(*note to the reader, I'm no genius at trauma scenes, so I claim zero
accuracy to anything wrote in that format. Thank you!)
Chapter Three-Power Struggle
"I'll do the dishes." He offers quickly as she moves to stand & collect them.
"No, that's okay, I've got it." She answers hastily.
As she reaches for his plate he grabs her wrist lightly so that she can't, in an attempt to get her to look at him.
"I'll do the dishes." He repeats, ducking his head slightly trying to catch her eyes with his, now that he's got a hold of her.
Finally she looks at him, and he sees how disturbed she was by his questions. It wouldn't be visible to just anybody, as Abby was a pro at hiding how she really felt, but it was Carter who always saw through all of the endless bluffing. He had just the same ways of hiding & blocking people out, so he knew all of the tactics.
"Okay." She gives in, her voice soft, as though she's barely moved her lips to utter the word.
He holds her gaze for a few moments longer than he expected to. What seems like silence between the two of them is actually a subtle communication of more than what words could express. It's made up of more than mere sentences, it's composed of emotion, & they read it on each other's faces like a favorite book.
Abby finally realizes she's been staring, and embarrassed, she looks away & pulls her hand free from his grasp of her wrist. She straightens then, & turns to walk away, feeling the sudden urge to find space of her own, out of sight of him.
She walks quickly, the soles of her bare feet smacking lightly on the hardwood floor all the way to the bathroom at the far end, where she closes the door quietly & leans against the back of it. As she'd always believed; if you can't emotionally run from your problems, sometimes physically running helps; she only prayed it would help in this instance too. The only challenge was, she didn't like to be away from him, and just this once, he needed her & here she was fighting him at every corner, like a trapped cat.
He watched her go, until he couldn't see her past the bedroom. Why was it he always stepped on his own toes when it came to speaking out loud what he was thinking? Here he'd suggested wild ideas right in front of her, as if that was the culmination of his day of thought, was a solution to run away & not look back.
Stupid, he kicked himself for being so utterly stupid. Who had he thought he was talking too? This was Abby after all, and neither of them were exactly the most spontaneous people on the block.
Turning the faucet on, he let the water get hot before plugging the sink & adding the dish soap. It hadn't been the way he'd planned the night to go. Why was he unloading all of the tormenting thoughts & decisions that should have been, and are, his, on her? She didn't need this, didn't deserve to have this lost soul that he'd become, to try to interpret & live with. Scrubbing the dishes with the soapy dishcloth, he watched the last traces of the food wash away with the flow of the water from the faucet as it filled the rest of the sink.
If only the problems they faced could be as easily washed away as the
crumbs on a plate.
~*~*~*~
"You're grandmother called."
Her voice has an almost echoing quality in the stillness of the living room & causes him to look up from the notebook where he's been making out lists. "What?"
"This afternoon, she left a message." She replies, glancing up finally from her book.
"What did she want?" he asks, looking across at her where she sits on the couch, as he sits in one of the chairs that corner either ends.
Aligning her bookmark in the spine between the two pages, she answers. "Didn't say, but somehow she thought I'd be able to convince you to talk to her."
Her wording & slightly angered tone doesn't go unnoticed to him, he only nods. "And you didn't think I'd listen to you?"
"You're pretty preoccupied as it is." Abby replies, trying hard not to seem as frustrated at him as she is. She tries to remind herself that he's making an important choice & that he's focusing on that, not on little things about her, she shouldn't think anything of what he says. He hadn't really meant it anyway, had he?
She looks up to see him staring back at her through narrowed eyes, not understanding her tone. He sighs & offers up an apology.
"I'm sorry about earlier, I guess I was just thinking out loud."
"Don't sweat it." Abby assures, but the reply is a bit too quick, too abrupt to be genuine.
"It would take a lot to get me to leave Chicago on a whim; I was just stuck in one of my daydreams from today." He bites his tongue then, the thought of how that sounded dawning on him several seconds too late.
She simply stares at him for a long moment, before turning back to her book.
"Abby." he calls, his voice dropping to a lower octave, the one he uses when she's as vulnerable as the finest bone china; threatening to break at any second. But he knows right now she's more likely to break into a run...than to break altogether.
"I said forget it, Carter." She quips, not looking up from the words on the page where she'd placed the bookmark.
Tapping his pen in a pensive rhythm, he watches her for a few seconds before stopping & getting up from the comfortable chair. He crosses the back of the couch, his hip brushing the back of her head as he does so. Her eyes widen, she knows it was an intentional move, as if that would tell her anything useful to the moment.
She watches out of the corner of her eye as he goes to the desk & grabs the phone, but turns back to her book when he turns around.
"I'll go ahead & see what it was she wanted." He informs her, though she didn't ask. He walks past again, this time without touching her & goes into the bedroom so he won't disturb her reading.
Her eyes falling back to the book, she realizes she can't concentrate on it anyway, so what's the use pretending? Stuffing the bookmark into the crevice, she closes the cover & sets in back on the coffee table, reaching for the remote.
An old rerun of Seinfeld comes on after a commercial break & Abby thumbs the volume downward, not really caring to hear the dialog. Curling up along the couch, she folds her legs & tucks her arms under one of the throw pillows, resting her head after this rather trying day. She watches the characters; Elaine, Jerry, & Kramer, in a scene at the diner. She tries to lip read, but then gives up & just fills in the blanks with whatever she thinks of.
It's interesting, to watch television from this perspective. Almost as if abandoning the script that the writer & directors intended, and creating an art form of interpretive TV.
According to her, they're talking about mountain men. She deducts this because two 'm' words they keep mouthing in succession just happen to look like 'mountain' & 'men' to her. So it must be something about Bigfoot, or Sasquatch.no wonder they called this the show about "nothing."
Bored by it all, somewhere between the diner scene & the next scene in the apartment, Abby drifts off to sleep.
Carter ends his phone call to his grandmother by ten-twenty two & walks through the open door to the front room to put the phone back. He notices the volume on the television is down so low you can barely hear it, and a repeat of America's Funniest Game Show Moments plays a clip of an old Art Linkletter flub on the screen. As he walks over to grab the remote & turn off the program, he finds Abby asleep on the couch, now knowing why he hadn't seen her before.
He stands still, for a moment, to make sure she really is asleep before moving any closer. He sighs, exhausted. Between not being able to sleep, & his afternoon run, he's physically worn ragged. Not to mention the fact that he feels like he's let her down yet again; pushing so hard, constantly prodding until she finally shut down on him completely. His heart aches for making her feel this way. This is his burden, not hers.
As she sleeps he touches her cheek gently with his fingertips, tracing down to her jaw line. He inhales slowly & bends down lower to slide his arms beneath her back & behind her knees, scooping her up from the couch.
"C'mon, babe." He whispers as he gathers her, though she doesn't hear him. He can tell that she's sound asleep by how relaxed her body is in his arms, not protesting an ounce as he carries her to the bedroom. She mutters something in her sleep, as he tucks her in beneath the blankets, but doesn't wake. Before turning to go, he stares just a minute longer.
She is the main factor when it comes to his decision; he wants what's best for the both of them. However, he worries this time there'll be no even keel, no right down the middle. It's all or nothing now.
He turns away, reluctantly. He wants to be near her, but doesn't want to lie in bed awake, like he knows he would. He hates the thought of having her awake to that; to do so would trouble her more than he already has. It looks like Linkletter's laughter will be his only company tonight.
Snapping out of a dream, Abby finds herself not where she'd last remembered being. Instead, she's safely tucked away in her bed, beneath the sheets & the covers, still in her blue jeans & t-shirt from the previous day. She lies facing his side.
But his side is empty, something she's had a hard time getting used to. Ironically enough, she takes no comfort in knowing the reasons behind his nightly disappearing acts.
Reclining her head back & gazing at the ceiling, she tries to remember how many nights it's been now. Three? Or did tonight make four? She'd honestly lost count & the mere thought of the unrest taxed her sleep-fogged mind. Regardless, it had been too long.
The clock by the bedside read 1:45 as she drew herself up on her forearms & then climbed out of bed. Standing up, she ran a hand through her hair, which hung down. Walking to the dresser, she blindly searched with her hand for an elastic band. Upon finding one, she gathered her hair & wrestled it back into a loose ponytail, not wanting to worry about how it looked. Not that he really cared anyway, his never looked much better in the middle of the night.
Opening the bedroom door a crack, it took a few seconds for her to spot him. The only light in the rooms beyond was projected by the hazy glow of the streetlamps outside the living room windows. Beyond that the apartment was engulfed in a pitch black cover.
When she saw him, she saw that he sat alone with the shadows, in the darkness that surrounded. She could make out the outline of the back of his head from where he sat on the couch, facing the windows & away from her. Abby sighed quietly & drew the door the rest of the way open, careful not to make a sound.
It was abnormal for his actions to be cause for concern for her. John Carter was a pretty level-headed, practical man when it all came down to it. He wasn't spontaneous, or unreasonable, and he wasn't big on shock value. She'd known that when the insomnia had begun, she really had something to worry about. Something had to be very, very wrong for Carter to react this way to it. Every time she'd watched him eat he'd only picked at his food, as if he was very unsettled from somewhere deep within. She had been thankful to see that he'd managed to eat all of his dinner last night, even if the only reason he had was to replenish his energy after his run. Something told her that all of this went far deeper than just leaving County. This was his own internal struggle for who he was.
No matter how much she loved him, she couldn't help but wonder if she fit into the puzzle he was trying to piece together. She could only pray she was somewhere within the set that builds that jigsaw.
She squinted to see clearer, as she crossed to the back of the couch & put her hands gently on his strong shoulders. He was awake, but jumped slightly at the sudden touch. She sighs, a bit louder than she has before in moments like this, a bit more hopelessly; as she begins to knead his shoulders gently with her hands before dropping to his level, her arms draped across his chest & resting her chin on his shoulder.
"This has got to stop." She whispers into his ear wearily. As odd as it was, Abby could swear she could feel the same drained state that he was in, take over her as well. She was lost in his dilemma, right smack dab in the middle of it all.
He doesn't respond, but instead hangs his head & she hears him sigh. He runs a hand over his face as she moves back up to massage his shoulders again.
He leans back into her touch & tells her quietly. "You should go back to bed, Abby. Don't let me keep you."
She rolls her eyes, & argues. "Maybe I want you to keep me."
Abby hears him smile at that, then watches him loll his head downward in surrendering response to her ministrations.
She moves her fingers gently over the muscles she can feel that comprise the shoulder joints; connecting the clavicles to the scapula, and running down the sternum & out to the upper arms, & stabilizing the neck in place, at the direct mid line of the upper frame.
Abby finds herself surprised at how tight & compressed they all seem to have become; as if he'd been hunching for the past forty-eight hours straight. She works slowly, methodically, to loosen the knots that have formed, hoping to do so would provide at least a bit less pain for him. She could name all of the muscles, formally & informally, but her mind isn't on medical jargon & anatomy tonight. Abby could only wish that the things that comprised this state they were in were as cold, hard, and fast, as the information that filled the endless tomes they'd both covered in medical school.
He lets his troubled mind detach from the rest of himself, if only for these few minutes. Allowing himself to simply feel, instead of analyze. The latter of which he's been doing to just about every piece of information his mind has been fed these past few days. He tries instead to focus on the pathways she takes with her fingertips, feeling the subtle shift of his muscle fibers beneath her steady pressure, the rigidity melting away as she kneads gently.
"How's your back been?" her voice is dark from sleep. The sleep he knows he interrupted, since if it hadn't been for him she'd still be in bed.
His back.his back had been the source of too many circumstances. First being stabbed; and the spiraling depression that followed that incident, then the drug dependency it formed, which turned him into a common day addict in his own workplace. Nowadays, the intermittent periods of pain served as a reminder of how short life really was, as well as a sort of cruel taunt to his own willpower. Every time it ached, he still thought about Fentanyl, and the instantaneous liberation from pain that the drug would give him. But then he thought about the place, emotionally & physically, that would take him back down to, and he didn't want to go back there again.
He wasn't ashamed to admit, it helped that she was there; it had been her who'd caught him and because of her that he'd been sent to a rehab program so he could get clean.
Abby knew what he'd faced, and what he still did to this day. She was the only one he'd ever really told, in detail, about his struggles. She knew of them, she acknowledged them, since she had enough of her own to know what it felt like; but what he loved most was that she also looked past them. She saw him for the man who dwelled within, not solely for the demons he battled.
"Okay." he mutters, hanging his head low to fully enjoy the effect of her massage. She knows he's lying, but remains silent until he eventually elaborates. "Alright, it's been bad lately."
"Did you take some Tylenol?" she inquires, knowing that the minor pain buffer is his only option to combat the soreness.
He sighs, "Yeah, but it barely takes the edge off. I need the whole bottle."
She closes her eyes for a long moment, at his confession, stopping her hands. He knows she's weary of his feeble attempts at joking in moments like these, especially about something this serious. "John."
"I know, I was only kidding." He assures, hoping she'll resume her work. He's relieved that she eventually does so. "How did you know I needed this?"
"I just know." She responds, & he detects a smile in her voice. "But seriously, you really should see somebody, don't let this keep going. Maybe try acupuncture again.anything."
"I can handle it." He pledges, wincing slightly as she touches a rather sensitive place by the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. She notices his flinching, & frowns.
"Does that hurt?"
He closes his eyes tight, knowing she can't see him do so. "No, no, it's just a little tender."
"Why the hell were you out there running then?" she sighs, careful to lighten her touch at the receptive point she'd uncovered. "Thought you could take it, huh?"
She hears him sigh in response, & she lets the conversation drop. There's not much help she can provide for the insomnia, as she knows any drug to help him sleep could become another potential crutch. He may have been clean for the past three years, but she knew how easily that could all change in a single impulse action. She didn't want to be the one to tempt the fates, not with this, not with him.
Eventually her fingers slowly stop motion. She runs her hands back & forth over his shoulders several times supportively, and plants a gentle kiss on his neck, she lingers there as she asks,
"Better?"
"Mmmhmm." He mumbles, unable to find the words. Finally he manages a weak thank-you as she lets go & walks around to the other side of the couch. There, she regards him a moment. Even in the dark she doesn't like what she sees on his face. It's not the man she loves; instead it's the shell of what once was, as if his spirit has gone numb & hidden itself away in the hollows of his heart.
He reaches, just then, for her hand & she allows him to take it, forgetting the tense moments of the evening; silently forgiving him. He pulls gently, like a child at his mother's skirts, asking her to sit with him.
She complies, & he stretches out along the couches length to accommodate her. She falls into place beside him & rests against his chest.
"I'm sorry I can't do more for you." She admits quietly as he encircles her waist with his arm, wanting her close.
"You do more than enough." He assures her, kissing her for the first time that night.
She pulls back then & looks him in the eyes. "You can't keep doing this to yourself though, I mean it. I don't want to see you do this to yourself."
"I'll be okay," he responds, kissing her forehead. "don't worry about me, After Friday this will all be over."
Abby sighs quietly, closing her eyes & resting her palm against his gray cotton t-shirt. "I hope you're right."
~*~*~*~
"Dr. Carter?" a voice calls out.
John looks up to see a man in his mid-forties come out of the hallway beyond. He's tall, with jet black hair which is starting to recede, a narrow head with a rather pinched, yet friendly, expression, and a dark mustache that's drawn to a well groomed point at each end of his mouth. Abby would laugh if she saw him; he looked every bit like a character from a comic strip. Carter stood up from his chair & the man reached out a hand to embrace John in greeting.
"Good to see you again Dr. Carter." He says, gripping John's hand in a firm lock. John met the tough grip with his own & looked Dr. Tarrow in the eye & smiled.
"The pleasure's all mine."'
"Now, forgive me but I must ask, what is it that brings you back to our neck of the woods? My secretary is new & she's absolutely terrible, she got peeved on the first day when I refused to call her my administrative assistant." He chuckles at that jovially as he leads Carter back into his office down the wide corridor beyond the small general waiting room. "Now she gets even by only half-recording my messages. Talk about a mess."
"I can't imagine." John smiles back as they step inside the moderately sized office. It's painted a deep business-man blue, with a wallpaper border of ocean scenes, complete with elaborate sailboats. Carter notices several large scale models above the hutch of the computer desk on the far wall.
"Please, have a seat." Dr. Tarrow gestures to the two high backed blue chairs that face his desk, as he moves to sit behind it. "Might I tell you, you're outstanding reputation precedes you. We've gotten nothing but the best from your superiors at County. We could certainly use your expertise & authority at our own emergency room."
Carter was caught a bit off guard by the flattering remarks. "Uh, thank you Sir."
"Oh, politics be damned, Dr. Carter, call me Mike." Tarrow flashed Carter one of his warmest smiles, then leaned across the desk at him. "So what is it you've come to me for?"
"Actually, I've come to discuss the finer points of the position. I'm trying to decide between some really great offers and I'm wondering what is it that would make this 'the one' for me?" Carter knew full well what an outright lie that was, he'd had no other offers. The position at County was simply his if he wanted it, that is, when it became available. He couldn't care less about the finer points, he was just desperate for any kind of sign to tell him what to choose, so he thought maybe by going back, something would hit him.
"Well it looks like we might have to pull out the big guns to bring you in ey? I can't say I blame everyone for wanting you." Mike reaches into a drawer at his desk, pulling out a file which includes the contract & the benefits. Just as he hands it over the tabletop to Carter, his pager sounds.
"That's the ER." He tells him as he pushes back his desk chair & stands up, he walks to the door, preparing to excuse himself when he has a change of heart. "Say, you want to come observe? See our little team in action?"
Carter nearly jumped out of his chair. "Absolutely."
John watched the GSW from the back of the trauma room, gowned for his own protection he watched the doctors & nurses buzz over the patient, running the usual routines.
"Where's the exit wound?"
The trauma surgeon bursts in through the doors, a tall brunette with that undeniable surgeon's authority to her walk. She glances quickly at Carter, no doubt wondering who'd started selling tickets to her trauma, before she's gowned & gloved & stepping next to the patient.
"There, near L2. That's close. Let's get an L spine series, a CBC, type & cross for six."
The nurses rush to the cabinets that John stands in front of, he jumps to get out of the way.
"Whoa, lots of blood in the thoraseal!" a voice warns
"How much?"
"Two liters."
"Holy Crap. Get me the portable ultrasound now!" The surgeon yells bossily over the sudden racket of the monitors. "There, there's a huge liver lac, probably tore the spleen too. Call upstairs get me a room ready, tell Jones to get off his ass & scrub in & if he asks why, tell him cuz Moran said so."
A few tense laughs sound, and then disperse throughout the room. Carter just shakes his head. Watching the entubated patient be steadily bagged, the attending and the surgeon make a final check of sats, before wheeling quickly out of the room, the two med students nipping at their heels, he realizes he's still waiting for his sign.
He shakes his head slowly at himself, wondering what the devil he was thinking. Traumas are going to be run the same here as they are anywhere else, there are good ones & bad ones.
"Can I help you?" one of the nurses asks, seeing him still standing there. Carter tears his trauma gown & stashes it in the trash receptacle. The nurse then notices his visitor ID.
"No, I was just observing, thanks." He answers, giving her a polite smile. She's an older black woman, but she clearly ran circles around the other nurses when it came to the recent trauma.
"Thinking about coming to work here?" she asks him as she finishes her paperwork for the patients chart, leaning against the counter as she pens in her information.
"Is it that obvious?" he laughs nervously, the rest of the room has emptied out, but he remains there with her, curious as to what she'll say.
"Honey, you've got indecision & confusion written all over you." She laughs as she turns back to her work.
Carter turns to go, then looks back. "What do you think about working here?"
"You wouldn't want to ask me, this is the first private hospital I've worked at; been here only eighteen months, I'd worked state run hospitals up until my husband died."
"Really?"
"Yes sir."
"So what made you come here? What were you.." Carter paused, wondering how to phrase it. "looking for?"
"Oh it's nothing that grand, it's simple when it comes down to it.. I needed the extra cash, and the benefits..we can't live forever.as old Henry sure proved to me."
Carter smiles politely.
"You don't look like you're too worried about your longevity though, you're young enough to still want the excitement."
"You could say that." Carter smirked.
Lowering her glasses, the woman looks at him. "Then that's what you look for."
Walking back out into the main corridor dividing the endless line of private exam rooms, he watches the faces on the passers-by. The doctors & nurses hurrying past, all of them with patients to attend to. Several of them notice him, but most don't.
The faces are all strangers.passing strangers, not a single one the face of a familiar friend that he's grown so accustomed to seeing. It's odd, really, as if he's in a foreign land. He knows the language, but not a soul to speak it to.
Tucking the file folder beneath his arm, he walks past the front desk & towards the doors.
Dr. Tarrow's voice calls after him. "Dr. Carter! Did you need anything else, I can sit down & go through the details if you like."
Carter turns back & shakes his head once. "No, thanks. I think I've seen all that I need to."
The automatic doors whisk open as his feet fall on the motion detecting mats beneath the floor. The warm air of spring stirs around him & he puts his sunglasses on, staring out at the world through tinted lenses that hide the worn look of the people, the buildings, and the streets.
He walks to the el, passing a hot dog stand to his left. The mere thought of food makes him nauseous, and he tries to put it out of his mind & focus on more important matters. He wasn't any closer to finding an answer than he had been twenty- four hours ago; if anything he was more confused.
Northwestern was great, he couldn't ask for a better position. But he couldn't help but wonder what he would be asking for, in the rest of his life, if he accepted it. Was he prepared for the price he might pay for such a change?
Was Abby?
-end chapter three- Please make my little writer's heart flutter and tell me what you think at pogoER2385@aol.com, or write me a review to give me the go-ahead to post the next two chapters! Thanks for reading!! Party on y'all, I appreciate all the help, since I'm still new at this.letting-other-people-read-it- thing, and still working out the kinks in format for this website.please be patient with me!!
Chapter Three-Power Struggle
"I'll do the dishes." He offers quickly as she moves to stand & collect them.
"No, that's okay, I've got it." She answers hastily.
As she reaches for his plate he grabs her wrist lightly so that she can't, in an attempt to get her to look at him.
"I'll do the dishes." He repeats, ducking his head slightly trying to catch her eyes with his, now that he's got a hold of her.
Finally she looks at him, and he sees how disturbed she was by his questions. It wouldn't be visible to just anybody, as Abby was a pro at hiding how she really felt, but it was Carter who always saw through all of the endless bluffing. He had just the same ways of hiding & blocking people out, so he knew all of the tactics.
"Okay." She gives in, her voice soft, as though she's barely moved her lips to utter the word.
He holds her gaze for a few moments longer than he expected to. What seems like silence between the two of them is actually a subtle communication of more than what words could express. It's made up of more than mere sentences, it's composed of emotion, & they read it on each other's faces like a favorite book.
Abby finally realizes she's been staring, and embarrassed, she looks away & pulls her hand free from his grasp of her wrist. She straightens then, & turns to walk away, feeling the sudden urge to find space of her own, out of sight of him.
She walks quickly, the soles of her bare feet smacking lightly on the hardwood floor all the way to the bathroom at the far end, where she closes the door quietly & leans against the back of it. As she'd always believed; if you can't emotionally run from your problems, sometimes physically running helps; she only prayed it would help in this instance too. The only challenge was, she didn't like to be away from him, and just this once, he needed her & here she was fighting him at every corner, like a trapped cat.
He watched her go, until he couldn't see her past the bedroom. Why was it he always stepped on his own toes when it came to speaking out loud what he was thinking? Here he'd suggested wild ideas right in front of her, as if that was the culmination of his day of thought, was a solution to run away & not look back.
Stupid, he kicked himself for being so utterly stupid. Who had he thought he was talking too? This was Abby after all, and neither of them were exactly the most spontaneous people on the block.
Turning the faucet on, he let the water get hot before plugging the sink & adding the dish soap. It hadn't been the way he'd planned the night to go. Why was he unloading all of the tormenting thoughts & decisions that should have been, and are, his, on her? She didn't need this, didn't deserve to have this lost soul that he'd become, to try to interpret & live with. Scrubbing the dishes with the soapy dishcloth, he watched the last traces of the food wash away with the flow of the water from the faucet as it filled the rest of the sink.
If only the problems they faced could be as easily washed away as the
crumbs on a plate.
~*~*~*~
"You're grandmother called."
Her voice has an almost echoing quality in the stillness of the living room & causes him to look up from the notebook where he's been making out lists. "What?"
"This afternoon, she left a message." She replies, glancing up finally from her book.
"What did she want?" he asks, looking across at her where she sits on the couch, as he sits in one of the chairs that corner either ends.
Aligning her bookmark in the spine between the two pages, she answers. "Didn't say, but somehow she thought I'd be able to convince you to talk to her."
Her wording & slightly angered tone doesn't go unnoticed to him, he only nods. "And you didn't think I'd listen to you?"
"You're pretty preoccupied as it is." Abby replies, trying hard not to seem as frustrated at him as she is. She tries to remind herself that he's making an important choice & that he's focusing on that, not on little things about her, she shouldn't think anything of what he says. He hadn't really meant it anyway, had he?
She looks up to see him staring back at her through narrowed eyes, not understanding her tone. He sighs & offers up an apology.
"I'm sorry about earlier, I guess I was just thinking out loud."
"Don't sweat it." Abby assures, but the reply is a bit too quick, too abrupt to be genuine.
"It would take a lot to get me to leave Chicago on a whim; I was just stuck in one of my daydreams from today." He bites his tongue then, the thought of how that sounded dawning on him several seconds too late.
She simply stares at him for a long moment, before turning back to her book.
"Abby." he calls, his voice dropping to a lower octave, the one he uses when she's as vulnerable as the finest bone china; threatening to break at any second. But he knows right now she's more likely to break into a run...than to break altogether.
"I said forget it, Carter." She quips, not looking up from the words on the page where she'd placed the bookmark.
Tapping his pen in a pensive rhythm, he watches her for a few seconds before stopping & getting up from the comfortable chair. He crosses the back of the couch, his hip brushing the back of her head as he does so. Her eyes widen, she knows it was an intentional move, as if that would tell her anything useful to the moment.
She watches out of the corner of her eye as he goes to the desk & grabs the phone, but turns back to her book when he turns around.
"I'll go ahead & see what it was she wanted." He informs her, though she didn't ask. He walks past again, this time without touching her & goes into the bedroom so he won't disturb her reading.
Her eyes falling back to the book, she realizes she can't concentrate on it anyway, so what's the use pretending? Stuffing the bookmark into the crevice, she closes the cover & sets in back on the coffee table, reaching for the remote.
An old rerun of Seinfeld comes on after a commercial break & Abby thumbs the volume downward, not really caring to hear the dialog. Curling up along the couch, she folds her legs & tucks her arms under one of the throw pillows, resting her head after this rather trying day. She watches the characters; Elaine, Jerry, & Kramer, in a scene at the diner. She tries to lip read, but then gives up & just fills in the blanks with whatever she thinks of.
It's interesting, to watch television from this perspective. Almost as if abandoning the script that the writer & directors intended, and creating an art form of interpretive TV.
According to her, they're talking about mountain men. She deducts this because two 'm' words they keep mouthing in succession just happen to look like 'mountain' & 'men' to her. So it must be something about Bigfoot, or Sasquatch.no wonder they called this the show about "nothing."
Bored by it all, somewhere between the diner scene & the next scene in the apartment, Abby drifts off to sleep.
Carter ends his phone call to his grandmother by ten-twenty two & walks through the open door to the front room to put the phone back. He notices the volume on the television is down so low you can barely hear it, and a repeat of America's Funniest Game Show Moments plays a clip of an old Art Linkletter flub on the screen. As he walks over to grab the remote & turn off the program, he finds Abby asleep on the couch, now knowing why he hadn't seen her before.
He stands still, for a moment, to make sure she really is asleep before moving any closer. He sighs, exhausted. Between not being able to sleep, & his afternoon run, he's physically worn ragged. Not to mention the fact that he feels like he's let her down yet again; pushing so hard, constantly prodding until she finally shut down on him completely. His heart aches for making her feel this way. This is his burden, not hers.
As she sleeps he touches her cheek gently with his fingertips, tracing down to her jaw line. He inhales slowly & bends down lower to slide his arms beneath her back & behind her knees, scooping her up from the couch.
"C'mon, babe." He whispers as he gathers her, though she doesn't hear him. He can tell that she's sound asleep by how relaxed her body is in his arms, not protesting an ounce as he carries her to the bedroom. She mutters something in her sleep, as he tucks her in beneath the blankets, but doesn't wake. Before turning to go, he stares just a minute longer.
She is the main factor when it comes to his decision; he wants what's best for the both of them. However, he worries this time there'll be no even keel, no right down the middle. It's all or nothing now.
He turns away, reluctantly. He wants to be near her, but doesn't want to lie in bed awake, like he knows he would. He hates the thought of having her awake to that; to do so would trouble her more than he already has. It looks like Linkletter's laughter will be his only company tonight.
Snapping out of a dream, Abby finds herself not where she'd last remembered being. Instead, she's safely tucked away in her bed, beneath the sheets & the covers, still in her blue jeans & t-shirt from the previous day. She lies facing his side.
But his side is empty, something she's had a hard time getting used to. Ironically enough, she takes no comfort in knowing the reasons behind his nightly disappearing acts.
Reclining her head back & gazing at the ceiling, she tries to remember how many nights it's been now. Three? Or did tonight make four? She'd honestly lost count & the mere thought of the unrest taxed her sleep-fogged mind. Regardless, it had been too long.
The clock by the bedside read 1:45 as she drew herself up on her forearms & then climbed out of bed. Standing up, she ran a hand through her hair, which hung down. Walking to the dresser, she blindly searched with her hand for an elastic band. Upon finding one, she gathered her hair & wrestled it back into a loose ponytail, not wanting to worry about how it looked. Not that he really cared anyway, his never looked much better in the middle of the night.
Opening the bedroom door a crack, it took a few seconds for her to spot him. The only light in the rooms beyond was projected by the hazy glow of the streetlamps outside the living room windows. Beyond that the apartment was engulfed in a pitch black cover.
When she saw him, she saw that he sat alone with the shadows, in the darkness that surrounded. She could make out the outline of the back of his head from where he sat on the couch, facing the windows & away from her. Abby sighed quietly & drew the door the rest of the way open, careful not to make a sound.
It was abnormal for his actions to be cause for concern for her. John Carter was a pretty level-headed, practical man when it all came down to it. He wasn't spontaneous, or unreasonable, and he wasn't big on shock value. She'd known that when the insomnia had begun, she really had something to worry about. Something had to be very, very wrong for Carter to react this way to it. Every time she'd watched him eat he'd only picked at his food, as if he was very unsettled from somewhere deep within. She had been thankful to see that he'd managed to eat all of his dinner last night, even if the only reason he had was to replenish his energy after his run. Something told her that all of this went far deeper than just leaving County. This was his own internal struggle for who he was.
No matter how much she loved him, she couldn't help but wonder if she fit into the puzzle he was trying to piece together. She could only pray she was somewhere within the set that builds that jigsaw.
She squinted to see clearer, as she crossed to the back of the couch & put her hands gently on his strong shoulders. He was awake, but jumped slightly at the sudden touch. She sighs, a bit louder than she has before in moments like this, a bit more hopelessly; as she begins to knead his shoulders gently with her hands before dropping to his level, her arms draped across his chest & resting her chin on his shoulder.
"This has got to stop." She whispers into his ear wearily. As odd as it was, Abby could swear she could feel the same drained state that he was in, take over her as well. She was lost in his dilemma, right smack dab in the middle of it all.
He doesn't respond, but instead hangs his head & she hears him sigh. He runs a hand over his face as she moves back up to massage his shoulders again.
He leans back into her touch & tells her quietly. "You should go back to bed, Abby. Don't let me keep you."
She rolls her eyes, & argues. "Maybe I want you to keep me."
Abby hears him smile at that, then watches him loll his head downward in surrendering response to her ministrations.
She moves her fingers gently over the muscles she can feel that comprise the shoulder joints; connecting the clavicles to the scapula, and running down the sternum & out to the upper arms, & stabilizing the neck in place, at the direct mid line of the upper frame.
Abby finds herself surprised at how tight & compressed they all seem to have become; as if he'd been hunching for the past forty-eight hours straight. She works slowly, methodically, to loosen the knots that have formed, hoping to do so would provide at least a bit less pain for him. She could name all of the muscles, formally & informally, but her mind isn't on medical jargon & anatomy tonight. Abby could only wish that the things that comprised this state they were in were as cold, hard, and fast, as the information that filled the endless tomes they'd both covered in medical school.
He lets his troubled mind detach from the rest of himself, if only for these few minutes. Allowing himself to simply feel, instead of analyze. The latter of which he's been doing to just about every piece of information his mind has been fed these past few days. He tries instead to focus on the pathways she takes with her fingertips, feeling the subtle shift of his muscle fibers beneath her steady pressure, the rigidity melting away as she kneads gently.
"How's your back been?" her voice is dark from sleep. The sleep he knows he interrupted, since if it hadn't been for him she'd still be in bed.
His back.his back had been the source of too many circumstances. First being stabbed; and the spiraling depression that followed that incident, then the drug dependency it formed, which turned him into a common day addict in his own workplace. Nowadays, the intermittent periods of pain served as a reminder of how short life really was, as well as a sort of cruel taunt to his own willpower. Every time it ached, he still thought about Fentanyl, and the instantaneous liberation from pain that the drug would give him. But then he thought about the place, emotionally & physically, that would take him back down to, and he didn't want to go back there again.
He wasn't ashamed to admit, it helped that she was there; it had been her who'd caught him and because of her that he'd been sent to a rehab program so he could get clean.
Abby knew what he'd faced, and what he still did to this day. She was the only one he'd ever really told, in detail, about his struggles. She knew of them, she acknowledged them, since she had enough of her own to know what it felt like; but what he loved most was that she also looked past them. She saw him for the man who dwelled within, not solely for the demons he battled.
"Okay." he mutters, hanging his head low to fully enjoy the effect of her massage. She knows he's lying, but remains silent until he eventually elaborates. "Alright, it's been bad lately."
"Did you take some Tylenol?" she inquires, knowing that the minor pain buffer is his only option to combat the soreness.
He sighs, "Yeah, but it barely takes the edge off. I need the whole bottle."
She closes her eyes for a long moment, at his confession, stopping her hands. He knows she's weary of his feeble attempts at joking in moments like these, especially about something this serious. "John."
"I know, I was only kidding." He assures, hoping she'll resume her work. He's relieved that she eventually does so. "How did you know I needed this?"
"I just know." She responds, & he detects a smile in her voice. "But seriously, you really should see somebody, don't let this keep going. Maybe try acupuncture again.anything."
"I can handle it." He pledges, wincing slightly as she touches a rather sensitive place by the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. She notices his flinching, & frowns.
"Does that hurt?"
He closes his eyes tight, knowing she can't see him do so. "No, no, it's just a little tender."
"Why the hell were you out there running then?" she sighs, careful to lighten her touch at the receptive point she'd uncovered. "Thought you could take it, huh?"
She hears him sigh in response, & she lets the conversation drop. There's not much help she can provide for the insomnia, as she knows any drug to help him sleep could become another potential crutch. He may have been clean for the past three years, but she knew how easily that could all change in a single impulse action. She didn't want to be the one to tempt the fates, not with this, not with him.
Eventually her fingers slowly stop motion. She runs her hands back & forth over his shoulders several times supportively, and plants a gentle kiss on his neck, she lingers there as she asks,
"Better?"
"Mmmhmm." He mumbles, unable to find the words. Finally he manages a weak thank-you as she lets go & walks around to the other side of the couch. There, she regards him a moment. Even in the dark she doesn't like what she sees on his face. It's not the man she loves; instead it's the shell of what once was, as if his spirit has gone numb & hidden itself away in the hollows of his heart.
He reaches, just then, for her hand & she allows him to take it, forgetting the tense moments of the evening; silently forgiving him. He pulls gently, like a child at his mother's skirts, asking her to sit with him.
She complies, & he stretches out along the couches length to accommodate her. She falls into place beside him & rests against his chest.
"I'm sorry I can't do more for you." She admits quietly as he encircles her waist with his arm, wanting her close.
"You do more than enough." He assures her, kissing her for the first time that night.
She pulls back then & looks him in the eyes. "You can't keep doing this to yourself though, I mean it. I don't want to see you do this to yourself."
"I'll be okay," he responds, kissing her forehead. "don't worry about me, After Friday this will all be over."
Abby sighs quietly, closing her eyes & resting her palm against his gray cotton t-shirt. "I hope you're right."
~*~*~*~
"Dr. Carter?" a voice calls out.
John looks up to see a man in his mid-forties come out of the hallway beyond. He's tall, with jet black hair which is starting to recede, a narrow head with a rather pinched, yet friendly, expression, and a dark mustache that's drawn to a well groomed point at each end of his mouth. Abby would laugh if she saw him; he looked every bit like a character from a comic strip. Carter stood up from his chair & the man reached out a hand to embrace John in greeting.
"Good to see you again Dr. Carter." He says, gripping John's hand in a firm lock. John met the tough grip with his own & looked Dr. Tarrow in the eye & smiled.
"The pleasure's all mine."'
"Now, forgive me but I must ask, what is it that brings you back to our neck of the woods? My secretary is new & she's absolutely terrible, she got peeved on the first day when I refused to call her my administrative assistant." He chuckles at that jovially as he leads Carter back into his office down the wide corridor beyond the small general waiting room. "Now she gets even by only half-recording my messages. Talk about a mess."
"I can't imagine." John smiles back as they step inside the moderately sized office. It's painted a deep business-man blue, with a wallpaper border of ocean scenes, complete with elaborate sailboats. Carter notices several large scale models above the hutch of the computer desk on the far wall.
"Please, have a seat." Dr. Tarrow gestures to the two high backed blue chairs that face his desk, as he moves to sit behind it. "Might I tell you, you're outstanding reputation precedes you. We've gotten nothing but the best from your superiors at County. We could certainly use your expertise & authority at our own emergency room."
Carter was caught a bit off guard by the flattering remarks. "Uh, thank you Sir."
"Oh, politics be damned, Dr. Carter, call me Mike." Tarrow flashed Carter one of his warmest smiles, then leaned across the desk at him. "So what is it you've come to me for?"
"Actually, I've come to discuss the finer points of the position. I'm trying to decide between some really great offers and I'm wondering what is it that would make this 'the one' for me?" Carter knew full well what an outright lie that was, he'd had no other offers. The position at County was simply his if he wanted it, that is, when it became available. He couldn't care less about the finer points, he was just desperate for any kind of sign to tell him what to choose, so he thought maybe by going back, something would hit him.
"Well it looks like we might have to pull out the big guns to bring you in ey? I can't say I blame everyone for wanting you." Mike reaches into a drawer at his desk, pulling out a file which includes the contract & the benefits. Just as he hands it over the tabletop to Carter, his pager sounds.
"That's the ER." He tells him as he pushes back his desk chair & stands up, he walks to the door, preparing to excuse himself when he has a change of heart. "Say, you want to come observe? See our little team in action?"
Carter nearly jumped out of his chair. "Absolutely."
John watched the GSW from the back of the trauma room, gowned for his own protection he watched the doctors & nurses buzz over the patient, running the usual routines.
"Where's the exit wound?"
The trauma surgeon bursts in through the doors, a tall brunette with that undeniable surgeon's authority to her walk. She glances quickly at Carter, no doubt wondering who'd started selling tickets to her trauma, before she's gowned & gloved & stepping next to the patient.
"There, near L2. That's close. Let's get an L spine series, a CBC, type & cross for six."
The nurses rush to the cabinets that John stands in front of, he jumps to get out of the way.
"Whoa, lots of blood in the thoraseal!" a voice warns
"How much?"
"Two liters."
"Holy Crap. Get me the portable ultrasound now!" The surgeon yells bossily over the sudden racket of the monitors. "There, there's a huge liver lac, probably tore the spleen too. Call upstairs get me a room ready, tell Jones to get off his ass & scrub in & if he asks why, tell him cuz Moran said so."
A few tense laughs sound, and then disperse throughout the room. Carter just shakes his head. Watching the entubated patient be steadily bagged, the attending and the surgeon make a final check of sats, before wheeling quickly out of the room, the two med students nipping at their heels, he realizes he's still waiting for his sign.
He shakes his head slowly at himself, wondering what the devil he was thinking. Traumas are going to be run the same here as they are anywhere else, there are good ones & bad ones.
"Can I help you?" one of the nurses asks, seeing him still standing there. Carter tears his trauma gown & stashes it in the trash receptacle. The nurse then notices his visitor ID.
"No, I was just observing, thanks." He answers, giving her a polite smile. She's an older black woman, but she clearly ran circles around the other nurses when it came to the recent trauma.
"Thinking about coming to work here?" she asks him as she finishes her paperwork for the patients chart, leaning against the counter as she pens in her information.
"Is it that obvious?" he laughs nervously, the rest of the room has emptied out, but he remains there with her, curious as to what she'll say.
"Honey, you've got indecision & confusion written all over you." She laughs as she turns back to her work.
Carter turns to go, then looks back. "What do you think about working here?"
"You wouldn't want to ask me, this is the first private hospital I've worked at; been here only eighteen months, I'd worked state run hospitals up until my husband died."
"Really?"
"Yes sir."
"So what made you come here? What were you.." Carter paused, wondering how to phrase it. "looking for?"
"Oh it's nothing that grand, it's simple when it comes down to it.. I needed the extra cash, and the benefits..we can't live forever.as old Henry sure proved to me."
Carter smiles politely.
"You don't look like you're too worried about your longevity though, you're young enough to still want the excitement."
"You could say that." Carter smirked.
Lowering her glasses, the woman looks at him. "Then that's what you look for."
Walking back out into the main corridor dividing the endless line of private exam rooms, he watches the faces on the passers-by. The doctors & nurses hurrying past, all of them with patients to attend to. Several of them notice him, but most don't.
The faces are all strangers.passing strangers, not a single one the face of a familiar friend that he's grown so accustomed to seeing. It's odd, really, as if he's in a foreign land. He knows the language, but not a soul to speak it to.
Tucking the file folder beneath his arm, he walks past the front desk & towards the doors.
Dr. Tarrow's voice calls after him. "Dr. Carter! Did you need anything else, I can sit down & go through the details if you like."
Carter turns back & shakes his head once. "No, thanks. I think I've seen all that I need to."
The automatic doors whisk open as his feet fall on the motion detecting mats beneath the floor. The warm air of spring stirs around him & he puts his sunglasses on, staring out at the world through tinted lenses that hide the worn look of the people, the buildings, and the streets.
He walks to the el, passing a hot dog stand to his left. The mere thought of food makes him nauseous, and he tries to put it out of his mind & focus on more important matters. He wasn't any closer to finding an answer than he had been twenty- four hours ago; if anything he was more confused.
Northwestern was great, he couldn't ask for a better position. But he couldn't help but wonder what he would be asking for, in the rest of his life, if he accepted it. Was he prepared for the price he might pay for such a change?
Was Abby?
-end chapter three- Please make my little writer's heart flutter and tell me what you think at pogoER2385@aol.com, or write me a review to give me the go-ahead to post the next two chapters! Thanks for reading!! Party on y'all, I appreciate all the help, since I'm still new at this.letting-other-people-read-it- thing, and still working out the kinks in format for this website.please be patient with me!!
