TITLE At the End of Chaos
RATING PG-13
SUMMARY Carter and Abby's "first date"…AWWW so cute!!
AUTHOR'S NOTE I am going to try really hard to make this as sweet and unique as possible. I love these characters—as you well know—and I think this "courtship" of theirs could be something that really makes us all warm and fuzzy. So this date may take place in many parts, switching between the two characters' POVs. But we'll see.
Thank you all so much for your continued reviews and kind words. They make me so very happy!!
ABBY
So, I went against my better judgment and kissed him. It wasn't something I planned, I just felt it in that moment and knew it was right. I could see that he was struggling with whether to kiss me or not, so I decided to make it easy on him. And boy, am I glad I did! That kiss—the first time our lips had touched in a year and a half—was the most electrically charged few seconds of my life. It was better than every other kiss I've ever had, including the first one Carter and I originally shared. I see it as a hopeful sign of the things to come for us.
After that meeting on the bench—"our bench", if you will—we went back to the ER, Carter went back to work, and I pored through some medical journals until about a half hour before my shift started. That was when Carter came into the lounge, made a declaration of "Coffee?", and we went off to feed our only remaining addiction.
Unfortunately, our little jaunt was interrupted by a 3 victim MVA, but before we were caught up in it Carter asked if I wanted to have dinner with him the following night. Our first real date. It was good that he asked me when he did, because following that MVA there was a string of traumas that came through, and before I had a chance to take a breath my shift was half over and Carter was finally able to leave his. Our only goodbye was a quick nod and smile over the heads of everyone else in the trauma room I was in, working on what would end up being the last trauma of my shift. I hadn't realized at the time that it was the last time I would see him until our date. When I did acknowledge this fact, however, the butterflies started working their magic in my stomach, and they're still working inside me now, two hours to the agreed-upon meeting time of 8 o'clock, when he'll be here to pick me up.
It's silly, really, that I'm so nervous. I've known John Carter for almost 5 years. We dated for more than a year, had sex, were as intimate as two people ever get. Why should I now feel like a 16-year-old going out for the first time?
Maybe it's not so silly. I mean, honestly, how well do I know him anymore? So much has happened, and we've both changed. Maybe we don't know each other at all anymore. Maybe…maybe this is a mistake.
No, it's not a mistake. We still care about each other. If love can survive all that has happened in our lives since we broke up, then surely it's worth trying this all again. And we're doing it the right way this time, taking things slowly, dating in a way we never got to the first time around. This is a good thing. A really, really good thing.
So, as I stand here in the shower, I take extra-special care shaving my legs and armpits, washing my body twice, making sure to thoroughly condition my hair. I can't help but humming a tune while I go through these ministrations of cleanliness, and I chuckle when I realize what that tune is: "Afternoon Delight". I always really liked that song.
I step carefully out of the tub, wrap a towel around my body, and squeeze the remaining moisture out of my hair before carefully wrapping a towel around my head. I sit on the toilet seat and, grabbing the lotion that I have carefully selected for tonight—a jasmine scented cream that he always liked—I slather it over every inch of my body, ensuring that I will be soft until the end of time. Next I floss and brush my teeth for an extra long time. When I take my hair out of the towel, I smile at my reflection. I got my hair done today, a shorter cut than what I've had in a while, just below my shoulders. I also went back to having more brown in it, so that there are still blonde streaks but I can go back to considering myself brunette. I liked the blonde, of course, and Carter did, too, but it was time for a change and I think I needed to see myself in that old way again. I always kind of preferred the brown, anyway.
I comb and blow dry my new 'do, then tackle the makeup. Carter said this was a casual thing, so I don't want to be too done up, but I also want to look especially good for him. For all intents and purposes this is stupid, as Carter has seen me first thing in the morning more times than I can count. But if this is a new start, then I want to pretend that we've never woken up together and that this really is the first time we've gone out together.
Having solved my makeup quandary, I slip on the jeans and black sweater I've chosen. I put on the new pair of dangly earrings I bought just for tonight, which look splendid with my new hair. I take one last look in the mirror before slipping on my boots, and smile. I look really good, if I do say so myself.
The one problem with all this is that I now realize it's only 7. I was so anxious about being ready on time that I overshot and gave myself too much time to prepare. What the hell am I going to do with myself for an hour?
I start to pace absent-mindedly through my apartment, straightening things that don't need it, occasionally glancing at myself in different surfaces to make sure I do look as good as I had earlier believed. This is confirmed each time, but as I glance at the clock a half hour later, the butterflies up the tempo of their flapping and suddenly I need to sit down. These are the times I wished I still drank or smoked.
Ten minutes later I'm drumming my fingers on the kitchen table when I hear a knock. I glance at my watch, realizing that if this is Carter, he's twenty minutes early, and walk quickly over to the door.
I open it to find a sheepish Carter staring down the hallway to his right, not realizing that the door is now open into my apartment. I notice that he's got a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and upon closer inspection I realize that they're dried flowers. He hears the door open, and looks in my direction.
"Hey," I say.
"Hey," he replies in surprise, and I see his eyes move over my new hair.
"Do you want to come inside?" I ask, stepping away from the door to allow him entrance.
"Sure," he says, walking into my apartment. "I like your hair," he continues, handing me the bouquet, smiling. This really is feeling like a first date so far, I think to myself. I think we're going to be okay.
"Thank you," I say. I don't want to tell him that though I still have a penchant for the morbid beauty of dried flowers, live ones are nice, too. I quickly remove the lilies I have sitting on the kitchen table and place the new dried flowers in the vase, hoping he doesn't notice. As I look up at him, I see that he's looking around at my apartment, and hasn't seen the exchange. I throw the lilies into the trash, and walk over to where he's standing.
"You ready to go?" he asks. I nod, grab my purse, and we head out.
"Were you anxious to see me?" I ask as we sit down at the table in the small Italian restaurant tucked away in a secret corner of Chicago. As he takes his own seat he looks at me quizzically. I chuckle. "You were twenty minutes early picking me up," I say in response to his unasked question.
"Oh," he says, blushing. He clears his throat. "To be honest, I've been thinking about this all day, and after doing everything I could to put off picking you up, I just decided to come on over." He pauses, something occurring to him. "And you seemed pretty ready to go when I got there," he says, winking at me and smiling. Now it's my turn to blush, though I try to hide it behind the large menu.
"Yeah, I was." For a second I consider hiding my own anticipation, but then I realize that these kinds of things were what got us into trouble the first time around. "I gave myself too much time to get ready. I'd been sitting around, doing nothing but waiting, since 7." I smile back at him as he laughs gently. This feels okay so far. We're acknowledging an excitement to spend time with one another. That's almost like admitting we're still in love with each other.
"Benvuto, welcome," our waiter says, approaching the table. "How are we doing this evening?"
"Very good, thank you Signor," Carter replies.
"Can I start you off with anything to drink?" Carter looks at me, questioning. He's wondering if he should just order for the both of us, as he used to do. But I contend, in my own mind, that this is a first date, and on a first date the guy would not know what the girl would want. So I step in.
"I'll have a water please. With lemon," I reply, and wink at Carter. It's funny how I think he actually knows why I just did what I did.
"Same here."
"All right, benissimo. I will return shortly with your drinks and will take your order," the rotund waiter says, walking away from the table.
We both briefly peruse the menu, discussing the different options and deciding, as is pretty typical of us, that we want the same thing. However, in honor of our new beginning, I'm thinking of doing something different.
"Okay, how about this: we'll order different things, but share them. Maybe try something we've never had before. What do you think?"
"Sounds like a great idea. What haven't you tried?"
"Um…you know, I've never had Calamari. That's octopus, right?" Carter shrivels his nose at this.
"No, it's squid, and…EW," he replies, pretending to retch. I laugh at his antics.
"Okay, okay. No squid. How about…the clams and lemon garlic pasta?"
"I think I can handle that. I don't think I've ever had it before." He nods, folding his menu and placing it down on the table as the waiter returns with our waters.
"Have you decided?" he asks.
"Yes, we have. We will have the clams with lemon garlic pasta, and the lasagna." Carter does take over ordering here, but as we've discussed our options I decide it's okay.
The waiter nods as he writes down the order, smiles at us, and leaves. And now we are left to each other.
"So…" Carter says, running his finger over the top of his water glass.
"So…?" I reply, smiling at him and raising my eyebrows.
"So…this is nice. Us, here. Alone." He's smiling, but I can sense the serious undertone to his words.
"Yeah. It is."
"But, this is the hard part, isn't it? Finding a way to have a casual conversation as if we don't know each other when really we know so much about each other."
"Uh-huh," I say, laughing, because that's exactly what I was thinking.
"Well, okay. Let's start this off easily: what are your plans for Christmas?"
"I'm not sure yet. I think since I got Thanksgiving off that I'll probably have to work, so I told my mom that she and Eric should come here again. That I might get a tree and make it a real Christmas."
"That sounds nice." He suddenly becomes grim, and takes a drink from his glass, not meeting my gaze.
"Christmas is going to be really hard this year for you, isn't it?" I ask quietly.
"Yeah, I think so. I think I can get through it all right, especially after therapy and everything, but—"
"What? Therapy?" I almost tip over my glass at this revelation. Despite his sadness, Carter smiles at my shock.
"I've been going to Dr. Thatcher for a few months now. It's really helped me a lot." I reach over and touch his hand, squeezing it. I'm not even sure how to express how proud I am in this moment. "That, and having such great friends," he continues, smiling at me.
"It's nothing, John, really. After everything you've helped me get through, it's the least I could do." Now it's my turn to be serious as I draw my hand back to my side of the table. "And after…not being there for you when your grandmother died—"
"Oh, Abby. There's nothing you could have done about that. And besides, I pushed you away when you tried to help me. That wasn't your fault." This time he reaches out and grabs my hand.
"I know it wasn't. But that doesn't mean that I don't regret things not being different. You seemed so alone during all that. And I could have stayed, even after you told me to leave. It was just…you know, after everything that happened, it felt easier to just walk away rather than have to face your anger at me." I feel his thumb stroking the back of my hand, which helps the ball that has lodged itself in my throat. I hadn't realized until now that my eyes were glistening. I have kept this all bottled up inside of me for so long that I had forgotten it was there. I smile at the comfort of his touch, and finally allow myself to make eye contact with him again. When I meet his eyes, they show nothing but warmth and love.
"Abby, I've already told you that I wasn't angry at you. All the things that happened, what I was feeling, was about me. And especially about what I couldn't make work about us." He pauses, treading carefully. "Let's face it: we both had a lot of things preventing us from being 100% with each other, you know? I'm realizing now that time apart may be exactly what we needed in order for us to be able to give each other what we need. Because you know neither one of us was doing that before." His honesty floors me, and for a second I can't speak. I'm convinced that if I could see myself I would see that my jaw has dropped to the floor and drool is dripping down my chin. This is definitely a new Carter sitting in front of me. And what I owe him is to be the new Abby, the one who can be just as open as he's being with me right now.
"You're absolutely right. It's almost funny; we were both always blaming ourselves for what was wrong in our relationship. I kept waiting for you to get sick of me, to not want to deal with all the things I deal with on a daily basis. And you always thought that you just weren't good enough to make me happy." He nods in agreement, and then we're smiling at each other. This conversation will, in years to come, play over and over in my head as the most monumental, ground-breaking conversation of my life. Carter and I, for the first time I think ever, are actually telling each other exactly what is going through our minds. This is huge.
Now, I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I think this may be it. I think this may be the time that we both get it right. And as we sit here at dinner, gazing into each other's eyes (something I really thought only happened in the movies), I feel like I really could have everything some day. I see it behind his pupils: our wedding, our kids, our house in the suburbs; everything we've both ever dreamed of. And I've never been the kind of girl who dreamed of those things in that way. But that's the thing about Carter: he's always inspired in me things I never thought possible. Things that, for all intents and purposes, make no sense in my world.
And that is why I love him.