"And up, and down, and work those abs-" Bzt. "-and add curry to -" Bzt. "-your wife has a bleeeeeeeeeeeeping-" Bzt. "-ass, and shake that-" Bzt. "- man accused of-" Rrrring!
Unknown caller, thank you for interrupting my terribly exciting channel surfing. With a final "Bzt" the TV shuts off and I pick up the phone.
"Hello?" I mumble into the receiver, wondering who will be calling me on this boring Wednesday night.
"Susan? It's Carter- John. Do you have some time to talk?" Oh my god, John's back! I've been worried about him ever since he dashed off to Africa, and it's really nice to know he's back and apparently okay.
"Of course! When did you get back, John? Everything okay?" Chuck's cat, Mitzi, whom I am cat sitting, hops on my lap and I produce an "oomph" because Mitzi is not the most slender of cats, to put it mildly. I gently shove her off me onto the couch, but she won't leave me alone, and starts gnawing on the phone cord. I push her off the couch with a more forceful shove, and she retreats to the kitchen after giving me a dirty look.
"Just got in last night. My plane got delayed in Germany."
"Come on over – want me to fix anything to eat?" I go through a mental inventory of what we have in the kitchen and realize I probably shouldn't have offered the food, unless John wants to eat lots and lots of moo-shoo pork with three-day old rice.
"Nope, thanks – I just had some pizza before I called. But thanks for the offer, anyway. See you in an hour."
"See you." I put the phone down and turn the TV back on, this time without sound and watch some weird infomercial with muscly men holding up boxes. I was definitely not expecting John today, so I don't even make an effort to transform into EverydaySusan. John'll get to see the Susan rarely seen by co-workers, the BunnySlippers-HairCurlers-Pajamas-Susan.
I switch the channel again and finally find something to watch – Walker, Texas Ranger. I'm a sucker for Chuck Norris – yes, I know he can't act his way out of a paper bag, but I enjoy seeing him kicking asses of bad guys. In the commercial break I dash to the kitchen to make some popcorn, and make it back just as Walker comes on again. I have to make a small interruption when Walker's chasing the bad guys because Mitzi puked up a hairball on the carpet, revenging her exile from the couch, and just when credits start rolling, the doorbell rings. I wisely turn off the TV (don't need John knowing my secret weakness) and almost bounce over to the door. Yep, definitely time to cut down on sugar.
I open the door and take in John's appearance. He looks tanned, much tanned then he usually is. When I met John, he was the whitest white guy in the hospital. He was so cute then, with his dorky hair and a tailored lab coat he had to dry-clean every week because he was a puke magnet. I think he got thrown up by all of our frequent flier drunks that year.
"It's so nice to see you!" I gush, thinking that I must really look silly. "You look great!" He smiles a tired smile and gives me a friendly hug, which I return with more energy than I thought I had. I really have to stop eating so much candy on my days off.
"Well, Susan, are you going to let me in?" John asks with a smile and I realize we're still standing on the threshold and the old biddy next door is giving John's butt an appreciative look through her slightly opened door.
"Forgive me – I think I forgot to turn my brain on today. Come on in." I step back to let him inside and close the door behind him. "Want some tea?"
"Yeah," John replies, following me to the kitchen through the maze of boxes of my childhood stuff Dad has unexpectedly decided to get rid of last month, which make navigating my apartment somewhat dangerous.
"Mint, chamomile, black or cherry?" I should start a tea museum. I swear, I still have some tea from when my cousin Lisa visited me in 1990.
"Black." I put some water to boil and pull out two mugs from the cupboard, putting a cherry teabag in mine. John sits down on one of the kitchen stools, and looks around the kitchen, unusually quiet. I try to think of uplifting conversation topics, but can't come up with anything and decide to chatter on about work.
"We're getting a renovation of the ER - Romano's been on Weaver's ass about the costs all week, so not much has changed in that department. Pratt decided he wants to be at County after all, so he's somehow switched places with Jackson - you know, that guy from Mercy who was supposed to come, but who also reconsidered. There's a rumor that we might get more nurses too. That's all, I think." The kettle whistles and I pour hot water in the mugs before putting it back on the stove and turning the burner off. John takes a sip of his tea and smiles.
"Sorry that I'm so quiet - I think my brain's still on Congo time." He puts his mug down and starts twisting a ring he is wearing around his finger. I decide it's time to zero in on what's bothering him.
"So, what's on your mind?"
"I think I'm breaking up with Abby."
I raise an eyebrow and contemplate the statement. It's somewhat unexpected, since from afar, from my perspective, everything seemed to be going okay. I was there when it started – in fact, I encouraged him. Our little fling was just a little fling – John is a sweet guy, but he's too complicated for me. I'm a simple girl – although I do fit the description of younger John's Blonde Girlfriend, I'm not stupid or angsty enough. John really has shitty luck with women. He needs to get someone with both feet on the ground who'll keep him there too. I am not a very predictable person, if you catch my drift – I can be down to earth one day and getting married in Vegas to a complete stranger the other - I might seem like I'm solid and respectable at times, but there's a little bit of Chloe in me which sometimes makes me do stupid choices. Not that running off to Vegas has been a stupid choice - I met Chuck, after all, but it has not has been the smartest moment of the decade.
"So you think you're breaking up or are you in fact breaking up?"
"I don't know." He looks at his tea, his face tense and tired, and I can feel that he needs to talk about this, make sense of it, and he wants me to ask the questions he doesn't want to ask himself.
"What happened, if I might ask? I'm not trying to be nosy, but I was under impression that everything was going well between you two." They seemed like a perfect couple – they never fought at work, always were all smiles and handholding at the parties, but I guess all that perfection didn't hold them together.
"Well, I almost proposed to her a couple of months ago." He stops, takes a sip of tea and continues to study the pattern of my tablecloth. "I got all geared up, got a ring, took her to a nice restaurant and then I realized I was really not prepared for the commitment, and neither was Abby. After that there was the whole thing with her brother, and then things just seemed to snowball at work, and then Gamma died. You probably heard about the funeral. That didn't make things go any smoother, and then I left for the Congo on a whim. Now I'm back, and Abby has just politely kicked me out of her apartment."
Wow. That's not a very fun homecoming - but John really has done some of this to himself. I wish I'd know what to tell him - but I don't, and I am sorry.
"Well - to tell the truth, I'm not sure what to tell you. I guess it all depends on what you think. Do you think you want to go apologize to Abby? To try to fix whatever has happened?"
"I don't think I want to try and fix it. I don't know what I am supposed to be sorry about right now." I sorta know the feeling - this conversation reminds me of the whole Div situation somehow. Whoa - really don't want to go there. What's been buried should remain all good and dead.
"Well – then all advice I can give to you is to wait and see." I smile and point at myself. "I think I should make it clear that I'm not the best relationship advisor." That draws a smile from him - not a full smile, but a smile that reminds me of the John I used to date and maybe perhaps of the dorky John of olden days.
"Want to tell me about the trip?" I prompt, deciding that it's time to steer the conversation away from Abby.
"I think I need something stiffer then tea to do that," John says, his smile faltering. Uh-oh, bad change of topic, but at least we're not beating a dead horse over who's to blame in the relationship
"Whisky? My mom brought it the last time she visited." John nods and I go to look for the bottle, closing my eyes for a moment to remember Mom, blinking away a tear which finds its way down my cheek. My mom could be a bitch with a capital B, to tell the truth, but boy do I miss her. The Cookie Lewis Memorial Johnny Walker is located and poured into two glasses which join the teacups.
"Congo has definitely been an eye-opener. I'd never seen such hospital conditions and -and there were kids dying that we could save with a ten-dollar vaccine. It made me think things over quite a lot.. but I guess it also made me feel like I could change something in the world. I guess I needed a good kick in the head for a while now. Maybe Luka somehow knew it, and that's maybe why he asked me to come."
"How's Luka?" I don't know him very well, but I worry about him. He seems like someone who needs to find someone to be his friend or he will self-destruct, which he has been excelling at all last year.
John takes a gulp of whisky from the glass and sighs.
"I won't be lying if I tell you I have no idea. I am not sure why he went there. I feel like I got to know him there, yet at the same time I feel like I don't know anything about him." John puts his glass down and twirls his ring again. "You know, Susan – just a couple of months ago, I was ready to propose to Abby, I felt confident in myself and I thought that everything had finally evened out in my life. No stabbing nightmares, no thoughts of taking drugs, nothing – and wham, Gamma died, I found out that I didn't really know Abby or myself well at all, and I realized that I could count my friends on one hand." He pours some more whisky into his glass and almost drinks it all in one gulp. "And then Luka just had togo and show me how insignificant all this early-thirties soul-searching is." He laughs, but it's not a happy laugh, not at all. "The whisky must be going to my head. I think I'll go - I just got a new apartment and I need to go furniture shopping and sulking. Thanks for listening to me whine about my problems..."
"You're welcome, John. Well, whatever you'll decide, my door is always open. If you need a shoulder to cry on, a couch to sleep on, etcetera-"
"- I'll give you a call," John ends the sentence for me and we both smile. "I'll be sure to take advantage of your shoulder if the situation arises. Thanks for listening, Susan - I really mean it."
"You're welcome," I say again, and walk John to the front door. We hug, and after quick and slightly awkward good-byes, John departs to max out his AmEx on furniture, and I return to my perch in front of the TV, back to my existence as a semi-attached single thirty-something doctor who eats too much candy and watches too much TV, complete with a weight- and attitude-challenged cat and Chris Meloni solving another crime just for my enjoyment...
A/N: Well, here's my take on Susan. I'm really not sure that I have gotten her in character, so if you feel she's too OOC let me know. Sorry for the huge delay between chapters, but between my course load and my manic depression, my muse temporarily kicked the bucket. Note for Lusans and Carsans – I'm a firm Susan/Chuck shipper. They're just so cute together… The Chuck Norris reference is from the fact that I watched it with my landlady in Dubrovnik who has met Goran in the airport and with whom I agree on Chuck Norris's acting ability yet just as she, love watching him kick bad guy ass...
Dedication: This one goes out to my Susan-loving friends, whose names I really can't remember now… forgive me, dear friends, but my brain's full of strange research material for my B.A. thesis and I am lucky to remember my own name most of the time...