartment. Closing the door behind her, he lifted his brow as he pointed at the bag in her hand. Reaching out eagerly to remove the bag from her grasp, he said, "Please tell me that your mother sent a bag full of food for me, which I have no intention of sharing with you."
She made a face at him and responded, "I'm not going to tell you that. There are a couple of vegetarian dishes in there that my mother made specifically for me."
"Oh, well. Yeah, you can definitely have those, but the rest is mine." he countered opening the refrigerator and sticking the entire bag inside. He paused holding the refrigerator door open, "So, what do you want to order, or do you just want to reheat some of this stuff?"
"Whatever, I don't have a preference. It's entirely up to you," Lisa responded as she moved into the living room to settle on the couch.
"Leftovers it is," he declared pulling the bag out of the fridge. Setting the bag on the table, he pulled out the various containers. He called from the kitchen, "The movies are sitting on top of the TV. Pick one while I'm heating up the plates."
Lisa got up and walked over to the television. She looked at the movies and decided that she did not want to watch either one, so she set them back on the television. She made her way over to the piano. Greg had always been musical, but he always had guitars since none of their places really were large enough for a piano. She had seen this one in his apartment on the other occasions, but she had never asked him about it. Sitting down on the bench, she lifted up the cover and pressed a few of the keys as she really looked around his apartment for the first time.
It struck her for the first time that this place really was a physical manifestation of House. In the past, he had never put his personal stamp on any of his apartments. The walls stayed bare, and the furniture was nondescript stuff used for function. Obviously, he saw this place as a home and committed to staying here for the long term. The piano, mounted guitars and records, framed prints, endless shelves stuffed to the brim with journals and books, music, and videos were all small pieces of him.
Greg came out of the kitchen balancing a tray of food. He walked slowly into the living room and transferred the plates to the coffee table. Lowering the tray to his side, he turned his attention to Lisa sitting at his piano.
She looked up just as he lowered the tray. Her eyes met his and shifted to his left hand, "Why do you still wear your ring?"
To say he was startled would be an understatement. He stared at her dumbfounded for several seconds. His gaze shifted to his left hand, which he absently lifted, and turned it over to stare at his ring. He shook his head, "I guess it never occurred to me to take it off."
"Not even when I wasn't wearing mine, anymore?" she asked. Her voice was low as she bowed her head looking at her unadorned fingers.
He thought back to the night when he had first noticed that she wasn't wearing her ring anymore. It hurt to see the diminishing tan line on her empty ring finger, but it did not make him want to take his off in spite. "Our marriage never officially ended. I was angry with you for a long time, but I never fell out of love with you. So, no. Not even then," he admitted and asked suddenly curious, "Why did you stop wearing yours?"
She shifted on the piano bench moving her hands to her lap, "For lots of reasons. Our marriage had failed, and it was a constant reminder of that – of you. With my position as Dean, I would see you almost every day at work. I didn't need another reminder." She grinned wryly, "I also didn't want you to think that you still had some sway over me . . . that I still loved you, too. Though, in hindsight, I guess the fact that I never filed for divorce told you that."
Greg nodded his head in agreement. They shared a look that acknowledged that they neither filed for divorce for the same reason. Setting the tray on the coffee table, he walked over to the piano bench and motioned for Lisa to shift over. Then, he braced himself as he sat down next to her. The extra motions that he had to go through to do something as simple as sitting down called attention to his leg; he noticed Lisa's eyes fall to his right thigh. They had never talked about it. The constant yelling and snide remarks during his recovery definitely did not count. Placing his hands on the keys, he began idly playing a tune. He was not particularly ready to have this conversation; he probably never would be.
Keeping his head down focused on the keys, he finally absolved her, "When I woke up and realized what you had let them do to me, I was so angry with you. Once I was out of the hospital and saw the extent to which I was dependant on you that first month, it emasculated me. I felt like less of a man, and I hated you seeing me like that. I blamed you for every moment of pain, frustration, and embarrassment. I treated you like shit, and I purposely hurt you. At the time, I honestly believed you deserved it. I'm not proud to admit that, but it felt justified at the time."
He removed his left hand from the piano and grasped her right hand. Turning his body towards her, she lifted her free hand to wipe away the tears from her eyes. She continued to look down at her lap. Waiting for her to lift her face before he continued, he gulped when he saw the there. Then, he pleaded, "I'm sorry. Everything – and I mean everything - I said and did to you then; I did out of anger. I wanted to hurt you, so you would feel the pain that I was feeling." He closed his eyes ashamed that he could have been so spiteful and vindictive towards her.
"I forgave you a long time ago for my leg. I'm sorry that it's taken me all this time to tell you and to thank you for saving my life," he whispered. His grip on her hand tightened, and he felt a sense of relief flood him at finally telling her.
Lisa squeezed his hand wiping the tears from the tip of her nose and cheeks. She had felt so guilty for so long and carried around so much anguish during those months after the infarction. To hear him apologize and to acknowledge that she had not done anything wrong was emotionally overwhelming. She tugged her hand free from his to cover her face. Leaning forward with her elbows braced on the piano, the discordant sound echoed and mixed with her sobs as she let out all the years of pain and guilt.
Greg rubbed soothing circles on her back letting her cry. Resting his head on her shoulder, he continued to whisper apologies softly in her ear and confessed to her how much he did not deserve someone as wonderful as her. He assured her that he loved her and would understand if she could not forgive him.
Several minutes later, Lisa turned to him after her tears had subsided. Wrapping her arms around him, she mumbled into his neck that she had known what it would mean to sign those papers, but she had never regretted it because it meant he was still alive. She would have done the same even if he was not here with her and if they were not taking this second chance. All that mattered was that he was alive.
Greg ran his hand through her hair caressing it briefly before he pulled back and looked at her. Pushing a few hairs out of her face, he informed her, "You're a mess."
She rolled her eyes and gave him a watery smile. Her voice was still slightly stuffy sounding when she admonished him, "Shut up! I should probably go splash some water on my face."
"Yeah," Greg agreed, "There are some clean towels in the closet next to the bathroom. Should I reheat the food?"
Lisa stood up nodding when he told her about the towels. Her gaze shifted to the food at his question. She responded, "Not for me. I think that I'm actually going to lay down for a bit if that's okay."
It had been a very long hour. Suddenly, he felt drained himself. Looking up at her, he absently reached for her hand. He decided, "I'll put the food away and come join you."
"Okay," Lisa agreed pulling away from him. She picked up his cane and handed it to him and scooped up her purse before heading to the bathroom. By the time she rinsed her face, run a brush through her hair, and generally felt presentable, Greg was in his bedroom changing the sheets.
She lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. Stopping at the threshold and leaning on the doorjamb, she teased him gesturing at his current activity, "You do realize that you're not about to get lucky, right?"
"I'm not?" he asked trying to look innocent. A hand came up to his chest as he feigned shock, "Relax your libido. There will be no baby making tonight. I just can't remember the last time the sheets were changed, so I doing it now for your benefit."
"Ugh. You're definitely not getting lucky now," she retorted making a disgusted face. As she walked to the other side of the bed, she helped him put on the flat sheet and replaced the pillowcases on the pillows that were piled up on the floor.
Lisa climbed in on the right side of the bed and crawled to the center while waiting for Greg to get situated. Then, she snuggled up next to him. Resting her head in the crook of his neck, she breathed in his scent as she ran her hand over his chest. He pulled her in closer with one hand resting above his head and the other playing with her hair.
Turning his head to kiss the crown of her head, he suddenly remembered the day. He whispered into her hair, "Happy Anniversary, Lisa."
Wrapped her arm around him, she smiled against his chest before reaching in to kiss him. The kiss was meant to be playful, but Greg slid his hands into her hair holding her in place as he deepened the kiss. When he let her go for some much needed oxygen, she stared down at him. Braced on the bed beside him, she wet her lower lip biting it in contemplation.
"Do you think finding each other so irresistible that we couldn't wait until tomorrow to have each other cancels out the cheesiness of having sex for the first time again on our anniversary?" she wondered as she lifted a leg over to straddle him.
Greg moved his hands to her hips closing one eye as he feigned deep concentration. Tugging her towards him, he told her, "I can't find any fault in that logic."
"You never find a fault in the logic when it involves Little Greg," Lisa teased grinning at him as she slid her hands over his chest and let him pull her down to him. When her mouth met his, she closed her eyes and whispered against his lips, "Happy Anniversary, Greg," her teeth nipping at him and her body melding against his as they fell back over the edge and into the abyss.