Episode 21
"Is this okay?" Micah asked, searching the closet for spare bedding. "I can get another pillow..."
"Stop fussing," Joyce called to him from the other room. "It's making me nervous."
Micah popped his head into her room, his arms laden with blankets. "I just want to make sure you're comfortable."
"I'm comfortable," Joyce said. "The pills you smuggled for me are very good."
"Mom, I'm a doctor, this is my job," Micah whined. "Stop making me sound like your dealer."
"Yeah, he's too uptight to be a dealer," said Liz, entering with a potted lily.
"I'm not giving you pain killers," Micah told his sister.
"Why not?" Liz cried. "I'm having head aches!"
"Maybe you shouldn't have fallen down the stairs," Micah said without thinking. Liz grew quiet and they both tried and failed to avoid their mother's eyes.
"Alright," Joyce sighed, "clearly we need to talk about it."
"Need? No," Liz said evasively. She put the plant down on the bed side table. "Look, I got your favorite."
Joyce patted her daughter's arm. "Sit down, honey."
Liz sat reluctantly and launched into an apology, "Mom, I'm so sorry. I just..."
"It scared us," Micah jumped in, "that you had come to peace with this before we had."
"Hey, speak for yourself," Liz argued for the sake of arguing. "I am not at peace with this."
"Liz, this isn't helping," Micah took up the spat. "Can you just be supportive for once?"
"Enough, you two!" Joyce commanded. "I thought a lot about it on the flight back," she gave them both a measured look, "and I forgive you. BOTH of you."
"But Mom-" Liz began.
"Every mother should have children who love her so much," Joyce pushed on. "I understand why you did it...and maybe...maybe I'm not being as sensitive about your feelings as I should be."
Micah and Liz looked at each other silently for several moments, then Liz rolled her eyes. "Are you serious? You're going through all this and you're worried about us?"
"Mom," Micah said, "It would mean the world to me...to us...if you'd let us take care of you for a change. Just name it, and it's done. Okay?"
"Oh, you don't mean that," Joyce said with a wicked grin.
"You want a bet?" Liz challenged. "I know people."
"Alright...so if you want someone killed: doable," Micah teased. "How about something you'd actually want?"
"Um, let's see..." Joyce said thoughtfully. "Salmon filet. Grilled asparagus. Ooh, baked potato." She looked at Liz in excitement, "And red velvet cake!" She practically purred at the thought. "I'm drooling already."
"You got it!" Micah said. "I'll pick up some things after shift and-"
"I still can't believe you're going to work," Liz complained, sitting back.
"What am I supposed to do?" Micah asked.
"Um, I don't know," Liz said with a raised voice, "stay here with us!"
"Liz, he has to go save lives," Joyce said soothingly.
"But this time is supposed to be about you," Liz whined. She looked at her brother. "There are other doctors, you don't have to go."
"I want him to go," Joyce said to Liz. She turned to her son, "I want you to go. I'm so proud of you." Seeing Liz's dirty look, she addressed her daughter, "Oh, don't look at me like that! It's hard being a doctor, why shouldn't I be proud of him?"
Liz crossed her arms, but nodded. "I'm proud too," she said. She waved an arm, "Fine, go. I'll hold down the fort. Besides, if I'm going to make a cake, I need full run of the kitchen." She turned a warning finger at her mother, "No back-seat bakers!"
...
"Look, here's one," said Cassandra, pointing to a classified ad for an apartment. "Two bed, one bath. Easy commute. Aw, look, it's cute. Don't you think it's cute?"
The ad was shoved in Will's face and he hesitated. "Yeah, yeah it's, uh, it's cute. Hey, don't you think it's a bit soon?"
Cassandra's eyes shot daggers. "We talked about this. We talked about how we need to start over-not in your space or my space, but OUR space. If you weren't willing to-"
Will held up his hands defensively. "No, I'm not saying that, okay? I don't have cold feet. That doesn't mean this has to happen in the next few weeks. We don't want to rush into anything."
"I'm not rushing, Will. I'm looking," Cassandra said coldly. "That's what you do when you're in the market for something, you look at what's out there."
"Okay, well," Will said, taking the ad section and examining it. He pointed at one. "What about this one?"
"The three bedroom?"Cassandra asked, taking the paper back. She shook her head, "No."
"No? Just...no?" Will asked, upset. "You barely looked at it."
"I looked at it," Cassandra insisted. "It's dark. And old."
"Well, maybe the picture doesn't do it justice," Will pushed.
"Ooh, what about this one?" Cassandra said, ignoring him. "It's a studio, but it's pretty large-"
"No, I'm serious," Will insisted. "You haven't given this one a chance. Look at the exposed brick. It's super cool."
"Yeah, for a dude," Cassandra retorted.
Will's jaw worked. "Well, I don't know why you're asking for my opinion if you don't intend to listen to me." He got up, "Maybe you should do it by yourself."
...
"I think the nurse made a mistake," Emily said with a frown, examining her patient's chart. "What year were you born?"
"No mistake," the old-looking Mr. Peters said ruefully. "I'm sixty-four."
"Oh," she said, surprised. "I'm...I'm sorry, I don't mean to be surprised."
"I look a lot older, I know," he said kindly. "A long life of bad choices."
Emily grinned at his honestly. "Hopefully a few good ones too."
"Well, my kids are pretty great," he said, smiling back. Then he signed. "They don't talk to me, though."
Emily frowned, setting down his chart. "That's too bad."
"No, no. I deserve it," Mr. Peters said solemnly. "I was never there for them, so what could I expect, right? That's why I'm back in town actually. Thought I'd give it another go now that I'm sober."
"Well, that's great," Emily said. "For how long?"
"Two years, nearly," Mr. Peters said.
"Well, I don't want to get your hopes up," Emily said, "but if it was me, I'd forgive you. I think everyone deserves a second chance."
Mr. Peters smiled broadly and Emily could see that several teeth were missing from his blackened gums. "That's real sweet, darling. Thanks for saying that."
"It's the least I can do!" She said, shaking off the vision. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you're here for something else. Your leg's been hurting."
...
Tyra heard a harsh voice in the hallway and backtracked to see the source. I was Will talking into his phone, and he seemed upset.
"No, I heard you before, but..." he was saying. "I realize it's an inconvenience, but I want to make sure it happens today. She's getting crazy, and if I don't...No, wait, don't put me n hold again...ugh!"
"Ugh," Tyra agreed, walking up to meet him.
"Hey, sorry," Will said, dropping his phone into his pocket. "It's just...this project that I've been working on."
Tyra lifts her eyebrows and observed, "You seem stressed. Hospital stuff or life stuff?"
"Um, you know," Will hedged. "Just life stuff, I guess."
"Yeah, how's that going?" Tyra asked, suspicious of his behavior.
"Oh, hey," Will waved away her attention. "I don't want to bore you."
"Bore me?" Tyra repeated, her eyes growing wide. "Wow, no one's ever worried about that before. Hey, I pretended I was interested, didn't I?"
Will laughed. "No, I...it's Cassandra." He admitted, "I'm totally on board with this moving-in-together thing, but she's been acting like my opinion doesn't matter."
"Not seeing what any of this has to do with your cryptic phone call," Tyra said, shaking her head.
"Oh, that's just..." he said vaguely, "don't worry about that."
Tyra frowned. "Okay..." she said, "um, hey, Will, are you on drugs?"
This got his attention. "What? No!"
"Cause you're acting really secretive," Tyra finished.
"Dr. Collins, you coming?" Called a nurse from behind them.
Seeing that his patient was going in for tests, Will pointed to Tyra. "It's sweet of you to worry, but I got this under control."
...
"We were in Reno at the time, for a show," Mr. Peters was saying. Emily listened, only vaguely aware that she was neglecting her work. He continued, "We'd done our first gig and the other one wasn't until the next day, so we across the street where there was this group playing called Procol Harum. Now those guys could light up a room! We stayed and listened to them and then after the show we paid our respects. The next night they invited us to jam afterwards, which was cool, because they had a killer organ they let me play."
"That's so crazy-" Emily breathed.
"That's not even the best part!" Mr. Peters called. "Me and Tommy, the guitarist, we worked on this song we thought they'd like, we called it 'Marionette.' Next time we saw them, we jammed on it, and sure enough, they used it on their album!"
"I can't believe you jammed with Procol Harum," Emily said, in awe.
"I can't believe you're heard of Procol Harum," Mr. Peters said fondly. "But that's not even the best part-let me tell you about when we jammed with Hendrix."
Emily's jaw dropped, "As in Jimi-"
"You better believe it, sweetie," Mr. Peters said proudly. "We were-"
"What's going on?" Micah's voice asked, recalling Emily to herself.
"Oh, sorry!" She said, jumping up and grabbing his case file. "I didn't mean to get distracted, but Mr. Peters was just telling me about-"
"What the hell are you doing here?" Micah asked him coldly.
"Micah!" Emily cried.
Mr. Peters didn't look surprised, however. "Well, I expected as much."
"You can't just talk to our patients like that-" Emily said, shocked.
"Emily, this is Marcus Peters," Micah explained. "He's my father." With a unpleasant curl of his lip and without another word, Micah walked out.
...
"He was livid," Emily told Tyra later. "I think all the blood drained out of his face at one point. Then he was just...gone."
"What did you do?" Tyra asked, taking a large bite of her sandwich.
"Well, I had to finish the tests," Emily said. "I wanted to run after him. I just...his Dad seems nice. I get that drug addiction was probably really hard to deal with and he that did walk out on them, but he seemed worthy of pity, not hatred. I just don't understand Micah's reaction."
"Does seem a bit extreme-" Tyra said thoughtfully.
"Right?" Emily seemed glad to find that others agreed. "I mean, I'd give anything to have known my father. Here is his, and he just..walks away."
"Are you talking about Will?" Cassandra asked, dropped her lunch unceremoniously on the table.
"What?" Tyra asked, "No, why?"
"Oh, sorry," she said harshly, "I thought you said someone was walking away."
"Cassandra..." Emily asked, "is there something you want to say?"
"No!" She cried. "Yes! It hasn't even been a week-not even a whole WEEK-and Will is already backing out." She tore at her bag. "I should have known."
"Should have known what?" Tyra said, thinking back to her encounter with Will.
"That this was all a mistake!" Cassandra explained. "I can't count on him. I mean, knew that, but still, I let this whole mess into my life again."
"Were you wanting an apple or just apple sauce?" Tyra asked, motioning to Cassandra's hand, which was then squeezing said fruit.
Setting down the apple, Cassandra took a deep breath. "Ugh, change the subject, please?"
Tyra didn't have to be told twice. "I'm thinking about putting my name in for the tracheotomy, what about you?"
...
"Hey, you!" Called Liz's voice in the parking lot. Emily turned around, her eyes growing wide. Liz took a puff from her cigarette and her look softened, "Yeah, sorry, Emily. I've been looking for you."
Emily looked around nervously. "Um, why?"
"Don't ask me," Liz shrugged, adjusting her shoulder strap. "For reasons I won't pretend to understand, my mom wants to see you again. You in?"
Emily's fear lifted somewhat. "Oh, well that'd be nice-"
"Yeah, yeah," Liz said cynically. "Just glad to get out of the house."
"Right," Emily nodded. "I bet that's been tough for you. You know, I always like to go to-"
"Whatever," Liz interrupted. She flicked her cigarette to the ground. "Is he here?"
"Is who here?" Emily asked, thinking that she could have just called Micah.
"Daddy Deserts-a-lot," Liz said. "Is he, uh, lurking somewhere around here?"
"In the parking lot? No," Emily said vaguely. "Different floor, actually."
"I was kind of hoping to see the bastard," Liz said, still looking around. "I wouldn't mind giving him a piece of my mind. Or my fist."
Emily felt sad to hear that Liz had the same deeply-seated hatred as her brother. "He can't have been that bad. "
Liz stared at her for a moment, and then threw he head back in laughter. "That's cute. Not that bad," she gagged. Then, all of a sudden very serious, Liz added, "My mom showed me my baby clothes once, they were covered with cigarette burns, because when he was strung out on Heroin he would fall asleep and drop whatever was in his hands."
"No, I know that drug addiction can be really terrible," Emily offered, "but he's clean now."
"Oh, he's clean?" Liz cried. "The kind of clean where he mixes prescription medications with alcohol or the kind where he puts his parents in a nursing home and steals their money to buy heroin?"
"Liz," Micah said in greeting, coming upon them. "I thought I heard your voice on the other side of the hospital."
"Yeah, well, I have some aggression to work out," Liz said with a sneer. "I can't believe Dad had the balls to show up here."
"Don't worry," Micah said coldly. "If we ignore him, he'll go away."
"Okay, obviously I don't know what I'm talking about," Emily interjected, "but don't you think you're being a little harsh?"
"Don't you think you're being a little blonde?" Liz retorted.
"Liz," Micah warned.
"Why is she taking his side?" Liz asked her brother.
"I'm not..." Emily said for herself. "I'm not taking sides. I just...Don't you think people deserve a second chance? Why did he show up out of the blue if he didn't want to see you?"
"Um, I don't know," Liz cried, "because my mother is dying and this is his last chance to get in her will?"
Emily blanched, "I just don't think you can assume that-"
"I can, actually," she insisted. "Because it's always the same."
"What Liz means is-" Micah attempted.
"I can speak for myself!" Liz yelled. She turned to Emily, who cringed. "Fine, come by or whatever. I'm out of here."
"Micah..." Emily said, after watching Liz's departure, "I get that he hurt you, but if he's sober now, maybe he really does want a second chance. Don't you think people deserve that much?"
"People, yes. PEOPLE deserve a second chance," Micah answered, clearly upset. "What I won't give them is a five-hundred-and-second chance. I really do think that at some point you can give up on people."
Emily shook her head. "I can't believe that."
"I'm no asking you to," Micah said. "But don't meddle. Stay away from him."
...
"Why am I blindfolded?" Cassandra asked as Will guided her from his car. "Is this some weird sex thing?"
"Hey, mind out of the gutter," Will chided. "It's Because I have a surprise for you."
"Really?" Cassandra blurted.
"You don't need to sound so surprised," Will defended himself. "You know, in some circles I'm considered a pretty thoughtful guy." He slowed her pace and gave the instructions, "Okay, watch for these stairs."
"Stairs?" Cassandra cried, finding herself ascending a flight of steps. "Where are you taking me?"
"If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise," Will said, a grin on his voice.
"On no!" Cassandra stopped, her heart dropping. "Do not tell me you signed a lease to that hideous three bedroom!"
"Hideous!" Will called back, sounding offended. He pulled her reluctantly up the rest of the stairs. "Come on, it's just a little bit of a fixer-upper."
"You didn't!" Cassandra whined, already thinking about how to get out of it.
"No," Will said, pulling off her blindfold, "I signed a lease to this one."
I wasn't the dark three bedroom at all-it was light and open and clean. "Oh my god! Will! It's beautiful!" She called, running off to look at the two small but light-filled bedrooms.
"I talked to the broker before anyone could list it," Will explained, jingling the keys.
"How much is it?" Cassandra asked, suddenly worried that it was too good to be true.
"At the top of our range," Will said soothingly, "but definitely in that range."
Cassandra returned to him for a hug. "You didn't have to do this."
Will shrugged. "I wanted to. I know you like to stress out about things, so I wanted to prove to you that I could do my part. It's okay, right?"
"It's amazing!" Cassandra replied.
"So..."
"So?"
"So...I did good?" Will asked. He was so earnest, and Cassandra realized that she had, indeed, been discounting his help.
"You did good." she said honestly. They embraced again, but then Cassandra pulled away, "oh my god there's a balcony!"
...
"What are you still doing here?" Asked the nurse in a friendly voice. "Wasn't your shift done hours ago?"
"Yes, but I'm still catching up on the hours missed," Emily explained. "A little at a time, right?"
Nurse Lina smiled. "Smart girl."
"Uh, thanks," Emily said, blushing despite herself. "Oh, so I was just in room 405 and my patient wasn't there. Mr. Peters? Has he been moved?"
"The addict? You better believe it," Nurse Linda said. "His tox screen came back and...well, we had thought he'd be best in another ward."
"His tox screen?" Emily asked, her heart beating faster. "Why? He said he was sober."
"Is he saying that?" Nurse Linda said sadly, "Well, science says differently. That man is on some serious drugs."
Emily's voice sounded far away when she asked fearfully, "What is he on?"
"You want me to start with the stuff that's illegal?" Nurse Linda asked, "Or narrow it down to the things that could kill him instantly?"
"Um, no," Emily said to stop her. She found herself filled with guilt at how she had spoken to Micah and Liz. "That's okay."
"Don't be offended that they handed him off," Linda said, reading Emily's guilt as professional disapproval. "You don't want the addicts if you can help it. You never know what they'll react to."
"Um, right. No, right, of course not," Emily stammered, unable to string a thought together. She looked at her watch, "Ah, look, seven o'clock, I'm free!"
They wished each other a good night and Emily headed for the roof. Pulling out her phone, she dialed Micah's number, but he didn't pick up. After the beep, she said hurriedly, "I know it almost makes things worse that it took your dad's tox screens to convince me that you were right...but, you were right. I'm so sorry, Micah. Please call me when you can. It really would be nice to see Joyce again. So, um, yeah. Call me."
...
"I don't think you were more than, I don't know, three feet tall?" Joyce considered. "It was just the sweetest thing..."
"Mom..." Micah begged.
"Oh, don't hush me," Joyce said with a mischievous grin. "If I can't tell all your most embarrassing stories now, when can I tell them?"
"Never," Micah said, laughing despite his words. "I was kinda hoping never."
"Alright," Liz piped up, tired of watching this play out, "it's settled: I have to hear this."
"Liz," Micah begged, "don't encourage her!"
"You, shh!" She scolded. Pointing at her mother, Liz said, "You, go."
Joyce set aside her dinner and started to speak animatedly. "There was this girl he liked, I think her name was, oh what was it?" She looked at Micah for the forgotten details.
"Don't look at me," Micah said, taking a bike of his potato. "This is being done without my approval."
"Amber!" Joyce remembered. "It was Amber. She was a cute little thing. Wasn't she cute?"
"Yes, mom," Micah admitted. "She was cute."
"Oh, you had such a crush on her!" Joyce said, patting his hand. "Anyway, he got it in his head that he wanted to give her flowers..."
"No, no!" Micah corrected, "There was a radio ad about a flower company-"
"That's right!" She cried, remembering fondly, "That's right. 'If you want to get to her heart, get there with Tate's Flower Mart!'" Joyce sang.
Liz made a face of disgust, "This is going to get interesting soon right?"
Micah explained, "She's trying to set up the fact that I didn't realize they meant flowers...I had just started helping mom do some baking-"
"You were such a good little helper," Joyce said.
"-and I thought they meant a bag of flour."
"Oh, oh mouse," Liz looked at him with pity. "That is so...sad. That's just sad!"
"You know the worst part, though?" Micah cried, pointing at his mother, "She didn't correct me! Talk about sad! She let me spent my allowance on a bag of flour!"
"It was too cute," Joyce shrugged merrily. "I couldn't help myself."
"So, I take this bag of flour to school," Micah said, taking over the story, "and I'm walking to give it to her-"
"And he trips!" Joyce roared.
"-and I trip..." Micah confirmed. "And the bag opens and shoots all over this poor girl."
"All over!" Joyce agreed. "It was everywhere! Like a bomb had gone off."
"Needless to say," Micah pushed on, "she never spoke to me again. And they gave me a week of detention, which was put on my permanent record."
"Oh no!" Joyce teased in high laughter. "You'll never get into college now!"
At this, even Micah laughed loudly. When they had gathered their breathes, Joyce took back her plate and stabbed her fork through the last piece of salmon, asparagus, and potato left upon it, constructing the perfect final bite. She chewed happily, looking at her children with love.
Embarrassed but pleased, Micah pointed out, "You know, I don't think I've ever made all three things perfectly for the same meal before. Either I've gotten really lucky or I've missed my calling as a chef."
Liz, breaking up, said, "Maybe you should be a flower delivery boy."
Joyce giggled too, hitting her daughter playfully on the arm.
Micah finished up too and looked at his plate sadly. "Didn't someone say something about a cake?"
"It's in the oven," Liz said, taking a bite. As though planned, the fire alarm in the kitchen blared. Liz's eyes grew wide, "Oh shit, the cake!" She tore from the room. There was banging and then a waft of smoke greeted their noses.
Micah took a page out of his sister's book and rolled his eyes. He and his mother shared a patient smile. Getting up, he went to the kitchen, where he found his sister fanning away smoke and cursing.
"Damn it! Damn it, damn it!" She cried as Micah turned off the smoke detector. He coughed and helped in her fanning, seeing a blackened cake pan emerge from the smoke.
"I'm not sure frosting will fix that," Micah teased.
"Shut up, Micah!" Liz yelled. "Don't say anything. I forgot to set the timer, okay? Damn it! This was supposed to be perfect!"
Liz reached for the hot pan and Micah stopped her. "Hey, it's okay. We can do it again."
"No we can't!" Liz cried. "I used up all the flour."
"Then I'll go get some," Micah offered. "Actually, that would be good. I'll pick up Emily on my way back. She can help." With an encouraging look at her, Micah walked back to their mother, "I told you this one would burn the house down."
"Ha, ha," Liz complained, coming in after him. "Standing right here."
"Look, we can bring this around," Micah said enthusiastically. "Twenty minutes, I'll have baking supplies and company."
"You two are the best," Joyce said, sharing his excitement. "Hurry back."
Micah nodded, grabbing his wallet. He went to the door, and then thought to turn back. "I love you, Mom."
She blew him a kiss. "I love you too, Mouse."
...
Emily opened her apartment door to find a smiling Micah holding a bag of flour.
Smiling herself, she said, "Um, hey?"
"You wouldn't understand the reference," Micah said, "mostly because I'm not telling-but I'm feeling pretty suave right now."
Tyra, from inside, called, "Flour. I get it."
Micah's smile faltered, but he waved a hello at Emily's roommate anyway. "It's for a second try at a cake," he explained. "One that, I was hoping, you could help me with."
"I would be honored," Emily said, hoping to apologize first. "You want a beer first?"
Micah set the flour down, looking relieved at the offer. "I would love one, actually."
"Me too," Tyra ordered. "Thanks!"
Micah smiled at the roommate, sitting awkwardly on the couch. Emily handed him a beer, then offered one to Tyra, sharing a pointed look. "So that thing with the person fell through?"
"Yeah," Tyra said, not taking the hint.
"What about that other thing?" Emily tried again.
"Nope," Tyra smiled, choosing not to give them privacy. "Just...enjoying my beer."
Emily realized that, despite the standing invitation and her roommate's presence, she still wanted to apologize to Micah before anything else was said. "I'm so sorry about earlier," she said. "I have no right to assume that I know better about your family than you-"
"No, I get it," Micah said, more generously than earlier. "I think it's good that you believe in second chances. I do too, with one exception. I just, I was worried that he might, you know, try to see my mom."
"That would suck," Tyra offered.
"Yeah," Micah agreed, chugging half his bottle. He looked at Emily, "I'm glad you called, anyway. I was cooking, so I didn't hear my phone and I only listened to your message before we were eating."
"Wait?" Emily stopped him, "you can cook too?"
Micah blushed, taking another swig from his beer. He felt his phone vibrate and saw that Liz was calling him. He excused himself to another room and answered.
"He can cook!" Emily repeated to Tyra.
"And you thought Will was perfect," Tyra said in agreement. "I think you should do it tonight."
"Do what?" Emily asked.
"It," Tyra repeated. "What, do I have to draw you a diagram?"
"Tyra!" Emily cried, "we're going to go make a cake for his mom."
"That's got to be code for something," Tyra said.
They were interrupted by Micah's shout. "Why didn't you call me immediately?" Their heads swiveled around.
"You shouldn't have been cleaning out the oven, you should have been with her! Who's there? What do you mean they left? No, she should have gone in the ambulance-"
Tyra averted her eyes, uncomfortable. Emily could tear hers away. She could practically hear Liz's yelling on the other line when Micah's hand dropped his phone. It clattered to the floor, emitting loud squawks. Emily stood quickly, her face ashen, and an equally pale Micah turned to her.
"No," Emily begged. "Please, no."
"She's dead," Micah said in shock. "She's gone."