4 YEARS LATER. . .
I opened my eyes. I had just had the strangest dream about. . .I couldn't remember what it was about. I rolled onto my side and looked at Rosie. She was fast asleep with her arm curled under her head.
I sighed. We had been together for almost five years and I still wasn't feeling serious about her. She was serious about me. She kept dropping hints about marriage and stuff. But that just wasn't going to happen.
I touched her shoulder gently. "Rosie," I whispered. "Rosie, I need to talk to you."
"It's 3:30 in the goddamn morning, John. Go back to sleep." She buried her face in her pillow.
I got up and started getting dressed. She lifted her head. "Where are you going?" she asked.
"Chicago."
"Why?"
"I don't know." I laughed. "Just want to go home." I finished buttoning my shirt while Rosie just watched. "Sorry," I said as I headed out of the bedroom.
"When are you coming back?" she called after me.
I stuck my head back in the room and grinned at her. "I'm not."
************************************
Remarkably little had changed about County. I had gone quickly from the ambulance bay to the lounge. I wasn't ready to see anyone yet. I had spoken to Weaver about a job but I doubt she'd told anyone I was back.
I stood just inside the doorway of the lounge, letting memories come flooding back to me. It took me a minute to realize that there was a small child sitting at the table and staring at me.
She had been drawing. There was a piece of paper in front of her and she was holding a pen. "Hello," she said brightly. She had a beautiful smile and her brown eyes looked very familiar. When she moved, her redish- brown curls bounced gently up and down.
"Hello," I said, sitting down across from her. "What are you doing here?" I thought that maybe she was a patient who had somehow found her way into the lounge without being noticed.
"I'm waiting for my mommy," she said. She hadn't taken her eyes from my face. "She works here. She said we're leaving in five minutes."
I looked at her picture. "I like your drawing," I said.
She grinned. "That's me," she said pointing at a sort of stick figure. "And that's mommy." She indicated a slightly taller stick figure.
"Who's that in the corner?" I asked.
"Oh. That's my daddy."
"Why is he all the way over there?"
"Because he doesn't live with us. Mommy doesn't know where he is." The little girl paused. She seemed to be deciding whether or not to tell me the whole story. "Well," she started. "Mommy says my daddy is a very handsome man who she loves very very much. But Mommy and Daddy got in a fight and Daddy left. Mommy says that if Daddy knew about me that he would love me and cuddle me and buy me a pony."
I laughed. "I'm sure he would," I said. "What's your name?"
"Bryanne. What's yours?"
"John."
Her face lit up. "That's my daddy's name!"
"A lot of people are called John," I told her.
She nodded solemnly. "That's what Mommy said. If I had been a boy she would have named me John."
I smiled. "It's a pretty good name," I said.
"Yeah. But I'm glad I'm a girl."
I stared at this child in amazement. She was hilarious. Not intentionally, of course but she seemed very bright.
"You know, Bryanne," I said. "I'm gonna be working in this hospital now so I may see you a lot if your mommy works here."
"Mommy works in the ER. Is that where you work?" I nodded. I watched Bryanne slowly write her first name on the bottom of her drawing. "B-R-Y-A-N-N-E," she spelled out loud. She left a space and then wrote a 'C.' She frowned and looked up at me. "How do you spell 'Carter?'" she asked.
"What?" I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly.
"That's my last name. Carter. I can't spell it yet, though." As I stared at her in disbelief her eyes lifted and she smiled sheepishly. "Hi, Mommy," she said.
I opened my eyes. I had just had the strangest dream about. . .I couldn't remember what it was about. I rolled onto my side and looked at Rosie. She was fast asleep with her arm curled under her head.
I sighed. We had been together for almost five years and I still wasn't feeling serious about her. She was serious about me. She kept dropping hints about marriage and stuff. But that just wasn't going to happen.
I touched her shoulder gently. "Rosie," I whispered. "Rosie, I need to talk to you."
"It's 3:30 in the goddamn morning, John. Go back to sleep." She buried her face in her pillow.
I got up and started getting dressed. She lifted her head. "Where are you going?" she asked.
"Chicago."
"Why?"
"I don't know." I laughed. "Just want to go home." I finished buttoning my shirt while Rosie just watched. "Sorry," I said as I headed out of the bedroom.
"When are you coming back?" she called after me.
I stuck my head back in the room and grinned at her. "I'm not."
************************************
Remarkably little had changed about County. I had gone quickly from the ambulance bay to the lounge. I wasn't ready to see anyone yet. I had spoken to Weaver about a job but I doubt she'd told anyone I was back.
I stood just inside the doorway of the lounge, letting memories come flooding back to me. It took me a minute to realize that there was a small child sitting at the table and staring at me.
She had been drawing. There was a piece of paper in front of her and she was holding a pen. "Hello," she said brightly. She had a beautiful smile and her brown eyes looked very familiar. When she moved, her redish- brown curls bounced gently up and down.
"Hello," I said, sitting down across from her. "What are you doing here?" I thought that maybe she was a patient who had somehow found her way into the lounge without being noticed.
"I'm waiting for my mommy," she said. She hadn't taken her eyes from my face. "She works here. She said we're leaving in five minutes."
I looked at her picture. "I like your drawing," I said.
She grinned. "That's me," she said pointing at a sort of stick figure. "And that's mommy." She indicated a slightly taller stick figure.
"Who's that in the corner?" I asked.
"Oh. That's my daddy."
"Why is he all the way over there?"
"Because he doesn't live with us. Mommy doesn't know where he is." The little girl paused. She seemed to be deciding whether or not to tell me the whole story. "Well," she started. "Mommy says my daddy is a very handsome man who she loves very very much. But Mommy and Daddy got in a fight and Daddy left. Mommy says that if Daddy knew about me that he would love me and cuddle me and buy me a pony."
I laughed. "I'm sure he would," I said. "What's your name?"
"Bryanne. What's yours?"
"John."
Her face lit up. "That's my daddy's name!"
"A lot of people are called John," I told her.
She nodded solemnly. "That's what Mommy said. If I had been a boy she would have named me John."
I smiled. "It's a pretty good name," I said.
"Yeah. But I'm glad I'm a girl."
I stared at this child in amazement. She was hilarious. Not intentionally, of course but she seemed very bright.
"You know, Bryanne," I said. "I'm gonna be working in this hospital now so I may see you a lot if your mommy works here."
"Mommy works in the ER. Is that where you work?" I nodded. I watched Bryanne slowly write her first name on the bottom of her drawing. "B-R-Y-A-N-N-E," she spelled out loud. She left a space and then wrote a 'C.' She frowned and looked up at me. "How do you spell 'Carter?'" she asked.
"What?" I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly.
"That's my last name. Carter. I can't spell it yet, though." As I stared at her in disbelief her eyes lifted and she smiled sheepishly. "Hi, Mommy," she said.