Chapter 38: After 23 Years...
After ten minutes worth of sitting rigidly in her car, Meredith took a deep breath and got off. She knew to which house she should direct her steps as she studied the quiet suburban environs from the car.
She didn't have to be here alone. One word would suffice for Derek to be at her side, instead of sleeping late at her house, completely unaware of her excursion. Yet, she was determined to do this on her own. Being with Derek was changing her, mostly for the better, but recently she felt like she was getting weaker, more dependent.
She wasn't going to reject Derek's care though she needed to be strong enough to stand on her own feet. She couldn't lose the sense of power that always made her an unstoppable force.
Meredith slowed down her pace and craned her neck seeing a silhouette of a man through the bushes growing in front of the house. Contrary to her body movements, her heart was racing. Could it be…? She walked up to the fence to get a closer look. The man was watering the flowers on the porch. He wasn't very tall; his hair was dark grey, and he seemed… a complete opposite of her. His movements were ginger and awkward. At one point he slopped the water from the can all over his feet. Yet Meredith was sure it was Thatcher Grey. From the shreds of her memories, she remembered his slightly hunched form and general clumsiness.
She continued to stand rigidly on the sidewalk, unsure what to do. She came, she saw him, now what? In the meantime, her father finished his gardening activities and took off his yellow rubber gloves. Thatcher seemed to notice he was the object of somebody's observation, his head shot straight to where Meredith was standing. Their regards crossed and seconds seemed to drag into hours. Finally, she turned her head away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. She walked back to her car hating the feeling of helplessness that was overcoming her when…
"Mer- Meredith?" She halted abruptly hearing her name called.
"Meredith? Is… is that you?"
She slowly faced him. He walked up on the sidewalk, still clutching his yellow gloves in his hands. He was studying her intently with his green eyes that seemed to become glassy.
She nodded slowly, trying to keep her determination and cool head.
"How… how have you been?" he asked with a trembling voice.
Meredith's face hardened and resentment boiled in her veins. She wanted to snort and ask him sarcastically "Lately or in the past 23 years?"
"Good," she replied dryly instead.
"That's… that's good," he muttered nervously detecting a clear cold note in his daughter's voice.
"So, uhm, when did you come to Seattle?"
"In March," she answered shortly.
"It's… five months," he said with surprise. "It's long. Did you move here?"
"Yes," she confirmed stoically. "I came here for my job. I'm the chief of surgery at Seattle Grace."
"Oh," he raised his eyebrows, thousand emotions and reminiscences playing behind his eyes. "You are? I'm… this is… You're a surgeon… like your mother…"
"No, not like my mother," she denied sharply and turned back to walk away.
"Meredith? Do you need anything?" Thatcher's voice sounded for the last time.
"No," she said not even turning back. She had needed her father so many times. When she cried herself to sleep in the empty house, squeezing her Anatomy Jane. When her mother refused to let her go to a birthday party the one time she got invited. When she needed advice in all the important decisions in her life. When the said life went to pieces in college… What could she possibly need from him now?
She got to her car in no time and stepped heavily on gas; strangely enough, rage putting her at ease.