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Chapter 4: There is your trouble
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Should've been different, but it wasn't different was it Same old story and Dear John and so long It should have fit like a glove It should've fit like a ring, like a diamond ring A token of a true love Should've all worked out but it didn't She should be here now but she isn't
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"Abby, would you mind to stay here for two more hours?" Luka walked up to me, as I tried to get out of the hospital as soon as possible. I was tired. I was exhausted. I needed some sleep and silence.
"Yes", I answer as directly and clearly as possible. Then I shake my head, because I realize that the answer sounded rude. "Sorry, Luka, but I really need to go home."
He comes closer to talk to me. It seems as if he makes attempts to convince me to stay here, but no, not now. I'm stubborn now. I want to leave. I really need to. I wouldn't be much help anyway.
"Anything wrong, Abby?" I shake my head. "No, nothing. Really. I'm just tired. Really tired." I emphasize these last few words to make it clear to him.
"Abby, please. It's just two more hours. Kerry asked me to run the ER this week. I need to find doctors and with Susan on maternity leave we already miss one attending. And now Neela called in sick."
I really feel for Luka. It isn't easy to run this chaotic place. But it isn't easy to work intern shifts either. "Look, I'd really like to help you out. But I'm tired. I just finished a double shift. And I'm on again tomorrow at seven. So please let me get some sleep."
Suddenly I feel bad for leaving him alone with these things. But is it my problem to always care for other people? Everybody else would have already turned his back to him and gone home. But I am still standing here and listening to him. And he knows that with his deep dark eyes and his smile he can convince me to stay.
But now surprisingly he turns away and waves to me. "You are right Abby. Go home. Get some sleep. And have a good night."
I don't hear any kind of angriness or disappointment in his voice. I stare at him for a few seconds and then finally walk out of the ER. I really feel exhausted. My feet hurt. And each step my legs seem to get heavier.
But then I am still too awake to go to bed. Because of all the things I had to do, because of all the patients I had to treat pictures are still rushing through my head. I still hear the cute little boy who lost his mother. I still see the gun shot victim we had to treat this afternoon. He was only 16 years old and already involved in a shooting.
I keep walking and walking and suddenly reach a familiar path, I used to take in former times. I haven't been walking there for at least one year. It's the sidewalk that leads to the river.
Enjoying the warm wind and the atmosphere I follow the path. Young families are passing by with children who are laughing. Young couples are taking a walk after a long day of work to spend some time together. Old people sit on the benches next to the river and talk. Everyone enjoys the warm air of a late August evening.
Suddenly as I reach the most familiar place at the river, I see someone standing under the bridge. He leans against the parapet and looks at the river. His back is round and his shoulders seem sunk in. His head is lying in one of his hands.
I decide not to stop myself from walking along the river just because of a stranger standing there. But as I come closer, I notice his confused brown hear, the brown familiar bag standing next to him on the ground and the light brown jacket.
Then, just a few steps before I pass him, this person that looks so familiar, notices my steps and turns around. And now I drown in his brown eyes. He gives me a smile, a sad smile though. He has got folds on his forehead and looks tired. Suddenly I see some smoke rising from his hand. I stare at his left hand and can't believe what he is holding there. It's a cigarette. He, the one person who always wanted to stop me from smoking, is holding a cigarette. And I am pretty sure that he doesn't only hold it. He smokes it.
As I realize that I am staring at him, I shake my head and again look into his eyes. "John, hi", I say still surprised, but pretend that I am not caring about this old and new bad habit of him.
"Hi", he answers with a rough and husky voice. And I notice that I am not the only one who is surprised.
So we keep standing still for a few seconds until he opens his mouth and makes an attempt to break the silence. "So you're a going for a walk?"
I nod. "Yes." I wait for a moment and then decide to give a real answer to follow his attempt of starting a conversation. "Well, I just finished work and felt like I needed some fresh air, you know, I'm sure I won't be able sleep otherwise."
He nods and his hand wanders to his neck. He scratches it, closes his eyes and then opens them again taking a deep breath. I watch every move he is making.
"And you?" I finally feel obliged to ask. No, of course, it's not only obligation, it's also politeness and friendliness. And some inner force that won't let me go home. An inner power, that wouldn't let me move.
Again he sighs and then turns around to lean against the parapet again. I slowly follow him and lean against it, too, keeping some distance between the side of my body touching the metal. I look at him until he finally answers.
"I needed some fresh air." He says shortly and then turns his head away. Although he seems to have stopped and although one usually would get the impression, that this was all he had to say, I don't move and don't say anything. I hope for something more to come out of him. I feel a chance, that he might say more if I just give him the time to do so.
He lowers his head, steps from one foot to the other and looks down to the river. Then he opens his mouth, trying to speak, but again he shuts it and shakes his head.
"What?" I finally push myself to ask.
"Nothing."
"Come on, what is it? Why did you need some fresh air?" I ask him and this feels completely new to me. I never pushed someone to talk. I always thought they should open up if and when they wanted to. And then people ran away without ever giving me an answer to my million questions. And then I blamed myself for it? That I was too much of a coward, that they just didn't want to talk to me, that I was just not trustworthy... I always found myself guilty.
"I couldn't stay in this house any more."
"In your grandmother's mansion?" Maybe he feels reminded of her again.
"No, in the new house." I don't understand what he is talking about. A new house? John Carter buying a house for himself? The man who always lived in a small apartment to pretend being like everybody else?
"The house I bought for Kem and me and our... son." He swallows and presses his hands against each other." Now I know what this is all about. How could I forget? Of course it was about her.
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There's your trouble, There's your trouble Keep seein' double with the wrong one And you can see I love you You can't see she doesn't But you just keep holding on There's your trouble
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And I don't know what to say. As always when this topic comes up, I'm stunned. I'm frozen. And I am not able to give him an advice or to really help him. At least I can't do this with an inner conviction. As hard as I try I always feel this resistance. Why should this bother me? It's his life. It was his choice, she was his choice. This life was his choice. And then I always come to the same conclusion. His choice was to be happy. He pursued happiness and he thought that he had found it. That's simply human. But he never wanted it to end like this.
And now that everything has collapsed, the only thing he needs is some friends. And again I ask myself why I should care about it? I have my own life and one year ago he didn't care much either. And then I recall the years before that... when we were really good friends, occasionally best friends, and often more than friends. And that's the point where I know, that it's my duty to help him. Because there's the sweet memory of our friendship and this deep gratitude rooted in the past when he stood beside me during all my problems. And that's what friends are for.
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So now your thinkin' bout all your missin' How deep your sinkin' Round and round and draggin' down Why don't you cash in your chips Why don't you call it a loss Not such a big loss Chalk it up for better luck
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"Don't you think you should start letting go?" I carefully ask and lay my head to the side to look into his eyes which he hides behind his hands.
Then he takes his hands away and glances at me before he turns his head away again and takes a deep breath. "That's easier said than done."
"I know", I answer and my hand moves towards his but then I pull it back again and hide it in my jacket. "And everybody needs time to grieve. But one day you should try to find a way to get over this."
"I can't, Abby, I just can't. I go to work and see children, families and they remind me of what I could have now. And when I walk home I pass families who enjoy their life. Look around: There are happy families everywhere. And then I walk home to hide. I close the windows and the blinds, I turn off my phone, I go to bed and try to sleep, but there are always these pictures of what I could have now. I feel lonely, I feel lost. And I blame myself for not having seen the signs earlier. I am a doctor. I should have known that something was wrong. I should have been more careful. And I blame myself for letting her go. I ask myself why she left me. She didn't even want me to come with her. I don't get rid of the feeling that she never wants to see me again. But why? We loved each other. Shouldn't we work this through together?"
I am surprised. I am stunned, that he suddenly opened up. He kept talking and talking and only stopped to grasp for air. And I don't know what to reply. I feel his sadness. He is so desperate and hurt. He is so out of balance and doesn't seem to get out of this alone.
"You know, that there are people who want to help you, do you? They are your friends." And then I find the strength to reach out for his hand and take it. "And so am I. You can talk to me. I understand you."
He looks at me and for one moment he seems relieved. The tension in his hand lowers. But then he tears his hand away, looks somewhere else and turns his back to me.
"You don't understand. Nobody does."
"I do." I lower my voice to make it clear to him. But I can't prevent feeling rejected.
"No you don't." He says with a sharp voice and takes a few steps away from me. Then his voice gets louder and he turns to the river. "Nobody knows what this pain feels like. Nobody knows what I have to live through."
I hesitate for one moment, but then I decide to be honest, to say what I really think.
"I know." And I emphasize these words as much as I can.
"No, you don't. You don't have the slightest idea what it is like to lose a child." He gets more aggressive and now turns to me his arms moving wildly and his finger pointing at me.
"Yes, I do." I answer silently. Although I am hurt and feel more insecure than ever before Idecide to stay stubborn. I want to get through to him.
He keeps shouting as if I had never said anything. But I was most likely just too quiet. My voice was to low.
"You don't know what it is like to know that something is growing, a small human being that is part of you, that carries your heritage and then lose him before you get a chance to see this little thing alive." He keeps shouting, so full of frustration and desperateness.
And I can't stay silent any more. "Yes, I do." I raise my voice and finally shout too. "I know what this feels like. You can believe me. And I also know what it feels like to feel responsible for this loss. And while you where not really responsible, while there is no actual reason why you should blame yourself, I was responsible. I was guilty."
And then we both freeze to the spots where we are standing. We both stare at each other and don't move, we simply can't, we are too surprised by what just happened and it seems as if we could never move again. So much aggression, so much frustration and finally so much truth within just a few seconds. This is a point we never thought we would get to. This is a situation we never considered to come true. This scenario is just so unbelievable and overwhelming. And so unreal.
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There's your trouble, There's your trouble Keep seein' double with the wrong one And you can see I love you You can't see she doesn't But you just keep holding on There's your trouble
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"You don't know... you don't have the slightest idea.... You... you..." He is back to his shouting mode again, but this time it sounds weird and he is stuttering. And I can't believe what I just said. I have never really felt like that before. I have never been that honest before. And if so, I have never surprised myself that much before. And I can't believe that Carter is simply ignoring this. He gives the impression that he just hasn't listened to me.
He continues shouting, but suddenly his voice lowers. He shakes his head and now looks straight into my eyes. "You... you, what?" He grasps for air and I keep staring at him. My thoughts are a crazy mixture of everything. It's pure chaos up there in my head.
"You were...?" He doesn't seem to find the words. But then he closes his eyes for one short moment: "You were pregnant?"
I look away and pout before I slowly nod. It's so silent now, so quiet between us, that I can hear the wind blowing, I can hear him breathing. He is breathing fast, sometimes stopping for a few seconds.
"When? I mean, was it while...? Was I....?" Now I know that I should answer the question as soon as possible because I understand what he is thinking, what's going through his mind.
"No, no, no..." I shake my head and wave with my hand. "It happened a few years ago."
He nods and I know that he is thinking very hard about what he just heard. He probably never expected something like that from me. Maybe he is disappointed, maybe he doesn't care too much but is just stunned, maybe he can't believe what I just said, maybe he never thought about something like that, maybe he doesn't want to believe it, maybe he tries to figure out my reasons.
It's obvious that his aggression has been blown away. His voice is lower and smoother now, he slowly comes closer and sits down on the wooden bench next to me.
"Did you miscarry?" He now asks, playing with his fingers and looking down to the earth.
He hasn't understood, yet, what I had told him. "No...."
I wait for his reaction and he looks up, but not into my direction but to the river. On his forehead deep folds are engraved, he looks pale and tired and more exhausted then ever before.
"So you had an abortion?" I am surprised how easily he speaks it out. These words come out of his mouth as if they were so natural to him. But I don't get rid of the impression, that his words are at the same time full of disappointment.
I approach him and point at the bench. "May I?" He nods, but still keeps looking away. Then I sit down next to him, one leg drawn in and lying on the bench, so that my body is turned towards him.
I take a deep breath and run my hand over my thigh. This is harder than anything I have ever done before. And this is easier than anything I have ever done before.
"So, yes. I had an abortion a few years ago. At a time, when I was still married to Richard."
Now that he knows about when and what, we keep sitting there. I can't say whether for seconds or for minutes, or for half an hour. It seems as if the time stands still. We both keep looking around but don't dare to move from our places or to look into each others eyes.
Suddenly I notice that Carter turns his head to me. I feel his look and slowly move my head to see his deep brown eyes. Then I raise my hands as if I wanted to excuse myself.
"Why? I mean, I'm sure you had your reasons. But then on the other hand I can't think of a REAL reason." I know that now in his situation it must be hard to imagine someone killing a human being. He can't figure out why one would do that.
I try hard to find the right words. I make up my mind and it takes a few seconds, before I finally speak: "I was scared. I thought that I might pass on my mother's disease. I was afraid, that my child could have the same thing, that I would be responsible for it and to be honest: I was also afraid of going through all of this again." At this time of course I had no idea, that Eric would turn out to be bipolar, too. "This running after someone, this being scared, that something could happen, this fear, that they would stop taking their meds, this fear that one day you would not only have to see your mother but also see your own child suffer, this feeling when you are rejected every time you only try to be there for them and help them. And I couldn't talk about it, to no one, not even Richard.... Of course not to Richard, our marriage was already more of a ruined debacle than anything else. And as much as I wished for a child...." I sigh, before I continue. "I was too afraid of all the other things that would probably be combined with this pleasure."
Carter slowly nods and shrugs his shoulders. I know that in this state of life he wouldn't really accept or understand any reasons I give him. He would take any risk to have a child now, to have his dreams come true. And I am sure it was totally wrong to make this all about my problems. Why would he be interested in things that I did years ago? They are buried in the past, but his present is much more important to him now. It's present.
"How come you never told me?" He suddenly asks and looks at me. I am highly astonished. I never thought that he would ask something like that.
I shake my head. "I don't know... maybe because I never really told anyone. Not on purpose... and I always tried to hide this from my boy friends. But so far children have never been a topic again."
Carter looks at me with huge eyes. I have no idea, what he wants to tell me. His mouth is slightly opened and he seems to grasp for air. Then he turns his head and looks away.
"Do you really think so?" he suddenly asks and once again looks into my eyes. He is keeping his eyes fixed and is obviously waiting for an answer.
"What?" I don't understand what he aims at. What does he want to tell me? What is he trying to express?
"Do really think, that children have never been a topic again? Because then I can prove you wrong." He stops for one moment and now I am slowly getting an idea where this is leading.
He continues speaking. "When we were together, I always thought about having children with you. But I never brought it up, because I knew, that you were too afraid." He seems so cooled down and clear minded now. "I even talked with Maggie about it."
Instantly my facial expression changes and I feel embarrassed and angry at the same moment. "You did what?" I ask him in a shocked way.
And he soon understands, what is going through my mind. That's something he always did. At least he always tried. And he was the one who came closest to my real feelings, the one who almost cracked me.
"No, no, no... I didn't run to her. When I drove her to the airport last year, we talked about my plans to propose and about having a family. And she asked, if we had ever talked about that. That was the moment, when I told her, that I knew, that you were too afraid of passing on. See? I knew what you thought without asking you, without needing an explanation."
I nod and suddenly we share another look and both start smiling. For a few seconds we both remain silent and rejoice in this wonderful, comfortable moment of unity. It's so good to be able to talk to him again. And something tells me, that he is feeling the same.
Then I stand up and dramatically ask him another question, still keeping a smile on my face. "So Mr. Stop-this-bad-habit-it-causes-cancer, what is it with you and that stinking cigarette. Don't tell me you broke your own rules."
He looks down to the ground and then stands up, too. "Well, what can I say? I'm a bad example." He throws his arms up into the air and takes a few steps. I follow him and we keep walking along the river.
"No, honestly: Why did you start smoking again?"
"Why did you?" He asks back. I nod but then give him a strict look.
"Okay, now the truth." He takes a deep breath. "I tried to fill the emptiness... I know, smoking is probably the worst way to do that. But it's hard to stay rational, when you lost everything you had."
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Should have all worked out But it didn't She should be here now But she isn't
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"You didn't lose everything", I instantly reply and smile at him. "You still have the work you love and your friends who will always be there for you."
I watch Carter taking another few steps. Suddenly he walks faster, he takes the cigarettes out of his jacket and runs to a garbage can. "Sometimes you're just too right, Abby." He looks at me and throws the cigarettes away.
I can't stop myself from laughing. "That's what I wanted to see." And then I follow his model and take out my cigarettes to throw them away, too.
For a few minutes we stand there, laughing and taking our oaths to never start smoking again. Whether we will keep our promises or not, doesn't matter. We just enjoy the moment and forget about everything else.
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There's your trouble, There's your trouble Keep seein' double with the wrong one And you can see I love you You can't see she doesn't But you just keep holding on There's your trouble, There's your trouble
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After another quarter of an hour spent with walking and talking, with laughing and thinking, with opening up and encouraging each other, we reach the El station close to the hospital. As I want to take the steps up to the tracks, I realize that Carter stopped walking and I turn around.
"Aren't you going home?" I ask and walk downstairs again. Two steps before him I stop. This situation seems so familiar.
He shakes his head. "No, I gotta work. My shift started..." He takes a look at his watch. "... exactly 55 minutes ago."
I give him a surprised look and shake my head. "Oh, Kerry is gonna kill you." I smile but then become earnest again. "Why didn't you say anything?"
He shrugs his shoulders and again I shake my head in disbelief. I guess, we both simply forgot about the time.
Then I suddenly hear the El approaching. "I have to go now." We look into each others eyes and just because it feels right, just because I think he needs it, just because I'm thankful for the last truthful, dramatic and still wonderful hours, just because I feel the strong need to do it, I instantaneously hug him and feel him being surprised for a short moment. But then returns the gesture.
As I hear the train stopping, I turn around and start running. On the last step I turn around once again and wave at him as he is still standing on the same spot and watching me running.
"See you", I shout and only see his mouth moving. I guess, he answered the same. Then I get on the train and make my way home.
Chapter 4: There is your trouble
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Should've been different, but it wasn't different was it Same old story and Dear John and so long It should have fit like a glove It should've fit like a ring, like a diamond ring A token of a true love Should've all worked out but it didn't She should be here now but she isn't
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"Abby, would you mind to stay here for two more hours?" Luka walked up to me, as I tried to get out of the hospital as soon as possible. I was tired. I was exhausted. I needed some sleep and silence.
"Yes", I answer as directly and clearly as possible. Then I shake my head, because I realize that the answer sounded rude. "Sorry, Luka, but I really need to go home."
He comes closer to talk to me. It seems as if he makes attempts to convince me to stay here, but no, not now. I'm stubborn now. I want to leave. I really need to. I wouldn't be much help anyway.
"Anything wrong, Abby?" I shake my head. "No, nothing. Really. I'm just tired. Really tired." I emphasize these last few words to make it clear to him.
"Abby, please. It's just two more hours. Kerry asked me to run the ER this week. I need to find doctors and with Susan on maternity leave we already miss one attending. And now Neela called in sick."
I really feel for Luka. It isn't easy to run this chaotic place. But it isn't easy to work intern shifts either. "Look, I'd really like to help you out. But I'm tired. I just finished a double shift. And I'm on again tomorrow at seven. So please let me get some sleep."
Suddenly I feel bad for leaving him alone with these things. But is it my problem to always care for other people? Everybody else would have already turned his back to him and gone home. But I am still standing here and listening to him. And he knows that with his deep dark eyes and his smile he can convince me to stay.
But now surprisingly he turns away and waves to me. "You are right Abby. Go home. Get some sleep. And have a good night."
I don't hear any kind of angriness or disappointment in his voice. I stare at him for a few seconds and then finally walk out of the ER. I really feel exhausted. My feet hurt. And each step my legs seem to get heavier.
But then I am still too awake to go to bed. Because of all the things I had to do, because of all the patients I had to treat pictures are still rushing through my head. I still hear the cute little boy who lost his mother. I still see the gun shot victim we had to treat this afternoon. He was only 16 years old and already involved in a shooting.
I keep walking and walking and suddenly reach a familiar path, I used to take in former times. I haven't been walking there for at least one year. It's the sidewalk that leads to the river.
Enjoying the warm wind and the atmosphere I follow the path. Young families are passing by with children who are laughing. Young couples are taking a walk after a long day of work to spend some time together. Old people sit on the benches next to the river and talk. Everyone enjoys the warm air of a late August evening.
Suddenly as I reach the most familiar place at the river, I see someone standing under the bridge. He leans against the parapet and looks at the river. His back is round and his shoulders seem sunk in. His head is lying in one of his hands.
I decide not to stop myself from walking along the river just because of a stranger standing there. But as I come closer, I notice his confused brown hear, the brown familiar bag standing next to him on the ground and the light brown jacket.
Then, just a few steps before I pass him, this person that looks so familiar, notices my steps and turns around. And now I drown in his brown eyes. He gives me a smile, a sad smile though. He has got folds on his forehead and looks tired. Suddenly I see some smoke rising from his hand. I stare at his left hand and can't believe what he is holding there. It's a cigarette. He, the one person who always wanted to stop me from smoking, is holding a cigarette. And I am pretty sure that he doesn't only hold it. He smokes it.
As I realize that I am staring at him, I shake my head and again look into his eyes. "John, hi", I say still surprised, but pretend that I am not caring about this old and new bad habit of him.
"Hi", he answers with a rough and husky voice. And I notice that I am not the only one who is surprised.
So we keep standing still for a few seconds until he opens his mouth and makes an attempt to break the silence. "So you're a going for a walk?"
I nod. "Yes." I wait for a moment and then decide to give a real answer to follow his attempt of starting a conversation. "Well, I just finished work and felt like I needed some fresh air, you know, I'm sure I won't be able sleep otherwise."
He nods and his hand wanders to his neck. He scratches it, closes his eyes and then opens them again taking a deep breath. I watch every move he is making.
"And you?" I finally feel obliged to ask. No, of course, it's not only obligation, it's also politeness and friendliness. And some inner force that won't let me go home. An inner power, that wouldn't let me move.
Again he sighs and then turns around to lean against the parapet again. I slowly follow him and lean against it, too, keeping some distance between the side of my body touching the metal. I look at him until he finally answers.
"I needed some fresh air." He says shortly and then turns his head away. Although he seems to have stopped and although one usually would get the impression, that this was all he had to say, I don't move and don't say anything. I hope for something more to come out of him. I feel a chance, that he might say more if I just give him the time to do so.
He lowers his head, steps from one foot to the other and looks down to the river. Then he opens his mouth, trying to speak, but again he shuts it and shakes his head.
"What?" I finally push myself to ask.
"Nothing."
"Come on, what is it? Why did you need some fresh air?" I ask him and this feels completely new to me. I never pushed someone to talk. I always thought they should open up if and when they wanted to. And then people ran away without ever giving me an answer to my million questions. And then I blamed myself for it? That I was too much of a coward, that they just didn't want to talk to me, that I was just not trustworthy... I always found myself guilty.
"I couldn't stay in this house any more."
"In your grandmother's mansion?" Maybe he feels reminded of her again.
"No, in the new house." I don't understand what he is talking about. A new house? John Carter buying a house for himself? The man who always lived in a small apartment to pretend being like everybody else?
"The house I bought for Kem and me and our... son." He swallows and presses his hands against each other." Now I know what this is all about. How could I forget? Of course it was about her.
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There's your trouble, There's your trouble Keep seein' double with the wrong one And you can see I love you You can't see she doesn't But you just keep holding on There's your trouble
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And I don't know what to say. As always when this topic comes up, I'm stunned. I'm frozen. And I am not able to give him an advice or to really help him. At least I can't do this with an inner conviction. As hard as I try I always feel this resistance. Why should this bother me? It's his life. It was his choice, she was his choice. This life was his choice. And then I always come to the same conclusion. His choice was to be happy. He pursued happiness and he thought that he had found it. That's simply human. But he never wanted it to end like this.
And now that everything has collapsed, the only thing he needs is some friends. And again I ask myself why I should care about it? I have my own life and one year ago he didn't care much either. And then I recall the years before that... when we were really good friends, occasionally best friends, and often more than friends. And that's the point where I know, that it's my duty to help him. Because there's the sweet memory of our friendship and this deep gratitude rooted in the past when he stood beside me during all my problems. And that's what friends are for.
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So now your thinkin' bout all your missin' How deep your sinkin' Round and round and draggin' down Why don't you cash in your chips Why don't you call it a loss Not such a big loss Chalk it up for better luck
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"Don't you think you should start letting go?" I carefully ask and lay my head to the side to look into his eyes which he hides behind his hands.
Then he takes his hands away and glances at me before he turns his head away again and takes a deep breath. "That's easier said than done."
"I know", I answer and my hand moves towards his but then I pull it back again and hide it in my jacket. "And everybody needs time to grieve. But one day you should try to find a way to get over this."
"I can't, Abby, I just can't. I go to work and see children, families and they remind me of what I could have now. And when I walk home I pass families who enjoy their life. Look around: There are happy families everywhere. And then I walk home to hide. I close the windows and the blinds, I turn off my phone, I go to bed and try to sleep, but there are always these pictures of what I could have now. I feel lonely, I feel lost. And I blame myself for not having seen the signs earlier. I am a doctor. I should have known that something was wrong. I should have been more careful. And I blame myself for letting her go. I ask myself why she left me. She didn't even want me to come with her. I don't get rid of the feeling that she never wants to see me again. But why? We loved each other. Shouldn't we work this through together?"
I am surprised. I am stunned, that he suddenly opened up. He kept talking and talking and only stopped to grasp for air. And I don't know what to reply. I feel his sadness. He is so desperate and hurt. He is so out of balance and doesn't seem to get out of this alone.
"You know, that there are people who want to help you, do you? They are your friends." And then I find the strength to reach out for his hand and take it. "And so am I. You can talk to me. I understand you."
He looks at me and for one moment he seems relieved. The tension in his hand lowers. But then he tears his hand away, looks somewhere else and turns his back to me.
"You don't understand. Nobody does."
"I do." I lower my voice to make it clear to him. But I can't prevent feeling rejected.
"No you don't." He says with a sharp voice and takes a few steps away from me. Then his voice gets louder and he turns to the river. "Nobody knows what this pain feels like. Nobody knows what I have to live through."
I hesitate for one moment, but then I decide to be honest, to say what I really think.
"I know." And I emphasize these words as much as I can.
"No, you don't. You don't have the slightest idea what it is like to lose a child." He gets more aggressive and now turns to me his arms moving wildly and his finger pointing at me.
"Yes, I do." I answer silently. Although I am hurt and feel more insecure than ever before Idecide to stay stubborn. I want to get through to him.
He keeps shouting as if I had never said anything. But I was most likely just too quiet. My voice was to low.
"You don't know what it is like to know that something is growing, a small human being that is part of you, that carries your heritage and then lose him before you get a chance to see this little thing alive." He keeps shouting, so full of frustration and desperateness.
And I can't stay silent any more. "Yes, I do." I raise my voice and finally shout too. "I know what this feels like. You can believe me. And I also know what it feels like to feel responsible for this loss. And while you where not really responsible, while there is no actual reason why you should blame yourself, I was responsible. I was guilty."
And then we both freeze to the spots where we are standing. We both stare at each other and don't move, we simply can't, we are too surprised by what just happened and it seems as if we could never move again. So much aggression, so much frustration and finally so much truth within just a few seconds. This is a point we never thought we would get to. This is a situation we never considered to come true. This scenario is just so unbelievable and overwhelming. And so unreal.
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There's your trouble, There's your trouble Keep seein' double with the wrong one And you can see I love you You can't see she doesn't But you just keep holding on There's your trouble
***********************************
"You don't know... you don't have the slightest idea.... You... you..." He is back to his shouting mode again, but this time it sounds weird and he is stuttering. And I can't believe what I just said. I have never really felt like that before. I have never been that honest before. And if so, I have never surprised myself that much before. And I can't believe that Carter is simply ignoring this. He gives the impression that he just hasn't listened to me.
He continues shouting, but suddenly his voice lowers. He shakes his head and now looks straight into my eyes. "You... you, what?" He grasps for air and I keep staring at him. My thoughts are a crazy mixture of everything. It's pure chaos up there in my head.
"You were...?" He doesn't seem to find the words. But then he closes his eyes for one short moment: "You were pregnant?"
I look away and pout before I slowly nod. It's so silent now, so quiet between us, that I can hear the wind blowing, I can hear him breathing. He is breathing fast, sometimes stopping for a few seconds.
"When? I mean, was it while...? Was I....?" Now I know that I should answer the question as soon as possible because I understand what he is thinking, what's going through his mind.
"No, no, no..." I shake my head and wave with my hand. "It happened a few years ago."
He nods and I know that he is thinking very hard about what he just heard. He probably never expected something like that from me. Maybe he is disappointed, maybe he doesn't care too much but is just stunned, maybe he can't believe what I just said, maybe he never thought about something like that, maybe he doesn't want to believe it, maybe he tries to figure out my reasons.
It's obvious that his aggression has been blown away. His voice is lower and smoother now, he slowly comes closer and sits down on the wooden bench next to me.
"Did you miscarry?" He now asks, playing with his fingers and looking down to the earth.
He hasn't understood, yet, what I had told him. "No...."
I wait for his reaction and he looks up, but not into my direction but to the river. On his forehead deep folds are engraved, he looks pale and tired and more exhausted then ever before.
"So you had an abortion?" I am surprised how easily he speaks it out. These words come out of his mouth as if they were so natural to him. But I don't get rid of the impression, that his words are at the same time full of disappointment.
I approach him and point at the bench. "May I?" He nods, but still keeps looking away. Then I sit down next to him, one leg drawn in and lying on the bench, so that my body is turned towards him.
I take a deep breath and run my hand over my thigh. This is harder than anything I have ever done before. And this is easier than anything I have ever done before.
"So, yes. I had an abortion a few years ago. At a time, when I was still married to Richard."
Now that he knows about when and what, we keep sitting there. I can't say whether for seconds or for minutes, or for half an hour. It seems as if the time stands still. We both keep looking around but don't dare to move from our places or to look into each others eyes.
Suddenly I notice that Carter turns his head to me. I feel his look and slowly move my head to see his deep brown eyes. Then I raise my hands as if I wanted to excuse myself.
"Why? I mean, I'm sure you had your reasons. But then on the other hand I can't think of a REAL reason." I know that now in his situation it must be hard to imagine someone killing a human being. He can't figure out why one would do that.
I try hard to find the right words. I make up my mind and it takes a few seconds, before I finally speak: "I was scared. I thought that I might pass on my mother's disease. I was afraid, that my child could have the same thing, that I would be responsible for it and to be honest: I was also afraid of going through all of this again." At this time of course I had no idea, that Eric would turn out to be bipolar, too. "This running after someone, this being scared, that something could happen, this fear, that they would stop taking their meds, this fear that one day you would not only have to see your mother but also see your own child suffer, this feeling when you are rejected every time you only try to be there for them and help them. And I couldn't talk about it, to no one, not even Richard.... Of course not to Richard, our marriage was already more of a ruined debacle than anything else. And as much as I wished for a child...." I sigh, before I continue. "I was too afraid of all the other things that would probably be combined with this pleasure."
Carter slowly nods and shrugs his shoulders. I know that in this state of life he wouldn't really accept or understand any reasons I give him. He would take any risk to have a child now, to have his dreams come true. And I am sure it was totally wrong to make this all about my problems. Why would he be interested in things that I did years ago? They are buried in the past, but his present is much more important to him now. It's present.
"How come you never told me?" He suddenly asks and looks at me. I am highly astonished. I never thought that he would ask something like that.
I shake my head. "I don't know... maybe because I never really told anyone. Not on purpose... and I always tried to hide this from my boy friends. But so far children have never been a topic again."
Carter looks at me with huge eyes. I have no idea, what he wants to tell me. His mouth is slightly opened and he seems to grasp for air. Then he turns his head and looks away.
"Do you really think so?" he suddenly asks and once again looks into my eyes. He is keeping his eyes fixed and is obviously waiting for an answer.
"What?" I don't understand what he aims at. What does he want to tell me? What is he trying to express?
"Do really think, that children have never been a topic again? Because then I can prove you wrong." He stops for one moment and now I am slowly getting an idea where this is leading.
He continues speaking. "When we were together, I always thought about having children with you. But I never brought it up, because I knew, that you were too afraid." He seems so cooled down and clear minded now. "I even talked with Maggie about it."
Instantly my facial expression changes and I feel embarrassed and angry at the same moment. "You did what?" I ask him in a shocked way.
And he soon understands, what is going through my mind. That's something he always did. At least he always tried. And he was the one who came closest to my real feelings, the one who almost cracked me.
"No, no, no... I didn't run to her. When I drove her to the airport last year, we talked about my plans to propose and about having a family. And she asked, if we had ever talked about that. That was the moment, when I told her, that I knew, that you were too afraid of passing on. See? I knew what you thought without asking you, without needing an explanation."
I nod and suddenly we share another look and both start smiling. For a few seconds we both remain silent and rejoice in this wonderful, comfortable moment of unity. It's so good to be able to talk to him again. And something tells me, that he is feeling the same.
Then I stand up and dramatically ask him another question, still keeping a smile on my face. "So Mr. Stop-this-bad-habit-it-causes-cancer, what is it with you and that stinking cigarette. Don't tell me you broke your own rules."
He looks down to the ground and then stands up, too. "Well, what can I say? I'm a bad example." He throws his arms up into the air and takes a few steps. I follow him and we keep walking along the river.
"No, honestly: Why did you start smoking again?"
"Why did you?" He asks back. I nod but then give him a strict look.
"Okay, now the truth." He takes a deep breath. "I tried to fill the emptiness... I know, smoking is probably the worst way to do that. But it's hard to stay rational, when you lost everything you had."
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Should have all worked out But it didn't She should be here now But she isn't
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"You didn't lose everything", I instantly reply and smile at him. "You still have the work you love and your friends who will always be there for you."
I watch Carter taking another few steps. Suddenly he walks faster, he takes the cigarettes out of his jacket and runs to a garbage can. "Sometimes you're just too right, Abby." He looks at me and throws the cigarettes away.
I can't stop myself from laughing. "That's what I wanted to see." And then I follow his model and take out my cigarettes to throw them away, too.
For a few minutes we stand there, laughing and taking our oaths to never start smoking again. Whether we will keep our promises or not, doesn't matter. We just enjoy the moment and forget about everything else.
*******************************
There's your trouble, There's your trouble Keep seein' double with the wrong one And you can see I love you You can't see she doesn't But you just keep holding on There's your trouble, There's your trouble
******************************
After another quarter of an hour spent with walking and talking, with laughing and thinking, with opening up and encouraging each other, we reach the El station close to the hospital. As I want to take the steps up to the tracks, I realize that Carter stopped walking and I turn around.
"Aren't you going home?" I ask and walk downstairs again. Two steps before him I stop. This situation seems so familiar.
He shakes his head. "No, I gotta work. My shift started..." He takes a look at his watch. "... exactly 55 minutes ago."
I give him a surprised look and shake my head. "Oh, Kerry is gonna kill you." I smile but then become earnest again. "Why didn't you say anything?"
He shrugs his shoulders and again I shake my head in disbelief. I guess, we both simply forgot about the time.
Then I suddenly hear the El approaching. "I have to go now." We look into each others eyes and just because it feels right, just because I think he needs it, just because I'm thankful for the last truthful, dramatic and still wonderful hours, just because I feel the strong need to do it, I instantaneously hug him and feel him being surprised for a short moment. But then returns the gesture.
As I hear the train stopping, I turn around and start running. On the last step I turn around once again and wave at him as he is still standing on the same spot and watching me running.
"See you", I shout and only see his mouth moving. I guess, he answered the same. Then I get on the train and make my way home.