Yay, another part! Finally.
Part 4: Ball Game ('Where the Heart Is')
***
'We're captive on the carousel of time.
We can't return, we can only look
Behind from where we came,
And go round and round and round in the circle game.'
- Tom Rush, "The Circle Game"
***
"Foul ball?" Luka grumbled, "Why was it a foul ball?"
Carter had to repress a grin threatening to spread across his face. It wouldn't be right to be *too* happy about Luka's spectacular foul ball now, was it? "Rules, Luka, rules," he commented, handing him a bottle of Gatorade as Luka sank on the bench at his side. "Pesky little rules say so."
Carter, unlike the Croatian doctor who was still looking very unhappy, enjoyed the games on diamond shaped playgrounds. He wasn't one of those buff men who lived and died by sports, but he was a sufficiently good enough athelete when he was willing to play. On the field, you were living in another world, another place where Real Life didn't count as much as your last foul ball, where beating of your heart and the sweat on your face meant something more than physical reactions, where you could start with a clean record plate and no one had a say in it except for youreslf. Where you could forget about things and just say 'To hell with it!' about the future dream that was thoroughly ruined.
Of course, it didn't hurt that Luka sucked at this game.
Dave attempted to cheer up Luka as he successfully finished his round with a hooray. "C'mom, that wasn't so bad. At least we're winning. This is American softball for you."
"Why softball?" Luka grunted, sipping Gatorade. "Not even real baseball now, is it? Now, soccer," he drew his index finger to make a point, "Now there is a real ball game. *Not* football, minds you, but soccer."
Carter piped up, grinning, "And of course the fact that Croatians do great at soccer has nothing to do with your favoritism, right?"
"Of course not." Luka kept his face neutral, but Carter could see that he, too, was suppressing a grin.
Truth to be told, after playing as a team for the entire hour, Carter began to feel friendly toward Doctor Kovac, and somewhere along the way Doctor Kovac naturally became 'Luka' without any discomfort. It felt good, he reluctantly admitted to himself. He liked the way adrenaline pumped through his body, liked the feel of the sweat covering his face. He liked everything about this moment.
And now, life was at its best.
"Hey," Dave suddenly spoke up, "Is that who I think it is?" He furrowed his eyes as he observed the audience bench. "Doctor Weaver!"
Carter grimaced. Life at its best? The statement like that only meant that things just had to go downhill from then on. Yes, he did like Kerry. Yes, he respected Kerry as a doctor. Yes, he understood why she had to dump him out from the list for the next Chief Resident candidates. But it didn't mean that he didn't have the right to feel grumpy around her.
"What is she doing here?" Carter grumbled and turned around to see for himself. Honestly, this was the last place he'd expected to see Kerry. There, beside Maggie and Abby, Kerry sat with an openly curious expression, as if she'd never seen a softball game before. And there was someone else on her side--
"Jing-Mei!" Dave shouted, louder this time, "Came to cheer for me?"
Oh yeah. Downhill was right.
"You wish!" Deb shouted back at Dave as she sat beside Doctor Weaver. But her tone wasn't entirely unpleasant as she admonished him, "Just play the game!"
Carter momentarily hesitated whether he should also say hi to her. Just when he was about to wiggle his fingers, though, Dave shouldered him. "Carter, our turn. Offense."
He looked around and found the other team retreating back to their bench. He gingerly reached for his glove. It unnerved him to see Deb sitting so close to Doctor Weaver, discussing something. He had no doubt that Deb would do her best to get the position. She'd probably get it anyway. He meant it when he said there was no one better than her. He wasn't even sure if he would've been able to beat her into the position if he hadn't been pushed out of the list.
So Deb would be the next Chief Resident. Why did that bother him so much?
"Did you see?" Dave commented loudly to Carter, motioning at Deb, "She's into me. She's *so* into me."
One of the other team members, who happened to be passing by to play defense, caught what Dave said and stared at Deb appreciatively. "Oh, I don't know about that. It looks like she's open for grabs. She's single, right?"
And that statement bothered him even more. "Let's just keep it to the game, okay?" Carter snapped before he was able to stop himself. When he realized his voice had been a little too pointed, with his face a little too rigid, it was too late--Dave was staring at him quizzically.
But the brown-haired goofball doctor didn't comment about that, and only spoke to the other team member, grinning, "Yes, let's keep it to the game. We're here to play balls, but that *those* balls."
Everyone shared a good laugh, but Carter cringed inwardly. Why had he said that? Certainly, the other team was composed of solid medical doctors with supposedly good bedside manners, and if any of them was interested in Deb, shouldn't he be encouraging that?
...Why was he even thinking about this? He shook his head, and concentrated on the game. All he had to do was to follow the ball. One clear objective of any ball game. Follow the ball. Kind of like life.
But you first had to know what you were chasing after, right?
The ball came to his way, and he dived, instantly forgetting about anything else. When the game finally ended--with good 10 more points on his team--he was exhausted to the point that he wasn't able to recall what had been bothering him. He sank on the bench with the rest of the team, sweating and tired, but fairly happy.
Maggie and Abby approached them with drink bottles in their hands, followed by Deb and clearly reluctant Weaver. "Good game," Abby praised and distributed the drinks. She hadn't played after the first round, only sitting with the other ladies and chatting about something they couldn't quite hear. What could they be talking about? He was curious.
"And you didn't add one more foul ball to the record, Luka," Maggie commented, almost giggling. She looked better--she seemed better. Carter was glad. "I'm very impressed. Although, I have to say," she turned to her daughter with a proud grin, "Abby was the best that there was today."
"You're absolutely right," Luka looked actually too drained to complain about the mention of the foul ball. "God, can I propose some other kind of sport for next time?"
"Sure you can," Abby smiled, "But no one here would agree to soccer."
Luka's shoulders sank even more. "Please, count me out for the next game." He then straighened up, noticing Doctor Weaver. "Kerry," he kindly greeted his fellow doctor with a smile, and there was something in his eyes that Carter couldn't quite place. Some sort of a sympathetic understanding? "How did you like the game?"
"It was good," Kerry's answer was reserved, even guarded. There were circles under her eyes, and for whatever reason, she seemed even less personable than usual. "I enjoyed watching it."
"Yes," Deb quickly agreed, almost protectively of Kerry, "I had no idea you guys were this good."
There was a strange vibe, Carter noticed with an alarm as he watched them. It seemed that Deb and Luka were...close to Kerry, as if they knew something that he didn't. What was going on? Certainly, they couldn't have become the best of friends all of a sudden, could they? What did this mean?
Dave's cheerful voice interrupted his alarming thoughts, "Of course we were good. And, of course especially me, right?" Dave quickly got in between Kerry and Deb. "Me with my manly bat. Yeah, I'm the man."
The women in the group all shared a meaningful look that no man was supposed to able to interpret. From the looks of their silent communication, Deb seemed to have been elected as the person to reply. "Yes, yes you are," her voice was filled with laughter. "With your, um, *very* manly bat."
Dave didn't seem to mind the humor in her voice, and only looked satisfied. "Okay, now that's settled, can we go grab something to eat to celebrate?" he suggested, packing the equipment along the others, "I'm starving."
"Sounds like a good idea. Why don't we all go?" Abby agreed, linking her arm with Luka just so naturally.
Yes, things were really going downhill again. Carter decided he wasn't going to stick around to watch the parade. "I think I should just head home," he declared, "Too tired."
Everyone turned to him. "You are?" Abby looked slightly surprised, and a little disappointed, too. "Do you have to go, though?"
"No, he doesn't. He's just playing hard to get," Dave quickly put his arm around Carter's shoulders, "What do you say ladies? Let's give him some incentive."
The 'ladies', again, shared a look. For the first time today, Deb spoke to him carefully, "Yes, John, why don't you join us?" Her grin looked appropriate enough that no one would probably have noticed that it was forced. Of course, no one except him. "I mean, if you don't have any previous engagement," she added, almost embarrassed.
Dave gave her a mock disapproving glare. "Jing-Mei, is that all you've got? I'm so disappointed. Carter, let's just go. You can read Sports Illustrated any time you want, but this is special. We haven't had a get-together for, what, ages? That's just sad."
"Yes, why don't we just make it our little get-together today?" Abby joined, giving Carter a casual smile, "It would be...nice."
A casual smile from Abby was all it took. He knew that, Abby knew that, and Deb knew that. Probably even Luka, who was now talking to Maggie like a good supportive might-soon-be-your-son-in-law, knew. It was the game they played, the game he was now sick of.
"All right," he gave in, because even though he *was* sick of this game, he still wanted it. Badly. "Let's make it our night. McGarty's at the corner?" He purposefully named probably the only non-pub place that was still open. With two people still in AA in the group, a pub wouldn't be a wise choice, no matter how much he could use a drink right about now.
"Sure!" Dave beamed right away, grabbing his bag. "Who's going with me?" His gaze stopped at Deb, and when Carter was about to think that he might have to rescue her from becoming an unfortunate prey of Dave's another attempt, Dave just went pass her to Kerry. "Doctor Weaver, you're joining us, right?" before Kerry had her chance to decline his offer, he took her arm, "That's great. Let's go."
Luka and Abby shook their heads, amused, and led Maggie to their car, and that only left Deb with Carter. Correction, Deb with a very uneasy Carter, because he swore he saw Dave giving him an undecipherable look as he dragged poor Kerry into his car. This was definitely signaling 'not good'. Dave seemed to think...ah, who knew what Dave was thinking?
Deb was staring after Dave with a puzzled look, and Carter was left to come up with something to say. "So, uh, why did you bring Kerry with you?"
Deb turned to him and shrugged. "I thought she could use some company, from looks of things. Actually, I was surprised when she actually said yes to--" then she abruptly stopped, her eyes suddenly darkening, "That's not what you wanted to ask, is it?"
"What?" He blinked.
"What you wanted to ask was if I brought Doctor Weaver with me because I wanted to 'suck up'."
His face was flushed, as if a part of what his subconscious was hiding had been raked out. "No, that's not--"
He saw anger flaring in her eyes, which usually twinkled with good humor, and decided it might be better for him to just shut up. "It *was* what you were suggesting, John. You think I'm only being nice to Doctor Weaver so she will pick me." She waited, no, dared him to deny the accusation. When he wasn't able to reply, her expression slowly froze to a cold, stony one. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I do care for Doctor Weaver not just for professional reasons, and if I become Chief Resident next year, it'll be because I've *earned* it. You or anyone else can never say otherwise."
She turned away with a glare that could cut steel into half, and he knew he shouldn't let her go like this. "No, Deb, wait, I mean," he was stuttering, and he never stuttered. "...that wasn't what I meant." The words tasted like ashes in his mouth.
"Was it?" her voice was even and calm, and her eyes were daring him to lie.
Most people would agree that he was a brilliant and intelligent man. Yet here he was, unable to find a single intelligent thing to say to his friend. He couldn't deny what she said.
"I thought so," she spoke quietly, reading his expression. The disappointment in her voice was palpable, and it cut him more than her display of anger ever could. "If it makes you happier, John, I'm out too."
"...What?" It was a piece of information he couldn't digest well.
"Maternity leave took too much time for me to be a candidate."
The thought that Deb's dream was, too, ruined--therefore he wasn't the only one who had the right to whine and grunt at Kerry--was almost unfathomable. "But I thought...I thought you were gonna make up for the lost time."
"The regulations on schedule don't allow that," she said matter-of-factly, "Weaver told me today."
He was completely out of words. The usual 'I'm sorry to hear that' seemed too hallow and empty to be applied to this situation.
"Me too," she said flatly, leaving no room for condolences from him.
This is it, he thought to himself as he watched her briskly walk away. His 'going downhill' period just ended, because now he hit the bottom with a thud.
What was *wrong* with him? He was jealous of Deb's success. Okay, so that might be understandable, considering his chance was lost forever, but, his actions were childish. He should just put a sign 'jackass' across his forehead for future incidents. He sighed, picked up his gears, and headed toward the place for them to meet. He should apologize to her right away, because immaturity wasn't a particularly attractive characteristic feature to have as a friend.
When he reached McGarty's, everyone was already settled in a booth, save for Kerry, who was making a phone call at the back of the cafe.
"Carter, hey," Dave quickly moved to make a room for him. "I ordered some chicken fingers. That okay for you?"
"Great," he answered with false enthusiasm and noticed Deb beside Dave. She was avoiding his eyes, concentrating only on her share of fries. Well, he thought, at least she hadn't hinted any urge to slap him on the face, so he should be grateful. "So," he said loudly, sitting directly in front of Maggie, who sat between Abby and Luka. He kind of liked this sitting arrangement. "What's the hot topic today?"
Dave, ever the talkative one, began in almost conspiratorial tone, "What do you think is going on with Weaver today? She actually showed some initiative for social interaction with us."
Deb frowned and shouldered Dave. "I invited her over. Be nice."
"Hey, aren't I always?" Dave smirked, "But I mean, why's she so grumpy? Not like Weaver has any love life or anything..."
Maggie picked it up, "Well, actually--"
"Mom!" Abby hurriedly stopped her mother with a withering look, effectively stopping whatever information Maggie was about to reveal, then turned to Dave. "Everyone has personal problems, Malucci. Just let it be."
Dave's eyes widened, understanding slowly dawning on him, "Holy, Weaver? Love life? Really?"
Abby, Maggie, and Deb looked collectively uncomfortable. Okay, Carter realized, so *that* was what they were discussing at the audience bench today. Since no one seemed to feel ready to speak up, Luka took his turn. "Dave, some things are better left alone, and I think this is one of those occasions," his voice was stern, but not entirely unkind.
Dave was instantly deflated. "...Right. You're right, Doctor Kovac. I was out of line."
"Dave," Deb started lightly, breaking up the odd silence that had descended on them, "So, have you decided on your Porsche?" She obviously took pity on him and decided to change the topic.
And it worked. Dave lightened up like a Christmas tree, "Yeah, there's this model that I like. Black or silver, I shoud think." When he began to discuss the year of the Porsche model he was currently in love with, Kerry joined them, and an elaborated discussion on auto vehicles they preferred started in a full swing. All the while, Carter began to digest the information he had heard. So Deb was out of the list too, but she was kind enough to worry about Kerry's well-being, who was apparently having a sort of troubled love life. Kerry had love life? Since when? He used to live with Kerry, and he had much respect and even affection for her, but he still didn't know much about her personal life. What did that say about him?
He needed some air.
He quickly excused himself and walked out to the back door, breathing deeply. The cold air woke him up a bit. He was losing control over everything, and this time, he didn't have a crazy maniac stabbing his back as an excuse for his actions. He had only himself to blame.
"Humph."
He heard someone coming out through the door behind him, and he quickly turned around, "Look, I'm sorry, De--"
"Are you alright?" Abby asked, standing at the doorway hesitantly. Her face was marked with obvious concern for him.
He froze momentarily, but recovered quickly. He was getting very good at this by now. "Yeah," he forced a grin, "I'm fine." She stared back at him for a moment, disbelieving. He gave in, "Alright, I could you some smoke, or anything to muster up some courage." To face life, he didn't say. Smoking, drinking, anything would help now. And then what? Morphine again? That was a dangerous road, one that he should never, ever, think of again. Even the last drinking rampage he had was strictly against the rules, and that was the end of it. He'd never do anything to jeopardize his recovery by getting himself cross-addicted with alcohol.
But it was just too hard not to think about it. The very idea that life could get easier by depending on something else, the idea that he didn't have to be in control, was plain too attractive.
Abby seemed to understand, though. She always did, because she knew how it was like. That was why he was so into her, he guessed. "I could a cigarette too, actually," she admitted as she settled beside him, "but that's a false kind of courage, don't you think?"
He grinned. "At this point, I can use anything."
"I really agree." She sighed, looking slightly perturbed.
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, knowing this was his cue to be her adviser, her helper, her friend, or whatever she needed him to be that apparently Luka couldn't be. He took a delight in this. Maybe way too much.
Abby laughed, bitterly. "What can be wrong about my life?"
"Maggie seemed to be doing much better," he quickly noted, knowing there had to be only one answer, "And she seems to be getting it right this time."
"She *seems*, yes. She's going to get her own life, and she wants to get better, but..." Abby faltered, her expression clouded.
Carter didn't force her to continue, and only waited. He knew she wouldn't like him to be pushy or nosy in any way with her. He hade to make sure that she felt like she was in control, and he was only there for her to help. It was the technique he'd learned over the last few months in order to make her open up to him, a technique that Luka seemed to have trouble acquiring.
"I'm...afraid," she went on, as she stared at some dot on the ground, "Afraid to hope. Even if she gets better, I'd be constantly wondering whether she'd fall back to her old habits. It's just, God, I can't do this any more. I just want it to end, somehow."
He looked at Abby, the woman who was struggling so much with life, someone who needed his help. "My cousin," he began, "He had his problems, and I, well, I couldn't do much about it. But in the end, the only thing that seemed to matter was that I was there, and I tried to do my best. And Abby, I can say with my absolute conviction that you did your best." He dared to put his hand on her shoulder, and thankfully, she didn't pull away.
"Thanks, John." Her short, but sincere answer told him he succeeded, again, in being her friend. It was so easy with Abby. He always said the right thing to her, and did the right things. Maybe he was addicted, addicted to being a listener of her problems, sharing the crises, giving a shoulder for someone to cry on rather than needing one all the time. He needed this.
With Abby, he was in control. This was the only game he was able to control.
So, he would see this game through the end.
"Hey," a head peeked through the door, breaking the silent moment they were sharing, "What's going on?"
"Nothing, Luka," Abby quickly answered, turning to her boyfriend, "Just needed some air."
A brief look of something passed through Luka's face, but before Carter could name it, his expression was back to neutral. "Everyone's ready to leave. You coming?"
"Sure," Carter answered, opening the door wider so Abby could get in. She grinned gratefully at him and passed his side.
Yes, he would see through this game, he told himself. With Abby, he was in control.
When the three reached the table, everyone was already up and out, and only Deb was picking up some napkins fallen on the chairs. It was so like her, he thought, cleaning up after people. He immediately hovered to help.
"Kerry will come around," he said as he picked up the last napkin, not looking at her, "I know she will."
Her sigh was loud enough to be audible. He almost thought he'd lost the chance to salvage their friendship, *again*, but after a few seconds, Deb spoke up, "I know you're disappointed your chance was taken away, but that gives you no right to take it out on me, John."
"You're right," he admitted frankly and lowered his head, "I was a complete jerk. I'm sorry."
Maybe he should try honesty more often, because at his answer, she slightly shook her head, anger disappearing from her expression. "I understand," she said softly, "I would've reacted the same way if the situation was reversed. Maybe more pissed, even. And," she added after a short pause, "I am really sorry. You deserved your chance."
She was always there to forgive him, wasn't she? People viewed her as competitive and goal-oriented, but she was soft, too soft inside. He didn't deserve a friend like this. It wasn't right. "Some mistakes are not to be forgotten," he said, shrugging, "I guess I learned my lessons."
She touched his arm and squeezed it reassuringly, sympathetic. This really wasn't right. The guilt was too much. He felt like exploiting her and her friendship. Not 'felt like'. He *was* exploiting her.
"If there's anything I can do, let me know," he told her finally, to appease himself. "I mean it. I know Kerry will come around, and when she does, just remember I'm here to help. I can help you to get the position, to see the glory at the end." He added the last part with a slight grin.
She arched her eyebrow. "So you can vicariously live through my success?"
"Absolutely."
"Then it's a deal," she promised with a grin.
When they reached the exit, everyone was ready to leave. Kerry, who was talking to Luka, came to their side as soon as they got out. "Jing-Mei, can I talk to you for a second?" Kerry seemed to feel a lot better now, with her expression significantly lightened. Deb went along and began walking with Kerry, before shooting him a brief, almost nervous grin.
He watched and finally smiled when the expression on Deb's face suddenly brightened several notches after Kerry said something to her. Of course, he told himself, Kerry had to come around to accept her, at least to give her a fair chance. He now had to keep the promise and live vicariously through her success, no matter how it'd sting inside.
"Hey," an arm slid around his shoulder, and he found Dave standing beside him, "So how was our night-out? Wasn't so bad, huh?"
Carter grinned back, "Definitely better than reading Sports Illustrated."
Abby and Maggie passed them by, saying their goodbyes. He didn't miss the look Abby gave him, the one that told him, 'Thank you for today.' He returned the look.
He also didn't miss the absence of a goodbye kiss between Abby and Luka.
"Way better than Sports Illustrated," he muttered to himself.
This game he was playing, it wasn't right, but he'd see through the end. He needed to. He wanted control. He needed Abby.
Didn't he?
And he wondered, for the last time, if he was chasing after the right ball.
6/17/01
Part 4: Ball Game ('Where the Heart Is')
***
'We're captive on the carousel of time.
We can't return, we can only look
Behind from where we came,
And go round and round and round in the circle game.'
- Tom Rush, "The Circle Game"
***
"Foul ball?" Luka grumbled, "Why was it a foul ball?"
Carter had to repress a grin threatening to spread across his face. It wouldn't be right to be *too* happy about Luka's spectacular foul ball now, was it? "Rules, Luka, rules," he commented, handing him a bottle of Gatorade as Luka sank on the bench at his side. "Pesky little rules say so."
Carter, unlike the Croatian doctor who was still looking very unhappy, enjoyed the games on diamond shaped playgrounds. He wasn't one of those buff men who lived and died by sports, but he was a sufficiently good enough athelete when he was willing to play. On the field, you were living in another world, another place where Real Life didn't count as much as your last foul ball, where beating of your heart and the sweat on your face meant something more than physical reactions, where you could start with a clean record plate and no one had a say in it except for youreslf. Where you could forget about things and just say 'To hell with it!' about the future dream that was thoroughly ruined.
Of course, it didn't hurt that Luka sucked at this game.
Dave attempted to cheer up Luka as he successfully finished his round with a hooray. "C'mom, that wasn't so bad. At least we're winning. This is American softball for you."
"Why softball?" Luka grunted, sipping Gatorade. "Not even real baseball now, is it? Now, soccer," he drew his index finger to make a point, "Now there is a real ball game. *Not* football, minds you, but soccer."
Carter piped up, grinning, "And of course the fact that Croatians do great at soccer has nothing to do with your favoritism, right?"
"Of course not." Luka kept his face neutral, but Carter could see that he, too, was suppressing a grin.
Truth to be told, after playing as a team for the entire hour, Carter began to feel friendly toward Doctor Kovac, and somewhere along the way Doctor Kovac naturally became 'Luka' without any discomfort. It felt good, he reluctantly admitted to himself. He liked the way adrenaline pumped through his body, liked the feel of the sweat covering his face. He liked everything about this moment.
And now, life was at its best.
"Hey," Dave suddenly spoke up, "Is that who I think it is?" He furrowed his eyes as he observed the audience bench. "Doctor Weaver!"
Carter grimaced. Life at its best? The statement like that only meant that things just had to go downhill from then on. Yes, he did like Kerry. Yes, he respected Kerry as a doctor. Yes, he understood why she had to dump him out from the list for the next Chief Resident candidates. But it didn't mean that he didn't have the right to feel grumpy around her.
"What is she doing here?" Carter grumbled and turned around to see for himself. Honestly, this was the last place he'd expected to see Kerry. There, beside Maggie and Abby, Kerry sat with an openly curious expression, as if she'd never seen a softball game before. And there was someone else on her side--
"Jing-Mei!" Dave shouted, louder this time, "Came to cheer for me?"
Oh yeah. Downhill was right.
"You wish!" Deb shouted back at Dave as she sat beside Doctor Weaver. But her tone wasn't entirely unpleasant as she admonished him, "Just play the game!"
Carter momentarily hesitated whether he should also say hi to her. Just when he was about to wiggle his fingers, though, Dave shouldered him. "Carter, our turn. Offense."
He looked around and found the other team retreating back to their bench. He gingerly reached for his glove. It unnerved him to see Deb sitting so close to Doctor Weaver, discussing something. He had no doubt that Deb would do her best to get the position. She'd probably get it anyway. He meant it when he said there was no one better than her. He wasn't even sure if he would've been able to beat her into the position if he hadn't been pushed out of the list.
So Deb would be the next Chief Resident. Why did that bother him so much?
"Did you see?" Dave commented loudly to Carter, motioning at Deb, "She's into me. She's *so* into me."
One of the other team members, who happened to be passing by to play defense, caught what Dave said and stared at Deb appreciatively. "Oh, I don't know about that. It looks like she's open for grabs. She's single, right?"
And that statement bothered him even more. "Let's just keep it to the game, okay?" Carter snapped before he was able to stop himself. When he realized his voice had been a little too pointed, with his face a little too rigid, it was too late--Dave was staring at him quizzically.
But the brown-haired goofball doctor didn't comment about that, and only spoke to the other team member, grinning, "Yes, let's keep it to the game. We're here to play balls, but that *those* balls."
Everyone shared a good laugh, but Carter cringed inwardly. Why had he said that? Certainly, the other team was composed of solid medical doctors with supposedly good bedside manners, and if any of them was interested in Deb, shouldn't he be encouraging that?
...Why was he even thinking about this? He shook his head, and concentrated on the game. All he had to do was to follow the ball. One clear objective of any ball game. Follow the ball. Kind of like life.
But you first had to know what you were chasing after, right?
The ball came to his way, and he dived, instantly forgetting about anything else. When the game finally ended--with good 10 more points on his team--he was exhausted to the point that he wasn't able to recall what had been bothering him. He sank on the bench with the rest of the team, sweating and tired, but fairly happy.
Maggie and Abby approached them with drink bottles in their hands, followed by Deb and clearly reluctant Weaver. "Good game," Abby praised and distributed the drinks. She hadn't played after the first round, only sitting with the other ladies and chatting about something they couldn't quite hear. What could they be talking about? He was curious.
"And you didn't add one more foul ball to the record, Luka," Maggie commented, almost giggling. She looked better--she seemed better. Carter was glad. "I'm very impressed. Although, I have to say," she turned to her daughter with a proud grin, "Abby was the best that there was today."
"You're absolutely right," Luka looked actually too drained to complain about the mention of the foul ball. "God, can I propose some other kind of sport for next time?"
"Sure you can," Abby smiled, "But no one here would agree to soccer."
Luka's shoulders sank even more. "Please, count me out for the next game." He then straighened up, noticing Doctor Weaver. "Kerry," he kindly greeted his fellow doctor with a smile, and there was something in his eyes that Carter couldn't quite place. Some sort of a sympathetic understanding? "How did you like the game?"
"It was good," Kerry's answer was reserved, even guarded. There were circles under her eyes, and for whatever reason, she seemed even less personable than usual. "I enjoyed watching it."
"Yes," Deb quickly agreed, almost protectively of Kerry, "I had no idea you guys were this good."
There was a strange vibe, Carter noticed with an alarm as he watched them. It seemed that Deb and Luka were...close to Kerry, as if they knew something that he didn't. What was going on? Certainly, they couldn't have become the best of friends all of a sudden, could they? What did this mean?
Dave's cheerful voice interrupted his alarming thoughts, "Of course we were good. And, of course especially me, right?" Dave quickly got in between Kerry and Deb. "Me with my manly bat. Yeah, I'm the man."
The women in the group all shared a meaningful look that no man was supposed to able to interpret. From the looks of their silent communication, Deb seemed to have been elected as the person to reply. "Yes, yes you are," her voice was filled with laughter. "With your, um, *very* manly bat."
Dave didn't seem to mind the humor in her voice, and only looked satisfied. "Okay, now that's settled, can we go grab something to eat to celebrate?" he suggested, packing the equipment along the others, "I'm starving."
"Sounds like a good idea. Why don't we all go?" Abby agreed, linking her arm with Luka just so naturally.
Yes, things were really going downhill again. Carter decided he wasn't going to stick around to watch the parade. "I think I should just head home," he declared, "Too tired."
Everyone turned to him. "You are?" Abby looked slightly surprised, and a little disappointed, too. "Do you have to go, though?"
"No, he doesn't. He's just playing hard to get," Dave quickly put his arm around Carter's shoulders, "What do you say ladies? Let's give him some incentive."
The 'ladies', again, shared a look. For the first time today, Deb spoke to him carefully, "Yes, John, why don't you join us?" Her grin looked appropriate enough that no one would probably have noticed that it was forced. Of course, no one except him. "I mean, if you don't have any previous engagement," she added, almost embarrassed.
Dave gave her a mock disapproving glare. "Jing-Mei, is that all you've got? I'm so disappointed. Carter, let's just go. You can read Sports Illustrated any time you want, but this is special. We haven't had a get-together for, what, ages? That's just sad."
"Yes, why don't we just make it our little get-together today?" Abby joined, giving Carter a casual smile, "It would be...nice."
A casual smile from Abby was all it took. He knew that, Abby knew that, and Deb knew that. Probably even Luka, who was now talking to Maggie like a good supportive might-soon-be-your-son-in-law, knew. It was the game they played, the game he was now sick of.
"All right," he gave in, because even though he *was* sick of this game, he still wanted it. Badly. "Let's make it our night. McGarty's at the corner?" He purposefully named probably the only non-pub place that was still open. With two people still in AA in the group, a pub wouldn't be a wise choice, no matter how much he could use a drink right about now.
"Sure!" Dave beamed right away, grabbing his bag. "Who's going with me?" His gaze stopped at Deb, and when Carter was about to think that he might have to rescue her from becoming an unfortunate prey of Dave's another attempt, Dave just went pass her to Kerry. "Doctor Weaver, you're joining us, right?" before Kerry had her chance to decline his offer, he took her arm, "That's great. Let's go."
Luka and Abby shook their heads, amused, and led Maggie to their car, and that only left Deb with Carter. Correction, Deb with a very uneasy Carter, because he swore he saw Dave giving him an undecipherable look as he dragged poor Kerry into his car. This was definitely signaling 'not good'. Dave seemed to think...ah, who knew what Dave was thinking?
Deb was staring after Dave with a puzzled look, and Carter was left to come up with something to say. "So, uh, why did you bring Kerry with you?"
Deb turned to him and shrugged. "I thought she could use some company, from looks of things. Actually, I was surprised when she actually said yes to--" then she abruptly stopped, her eyes suddenly darkening, "That's not what you wanted to ask, is it?"
"What?" He blinked.
"What you wanted to ask was if I brought Doctor Weaver with me because I wanted to 'suck up'."
His face was flushed, as if a part of what his subconscious was hiding had been raked out. "No, that's not--"
He saw anger flaring in her eyes, which usually twinkled with good humor, and decided it might be better for him to just shut up. "It *was* what you were suggesting, John. You think I'm only being nice to Doctor Weaver so she will pick me." She waited, no, dared him to deny the accusation. When he wasn't able to reply, her expression slowly froze to a cold, stony one. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I do care for Doctor Weaver not just for professional reasons, and if I become Chief Resident next year, it'll be because I've *earned* it. You or anyone else can never say otherwise."
She turned away with a glare that could cut steel into half, and he knew he shouldn't let her go like this. "No, Deb, wait, I mean," he was stuttering, and he never stuttered. "...that wasn't what I meant." The words tasted like ashes in his mouth.
"Was it?" her voice was even and calm, and her eyes were daring him to lie.
Most people would agree that he was a brilliant and intelligent man. Yet here he was, unable to find a single intelligent thing to say to his friend. He couldn't deny what she said.
"I thought so," she spoke quietly, reading his expression. The disappointment in her voice was palpable, and it cut him more than her display of anger ever could. "If it makes you happier, John, I'm out too."
"...What?" It was a piece of information he couldn't digest well.
"Maternity leave took too much time for me to be a candidate."
The thought that Deb's dream was, too, ruined--therefore he wasn't the only one who had the right to whine and grunt at Kerry--was almost unfathomable. "But I thought...I thought you were gonna make up for the lost time."
"The regulations on schedule don't allow that," she said matter-of-factly, "Weaver told me today."
He was completely out of words. The usual 'I'm sorry to hear that' seemed too hallow and empty to be applied to this situation.
"Me too," she said flatly, leaving no room for condolences from him.
This is it, he thought to himself as he watched her briskly walk away. His 'going downhill' period just ended, because now he hit the bottom with a thud.
What was *wrong* with him? He was jealous of Deb's success. Okay, so that might be understandable, considering his chance was lost forever, but, his actions were childish. He should just put a sign 'jackass' across his forehead for future incidents. He sighed, picked up his gears, and headed toward the place for them to meet. He should apologize to her right away, because immaturity wasn't a particularly attractive characteristic feature to have as a friend.
When he reached McGarty's, everyone was already settled in a booth, save for Kerry, who was making a phone call at the back of the cafe.
"Carter, hey," Dave quickly moved to make a room for him. "I ordered some chicken fingers. That okay for you?"
"Great," he answered with false enthusiasm and noticed Deb beside Dave. She was avoiding his eyes, concentrating only on her share of fries. Well, he thought, at least she hadn't hinted any urge to slap him on the face, so he should be grateful. "So," he said loudly, sitting directly in front of Maggie, who sat between Abby and Luka. He kind of liked this sitting arrangement. "What's the hot topic today?"
Dave, ever the talkative one, began in almost conspiratorial tone, "What do you think is going on with Weaver today? She actually showed some initiative for social interaction with us."
Deb frowned and shouldered Dave. "I invited her over. Be nice."
"Hey, aren't I always?" Dave smirked, "But I mean, why's she so grumpy? Not like Weaver has any love life or anything..."
Maggie picked it up, "Well, actually--"
"Mom!" Abby hurriedly stopped her mother with a withering look, effectively stopping whatever information Maggie was about to reveal, then turned to Dave. "Everyone has personal problems, Malucci. Just let it be."
Dave's eyes widened, understanding slowly dawning on him, "Holy, Weaver? Love life? Really?"
Abby, Maggie, and Deb looked collectively uncomfortable. Okay, Carter realized, so *that* was what they were discussing at the audience bench today. Since no one seemed to feel ready to speak up, Luka took his turn. "Dave, some things are better left alone, and I think this is one of those occasions," his voice was stern, but not entirely unkind.
Dave was instantly deflated. "...Right. You're right, Doctor Kovac. I was out of line."
"Dave," Deb started lightly, breaking up the odd silence that had descended on them, "So, have you decided on your Porsche?" She obviously took pity on him and decided to change the topic.
And it worked. Dave lightened up like a Christmas tree, "Yeah, there's this model that I like. Black or silver, I shoud think." When he began to discuss the year of the Porsche model he was currently in love with, Kerry joined them, and an elaborated discussion on auto vehicles they preferred started in a full swing. All the while, Carter began to digest the information he had heard. So Deb was out of the list too, but she was kind enough to worry about Kerry's well-being, who was apparently having a sort of troubled love life. Kerry had love life? Since when? He used to live with Kerry, and he had much respect and even affection for her, but he still didn't know much about her personal life. What did that say about him?
He needed some air.
He quickly excused himself and walked out to the back door, breathing deeply. The cold air woke him up a bit. He was losing control over everything, and this time, he didn't have a crazy maniac stabbing his back as an excuse for his actions. He had only himself to blame.
"Humph."
He heard someone coming out through the door behind him, and he quickly turned around, "Look, I'm sorry, De--"
"Are you alright?" Abby asked, standing at the doorway hesitantly. Her face was marked with obvious concern for him.
He froze momentarily, but recovered quickly. He was getting very good at this by now. "Yeah," he forced a grin, "I'm fine." She stared back at him for a moment, disbelieving. He gave in, "Alright, I could you some smoke, or anything to muster up some courage." To face life, he didn't say. Smoking, drinking, anything would help now. And then what? Morphine again? That was a dangerous road, one that he should never, ever, think of again. Even the last drinking rampage he had was strictly against the rules, and that was the end of it. He'd never do anything to jeopardize his recovery by getting himself cross-addicted with alcohol.
But it was just too hard not to think about it. The very idea that life could get easier by depending on something else, the idea that he didn't have to be in control, was plain too attractive.
Abby seemed to understand, though. She always did, because she knew how it was like. That was why he was so into her, he guessed. "I could a cigarette too, actually," she admitted as she settled beside him, "but that's a false kind of courage, don't you think?"
He grinned. "At this point, I can use anything."
"I really agree." She sighed, looking slightly perturbed.
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, knowing this was his cue to be her adviser, her helper, her friend, or whatever she needed him to be that apparently Luka couldn't be. He took a delight in this. Maybe way too much.
Abby laughed, bitterly. "What can be wrong about my life?"
"Maggie seemed to be doing much better," he quickly noted, knowing there had to be only one answer, "And she seems to be getting it right this time."
"She *seems*, yes. She's going to get her own life, and she wants to get better, but..." Abby faltered, her expression clouded.
Carter didn't force her to continue, and only waited. He knew she wouldn't like him to be pushy or nosy in any way with her. He hade to make sure that she felt like she was in control, and he was only there for her to help. It was the technique he'd learned over the last few months in order to make her open up to him, a technique that Luka seemed to have trouble acquiring.
"I'm...afraid," she went on, as she stared at some dot on the ground, "Afraid to hope. Even if she gets better, I'd be constantly wondering whether she'd fall back to her old habits. It's just, God, I can't do this any more. I just want it to end, somehow."
He looked at Abby, the woman who was struggling so much with life, someone who needed his help. "My cousin," he began, "He had his problems, and I, well, I couldn't do much about it. But in the end, the only thing that seemed to matter was that I was there, and I tried to do my best. And Abby, I can say with my absolute conviction that you did your best." He dared to put his hand on her shoulder, and thankfully, she didn't pull away.
"Thanks, John." Her short, but sincere answer told him he succeeded, again, in being her friend. It was so easy with Abby. He always said the right thing to her, and did the right things. Maybe he was addicted, addicted to being a listener of her problems, sharing the crises, giving a shoulder for someone to cry on rather than needing one all the time. He needed this.
With Abby, he was in control. This was the only game he was able to control.
So, he would see this game through the end.
"Hey," a head peeked through the door, breaking the silent moment they were sharing, "What's going on?"
"Nothing, Luka," Abby quickly answered, turning to her boyfriend, "Just needed some air."
A brief look of something passed through Luka's face, but before Carter could name it, his expression was back to neutral. "Everyone's ready to leave. You coming?"
"Sure," Carter answered, opening the door wider so Abby could get in. She grinned gratefully at him and passed his side.
Yes, he would see through this game, he told himself. With Abby, he was in control.
When the three reached the table, everyone was already up and out, and only Deb was picking up some napkins fallen on the chairs. It was so like her, he thought, cleaning up after people. He immediately hovered to help.
"Kerry will come around," he said as he picked up the last napkin, not looking at her, "I know she will."
Her sigh was loud enough to be audible. He almost thought he'd lost the chance to salvage their friendship, *again*, but after a few seconds, Deb spoke up, "I know you're disappointed your chance was taken away, but that gives you no right to take it out on me, John."
"You're right," he admitted frankly and lowered his head, "I was a complete jerk. I'm sorry."
Maybe he should try honesty more often, because at his answer, she slightly shook her head, anger disappearing from her expression. "I understand," she said softly, "I would've reacted the same way if the situation was reversed. Maybe more pissed, even. And," she added after a short pause, "I am really sorry. You deserved your chance."
She was always there to forgive him, wasn't she? People viewed her as competitive and goal-oriented, but she was soft, too soft inside. He didn't deserve a friend like this. It wasn't right. "Some mistakes are not to be forgotten," he said, shrugging, "I guess I learned my lessons."
She touched his arm and squeezed it reassuringly, sympathetic. This really wasn't right. The guilt was too much. He felt like exploiting her and her friendship. Not 'felt like'. He *was* exploiting her.
"If there's anything I can do, let me know," he told her finally, to appease himself. "I mean it. I know Kerry will come around, and when she does, just remember I'm here to help. I can help you to get the position, to see the glory at the end." He added the last part with a slight grin.
She arched her eyebrow. "So you can vicariously live through my success?"
"Absolutely."
"Then it's a deal," she promised with a grin.
When they reached the exit, everyone was ready to leave. Kerry, who was talking to Luka, came to their side as soon as they got out. "Jing-Mei, can I talk to you for a second?" Kerry seemed to feel a lot better now, with her expression significantly lightened. Deb went along and began walking with Kerry, before shooting him a brief, almost nervous grin.
He watched and finally smiled when the expression on Deb's face suddenly brightened several notches after Kerry said something to her. Of course, he told himself, Kerry had to come around to accept her, at least to give her a fair chance. He now had to keep the promise and live vicariously through her success, no matter how it'd sting inside.
"Hey," an arm slid around his shoulder, and he found Dave standing beside him, "So how was our night-out? Wasn't so bad, huh?"
Carter grinned back, "Definitely better than reading Sports Illustrated."
Abby and Maggie passed them by, saying their goodbyes. He didn't miss the look Abby gave him, the one that told him, 'Thank you for today.' He returned the look.
He also didn't miss the absence of a goodbye kiss between Abby and Luka.
"Way better than Sports Illustrated," he muttered to himself.
This game he was playing, it wasn't right, but he'd see through the end. He needed to. He wanted control. He needed Abby.
Didn't he?
And he wondered, for the last time, if he was chasing after the right ball.
6/17/01