Make it All Make Sense—Chapter 5

And what're you gonna do when you're done?? That's right!!!!!

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Natalie

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Elizabeth placed the steaming plate of spaghetti in front of Robert, and brought the glasses of water she'd poured to the table.

"Wow," he said appreciatively "This both looks and smells delicious."

"It is." She said, smiling lightly.

She cut the spaghetti on her plate with the fork, and looked into the plate as though it could have all the answers. She wished things were that easy. That she could look into a plate of spaghetti and find the answers to all of her problems. But she knew that she couldn't. In real life there were no crystal balls, there were no second chances.

"What did that spaghetti ever do to you?" Robert asked, noticing her stare.

"Huh?" she said as she was shaken from her thoughts.

"The spaghetti. You're staring at it. I was just wondering what it ever did to you."

She laughed slightly at this before she spoke: "Oh, sorry, I suppose I was spacing out."

He smiled "That's okay, it happens to the best of us. At least you spaced out on a plate of spaghetti and not on an open patient."

That was weird logic, but she followed it "Yes, I suppose that's true."

He lifted his glass of water and took a drink. "I was right—this spaghetti is delicious. I didn't know you could cook."

"You've never asked." She said as though that made all things clear.

"Ah—but on the same note, you never told me."

She tilted her head a little "Yes, and we've spent so much time speaking of my cooking skills, I cannot believe that I forgot to mention it."

"Ah—true." He said as he took another bite of his spaghetti.

Elizabeth felt nervousness. A sense of nervousness that masked her true despair. She liked the façade she was creating, it made her feel like herself again—whomever that may be.

Her concept of herself had changed since Mark, and sometimes she wasn't sure she even knew who she truly was. But here, she had a chance to move on, to move past the memory of Mark, to move on past the lonely nights and restless dreams that left her with no peace.

When she had invited Robert over she wasn't even sure as to what she'd intended. All she'd known was that she wanted—needed—the pain to go away. She felt as though she couldn't live another day with the memory of Mark on her mind.

And now, she was here, with Robert, a man whom she'd previously hated. But he had, she found, come to be there for her—know her even. He had comforted her in the only way she wanted to be comforted, not by false apologies and empty words, but by truthful caring, filled not with words meant to heal, but filled with words meant to help.

Healing was something she'd had playing on her mind for such time, so much so that she wasn't quite sure that she even knew the definition of the word as she perceived it. All she knew was that she desperately craved some form of it—whatever form it may take, it didn't matter, because she'd convinced herself that she needed it to live again. And when she invited Robert over, it was healing she'd had in mind.

In truth, she didn't give a damn if it was right—she didn't care if it was the wrong way to handle the situation. She didn't care because she didn't believe it mattered. In her mind, the only thing that had mattered was gone—forever. Mark was gone and he was never going to return. And now, she was left alone to try to sort through her feelings of depression and desperation. She saw this chance with Robert as a way to heal—as a way to make things right inside of her.

And though she feared that she might have been making a mistake, there was no way she could let herself let this chance slip away. She saw this as the ultimate way of moving on; she saw the situation as her only hope: her only salvation.

And as her mind raced on in this manner, she became aware of Robert's voice, cutting through the silence "...your day?"

"I'm sorry?"

He smiled gently, noticing her wandering mind, and repeated his question: "I said: How was your day?"

She cleared her throat, trying to gather her train of thought "It was relatively uneventful." She stated, still nervous.

"No exciting medical procedure today Dr. Corday?" he stressed the syllables, aware of their rhyme.

She chuckled softly "No, nothing even remotely exciting. And you? How was your day?"

"My day... my day... was worse than yours."

She doubted it. She considered asking him: 'so you spent much of your day thinking about your ex-husband whom is now dead?' but decided against it. Instead, she opted for: "Doubtful, but how so?"

"I spent all day doing paperwork. I didn't step one foot into the operating room."

"Oh, that sounds like a grand time."

"Oh, it was." He stated, laughing slightly "I will say however, that I did kick the paperwork's ass."

She smiled truthfully at that "Did you now?"

"Of course. I might be short, but surely I can hold my own against a stack of paper."

She loved his sense of humor like this. It was gentle, and she enjoyed hearing his jokes, they made her forget the pain she felt inside.

"Right, that is, of course, after the tree has been cut down to make the paper." It was an awkward joke, but he caught it's meaning, and chuckled along with her.

"Hey—Only I can make height jokes." He said, smiling.

"No, I'm allowed to as well." She stated as though it were a rule.

"Fine—but if anyone else says it to my face, I'll make like they're paper and go at em."

She'd not seen him like this—such innocent jokes, free of innuendo. She liked the change, but hoped it didn't stick forever. She liked his sarcasm, though she'd never admit that fact to him.

He was the polar opposite of Mark in every way—yet here she was, with him. It all felt so odd to her, so strange.

They finished their dinner in silence, with the same innocent banter flowing between them freely.

Robert finally stood, and announced that it was time to leave—but Elizabeth didn't want him to go. She wasn't healed, she wasn't fine, she wasn't okay. She didn't want to be alone in this empty house where memories flooded the walls of every hall—she didn't want to be alone.

He was heading toward the door, and she felt something in her snap, in a way, as she made her vocal cords work "Robert, wait."

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Okay, I'd say two, maybe three more chapters left in this one—so review me... I NEED REVIEWS!!!!!!! : )

Natalie