... ...
Death. It might be part of the job, but I don't think I'll ever really get used to it. Sure, after all this years I found my way to deal with it, to face forward again, but it always takes time - with some cases more than with others. By now I know the drill. I know that when a case really hits me, it paralyzes me. And the only way to get out of that dark place is to actually give in to it. To cocoon.
Which is why I spent the entire day at home yesterday, and call Bailey again this morning to tell her I take an extra day off today; for some reason I can't reach her, but I just trust that she'll get the message and it will be fine. As soon as I come home from bringing Sofia to school I climb back into bed. I waste the next two hours with Netflix and lousy magazines.
It's less entertaining than it might sound like and in the end it doesn't make me feel that much better, but when the doorbell rings I'm not even considering getting up. Unfortunately it keeps ringing, driving me absolutely crazy and leaving me no choice. As I make my way to the front door I realize I'm not even bothered by the fact that it might be important, I just need that sound to stop.
I open the door. It's April, hidden behind her dark sunglasses.
"Black coffee, please!" she moans. "Extra strong."
"Morning sunshine," I tell her with a weak smile, widening the door to invite her in. "Looking good today!"
She follows me into the hall, then into the kitchen. "Seen a mirror yet?" she grumbles.
As she takes a seat at the kitchen table, I walk to the counter and turn on the coffee machine. "Don't you need to be at the hospital already? To kick off that competition?"
"A little waiting won't hurt them," April answers behind me. I can hear her suppress a yawn. "You're not entering?"
"Nah," I shrug, right when the green light on the machine stops flashing. I press the button. Fresh coffee starts to stream into our mugs, together with the usual steam and noise. When the kitchen is quiet again I pick up our lungos and turn around to join her at the table. "I'm lacking inspiration."
April looks around her. My kitchen is a mess, the kind you can't blame on a seven-year-old. She frowns. "You're not just talking work, aren't you? Did you even have breakfast?"
"Depends," I shrug again, "do chips and cookies count?"
"Sure," she snorts. "As long as it's solid, right?"
I narrow my eyes. "Something tells me you picked another poison. What was it? Gin? Tequila?"
"Just wine," she answers. She drops her head on the table, hiding her face from me. "Wine and interns. Well, just one intern... but... yeah."
I stretch my arm and briefly rest my hand on top of her head, ruffling her hair a little. "Don't beat yourself up. We've all been there. Craving a human bandage."
April slowly looks up again. "Carina?"
I shake my head and make a face. "Leah Murphy!"
She mirrors my expression. "Right!" she winces playfully. For a brief moment she shows a hint of a smile. "Still, I'm pretty sure I remember you calling Carina therapeutic, curative sex."
An unexpected giggle escapes my lips. "Well, yeah, I'm not saying she wasn't helpful," I chuckle.
"But?"
"But she's not just sex," I point out. "We are not just sex."
She tilts her head a little. "What are you then?"
"I... have no clue, actually," I sigh. "Let's just say we're quite busy figuring that out." I take a sip of my coffee, then peer at my friend over the edge of my mug. She really does look miserable. I scrape my throat. "We were talking about you, though. What's going on, April? What do you need?"
April just stares at me, in a way that makes me wonder if she's actually seeing me. "Nothing," she quietly sighs. "I don't need anything. There are things that can't be solved with coffee and hugs."
I raise my eyebrow, giving her a questionable look.
"I'm serious," she goes on, "The very last thing I can handle right now is some precious snowflake treatment. Things are depressing enough as they are."
I don't think I've ever heard her this cynical, and that includes all those nights when we boozed up together to analyze life and all its nonsense. Without a word I get up from my seat, walk around the table and wrap my arms around her.
"Arizona!" she cries out. "What did I just s-"
"Ssst," I shush her, as she starts wiggling, trying to release herself from my embrace. I'm not letting go though. "I'll do as you ask. I promise. This one is just to remind you what's actually here, waiting for you, anytime, as soon as you're done with bitterness."
She exhales and when I feel how she relaxes a little I slowly let go. I press a soft kiss on top of her head, then shove her mug a bit more towards her. "Now drink your coffee. The world is waiting for you."
Twenty-four hours later. I still don't feel any better. In fact, I feel worse, as I'm now also worried about April. She doesn't just seem to mourn our patient - I'm really afraid she's dealing with some existential crisis, and she's doing it all alone. I'm no stranger to the concept, and I know how picking the hard road can seem, can be the essential step to take. It comes with the realization that the world is not here to save you. That you have to save yourself. Waiting for someone to catch you is just a waste of time. I understand. I do. Still I really wish things were different.
Work doesn't wait forever though, so here I am, back at the hospital. Dragging myself through the hallways, already exhausted from just one simple consult, I slowly exhale. I drop myself on one of the chairs, my eyes at the floor, but look up again at the sound of Carina's voice.
"Hey," she greets me, as she shows up from around the corner.
"Hi," I echo. I wanna smile at her, but the lack of energy makes it quite impossible.
She sits down next to me. "I haven't seen you. Have you been ill?" she asks.
"No, I took some time off," I simply answer.
"To work on the contest?"
I shake my head. "No. I'm not doing that."
"But why not?" she frowns.
I sigh. "Honestly? I barely made it out of bed for that consult."
"Aaah," she sympathizes, while I keep gazing into the distance, continuing how it never gets easier to lose a mom.
Carina shifts in her seat and puts her arm on the back of my chair. "I can only imagine," she sighs.
"No matter how many times, it's-" I suddenly look at her. "What do you mean, you can only imagine?"
She squints her eyes at me. "What do you mean, no matter how many times?" she asks me in return.
"You've never lost a mom?" I ask, checking if I'm actually hearing this right.
Carina looks just as shocked. "Have you lost more than one?!"
As I'm quickly trying to process what she is saying, and what I'm saying, and how there's something really not okay there, I just stare at her for a second, before abruptly jumping to my feet.
"Excuse me," I mumble, hardly giving her a chance to respond as I'm already on my way. I have some research to do.
Data. Statistics. Publications. Records. All about maternal mortality. I've been reading, checking and studying them for hours yesterday, and I continue to do so this morning - locked away in an office the size of a medium walk-in closet. I'm not happy. I am intrigued though. And focused. Which is why I barely register the door opening behind me.
It's April, glancing around like she's looking for a place to hide.
"Oh, hi. Sorry," she apologizes.
My eyes are back on my screen already. "It's fine," I just tell her, which apparently sounds the same as "please, distract me right now".
"So, the intern I'm sleeping with is everywhere. We have a no-daylight rule, but he keeps making faces at me, like 'I've seen you naked' faces." I draw my eyes away from the computer, not able to focus anymore, and look up at her as she rambles on. "And I can't do anything about it because he has, so I'm just, like, hiding from him by day and then un-hiding at night. I'm like a sex vampire."
"These numbers are insane," I jump in as soon as she falls quiet. "26.4 out of every 100,000."
April shakes her head, confused. "26.4 what?"
"Mothers," I clarify. "Dying from having babies!"
"Arizona..."
"I mean, Italy's is 4.2. So, why is our maternity mortality rate six times higher than Italy's? What's going on?" I question out loud.
"I am sorry about what happened to Karin," April kinda snaps, "I am so sorry that I can't sleep without at least a bottle of wine. I promise you I am punishing myself enough without having-"
"This is not about you, April," I cut her off, as I'm trying to focus on this details again. "Just stop talking."
In a way it is about her though. Just as it's about me. Because I believe that we need this. That this can actually help - me, just as well as her. I look up at her again. "I'm sorry. You wanted tough love. Let this be part of the tough love."
A little flabbergasted as it seems, she just stares at me.
"Unless you'd rather have another hug?" I cautiously ask her.
Her face twists. "Ughr," she grumbles in frustration, which I guess means 'no', or maybe even 'shut up'. Whatever it is, I don't get the chance to check, as she promptly leaves the room without another word.
I really wished she would have gone for the hug.
I don't get a chance to ponder on it, as my beeping phone pulls me away from my thoughts. It's a message from Carina, asking me about my lunch plans.
"Sorry, way too busy for food," I quickly text her back.
Her answer shows up before I can dive into the next charts. "Alright" almost immediately followed by "Are you okay? You got me a bit worried yesterday..."
I feel a twitch in my stomach. I don't want to sound indifferent and I definitely don't want her to feel bad! My fingers hit the tiny keyboard again. "I am okay. Just onto something. I'll tell you all about it... after work maybe? At the bar?"
As always, her reply is quick. "Glad you're okay. See you tonight. Can't wait! xx"
I share the feeling...
I got it! I know what I wanna do. I know how I wanna do it. I just don't have time enough to put it all on paper. In fact, as I run through the hallways of the hospital I realize I might even be too late to enter at all. Which is kind of why I barge into the conference room like a maniac.
"Karin Taylor was 33 years old!" I blurt out.
"Arizona, stop!" April sighs, as she looks up from her papers.
I feel like I can't though. "She was in pristine health. She gave birth to a gorgeous 6-pound, 7-ounce baby," I continue in one single breath.
"Stop!" she tells me again, "This is not healthy, and it's not gonna bring Karin back."
"This is healthy!" I raise my voice in excitement. "This is my paper. It's a verbal paper, but this is what I am going to study! And it may not bring Karin back, but it could help a whole lot of future Karins. So please, please, just listen!"
April shifts in her seat, faces me, and finally gives me her full attention. "Okay," she grants.
I take a deep breath. This is my one chance. "Karin was healthy, and now she's dead. From an entirely treatable condition. Okay? And it wasn't my fault, and it wasn't your fault that she died. Do you hear me? It wasn't your fault."
April swallows and averts her eyes for a second. I keep talking. "But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't fix it. Pre-eclampsia is only one of the reasons that we are losing laboring mothers at an unprecedented rate. The United States has one of the worst rates of maternal mortality in the entire developed world. There is something going on here, and we need to fix it. Not someday, but now!"
As soon as I stop talking the silence of the room falls over us. I exhale. I look at my friend. I can't hide the expectation in my eyes. Please, I pray, please get how important this is.
And she does. She gets it. I can tell before she speaks up.
"Put that in writing," she slowly nods. "Send it to me."
Relieved and grateful to still get this chance I nod as well. "Okay," I tell her, already spinning on my heels to go do as she asks.
"Arizona?" April calls, right before I reach the door. I turn around and watch how her mouth curves into a little smile. "Thank you."
As I walk into the crowded bar, my eyes immediately start to scan the room. It seems like half the hospital is present tonight. I'm not here for them though, I'm only looking for one person right now. And she's already here. Sitting at the bar. Waiting for me.
I quickly walk over to her.
"Hey!" I cheer.
Carina puts her glass down and shifts on her seat, turning towards me. "Hi!" she brightens.
"Thank you," I blurt out straight away, "for being worried about me."
She shakes her head. "Of course! And you seem better. Are you... better?" she double checks.
"Yeah. I entered the contest!" I nod. "And, I mean, I don't know- I don't know if I'll get in, but I'm gonna study maternal mortality. And you're an O.B. And Italy seems to have it way more figured out than we do," I ramble on, while her eyes grow big with enthusiasm. "So... would you like to be my partner?"
Tilting her head a little, her smile grows even bigger. "Your partner?"
I nod again. "Yeah. On the study."
She gazes at me, keeping our eyes locked. "Only on the study?" she asks suggestively.
Once again she leaves me speechless. Is she really asking...? And if she is, is there really any reason, any reason at all, to keep waiting?
She's more than just sex, I remember telling April. And it's true. She is so much more. She's sweet, and caring, and smart, and funny - oh, so funny. And she is the only one I wanna be with right now. She really is. No matter what.
So no, I don't want to wait, I cannot wait any longer.
Not able to hide the smirk creeping on my face I step forward, gently cup her face into my hands and press my lips against hers. As soon as they touch I know this is what I should have been doing all along. Kissing her again... it feels like coming home. And as I can feel her smile into our kiss, pulling me closer with her fingers tangled in my hair, I just know she must feel the same.
When we break apart, our eyes meet. I can't help but stare at her, unconsciously licking my lips a little.
"You're sure about this?" I whisper.
"I am," she softly smiles.
I lean in for another tender kiss, then look at her again. I narrow my eyes as I survey her face. "You're still spooked, aren't you?"
She swallows, then slowly nods. "I am," she admits. "A little bit. But I don't want to be! Believe me, I don't want to run anymore."
"I believe you," I smile at her, "And it's okay. We can be a little spooked together. And if you do run, we'll just run together." I tug a string of hair behind her ear, before pulling her in for another slow kiss. When our lips break apart I rest my forehead against hers.
"Bien?" I breathe against her lips.
A warm, genuine laugh escapes her. "Bene!" she chuckles.
I blush, and she instantaneously prints a soft peck on my cheek. "You're so cute," she mumbles, smiling against my skin. Not waiting for my response, she suddenly sits up straight and gestures at the bartender to get me a glass of wine as well. She's taking care of me. Now who's cute?
As the bartender puts a second glass on the bar, Carina spins me around in her arms, then pulls me close again. Hugging me from behind like this, she rests her chin on my shoulder. For a moment we just stay like this, with me swooning in her arms. We watch our co-workers being all excited about the contest, eagerly waiting for the results. We listen to the music playing from the jukebox right behind us. We don't really do anything else. We are just being us.
We are us.
With her mouth close to my ear she quietly speaks up again. "I called Roberto."
"You did?" I turn around to face her again, leaning against the bar stool next to hers as I do so. "What made you change your mind?"
She shrugs, almost a little apologetically. "I got stuck. I knew that, long before I got here. And I knew it wasn't helpful, I knew in the end I needed to move on. I just... I couldn't. Not without a purpose. Without a reason."
She pulls me in by my blazer and brushes her lips against mine once more, before moving them to my ear again. "I think I found my reason."
... ...