Jackson
I hate my nights off when Harriet is with her mother and I have the place all to myself. Usually, I do my best to stay late at work and preoccupy myself with patients, or research, or even lame-ass paperwork for the board. But tonight I had no other choice but to go home since both Bailey and Webber made waves about me clocking more hours than it was allowed.
So I'm sitting here, music blasting through speakers in every room, and trying to concentrate on the game. The Patriots are on fire tonight, but I barely notice a thing on the TV screen. No amount of noise can stop dark-minded thoughts to seep into my brain. I loathe myself in this moment, for everything I've done wrong, for everything I've lost, for being a complete idiot and screwing my life.
It's not a nice way to think of oneself, especially if you're alone with no one to turn to. I'm not the guy to wallow in my pain, I tend to fix things and move on. But this mess I've made could never be fixed, so I opt for a temporary solution. Something to get me through the night.
SENT: wanna come over?
Jo doesn't leave me hanging and in less than a minute she shoots me a reply.
RECEIVED: see u in 20 xX
I feel my stomach growl and order a pizza. Jo will probably give me crap again about it looking like a date, but I'm too hungry to care about her catty remarks. After our first awkward sex encounter, when she was bawling her heart out and I was too confused about the level of affection she was demanding from me, things got clear and unproblematic. Jo wanted no affection from me whatsoever, a welcome change of pace for me since lately, I realized I'm not capable of any sort of romantic attachment to other women.
I already had one epic love story. It gutted me out, left me a shell of my former self. I'm still left to deal with the fallout of my marriage ending. So an arrangement with sex and without any feelings is about the only thing I'm good for right now.
The pizza arrives before Jo does, so I enjoy this time, devouring almost three slices at once. I didn't even realize just how starved I was until now. I hear the doorbell ring and get up from the couch to let her in, licking my greasy fingers as I walk to the front door.
"I brought a friend over, hope you don't mind," she giggles as she shoves an open vodka bottle in my face. It doesn't take a genius to see that she's been drinking on her way here. Jo trips over her foot and falls into my arms, where she starts leaving a trail of wet sloppy kisses on my jaw and the corner of my lip.
I close and lock the front door, all while keeping her body pressed to mine so that she wouldn't fall down headfirst. As we walk to the couch, she sees pizza on the coffee table and hurries her way to it.
"Oh my God, Jackson, this is so good!" she exclaims, biting off the better part of the slice and almost choking on it.
She takes a big sip, then hands me the vodka bottle and makes an inviting gesture for me to drink it too. I carefully place it onto the coffee table, as I feel a wave of annoyance rise in me. I'm growing tired of her never-ending drunk routine as if fucking me wasn't her idea in the first place and it's something I'm forcing her to do.
"You're no fun," as if reading my mind, she pouts her lips and reaches for the bottle again. I make no effort to stop her and watch her gulp vodka like it is holy water. "After the day I've had, I'm allowed to drink whatever the hell I want!"
She looks at me, expectantly and examining, but I refuse to react the way she wants. This is the other thing I start to dislike about our arrangement: her constant need to get off her chest whatever crap she'd be dealing with that day. I feel sorry for her, I really do. I sympathize and empathize and all. But I'm not a shrink, nor am I interested in a heart-to-heart with her. I have my own shit to deal with, one I'm not comfortable sharing with her. Or any other person, for that matter.
"Today I got an agenda for the next board meeting," she says with a smile, then bursts into hysterical laughter. "See, my husband left me, and as a reward I get to own a hospital! I've never owned much of anything…and look at me now…Abandoned by her husband and abundant in cash. How do you like that?"
Her laughing stops and instead she's fighting tears. I don't try to soothe her as it would only lead to her breaking down completely. Her pain irks me; it's too similar to mine. Tonight was supposed to be about letting loose, not about digging through our agonies. My eyes wander to the vodka bottle. This would definitely help turn off my brain.
The first sip goes straight to my head. I had two bears earlier, and the mix of alcohol proves to be a potent poison. The tension in my muscles subsides and before I have a chance to change my mind, the second and third sips follow.
"Don't be greedy," Jo yells, as she yanks the bottle out of my hands. "It's not like you have any pain to drown in alcohol."
I let a growl out and then laugh at the absurdity of her statement. She couldn't be more off base even if she tried to. I catch her intrigued look at me and make an effort to regain my composure. She wouldn't understand, and I don't want another person to see me as a fool I am. The best defense is offense, though; I distract her by my following question and sneakily get a hold of the vodka.
"How are you holding up?" I ask, feeling the room start to spin just a little.
"I'm a mess," she sighs and tilts her head to the back of the couch. "Everywhere I go I see these little reminders of us, of your happiness. At every corner of that damned hospital, I see him. There's no escaping it, my whole life is drenched in the memory of Alex."
Her words strike a nerve, so I try to shake it off. Another gulp of vodka relieves the sting in my heart a little. And Jo continues.
"He's at my apartment, he's at work, and he's in everyone I see on a daily basis. Even the patients, fuck, the patients we used to treat together…Now he's gone, and they sometimes return for a follow-up, beaming with joy to see Dr. Karev only to meet me…It breaks my heart to have to come up with excuses and lies. Telling the truth would be unbearable…"
In my drunken state, I reach for her hand and give it a little squeeze, trying as best as I can to support her. My touch seems to have snatched her out of her contemplations, as she eyes me very thoroughly and then says with a straight face: "You're a man, right?"
"I've been described as such a few times in my life, yeah," I mutter, unsure of where this is headed.
"No, I mean you have a man's brain. You think like a man, 'cause you have a man's brain, 'cause you're a man! Am I right?"
The last question she almost yells in my ear, I frown from the discomfort of her shriek and load myself up with another couple of medicinal vodka sips.
"Yeah," I nod and receive a slap on my shoulder. The alcohol numbed any pain, but I scold her nonetheless. "What was that for?"
"Being a man!" she nods her head one time and then stares at me accusingly, eyes squinting. "Explain to me…As a man yourself; explain to me how he could do it? How after all these years and two fucking weddings he had the nerve to leave me like that?"
"Jo, c'mon…" I try to give her a hug, to calm her down a little, but she flinches away.
"No! I don't need your pity! I need a fucking explanation. Because I can't wrap my head around it, so please, please, please… why would he leave me for her? "
She almost whispers her last words, eyes glassy and fighting back tears. What a curse love can be sometimes. She's broken beyond repair. Fucking Karev broke her. I didn't always hold him in high regard, especially at the beginning of us working together. But over the last years, we've become somewhat friendly-isch, so I can't just shrug him off as some heartless monster. I cling to Jo's last word; to the 'her' Alex changed his whole life for. Izzy Stevens. I have almost no recollection of her; she was fired practically right after the Mercy West merger. Most of the information I know I overheard from other people when she'd already left Seattle. But one thing sticks out from the time we worked together. She was Karev's weakness, his soft spot, the one he'd kill for. There was no better way to throw him off-kilter than to have a dig at Izzy. And I loved to throw him off-kilter back then.
She was the one for him, and no matter the time passed, no matter how deep he was in a new relationship when he had the slightest chance to get back with the woman he loved, he took it and never looked back. Consequences be damned.
Looking at it like this, for the first time ever, I can't help but feel jealous of Alex. The woman he loved all those years wanted him, and there was no stopping him until he got her back. He burned all the bridges to his old life, gave up everything he had, and chose his woman happily, without any doubt, without any hesitation, without any second thoughts.
That lucky bastard, how happy he must be right now.
But of course, I don't tell Jo any of it. Even in my drunken state, I realize how my words would've hurt her, so instead I come up with a lie, a banality she secretly wants to hear from me.
She seems to be satisfied with my answer, as her worry lines grow less noticeable. She leans in to kiss me, but I turn away and massage my temples pointedly. Before she has a chance to snap at me or ask too many questions, I yawn and give her one of my famous smiles.
"Sorry, your friend vodka got me good, and I'm beat for tonight. Wanna stay in the guest bedroom or should I call you an Uber?"
She leaves soon after.
The emptiness of the apartment forces my dark thoughts to come out, but for the first time in a really long time in a sea of my desperation, I sense a tiny glimpse of hope.