Hey guys! Thank you so much for your feedback on the last chapter, you were incredibly kind! I'm really happy you enjoyed it.
This chapter is formatted quite different from previous ones, it's from Addison and Derek's point of view, but there are instances where I am narrating. Addison and Derek's parts are written in the present. Whereas, I narrate in the past.
I suggest reading this slowly so you're aware of who's saying what. I really hope it's not confusing.
Without further ado, Enjoy!
After the incident last described, the intercourse between Addison and Derek, though externally the same, was really of another character than it had previously been.
About two weeks after Derek returned to Seattle, the shift between us became rather difficult to ignore. Some days, there's an air of effortlessness that I can't quite describe, but I allow it to fill me with jubilation.
I look forward to the days when there is clarity during the instances where his intentions are as vivid as sunlight and conversation comes as easy as inhaling and exhaling. But just as quickly as I can blink an eye, that clarity would be obscured when something is said (during what could have been a lighthearted conversation) that extinguishes our flaming divorce papers, which results in fear.
Fear. I think we both fear falling—tumbling over a heap of reality and landing in a puddle of 'yes, it was too good to be true.' Derek says things (okay, sometimes I do too) that make it easy to forget that those divorce papers are there for a reason. There are instances where we fall back into the role of Derek-and-Addison with such ease and that startles me. He allows himself to ask the questions he no longer has the right to know, and although I want to scream 'Derek, what are you doing?' I answer, because he's Derek, and I'm Addison (not so plain and simple, but true). Then, there are days where reaching out to Derek feels forbidden. It's during those days that my fear is transformed into anger.
Anger. I'm angry that Derek is miles away yet I feel closer to him now than I did in the latter part of our marriage. I loathe the distance. It's not doing its job. It's supposed to help me move on, help us move on. I wish I could damn those 1,136 miles to hell. Instead of keeping us apart, it's aiding and abetting reassembling us. It's almost impossible not to laugh at the irony of the situation.
In the midst of the complexity of Addison and Derek's lives, the rising of the sun, a devious gust of wind, and the blooming of resonant flowers, ushered in a day that encompassed a multitude of emotions that viciously wrapped a florescent white ribbon around their necks and strangled every memory of the past 13 years out of them: May 15th, their wedding anniversary.
"Hey." I say, releasing a breath that seems to contain the weight of the world.
We did not speak this morning or afternoon. Throughout the day, I spent a fair amount of time playing a classic round of the blame game (with myself). Unfortunately, I'm not a supernatural being that can instantly relieve myself of all feelings of guilt, hurt, sadness or regret that came with today. When the unceremonious sunlight of May 15th faded and brought in the gentleness of the moonlight that seemed to make the significance of today less intense, I shakily dialed her number.
"Hey." She replies, her sigh echoing mine.
They remained silent for a moment, neither willing to admit that they were feeling particularly nostalgic. He didn't know that she was sitting on the floor in her living room flipping through their wedding album, and she didn't know he was sitting on the bed in his trailer caressing the watch she bought him on their 10th anniversary. It's broken; it encountered a wall during a fit of rage (he never bothered to get it fixed).
Their 'hey' lingered for what felt like hours, neither knew what to say.
"How was work." I ask lamely, starting with the mundane seems like the safest route.
She answers readily, I guess she knows the question is intended to buy us time. Time to sort the plethora of memories whirling around our heads. Time to prepare answers for the inevitable questions that are going to be asked. Time to control the feelings that refuse to remain at bay.
Several minutes were spent evading the topic of their anniversary, marriage or anything remotely similar. Addison closed the album and carried it with her to her bedroom, plopped down on her bed and placed it securely beside her. She had studied each picture in it several times that day and she intended to do it again—after all, she had an excuse. When they had run out of all the trivial things that could possibly be said, there was a pregnant pause before they finally allowed themselves to fall victim to reminiscing.
"Remember what we did on our 5th anniversary?" I ask her softly.
"Of course I do." She whispers. "It was perfect."
"Yeah...it was." I confirm, trying to keep my tone evenly modulated. I close my eyes and allow the memories of that day to sweep over me. My lips curve into a faint smile as I recall a particular mountain top chalet with a breathtaking view, a fireplace, and a ridiculously big bed with impeccable sheets.
Consequently, the chest that held their hoard of memories sprang open and they went on to mention picnicking atop sun-dappled hillsides, winding through fragrant vineyards, and getting lost on back roads of Napa Valley. They danced through the vivid memories that warmed the day (and night) that had been inexplicably cold. Addison was impressed that Derek remembered everything with the same precision she did, and Derek wondered if Addison was experiencing the same emotions and sensations he felt.
Recapturing so many experiences that Addison and I shared and created together is almost too much to handle. I make my way to the porch, inside the trailer suddenly feels too crowed. I sink down into a lawn chair and fix my eyes on the velvety night sky as she reminds me of the time I got us ballroom dance lessons (she requested). Addison was, and still is, the only person able to get me to dance in public. Thinking about the way things were, the way we were, creates a dull ache in my chest and causes my eyes to mist over.
"What do you think we'd be doing right now...if we were still married." She asked, trying not to sniffle too loudly. She had attempted to answer that question herself that entire day and what she had come up with (that they would be in Seattle, in his trailer, with a cloud of enmity between them) was utterly depressing.
Addison didn't know that Derek had come up with the same response she did because instead of telling her his initial thought, he filled her ear with a response laced with such splendor that the tears she had been desperately trying to hold back sprang forth.
"You really think so?" She chocked out, allowing her tears to fall freely.
"Yeah." He breathed, as he swiped the moisture from his cheeks. "I do."
They both knew what he said was highly improbable, but neither was willing to admit it. The fantasy was much easier to swallow. As their conversation made its way into an ungodly hour, Addison realized that Derek had rebelliously crept his way out of the tiny box she had placed him in, leaving it to dissolve in the wake of his escape. So much for making her ex-husband petty and insignificant.
I'm sitting in a hospital room running my hands slowly across my skirt. It's weird how quickly things can change. My day started out as ordinary as I expected it to. I lounged around the practice all morning and most of the afternoon—I only had one patient, Mrs. Barnes, vaginal delivery. After that, I did a bit of paperwork then I went to St. Ambrose to perform a surgery: Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia (Charlotte is trying to woo me). As fate or whatever would have it, just as I was preparing to leave the hospital, I heard the most blood-curdling scream, and well, that's sort of how I ended up in this room.
An outcry went peeling through the hospital and was beaten back from one end of the building to the other. Detecting the misery and terror it held; Addison and Charlotte stopped dead in their tracks, the sound had evidently startled them. Addison looked to Charlotte for an answer and the southern woman shrugged her equal ignorance. Interests piqued, they followed the sound of a shrill voice alternating between hysterical screams and yelling "No! No! No!" Addison's face flushed with concern when her eyes settled upon the tiny distressed figure kicking and flailing her limbs around. The doctor who stood before her seemed to watch in amazement. How could someone so tiny emit such a sinister sound?
I'm not sure how long I've been in here, I'm waiting for Melanie to return. She didn't want to leave Emily alone in case she woke up, so I offered to stay until she came back. The fact that I'm in this room right now is actually kind of funny, considering I was hesitant about staying with Melanie while she waited for Emily to get out of surgery.
"I'll show you to a waiting room." Addison offered. The young woman smiled appreciatively and mutely followed Addison's lead.
When they entered the room, Addison waited until the woman was seated before she turned to leave.
"Wait!" The woman called out, causing Addison to turn around. "Can, uh, can you wait with me?" Addison formed her lips to utter a response, but no words came out. "I'm sorry." The woman quickly backpedaled, sensing Addison's hesitance. "You're a doctor, I'm sure you have important things to do. You don't want to waste your time sitting here with me."
Addison sighed, feeling slightly guiltily. "I'll wait with you." She said, offering the woman a soft smile. "If I were in your position, I'd want someone to wait with me too."
"Thank you." She responded, returning Addison's smile.
"I'm Addison." The redhead informed, as she took a seat.
"Melanie." The brunette responded, shaking the hand Addison extended.
At first, I couldn't fully understand why Melanie was so flustered, but after we started talking, everything made sense. She admitted that Emily is her first unsupervised child welfare case. She was supposed to transfer her to a new foster home, but Emily kept crying and complaining of stomach pain so she brought her to the hospital. Turns out, Emily had appendicitis. Therefore, Melanie being a bit jumpy is quite justified.
I can't stop staring at Emily. Her tiny body is lying motionless in the hospital bed, with the exception of the steady rising and falling of her chest. Her mouth is slightly open, and her glossy brown hair is spread wildly across her pillow. It's almost strange seeing her this calm. A few hours ago, she was quite frantic.
Each time a medical professional extended a hand in an attempt to examine her, Emily would shriek and violently hit and claw at any foreign limb that attempted to touch her. When the hand retracted, screams would transform into whimpers. The little girl's wide, hazel eyes pooled with tears that continuously fell and drowned the freckles painted across her cheeks. Her long, wavy, dark brown hair bounced in perfect synchrony with the shaking of her head.
I gently run my fingers over the scratches on my right arm. I sigh remembering how they got there. Charlotte would probably find it amusing, it happened right after she left.
"Montgomery, you comin' ?" Charlotte asked, reminding Addison they were about to leave before they were distracted by the tiny human. Charlotte left, Addison stayed; too intrigued by the scene to abandon it. In an effort to assist with calming the child, Addison offered a soft 'hey sweetie it's okay.' and a 'These nice doctors are trying to help you.' She extended a well manicured hand towards the frightened child's head and was met with the same fate as the nurse: tiny fingers clawing into the delicate flesh of her forearm. Addison winced and assessed her arm; she momentarily regretted not leaving with Charlotte as blood crept to the surface of her porcelain skin.
Just as I attempt to check my cellphone for the time, Melanie walks into the room.
"Addison." She says softly.
I raise my head to face her, she's standing in the doorway. She looks exhausted.
"I'm sorry I took so long." She sighs.
I stand and walk towards her so that I am standing directly in front of her. "It's fine." I say with a small smile. "Did you complete everything you needed to?"
"Yeah," She answers. "Thank you so much, you really made today a little easier for me."
"You're welcome." I respond, although I really don't feel like I did anything.
We say somewhat awkward 'goodbyes', and I make my way out of the hospital. I don't say this to Melanie, but I intend to come back to check on Emily tomorrow.
Let me know whether or not you found the switching of POV's confusing.