Author's note: This fic includes spoilers. It's a Carby. Please read and
review and keep in mind, that English is not my first language!
Chapter 1: CUTS LIKE A KNIFE
I felt their looks, their stares. I felt how they fixated me with their eyes, how they all couldn't stop staring at me, how they all didn't even try or want to stop. How they all waited for me to leave the hospital so that they all could start gossiping about me. But who cares. At least I don't. Why should I? It doesn't have the slightest meaning to me. Everything that once seemed so important and fulfilling, is now gone. Kem headed back to Africa, the baby never got a chance to live, the dream of finally having a family was just swept away by destiny, the cruel almighty destiny, that always seems to rule my life, but never turns to luck. It least not for a long time, luck always seems to run away from me. Once it gets so close, that I think I might be able to grab it, it disappears again.
"Carter, when was the last time you've seen your sponsor?" Who? My sponsor? Well, to be honest, I don't even remember his name. I only met him once. Then I stopped attending the meetings.
"Why should I meet my sponsor?" My thoughts are all chaotic. I can't see straight and have to put together all my concentration skills to stand still. If I weren't that drunk I would be once more shocked of what alcohol can do to you.
"I just wanted to know. You seem a bit..." She stops, her eyes wandering to the floor and then back to my eyes.
"...drunk? Well, that's what the common intention of drinking alcohol is." When did I learn to be so sarcastic. I'm doing pretty well in this knew discipline I have to admit. "But I'm sure I don't have to tell you about the consequences of drinking, of drinking too much, of drinking..." I start, but then I stop and my hand moves to my mouth to keep myself from shouting out more insanities. How could I start hurting someone who wasn't even responsible for my state of mind. How could I start hurting someone, who was just concerned about me?
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm obviously not myself today." I can't even look into her eyes, which leads me to finally turning my back to her. I lean myself against the fridge and lay my head into my hands. My fingers are numb and insensitive, they feel like they were filled with ants, a feeling I usually get from alcohol. "I.... I should", I stumble "I should have never said those words to you. But I don't know what to say or do anymore. I'm stuck in a dead end street with a high wall right in front of me and no light or exit to be seen. Nowhere. And I don't seem to find a way to turn around." Then I suddenly find the strength to turn around. "I'm sorry for having been a hypocrite." I reach out for her shoulder.
"Sometimes we're all hypocrites", she answers, trying to smile and taking a step back from me. I realize, that the time to touch her just as a friend has not come yet. She now seems so mature, so changed, so new to me, that I'm not even sure, if it's still the same person that's standing in front of me. Then I take my jacket and make my snake lined way to the door.
"Stop, Carter..." I pretend not to be able to hear her and open the door. But then she sighs, takes a deep breath and lowers her voice. One can still hear that she used to smoke for a long time in her sometimes rough and deep, but at the same time so tender and smooth voice.
"John.... Wait." I let the door go and close again and keep standing there. If I could, I would never move again, no motivation for anything. "I really want you to see your sponsor!" She emphasizes this sentence as strong as she can and I feel her getting a bit closer. Not too much of course, but at least a tiny little bit.
"Why are you so concerned?" I ask her in a reproaching way. Again she sighs, more deeply than before if that's possible.
"I just think you should." She doesn't even try to explain her concerns. Where do they come from? Does she want to find out, what happened the last few weeks? I highly doubt that. Why should she want to know? I rudely kicked her out of my life one year ago, dumped her in the most ungentle and at the same time clumsy way, one could dump another person, and now she still wants to help me? I don't need help. I just got drunk, just had one or two glasses too much of this expensive 30 years old vine in my Gamma's cellar.
I turn around, but don't risk looking into her eyes. Nervously I play with my watch and scratch my neck. "Look, I'm just a little drunk. Average teenagers are drunk each week and you wouldn't run to them and drag them to one of those boring unnecessary AA meetings. And besides: I once went there because of pain killers, not because of alcohol."
She comes closer. I see her hand coming closer, but then she pulls it back again. "You went through so much during the last few weeks. So much changed and it's not only that you're drunk right now. Everyone in the ER noticed how bad you looked, how tired and exhausted..."
"Oh thanks for that charming compliment", I reply aggressively and glare at her for one second, before I turn away once again.
"John, we are all concerned. And I just thought, that your sponsor would be someone you could openly talk to. It makes things a lot easier, if you have someone to open up to, someone you can trust." She still seems so rational and clear minded. Her words come out of her mouth as if this had always been her inner conviction, natural to her, a simple matter of course. I wonder, if she had taken good acting classes or if this is a clear sign, of a real change. And this from a woman, who once had strong doubts that people could ever really change.
"Do you remember that you used to be my sponsor for some not too irrelevant time?" These words abruptly and unexpectedly make their way out of my mouth. No warning, no chance to take them back.
Now I risk a short look at her and she seems surprised or shocked or whatever... it has been long ago, that I had given up on interpreting her facial expressions. She is a secret, her thoughts are a huge secret to me, to everyone else maybe.
She slowly nods: "Right..." I plan on turning around, on just saying goodbye and walking out of the room, on pretending that I had never said anything. But as I figure out my plans and start turning around, she once again takes a deep breath. "I could do well with some strong coffee now..." she states and then takes her jacket. For one moment she looks into my eyes, then shakes her head and walks to the door. I stare at her and don't realize what she just said. Was this an offer to come with her and have some nice talk? Was she offering me to be my sponsor again? Or was she just trying to find a fast way out of this uncomfortable conversation?
As she takes the door handle, she turns around and smiled: "Come on... or do you want to stand here for the rest of the night? I tell you one thing: The lounge is not the best place to sleep it off... and I'm pretty sure that tomorrow morning you are gonna have a nice hangover."
I try to smile and decide to follow her. Nothing is waiting for me at home anyway. What else would I do? Why not? I shake my head in disbelief about this whole situation as I try to walk on a straight line. I wouldn't pass the walk-on-a -line-alcohol test now. Definitely not.
************************
"I miss the smell of old fat and burgers and fries and burnt coffee and...." She laughs. "Now I'm definitely not making any sense. Could you please be so kind to stop me the next time I'm starting rambling such a crap... Because otherwise people might get the impression, that I'm the drunk one of us." We are sitting in the new eating place they built up instead of good old Doc Magoo's and she seems to revel in memories of the times she had been sitting here. To be honest, I miss this place to. The old red leather benches, the smell, the people... yes especially the people here. Whenever I came around I could be sure to meet someone from work. Someone who wanted to have lunch, or get some coffee, or who just wanted to flee the stress and work, the patients and the colleagues. And then you would make a sarcastic comment and start talking to them. You would have a nice conversation about the hospital, about the latest gossip, about some superficial moment you share or you also had to live through. And then you would laugh and forget about the problems for some seconds, before you go back to work or you take the El home. And maybe you have found a new friend. Often you forget about the person the moment you walk out of the door. But sometimes you don't. And on some very special days you can't stop thinking about this person. On other days you meet all of your friends here to celebrate with them, and even if it is just, that the day is finally over. Or you share the saddest moments with them. That was Doc Magoo's. Good old home of the overworked and the sad and the happy and the stressed and the lost people in the ER. But it has changed. Everything has changed.
"Hey Carter, are you still with me?" She waves at me and grins. I nod. "Small test just to be sure: What day is it?"
I shake my head and smile. "Wednesday." She takes a look at her watch. "Sorry, Carter. Wrong answer. It's already Thursday." "What?" I can't believe that we had already sat here for almost four hours. "One more chance for you. And I recommend you to give the right answer. You know, I have my connections."
"To what?"
"To psychiatry... I did my last rotation there." She laughs about her own joke and then insists on an answer.
"You never asked another question, if I may remind you. But it's Thursday. See? My brain still works. I remember the last information you gave me."
She grins. "Alright. So...." She pretends to be thinking hard about another question. Then she leans forward on the table and grins even more. "So this is a really hard one: What's my name?"
I look at her... no, I stare at her and then try to count, how often she had said my name this evening. But I can't. And then I realize that I had never used her name in the last few hours. When was the last time I could her name? Not too long ago I would have used it in every sentence, would have remembered each time I had said it. But that's over now. I stumble and stutter. I grasp for air. Why? Because I am drunk, that must be the reason. I always get melancholic when the alcohol level in my blood drops. I sigh and then pout. But as I look at her childish expression I have the pout turns into a smile again and easier than anything else I say it: "Abigail Lockhart. Abby."
****************************
"The taxi should be here every minute", she explains and puts her mobile back into her bag.
"Thank you very much." I smile and close the zipper of my jacket.
"You're welcome." She also smiles and then looks down to her feet.
"How are you getting home?" I finally ask to break the silence. She looks away and hesitates for one moment, before she finally gives the answer.
"I called Conan to pick me up..." I questioningly look at her. Conan? Should this name ring a bell? I can't remember this name. Was he a colleague or a family member? Who was he? And what was it that caused this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach?
Again she sighs and seems uncertain about what to say. I know that she knows that I don't know Conan. What? Well once again this evening my thoughts are confusing me. "Should I know him?" I finally ask and try to keep my voice as neutral as possible.
"Yes... no... ye... well, he was the one on the motorcycle who picked me up a few weeks ago... the one you wanted to keep from parking in the ambulance bay."
I finally nod and roll my eyes with a grin on my face. Has it ever been that hard to smile before? I doubt that, but I don't know where this feeling comes from. "Sure, I remember him." Then I wait before I finally recall the fact that were are friends... nothing more and nothing less but friends... so we should be able to stay relaxed when we talk about such topics.
"Is he... are you... I mean, are you two..." Why is this so hard? "Are you two together?"
Now she is the one who rolls her eyes. She grins and looks up into the sky, then she shrugs her shoulders. "To be honest, I don't know what we really are." She notices my confused expression and tries to explain herself: "Well, it's fun with him. We occasionally meet, have some..." she makes a short break and then continues "...fun. But it's nothing serious... at least I think so... there wouldn't be much time for something serious anyway."
I nod and once again bring up my whole power smile. "So he's just someone to sweeten up your free time..." I'm doing everything to keep up the conversation.
She laughs and looks at me. She then throws her hands into the air: "Yes, I think that's how you could describe it."
Suddenly she turns around, as we hear the loud sound of an engine. Within the following second a motorcycle shows up, followed by a taxi.
"That's what I call timing", she comments the situation. Soon the taxi and the biker stop close to us.
"Time to go", I say and look at her, pondering how to say good bye. Which way would be the most appropriate. I could just wave to her, say "bye" and take my seat in the taxi. But then she had done so much for me this evening just by staying and talking with me that this way wouldn't even be close to what I wanted to do to say good bye. We both stand there and at each other for some seconds, we are frozen to these spots and can't move. At least I can't.
Then suddenly she is the one to break the ice. She comes closer to me and smiles. "Have a good night, Carter", she whispers before she lays her arms around me and hugs me for one short moment. I'm not sure how to react to this sudden surprising gesture from her. But then I let myself go, I decide to do what just feels right and shortly press her against myself. Then I loosen it again and look into her eyes.
"Thank you for spending some time with me", I whisper and then take back my arms. I wave to Conan and watch her as she gives him a slight kiss on the cheek and then takes her place behind him. "Take care", I want to shout. But instead it rather comes out as a murmur and they drive away without taking notice of it.
Then I climb into the taxi. The driver looks at me and waits for me to tell him the address. "Going home?" He then asks. I look out of the window and deeply sigh. Not really, I want to answer. It doesn't feel like home there. Just a place to sleep and store my stuff. "Yes" I say to avoid any more questions. It's one a.m. and the only thing I need now is sleep. I keep on looking out of the window, taking a deep breath. I don't mind the silence now. But it seems as if the driver does. He turns on the radio and for the last few miles of our way I do nothing but listening to the music.
"And here is the song for those who feel alone or lost or hurt outside in their cars or at home and who just can't sleep", the radio host announces the next song... "But keep in mind: You're never completely alone."
Drivin' home this evening
I coulda sworn we had it all worked out
You had this boy believin'
Way beyond the shadow of a doubt
I heard it on the street
I heard you mighta found somebody new
Well who is he baby - who is he
And tell me what he means to you
I took it all for granted
But how was I to know
That you'd be letting go
Now it cuts like a knife
But it feels so right
It cuts like a knife
But it feels so right
There's times I've 'bin mistaken
There's times I thought I'd 'bin misunderstood
So wait a minute darlin'
Can't you see we did the best we could
This would be the first time
Things have gone astray
Now you've thrown it all away
Now it cuts like a knife
But it feels so right
It cuts like a knife
But it feels so right
Chapter 1: CUTS LIKE A KNIFE
I felt their looks, their stares. I felt how they fixated me with their eyes, how they all couldn't stop staring at me, how they all didn't even try or want to stop. How they all waited for me to leave the hospital so that they all could start gossiping about me. But who cares. At least I don't. Why should I? It doesn't have the slightest meaning to me. Everything that once seemed so important and fulfilling, is now gone. Kem headed back to Africa, the baby never got a chance to live, the dream of finally having a family was just swept away by destiny, the cruel almighty destiny, that always seems to rule my life, but never turns to luck. It least not for a long time, luck always seems to run away from me. Once it gets so close, that I think I might be able to grab it, it disappears again.
"Carter, when was the last time you've seen your sponsor?" Who? My sponsor? Well, to be honest, I don't even remember his name. I only met him once. Then I stopped attending the meetings.
"Why should I meet my sponsor?" My thoughts are all chaotic. I can't see straight and have to put together all my concentration skills to stand still. If I weren't that drunk I would be once more shocked of what alcohol can do to you.
"I just wanted to know. You seem a bit..." She stops, her eyes wandering to the floor and then back to my eyes.
"...drunk? Well, that's what the common intention of drinking alcohol is." When did I learn to be so sarcastic. I'm doing pretty well in this knew discipline I have to admit. "But I'm sure I don't have to tell you about the consequences of drinking, of drinking too much, of drinking..." I start, but then I stop and my hand moves to my mouth to keep myself from shouting out more insanities. How could I start hurting someone who wasn't even responsible for my state of mind. How could I start hurting someone, who was just concerned about me?
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm obviously not myself today." I can't even look into her eyes, which leads me to finally turning my back to her. I lean myself against the fridge and lay my head into my hands. My fingers are numb and insensitive, they feel like they were filled with ants, a feeling I usually get from alcohol. "I.... I should", I stumble "I should have never said those words to you. But I don't know what to say or do anymore. I'm stuck in a dead end street with a high wall right in front of me and no light or exit to be seen. Nowhere. And I don't seem to find a way to turn around." Then I suddenly find the strength to turn around. "I'm sorry for having been a hypocrite." I reach out for her shoulder.
"Sometimes we're all hypocrites", she answers, trying to smile and taking a step back from me. I realize, that the time to touch her just as a friend has not come yet. She now seems so mature, so changed, so new to me, that I'm not even sure, if it's still the same person that's standing in front of me. Then I take my jacket and make my snake lined way to the door.
"Stop, Carter..." I pretend not to be able to hear her and open the door. But then she sighs, takes a deep breath and lowers her voice. One can still hear that she used to smoke for a long time in her sometimes rough and deep, but at the same time so tender and smooth voice.
"John.... Wait." I let the door go and close again and keep standing there. If I could, I would never move again, no motivation for anything. "I really want you to see your sponsor!" She emphasizes this sentence as strong as she can and I feel her getting a bit closer. Not too much of course, but at least a tiny little bit.
"Why are you so concerned?" I ask her in a reproaching way. Again she sighs, more deeply than before if that's possible.
"I just think you should." She doesn't even try to explain her concerns. Where do they come from? Does she want to find out, what happened the last few weeks? I highly doubt that. Why should she want to know? I rudely kicked her out of my life one year ago, dumped her in the most ungentle and at the same time clumsy way, one could dump another person, and now she still wants to help me? I don't need help. I just got drunk, just had one or two glasses too much of this expensive 30 years old vine in my Gamma's cellar.
I turn around, but don't risk looking into her eyes. Nervously I play with my watch and scratch my neck. "Look, I'm just a little drunk. Average teenagers are drunk each week and you wouldn't run to them and drag them to one of those boring unnecessary AA meetings. And besides: I once went there because of pain killers, not because of alcohol."
She comes closer. I see her hand coming closer, but then she pulls it back again. "You went through so much during the last few weeks. So much changed and it's not only that you're drunk right now. Everyone in the ER noticed how bad you looked, how tired and exhausted..."
"Oh thanks for that charming compliment", I reply aggressively and glare at her for one second, before I turn away once again.
"John, we are all concerned. And I just thought, that your sponsor would be someone you could openly talk to. It makes things a lot easier, if you have someone to open up to, someone you can trust." She still seems so rational and clear minded. Her words come out of her mouth as if this had always been her inner conviction, natural to her, a simple matter of course. I wonder, if she had taken good acting classes or if this is a clear sign, of a real change. And this from a woman, who once had strong doubts that people could ever really change.
"Do you remember that you used to be my sponsor for some not too irrelevant time?" These words abruptly and unexpectedly make their way out of my mouth. No warning, no chance to take them back.
Now I risk a short look at her and she seems surprised or shocked or whatever... it has been long ago, that I had given up on interpreting her facial expressions. She is a secret, her thoughts are a huge secret to me, to everyone else maybe.
She slowly nods: "Right..." I plan on turning around, on just saying goodbye and walking out of the room, on pretending that I had never said anything. But as I figure out my plans and start turning around, she once again takes a deep breath. "I could do well with some strong coffee now..." she states and then takes her jacket. For one moment she looks into my eyes, then shakes her head and walks to the door. I stare at her and don't realize what she just said. Was this an offer to come with her and have some nice talk? Was she offering me to be my sponsor again? Or was she just trying to find a fast way out of this uncomfortable conversation?
As she takes the door handle, she turns around and smiled: "Come on... or do you want to stand here for the rest of the night? I tell you one thing: The lounge is not the best place to sleep it off... and I'm pretty sure that tomorrow morning you are gonna have a nice hangover."
I try to smile and decide to follow her. Nothing is waiting for me at home anyway. What else would I do? Why not? I shake my head in disbelief about this whole situation as I try to walk on a straight line. I wouldn't pass the walk-on-a -line-alcohol test now. Definitely not.
************************
"I miss the smell of old fat and burgers and fries and burnt coffee and...." She laughs. "Now I'm definitely not making any sense. Could you please be so kind to stop me the next time I'm starting rambling such a crap... Because otherwise people might get the impression, that I'm the drunk one of us." We are sitting in the new eating place they built up instead of good old Doc Magoo's and she seems to revel in memories of the times she had been sitting here. To be honest, I miss this place to. The old red leather benches, the smell, the people... yes especially the people here. Whenever I came around I could be sure to meet someone from work. Someone who wanted to have lunch, or get some coffee, or who just wanted to flee the stress and work, the patients and the colleagues. And then you would make a sarcastic comment and start talking to them. You would have a nice conversation about the hospital, about the latest gossip, about some superficial moment you share or you also had to live through. And then you would laugh and forget about the problems for some seconds, before you go back to work or you take the El home. And maybe you have found a new friend. Often you forget about the person the moment you walk out of the door. But sometimes you don't. And on some very special days you can't stop thinking about this person. On other days you meet all of your friends here to celebrate with them, and even if it is just, that the day is finally over. Or you share the saddest moments with them. That was Doc Magoo's. Good old home of the overworked and the sad and the happy and the stressed and the lost people in the ER. But it has changed. Everything has changed.
"Hey Carter, are you still with me?" She waves at me and grins. I nod. "Small test just to be sure: What day is it?"
I shake my head and smile. "Wednesday." She takes a look at her watch. "Sorry, Carter. Wrong answer. It's already Thursday." "What?" I can't believe that we had already sat here for almost four hours. "One more chance for you. And I recommend you to give the right answer. You know, I have my connections."
"To what?"
"To psychiatry... I did my last rotation there." She laughs about her own joke and then insists on an answer.
"You never asked another question, if I may remind you. But it's Thursday. See? My brain still works. I remember the last information you gave me."
She grins. "Alright. So...." She pretends to be thinking hard about another question. Then she leans forward on the table and grins even more. "So this is a really hard one: What's my name?"
I look at her... no, I stare at her and then try to count, how often she had said my name this evening. But I can't. And then I realize that I had never used her name in the last few hours. When was the last time I could her name? Not too long ago I would have used it in every sentence, would have remembered each time I had said it. But that's over now. I stumble and stutter. I grasp for air. Why? Because I am drunk, that must be the reason. I always get melancholic when the alcohol level in my blood drops. I sigh and then pout. But as I look at her childish expression I have the pout turns into a smile again and easier than anything else I say it: "Abigail Lockhart. Abby."
****************************
"The taxi should be here every minute", she explains and puts her mobile back into her bag.
"Thank you very much." I smile and close the zipper of my jacket.
"You're welcome." She also smiles and then looks down to her feet.
"How are you getting home?" I finally ask to break the silence. She looks away and hesitates for one moment, before she finally gives the answer.
"I called Conan to pick me up..." I questioningly look at her. Conan? Should this name ring a bell? I can't remember this name. Was he a colleague or a family member? Who was he? And what was it that caused this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach?
Again she sighs and seems uncertain about what to say. I know that she knows that I don't know Conan. What? Well once again this evening my thoughts are confusing me. "Should I know him?" I finally ask and try to keep my voice as neutral as possible.
"Yes... no... ye... well, he was the one on the motorcycle who picked me up a few weeks ago... the one you wanted to keep from parking in the ambulance bay."
I finally nod and roll my eyes with a grin on my face. Has it ever been that hard to smile before? I doubt that, but I don't know where this feeling comes from. "Sure, I remember him." Then I wait before I finally recall the fact that were are friends... nothing more and nothing less but friends... so we should be able to stay relaxed when we talk about such topics.
"Is he... are you... I mean, are you two..." Why is this so hard? "Are you two together?"
Now she is the one who rolls her eyes. She grins and looks up into the sky, then she shrugs her shoulders. "To be honest, I don't know what we really are." She notices my confused expression and tries to explain herself: "Well, it's fun with him. We occasionally meet, have some..." she makes a short break and then continues "...fun. But it's nothing serious... at least I think so... there wouldn't be much time for something serious anyway."
I nod and once again bring up my whole power smile. "So he's just someone to sweeten up your free time..." I'm doing everything to keep up the conversation.
She laughs and looks at me. She then throws her hands into the air: "Yes, I think that's how you could describe it."
Suddenly she turns around, as we hear the loud sound of an engine. Within the following second a motorcycle shows up, followed by a taxi.
"That's what I call timing", she comments the situation. Soon the taxi and the biker stop close to us.
"Time to go", I say and look at her, pondering how to say good bye. Which way would be the most appropriate. I could just wave to her, say "bye" and take my seat in the taxi. But then she had done so much for me this evening just by staying and talking with me that this way wouldn't even be close to what I wanted to do to say good bye. We both stand there and at each other for some seconds, we are frozen to these spots and can't move. At least I can't.
Then suddenly she is the one to break the ice. She comes closer to me and smiles. "Have a good night, Carter", she whispers before she lays her arms around me and hugs me for one short moment. I'm not sure how to react to this sudden surprising gesture from her. But then I let myself go, I decide to do what just feels right and shortly press her against myself. Then I loosen it again and look into her eyes.
"Thank you for spending some time with me", I whisper and then take back my arms. I wave to Conan and watch her as she gives him a slight kiss on the cheek and then takes her place behind him. "Take care", I want to shout. But instead it rather comes out as a murmur and they drive away without taking notice of it.
Then I climb into the taxi. The driver looks at me and waits for me to tell him the address. "Going home?" He then asks. I look out of the window and deeply sigh. Not really, I want to answer. It doesn't feel like home there. Just a place to sleep and store my stuff. "Yes" I say to avoid any more questions. It's one a.m. and the only thing I need now is sleep. I keep on looking out of the window, taking a deep breath. I don't mind the silence now. But it seems as if the driver does. He turns on the radio and for the last few miles of our way I do nothing but listening to the music.
"And here is the song for those who feel alone or lost or hurt outside in their cars or at home and who just can't sleep", the radio host announces the next song... "But keep in mind: You're never completely alone."
Drivin' home this evening
I coulda sworn we had it all worked out
You had this boy believin'
Way beyond the shadow of a doubt
I heard it on the street
I heard you mighta found somebody new
Well who is he baby - who is he
And tell me what he means to you
I took it all for granted
But how was I to know
That you'd be letting go
Now it cuts like a knife
But it feels so right
It cuts like a knife
But it feels so right
There's times I've 'bin mistaken
There's times I thought I'd 'bin misunderstood
So wait a minute darlin'
Can't you see we did the best we could
This would be the first time
Things have gone astray
Now you've thrown it all away
Now it cuts like a knife
But it feels so right
It cuts like a knife
But it feels so right