Chapter 55.
You.
September 14, 2019.
Cristina could almost fool herself into thinking she was the same person she used to be.
She pretended the bags beside her on the bench were not hers, that the blonde boy climbing to the top of the playground equipment was not hers, that it was happenstance she had come here to this park. It could have been another day at work, another day trying to save lives, to create the innovations that would change the medical world. She had no responsibilities outside of work, no romantic connections, no one to answer to or think about except herself.
And she wondered that if she were still the same person, if she cared less, and worked harder, and dedicated every part of herself to her job, would that little girl have lived? Would she have ignored it when her brother asked her to go to California? Maybe. But it would not have mattered this much if she had lived. It would have just been another case, another set of sutures.
She was not alone for long in her wondering.
Shane sat on the bench beside her bags, leaving a barrier between them. He crossed his arms, his eyes following Collin. Maybe he was pretending he had come here by happenstance, too.
Cristina said, "I was in California, this past week."
Shane looked over, his eyes boring into the side of her face, all warm and brown and familiar. Her feelings for him were mixed right now – part of her wanted to tell him everything, to unload her life, but the other part felt so cold toward him. Her revelation about their night together had shaken her in unexpected ways.
"Mom told Wyatt that she had cancer, so we went to California. Big surprise, she was lying, and she did it to try and get us to connect. I was right about her, and somehow, I still felt like the bad guy the whole time. When I got back, my patient, Juliet Cortez, was dying. And Dr. Brightly has started working with Collin. I mean, what on Earth, right? A world-famous pediatric surgeon is working with my son. He had his first session yesterday."
She could still see them in that sensory room. Oliver Brightly sitting opposite her son, showing him how to manipulate simple, mechanical toys, and then handing them over one at a time – and Collin, taking them right out of his hands, looking up and making eye contact, and smiling.
"What does he want with Collin?" Shane said.
"Dr. Brightly thinks they have the same processing disorder."
"What-?"
"And that sucks, too. Collin can never be normal. You were right about that from the beginning. We should have stepped in sooner, before Phyllis has any time to mess him up. Now he'll never get to live a normal life. And it's not fair. Life's not fair. But we knew that. We knew that from the beginning. It was one of the things they taught us in med school. If you let yourself believe that everything happens for a reason, that everything will work out in the end, you'll burn out. You'll always lose. You can never see the small victories for what they are. Did they tell you that?"
"Yes."
"Henry has been sick."
She glanced over and found his eyebrows pinching downward.
"But you knew that already. You were at my house with my baby while I was gone. And that's not fair. It's not fair."
Shane was silent.
"You're his father and it's not fair."
It was the first time she had said that aloud to Shane, the first time she had acknowledged it to his face. His expression barely changed. He already knew, somehow. She wondered who told him – it could have been Adham, or Meredith, or Owen. It hardly mattered now.
"If it was a stranger, I might never have to see him again."
Shane started to speak, "I never-"
She cut him off pointedly, "I know this is my fault. I know I'm just as guilty. But when I look at Henry it reminds of me everything I did wrong, everywhere I failed, everything I did to him. And I can't be mad at myself anymore – the bar just won't go any lower – and I can't be mad at him. It's not his fault. When I look at you it reminds me of everything I hate about myself. It brings me back to that time. It reminds me that I'm here now, and Henry is here now, and I have to live with what I've done."
Cristina stood up and gathered her bags, not looking at him.
"When I look at you, I feel sick. You make me sick, Shane. And maybe it's not your fault. Maybe I'm wrong and I'm the bitch and I'm making all the mistakes here. But life's not fair."
She retrieved her son and left him sitting on that bench alone.
