Author's Notes: Random Story. No clue where it is going. But tell me what you think, if you like it or hate it, or if I should continue it. I got this sudden surge of inspiration cause I couldn't sleep. So Read and Review. Thanks!
~*~
I pulled her dark-brown hair back as I kneeled down in front of her. Her cheeks were stained red and her brown eyes continued to shed tears. She collapsed on the floor, her hands violently wiped away her tears and pushed her hair back. I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. Every time I try to help her she pushes me farther away. I just need to wait for her to answer me, to give me some form of a command. She hits my hand away as I try to push her hair away from her face. I stand up, giving up the battle, and start to head over to the couch. I sit down and watch her cry in the middle of the floor. It kills me from inside, but there is absolutely nothing I can do. She's got to be able to figure things out for herself. I walk back toward her, giving her my hand. She snickers at me and wipes away another tear.
"Just leave me alone? Can you do that? Just leave."
I shrug my shoulders and head toward the door, the whole while keeping my eyes fixed on her. Her expression doesn't change and I walk out, shutting the door silently behind me. I descend the stairs, no clue where I am headed. I could take a walk around the block a few times and then come back and sneak into the bedroom. She will curl up on the couch and the next morning she will pretend nothing happened. A simple routine we've gotten into. We don't ask about each other's faults. I know she drinks behind my back, and I lie to her face.
I start a slow stroll toward Washington, headed in no apparent direction but straight. The wind lashes at my face, but the temperature is high, and the wind is cooling. I run my hand through my short hair, and tuck my hands into my pockets. It's one of the things that gets on my mother's nerves. I think I do it for that reason alone. I know Chicago pretty well, more so this area in particular. The usual coffee shop on the corner, the 24-hour convenience store on the second block, the iron fences and the wooden steps. All seems so normal to me. I keep walking. The stars are out, leading my way. Nothing is pulling me back to her, and I wish it was. I don't know what happened to us. I thought she was the one, the one I would spend my life with, but now I see her for who she really is. A miserable, alcoholic wretch.
I keep following the cement road, looking at the fully-bloomed flowers and the green leafy trees. It looks almost like a forest, minus the cars, sirens, cement floors, and screams. It could almost be peaceful. I get back to my usual steps; it had been my home for almost a year. I jog up the first set of stairs, and then the second on the interior. I get to the door and knock on it hesitantly. I didn't realize that it was almost 11 o'clock at night. I hear the chain hit the door, and the hinges squeak. She opens the door with a forced smile, leaving it open for me to follow her. She's dressed in a pair of dark pyjama pants and a grey shirt. Her windows are open letting the fresh air come in. Her ponytail flops back and forth as she walks toward the kitchen. I shut the door behind me and lock it and I continue my journey into her kitchen. She plops down on a chair, and pushes the one across from her out for me like she usually does. I take my chance and sit down, moving myself closer to the document she is reading. I pull the paper out of her hand and she laughs a little. I'll never learn. I flip through it. She's doing some presentation tomorrow, and she obviously has nothing prepared.
"I thought you graduated from medical school?"
She laughs a little and rolls her eyes.
"I did. Except that residency is an acronym for torture Abby."
I can't help but laugh and I throw the paper back at her. She takes it and places it inside her book.
"I need a break. You want coffee?"
I nod my head and I watch her pull herself up from the wood chair and head over to her coffee machine. I get up and walk over to her fridge, peering inside as what I can eat as a last night snack. I settle for an apple and pull it from the bowl. She rolls her eyes at me as I bite into it.
"Is everything okay?"
I shrug my shoulders. I'm not going to tell her everything. The only thing going right in my life is my friendship with her. I'm so afraid to loose it again. She sits down and pulls a book from the very bottom of one of her piles, sending the top ones flying across the table and floor. I lean down and pick them up, and she gives a frustrated sigh. I hear the coffee maker start to screech and I walk over to it and pull out two cups. I pour the dark brown substance into both and put two teaspoons of sugar into her cup and the same amount into mine. I walk over the fridge again and pour creamer into her cup. I mix it together and hand it to her. She gives me a thankful glance.
"All-nighter?"
She nods her head.
"Want me to stay and help?"
She starts to shake her head no, but then changes her mind. I place the cup onto the side and open up one of the textbooks that we have in front of us. I flip open to page and quickly skim it as she does the same to a different book. I see her writing notes and I take a pen out of her hair and a highlighter out of her pocket. I make a few notes along the edge of the page and we switch books. We both know the routine. We work well together. Studying, talking, working, friends. She buries her head into her hands and sighs another long sigh.
"It's just paperwork. It means nothing. You're a great doctor. You've proven yourself already."
She gives me a genuine smile and buries her head into her arms, still looking up at me.
"I just feel like I'm going to screw something up, ya know?"
I reach over, pushing the strands of her dirty blonde hair back.
"The only thing you've screwed up on is not finishing sooner."
She rolls her eyes, I take a roll of paper and hit her over the head.
"You're really supportive."
She takes the paper from my hand and unravels it, flipping through it. I take another book and do the same. It could be a long night, but I'd never notice. Time usually flies when preparing a presentation for one of the Attendings or Chiefs. The last time I looked at the clock it had been 11:13. Now it's almost 3:29 and I don't feel the least bit tired nor overwhelmed. She finally shuts all the books and organizes them on the table. She pulls a pile toward her and lays her head down on them.
"So what happened?"
I play with my fingers; I play with my fingers during awkward moments or when I don't want to answer. Another one of my annoying habits.
"She told me to leave."
She pouts a little, looking out at the living room.
"She needs time."
I shrug my shoulders. I doubt all the time in the world would be able to fix us. It's over as far as I know. I just wish both of us could figure that out.
"And I need sleep."
She shakes her head at me ironically, and pushes out of the seat. I watch her walk toward her bedroom and pull two pillows off the bed. She throws them on the couch and walks back to the kitchen, taking the cups and plates from the table and putting them into the sink. I get up, pulling off my shirt and walking toward my makeshift bed on the couch. Recently it has become my favorite place. I watch her walk from the kitchen to the bathroom to the door to check if it's locked. I switch on the lamp and she turns off the lights. I watch her walk across the room, she too, pulls off her shirt in the immense heat. She's in a black bra and my presence doesn't affect her. I hear her mutter a 'goodnight' before her springs creak and I know she's in bed. I wish I was in there with her.
~*~
I pulled her dark-brown hair back as I kneeled down in front of her. Her cheeks were stained red and her brown eyes continued to shed tears. She collapsed on the floor, her hands violently wiped away her tears and pushed her hair back. I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. Every time I try to help her she pushes me farther away. I just need to wait for her to answer me, to give me some form of a command. She hits my hand away as I try to push her hair away from her face. I stand up, giving up the battle, and start to head over to the couch. I sit down and watch her cry in the middle of the floor. It kills me from inside, but there is absolutely nothing I can do. She's got to be able to figure things out for herself. I walk back toward her, giving her my hand. She snickers at me and wipes away another tear.
"Just leave me alone? Can you do that? Just leave."
I shrug my shoulders and head toward the door, the whole while keeping my eyes fixed on her. Her expression doesn't change and I walk out, shutting the door silently behind me. I descend the stairs, no clue where I am headed. I could take a walk around the block a few times and then come back and sneak into the bedroom. She will curl up on the couch and the next morning she will pretend nothing happened. A simple routine we've gotten into. We don't ask about each other's faults. I know she drinks behind my back, and I lie to her face.
I start a slow stroll toward Washington, headed in no apparent direction but straight. The wind lashes at my face, but the temperature is high, and the wind is cooling. I run my hand through my short hair, and tuck my hands into my pockets. It's one of the things that gets on my mother's nerves. I think I do it for that reason alone. I know Chicago pretty well, more so this area in particular. The usual coffee shop on the corner, the 24-hour convenience store on the second block, the iron fences and the wooden steps. All seems so normal to me. I keep walking. The stars are out, leading my way. Nothing is pulling me back to her, and I wish it was. I don't know what happened to us. I thought she was the one, the one I would spend my life with, but now I see her for who she really is. A miserable, alcoholic wretch.
I keep following the cement road, looking at the fully-bloomed flowers and the green leafy trees. It looks almost like a forest, minus the cars, sirens, cement floors, and screams. It could almost be peaceful. I get back to my usual steps; it had been my home for almost a year. I jog up the first set of stairs, and then the second on the interior. I get to the door and knock on it hesitantly. I didn't realize that it was almost 11 o'clock at night. I hear the chain hit the door, and the hinges squeak. She opens the door with a forced smile, leaving it open for me to follow her. She's dressed in a pair of dark pyjama pants and a grey shirt. Her windows are open letting the fresh air come in. Her ponytail flops back and forth as she walks toward the kitchen. I shut the door behind me and lock it and I continue my journey into her kitchen. She plops down on a chair, and pushes the one across from her out for me like she usually does. I take my chance and sit down, moving myself closer to the document she is reading. I pull the paper out of her hand and she laughs a little. I'll never learn. I flip through it. She's doing some presentation tomorrow, and she obviously has nothing prepared.
"I thought you graduated from medical school?"
She laughs a little and rolls her eyes.
"I did. Except that residency is an acronym for torture Abby."
I can't help but laugh and I throw the paper back at her. She takes it and places it inside her book.
"I need a break. You want coffee?"
I nod my head and I watch her pull herself up from the wood chair and head over to her coffee machine. I get up and walk over to her fridge, peering inside as what I can eat as a last night snack. I settle for an apple and pull it from the bowl. She rolls her eyes at me as I bite into it.
"Is everything okay?"
I shrug my shoulders. I'm not going to tell her everything. The only thing going right in my life is my friendship with her. I'm so afraid to loose it again. She sits down and pulls a book from the very bottom of one of her piles, sending the top ones flying across the table and floor. I lean down and pick them up, and she gives a frustrated sigh. I hear the coffee maker start to screech and I walk over to it and pull out two cups. I pour the dark brown substance into both and put two teaspoons of sugar into her cup and the same amount into mine. I walk over the fridge again and pour creamer into her cup. I mix it together and hand it to her. She gives me a thankful glance.
"All-nighter?"
She nods her head.
"Want me to stay and help?"
She starts to shake her head no, but then changes her mind. I place the cup onto the side and open up one of the textbooks that we have in front of us. I flip open to page and quickly skim it as she does the same to a different book. I see her writing notes and I take a pen out of her hair and a highlighter out of her pocket. I make a few notes along the edge of the page and we switch books. We both know the routine. We work well together. Studying, talking, working, friends. She buries her head into her hands and sighs another long sigh.
"It's just paperwork. It means nothing. You're a great doctor. You've proven yourself already."
She gives me a genuine smile and buries her head into her arms, still looking up at me.
"I just feel like I'm going to screw something up, ya know?"
I reach over, pushing the strands of her dirty blonde hair back.
"The only thing you've screwed up on is not finishing sooner."
She rolls her eyes, I take a roll of paper and hit her over the head.
"You're really supportive."
She takes the paper from my hand and unravels it, flipping through it. I take another book and do the same. It could be a long night, but I'd never notice. Time usually flies when preparing a presentation for one of the Attendings or Chiefs. The last time I looked at the clock it had been 11:13. Now it's almost 3:29 and I don't feel the least bit tired nor overwhelmed. She finally shuts all the books and organizes them on the table. She pulls a pile toward her and lays her head down on them.
"So what happened?"
I play with my fingers; I play with my fingers during awkward moments or when I don't want to answer. Another one of my annoying habits.
"She told me to leave."
She pouts a little, looking out at the living room.
"She needs time."
I shrug my shoulders. I doubt all the time in the world would be able to fix us. It's over as far as I know. I just wish both of us could figure that out.
"And I need sleep."
She shakes her head at me ironically, and pushes out of the seat. I watch her walk toward her bedroom and pull two pillows off the bed. She throws them on the couch and walks back to the kitchen, taking the cups and plates from the table and putting them into the sink. I get up, pulling off my shirt and walking toward my makeshift bed on the couch. Recently it has become my favorite place. I watch her walk from the kitchen to the bathroom to the door to check if it's locked. I switch on the lamp and she turns off the lights. I watch her walk across the room, she too, pulls off her shirt in the immense heat. She's in a black bra and my presence doesn't affect her. I hear her mutter a 'goodnight' before her springs creak and I know she's in bed. I wish I was in there with her.