Chapter 69

October 10, 2020

The Pillar

Cristina held the phone away from her ear, surveying it, making sure she was seeing the right face on the screen. And then she asked again, "You're doing what?"

Her mother responded, "We're moving!"

"Yeah, I got that part. What I don't get is the next part."

"What is hard to get? We are coming to Seattle."

Cristina sank onto her couch. "I don't know, all of it? You can't come to Seattle. You live in California. You live in paradise. Why would you even want to move?"

"I want to be closer to the kids. I'm missing out on their childhoods."

"Lucky them."

"I barely even got to see-" She cut herself off suddenly, her voice falling like the call had ended. She had been there for the funeral. Cristina barely remembered it.

"You can say his name," Cristina said. "Henry."

Her mom reigned in her enthusiasm. "You must miss your mother, at least."

"I don't know. I think we've seen each other enough this decade." Cristina ground her hand into her forehead. "You didn't think you should discuss this with me before you bought a house? You know this affects my life – a lot."

"You are not the mother, I am."

"I'm getting a security system."

"Don't you think it will be nice to have someone around to babysit? I can teach them Korean. We can walk to the park and the playground."

"You didn't even teach me Korean. The park is five miles away, uphill. The playground is covered in germs, and my kids are actual, church-certified demons."

Her mother was unbearably positive. "I am so excited. You can tell Collin I'm coming. I am going to cut that long hair of his!"

"You can try, but you'll need a crowbar to detach him from the ceiling." Cristina listened for the kid in question, satisfied to hear him banging something on the wall in his bedroom. "Do you have a timeline for this whole fiasco?"

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks," Cristina repeated, groaning and sinking further into the couch.

"Stop slouching."

"You can't even see me!"

"I can hear that you are slouching."

"I gotta go, mom. I have some existential dread to work through."

"I love you, sweetheart!"

Cristina groaned again.

She lay across the couch, processing. Just the thought of her mother living a few blocks away added a new dimension of stress to her life. It was the literal last thing she needed right now. The worst thing was that her mother thought she was doing her some huge favor. It was like being a teenager again – talking when no one was listening.

"I'm in a nightmare," Cristina said, long after she had gotten off the phone with her mother. She was still on the couch, still flabbergasted. "I'm in a nightmare and I'm not waking up this time."

Wyatt was sitting across from her, equally sullen.

He got the news right after her, and he came straight over. He was such an advocate for their mother when she claimed she had cancer, but the news that she was moving into their backyard dragged him down. Cristina enjoyed it a little, out of spite.

"I came here to get away from them," Wyatt admitted in that peculiar voice of his.

Cristina snorted. "Oh, how far the golden child falls."

"I wanted to be on my own, to be a real adult."

"How did that work out for you?"

He sighed.

She sighed, too, realizing she was being mean. "Worst case scenario, we can kill her. Make a pact. Bury the secret."

He was not a humorous person. He just sank further into his chair.

Collin ventured out of his room, surveying the adults. He usually spent his day entertaining his siblings, until he became frustrated and locked them out of his space. It devolved into tantrums and chaos after that, a vicious cycle from dawn to dusk.

He tended to avoid visitors.

Wyatt seemed to interest him. Collin walked up and put a hand on his knee, tilting his head, flopping those pretty blonde curls around. He looked just like his mother, and about as far from Cristina as possible.

"Your uncle is having a bad day," Cristina said.

Wyatt looked at her strange, "You've never called me that before."

"You came to Seattle to be a surgeon, and got stuck with a family."

He gave a small smile.

She felt kind of good about that.

Collin tapped Wyatt on the arm, "Play?"

Cristina said, "I guess he likes you. I would accept that invitation. Look at how beautiful he is – he can help you through your crisis."

"What does he want?" Wyatt asked.

"He wants you to go to his room and watch him move blocks around."

Wyatt went with the kid. She could hear Collin getting his toys out, preparing for the thrilling, hour-long show of sorting them all into categories, rearranging them, and then presenting each one silently to his audience. It was an activity Oliver had taught him to help him learn to focus. She could already hear the twins trying to get into the room.

She wondered if the two of them could form a relationship. Collin had a processing disorder, and she was pretty sure Wyatt was autistic. Maybe their differences could fit together, like a weird, Yang-family jigsaw puzzle.

Owen called her a few minutes later.

"Cristina's House of Hell," she answered. "Cristina speaking."

Owen sounded exhausted. "Hey, sweetheart."

Her skin prickled, alarmed. "What happened?"

"It's been a long day."

Cristina decided to keep the news about her parents moving to herself. "Talk to me."

"Another gunshot victim. Swartz is here interviewing all the doctors. He thinks the Hangman may be back. On top of that, we have traumas coming in every hour, like clockwork."

He sounded anxious. His voice was tight and dark. She could picture his expression, all broody, eyebrows furrowed, eyes intense.

"Did the victim live?"

"Not sure if they will." He sighed, made a few man noises, and said, "I can't wait to be home. I need to hear your voice, in person."

It had been a hard road for the two of them. Life sucked sometimes. She told Dean that he was the most consistent thing in her life, the pillar that propped her up, and it was never truer than right now. Just hearing his voice was enough to ease her anxiety. Losing their youngest, losing their boy, had not torn them apart. It pressed them together.

She would never love anyone the way that she loved him. She had no doubts that she would spend the rest of her life with Owen.

"Wake me up when you get home, then."

His voice came less serious, less dark, "No, I hate doing that. You look so peaceful."

"I never look peaceful. You must be climbing into the wrong bed."

He laughed. "I'll fill you in in the morning, and make breakfast."

"I have to go in at-"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."

Clinical trials. Paperwork. Cristina was rarely in the house for a full day. She had thrown herself into her work after Henry died, finding solace in her passion. It was her coping mechanism.

"I'll make a really early breakfast," he went on. "So early that you could call it a late dinner."

She smiled. "Okay. I'm holding you to that. I expect it to be delivered in bed."

He said nothing for a while, just breathing. She imagined him standing against a wall somewhere, resting his forehead on his arm, holding the phone tightly to his cheek. His eyes were probably closed, his hair was probably a mess. He always looked older on days like this.

He finally said, "I love you. Give the kids a kiss for me."

Cristina shook the thought of her mother living down the road, pushed away the preemptive stress. She had been through a lot worse already. She could even forget, if only for a moment, the big hole in her friendship with Shane.

"I love you, too."