CHAPTER 3: HOMECOMING
"I am home", he said in a rather curt tone. For all his belief that she wouldn't hear him, due to the volume of the music, she acknowledged his presence with a nod and turned the stereo off, then greeted him verbally with a "Welcome", accompanied by a big smile. "Just what were you doing?", he quipped, albeit not in his usual sarcastic tone, the traces of warmth in his voice surprising him a lot. "Dance aerobics", she replied, adding, "Fun and good for the butt". She then cast a quizzical look at him and enquired, "How about you? Was your trip out of town enjoyable?". He wasn't exactly in the mood to answer, yet, he felt as if he owed her some sort of explanation for leaving immediately after the wedding night. The sham wedding night, he corrected himself. Nonetheless, he took a deep breath and stated, "I went to pick up a former member of my team, you don't know her. She got herself in trouble". Of course, that was the only explanation he was going to give. He wasn't gonna tell her Thirteen's secret, that was for sure.
Not wishing to continue this thread of conversation, but, at the same time, not wishing to stop talking altogether, he asked, "And you? You enjoyed some bachelorette moments while I was out of town, right?". "Finished chores. Cooking, removing dust, washing clothes, ironing, typical wife duties", she answered. "Doing your fair share of redecorating, as well, and moving my coffee table", he remarked. "Who's on that picture? Your grandmother? She's kinda sexy", he enquired in a sarcastic vein, pointing to an old man's portrait hanging on the wall. "That's Taras Shevchenko, greatest Ukrainian poet", she responded, rolling her eyes, unexpectedly enjoying his humor, which she knew most people wouldn't find to their liking. "If I ever need a briefing on obscure literature, I'll be sure to call you", he interjected in a jesting manner. "So, you've been busy setting up a little colony in my place. Not bad", he concluded. "And getting to know neighbors", she added with a playful smile. "Neighbors?", he enquired. "Yes. It's funny, though. Yesterday afternoon, after doing chores, I turned stereo on and Mr. Hastings got annoyed", she started narrating. "Who's that?", House asked. "Our next door neighbor", she clarified and, cocking an eyebrow at his direction, asked, "You don't know names of our neighbors?". "I don't remember things I don't give a damn about", he answered in all honesty. "Mr. Hastings surely isn't boring", she countered. "You should've seen his face when I answered his knocking. He was thinking it was you who'd turned stereo on", she continued, to be cut off by House's remark, "And he was happy to see a hot girl jumping up and down in the living room". "Hey, I wasn't jumping up and down", she countered, chuckling. "But, yes, he was surprised. Imagine his surprise when I told him you're my husband", she whispered. "That was your plan all along? Use him as a witness of sorts for our felony?", he asked bitterly. "Not really. It wasn't lie, however", she responded, pointing at her wedding ring. "And how did our neighbor react?", he asked, strangely wanting to hear more. "Very politely. Invited us both for tea. I told him you're out of town for medical emergency", she said, with House interjecting, "That was clever. I'm not in the mood for exchanging visits with the guy". "He insisted at least I go to his place. I went earlier today", she informed him. "Oh, crap", he muttered. "Come on, he's good guy", she held her own edge. "And single", he quipped, adding, "I bet you now regret not looking around more carefully before finding your partner-in-crime". "What are you talking about?", she asked in a genuinely perplexed tone. "All I said is that Mr. Hastings is polite", she clarified, adding, "He'd invited other neighbors, too". "Real gathering", House interjected, "Was it to your liking spending time with boring people?". "Mr. Hastings sucks at making tea. At least, he had some orange juice in fridge. Gotta teach him how kulich is made, or else I gotta bring my own next time", she replied. "Meeting boring people once wasn't enough for you?", he enquired, adding, "And I'm sure you didn't gain anything from this, except feeling flattered that those guys found you hot". "I learned all gossip within two hours. Wanna hear more?", she added.
He merely nodded, unsure about why he was sitting there and listening to her. "The widow, Mrs. Galway, has new boyfriend. Some cop called Mike. Mr. Hastings doesn't think it's gonna last, though, 'cause she never brings him here. Mr. Brown is very naughty, shamelessly flirting with Italian chick working at restaurant. That student, Connor, has trouble concentrating on his classes. Obviously, he fancies some fellow student. Offered to style him up for when he's gonna ask her out", she gave him the full report. "You're crazy", he observed, shaking his head and exclaiming, "How the Hell did I end up married to you?", half in jest, half because he was increasingly pondering the question for real. "Men don't care if woman is crazy, as long as she looks like me", she shot him a mischievous wink, adding in a playful tone, "And everybody thinks you're very lucky guy". "And why should any of these be of interest to you or me?", House asked. "Why would your team members' lives be of interest to you?", she countered with a question. "Given how much personal life affects professional life, I can say it helps me a lot when I'm updated on those things", he replied. "And our neighbors can be witnesses when immigration checks on us", she responded. "So, there was a plan, your denial notwithstanding", he formed his conclusion, adding, "Clever of you to find a way to integrate yourself to the environment". "But it wasn't planned", she insisted. "Everybody lies, but, no, I can sense truth in your voice", he replied. Rising from the couch, he said, "Gotta have a bath. You set the table. I haven't eaten anything today", limping towards the bathroom.
Mere moments after stepping inside the room, he hobbled back to the living room, a neon green article of women's intimate apparel in his hand. "You think you're funny or are you trying to seduce me?", he said, his expression inquisitive. "I... I hanged this in bathroom to dry. Sorry, forgot about it", she mumbled an apology. "Before seeing this, I needed a hot bath to relax. Now, I'll take a cold one", he quipped, as she extended her arm and took hold of her undergarment. "Please, let's talk no more of this", she requested, her eyes looking downwards. "Fine, fine, gotta have my bath. Don't delay too much with the table, I'm hungry", he got back to the curt tone he had exhibited earlier, upon entering the apartment. With a barely audible sigh, he disappeared into the bathroom again.
As he was cleaning himself, he couldn't help but think of the events of the day. It all had been a huge roller coaster of emotions. All the issue with Thirteen, the revelation about her brother... House understood full well what it meant to live with pain as the persistent and constant companion, in every instance, at every moment, on every twist and turn of life. Thirteen didn't have to deal with the kind of pain that dominated his own life, but this didn't mean her situation was in any way better. He shuddered at the thought of his team member gradually losing control first of her body, then of her mind. Yes, he could totally put himself in her shoes. That was the reason he offered to put her out of her misery when the time came, if she still felt this was the best option. Meanwhile, he'd ensured she was back in the team. He exhaled audibly, his familiar mantra of life being pain reasserting itself in his brain.
However, what he was focusing on right now was Dominika. She is a clever one, he thought, gotta grant her that. And hot. And wears neon green panties. And she's fun to be around. And crazy, but in a good way, the train of thought continued. Why on Earth I'm dwelling that much on her?, the diagnostician asked himself mentally. Truth be told, day by day, she was occupying an ever increasing portion of his musings. He was growing more and more unwilling to probe into his subconscious and try to determine why exactly he'd agreed to be a part of her plan concerning the green card. And, an even more crucial question, what if the plan succeeded? That's no riddle. Once she's secure enough, she packs her things, files for divorce on a flimsy pretext and raises a glass of vodka or whatever they like to drink in her country to the health of the sucker, sucker in question being me, his rational mind stated matter-of-factly. And it's not to wonder about that. That's the course of nature. Why should she stay with a person like me? It's a pattern. Stacy, Cuddy... Even Lydia, the discourse continued. He was feeling melancholic, but was unsure over the reasons for this. Was it because he couldn't change the past, or because of his insecurity concerning the future? His bad leg was hurting again. Maybe he'd ask Dominika for another massage. She'd helped him on the night of the fake wedding, staying up the whole night to take care of him. Were it not for the prenup, she wouldn't do any of these, don't be ridiculous, he scolded himself again. As he was drying himself with the towel, he caught the nice smell of food. Apparently, she'd put all her dexterity to good use once more. Why's she doing this? She's not obliged to exert herself that much, prenup or no prenup, and most definitely she doesn't give a damn about me, his thoughts once more returning to the issue. Shrugging his shoulders, he decided it was time to get dressed and relieve his hunger.
Throughout dinner, he was silent, swallowing his food in large bites, his gaze never leaving his plate. "Eat more slowly", she suggested, "it's more enjoyable that way". "I'd prefer to eat more quickly, because I'm tired", he stated in a dry manner. "And you're very silent, too", she observed. "Is it because...", she started saying, but he cut her off in an abrupt way, "It's because I'm too tired I need to hit the hay immediately". He rose, his food unfinished, "Clear the table when you are done, I'm going to brush my teeth and go to bed. You'll find a pillow and blanket for when you want to go to sleep. Just be quiet. See you tomorrow", he instructed and limped towards the bathroom, leaving her stunned and frustrated.
For all his tiredness, sleep proved difficult to come. He tossed and turned for hours, one thought leaving his mind as he formulated the next one. Part of him wanted to get out of bed, part of him wished sleep would at last come to him. He shifted position once more and sighed, staring at the ceiling. For a moment, the whole place was entirely silent. Yet, on the next moment, he thought he'd heard a sound from the living room. For some reason he couldn't elaborate on, he got out of bed, grasping the walls for support, his sore leg making his movements difficult. He opened the bedroom door and took a peek at the living room. Dominika was fast asleep on the couch, obviously dreaming, mumbling something in her native language. House adjusted the blanket, which now covered her whole body, from her shoulders to the soles of her feet. Her head was mere inches away from him. Fleetingly, he thought of feeling her forehead, maybe even planting a chaste peck on it. With a sigh, he turned around and shut the bedroom door again. He needed to talk to someone, desperately. He dialled Wilson's number. "Wilson? You're up?", he said. "I was sleeping a moment ago. What's going on, House? Can't sleep?", the oncologist replied. "Just need your advice", House said. "Can't it wait until tomorrow?", Wilson asked, trying to suppress a yawn. "Technically, it's already tomorrow", he countered. "Look, I really need some sleep. If you want a friend, I'm available in the morning. If you want more pills, wait until tomorrow and I'm writing the prescription", his friend replied and hang up. House was left staring at the ceiling again, unsure of what to think, what to do.