Driving a few kilometres over the speed limit, Vincent almost missed her. It was only as he turned the corner that he saw Terri: sitting alone in a park, on a set of swings. She rocked back and forth aimlessly, her legs swinging slightly. He pulled over and she didn't seem to take any notice as he walked toward the playground.
"Terri!" he called and she looked up immediately. To his surprise, she smiled and he relaxed slightly. Taking a seat on the swing next to her, he wondered how he'd ended up in the middle of this mess between the two women he loved most.
"You walked all the way here?" he asked disbelievingly.
"It's only a couple of blocks from home," she answered, brushing hair from her eyes.
"But you've only been out of hospital for what, 24 hours?" he argued. She shrugged defiantly.
"I can look after myself, Vincent," she said, turning slightly to face him and grinning. "Although I have to admit, I like it when you get all bossy." He wanted to breathe her in. He loved everything about her—the way her eyes were so expressive, her sense of humour and the way she seemed to accept challenges.
"So I guess we're okay, then?" he asked frankly. Terri glanced at his face. Her swinging was slowly grinding to a halt. She sighed.
"I guess so. I feel so confused. I don't know what to feel, really," she admitted. "I'd like to be angry with you, but there's no good reason for that." She paused. "I'd also like to do it again, but I don't know if there's a good reason for that either." She shifted uncomfortably and her hands gripped the chains suspending the swing. Vincent tried to keep his face calm, although a smile flickered over his lips. He stood up.
"Terri, you know there doesn't always have to be a good reason for everything. Sometimes you can just do things because they feel right. There aren't any rules for relationships like ours…you have to stop trying to work out the logistics of this and just do it because you need to." Taken aback by the honesty in his words, she stood up and stared at him hard.
"Come on. I'll take you home. I have to finish my shift but I'll be home by five-thirty." She nodded, unable to speak, but wrapped her arms around his neck limply and allowed herself to be directed to his car.
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Charlotte picked up the telephone receiver hesitantly. She punched in the familiar numbers before she could talk herself out of it.
"Hello, Terri Sullivan speaking,"
"It's me. Charlotte." There was a quick pause on the other end of the line.
"Oh," she paused again. "Hi." Charlotte couldn't tell if Terri was still pissed off or just genuinely uncomfortable. She took a deep breath.
"How are you feeling? Any better?" She asked conversationally.
"Um, okay. A little dizzy but not too bad. I should be back at work in two or three days."
"Don't push yourself. Nelson and Frank are covering your ass and though I hate to admit it, they're not doing too badly. Take your time." Charlotte advised, picking nervously at her cuticles. She rolled her eyes at her own behaviour. Why am I so nervous? she thought. Oh, that's right. I'm talking to the woman whose ex's baby I'm carrying. Nothing major. She winced at her own sarcasm. There was a break in the conversation.
"Listen, Terri, I'm sorry about everything—" There was a faint ringing sound.
"Look, don't worry about it," Terri answered curtly. "I'm sorry, but my doorbell's just gone. I'll see you soon, Charlotte."
"Okay. Take care." She hung up feeling slightly hurt. She could tell that things were still strained between them by the way Terri had just brushed her off. She glanced at her watch: it was five-thirty. Enough time to invite Vincent over. But he didn't answer his phone, or his pager. He always seemed so hard to contact recently. She sighed to herself and flicked on the TV, alone in her house and suddenly so aware of the silence that surrounded her.
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Terri sat next to him on the sofa, her head cradled in his lap. It was two a.m. and they'd hardly moved from that sofa since he'd arrived. The mood between them was strange. Everything was so honest and Terri felt as though she were metaphorically half-naked; discussing things that were hard to talk about. She'd done a lot of that lately and to be truthful, she felt better for it. Vincent was right when he said I needed to open up more, she thought. It wasn't easy to do but she felt like she was slowly getting back to the frame of mind she'd been in two years ago, before Mitch had died. And yet, he seemed so distant and brooding. Please don't let me have done anything wrong. Please don't let him be angry with me. I'm trying so hard to let go, and it's all for him. I'm trying so hard for him.
"Are you okay?" she asked him finally. Vincent struggled to maintain his calm expression. This was all such a mess. He felt like he had to tell Terri about the baby—Charlotte's baby—but it was nothing to do with him. He wanted to comfort Charlotte. He wanted to be angry with Jack, even though he knew that it wasn't particularly Jack's fault.
"Of course. Why?" he answered, stroking her hair.
"I don't know. You seem quieter. What happened to that big passionate speech this morning at the park?" she laughed softly. He was so close to telling her. And then he remembered the fear in Charlotte's eyes that morning. He looked back down at Terri. She looked so happy and he didn't want to wreck everything he'd worked so hard for.
"Charlotte phoned me today. Just as you were arriving." Terri said.
"What did she say?" Vincent asked indifferently. She shifted in his arms.
"Nothing much. We only spoke for a couple of seconds. She just asked how I was. She said that Nelson and Frank are taking on my workload." Vincent snorted, feeling relieved.
"Frank seems more nasty than ever. He can't seem to speak highly enough of you when you're not around. It's all, 'The ward only ever runs smoothly with Terri' and 'I don't know how she puts up with this crap'. It's unbelievable."
"You're joking."
"No, I'm dead serious. He seems to think you're the best thing that's ever hit All Saints."
"Are you doubting that, Dr. Hughes?" Terri teased.
"I'm not sure. You're definitely the best thing that's ever hit me," he replied, grinning. Terri sat up.
"Look, Vincent…I know you don't like me analysing our relationship but if I can't ask you now, at two a.m., I certainly won't be able to tomorrow when I'm actually sober," she began.
"Fair enough." Vincent replied, yawning. Terri stroked his unshaven jaw, tracing the stubble up to his cheek.
"I just want to know…you know, where we stand. Are we just messing around and having fun, or is this something else?"
"What do you think?" Vincent asked, a little sharply. She pulled away a little.
"Oh, come on, Vincent. I didn't mean that—" she broke off and sighed. "I like things just the way they are. I like it that you make me feel needed. I don't feel sick or tired or upset when I'm with you." She paused. "So I guess we're doing more than messing around."
"Is that what you want?" He answered warily. He was feeling tired, and stressed, from keeping these secrets. He couldn't tell Terri about the baby. He couldn't tell Charlotte about Terri. He didn't want to make a wrong decision, or lie, or hurt anyone. He waited for her response.
"Of course. I mean, I'm happy."
"Then that's all that matters, isn't it?" He said lightly but somewhat hesitant, pulling her closer to him again.
"I guess so." She replied, equally light and equally doubtful.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Terri rolled over slowly to find the other side of the bed empty. The glowing green numbers on her alarm clock read 10:56. She reached over and retrieved a note from the pillow. A small square of paper folded twice; a message hastily scrawled in his illegible handwriting. She squinted with the effort of trying to decipher the writing.
Terri,
My shift started at eight this morning but I didn't want to wake you. Sleep well and keep resting. If you need me, just phone. I'll talk to you later.
-Vincent
PS—If you're wondering where the aspirin has disappeared to, I had to 'borrow' the pack. Seems we had more to drink last night than I thought, because I have a considerable hangover this morning…
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Charlotte glanced at her watch, holding her mobile phone to her ear in the other hand. She was going to be late and she didn't have time to waste.
"Come on, Jack, pick up!" she muttered to herself. The phone rang out—'You've reached Jack Quade. I'm not here to take your call, but if you'd—'
She rolled her eyes. Even his voice seemed irritating. She grabbed her handbag, locked her front door and ran to the car.
Driving to work, she planned what she'd say.
Jack, we need to talk. Why don't you come over for dinner…Sh!t, no, she thought. That made it sound like a date. Her mobile phone rang incessantly and she glanced at the caller ID: unknown. Relieved it wasn't Jack or Vincent, she answered chirpily, her voice brighter than she'd intended.
"Hello?"
"Where the hell are you, Beaumont?" Frank's voice said bad-temperedly. "Your shift started forty-five minutes ago and we're already understaffed. I swear to God, you better have a bloody good reason—"
"Yes, Frank. I had a flat tire," she lied smoothly. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Fine. See me in my office." He hung up abruptly and Charlotte was left to stew over her thoughts alone.
By the time she'd pulled into the hospital carpark, she was already feeling tired and lethargic. She splashed her face with cold water quickly and then made her way to Frank's office, closing the door behind her.
"Almost an hour and a half late, Charlotte," he said, not looking up from the paperwork he was busy with. She kept her patience. Frank treated tardiness like a criminal offence.
"I know. I'm sorry. But I had to phone the—"
"Never mind about the bloody tire," he cut in. Now he looked up at her, which only served to make her feel nervous and a little faint. "I want to know what's going on with this ward. Terri'd been looking clinically depressed for days before the accident. Vincent's completely out of it. You're not much better. The staff are getting bitchy and Jack's really starting to piss me off," he exploded. Charlotte felt the uncontrollable urge to laugh hysterically, even though she knew it wasn't remotely funny. "There's more sexual tension here in Emergency than in an episode of Days of Our Lives. Look, Beaumont, I don't want the nitty-gritties of it. I don't even want you to fix the problem. Just snap out of it, okay? You have a job here because you worked for it, not because you've being wandered around vaguely for the last ten years." She nodded silently and turned to leave.
"Oh, and Charlotte?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell Vincent to stop trying to cover for you."She stopped short, one hand poised on the door handle.
"He is? Covering for me?"
"Yeah, he is. You two aren't trying to balance a relationship, are you? Because—" Now Charlotte actually did laugh quickly, a brief, sharp sound.
"What's so funny?" Frank asked, failing to see the humour.
"Frank," she began, in the tone of a teacher who'd been told to give a sexual education lesson, "Vincent and I were married. Years ago, when we were both still finishing our Med. courses. We're not anymore. But we're still good friends and we talk all the time, so if he's making excuses for me when I'm late it's because we had the maturity to keep our relationship friendly." Feeling ten feet tall, Charlotte exited the office, holding her head high. For the first time in days she'd been able to give a proper, truthful answer, and it felt right.
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