She's a good girl, loves her mama
Loves Jesus and America too
She's a good girl, crazy 'bout Elvis
Loves horses and her boyfriend too
It's a long day living in Reseda
There's a freeway runnin' through the yard
And I'm a bad boy 'cause I don't even miss her
I'm a bad boy for breakin' her heart
And I'm free, free fallin'
Yeah I'm free, free fallin'
--Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, "Free Fallin'"
It's the sun that wakes her up in the morning. She forgot to shut the blinds, so the dawn sunlight was able to sneak into her room. She rubs her eyes and realizes with a start that it's Wednesday. She needs to pack and clean the house. She plans to leave tomorrow.
She throws back the covers to reveal her legs. She rubs them gently for a moment (being around House has made her grateful for working legs.) Her feet touch the carpeted ground and she remembers the night before and sighs.
She can't get a break.
Cuddy mopes to the shower, cleans herself, goes through her daily routine, and then makes her way downstairs where she finds her cell phone lying prone on the ground. She picks it up and sees that she has four new voice-mail messages. She hits the voice-mail button and enters her password into it.
"Cuddy, it's House. I need you to move a woman up on the donor list. The freaking rent-an-administrator that's taking your place won't do it. Hurry up."
She presses '7'. Delete.
"Cuddy, it's House. Where the hell are you? This woman's liver can't wait for your decision!"
She presses '7'. He could certainly ask nicer than he does.
"Lisa? It's James Wilson. House wanted me to call to bother you about getting a donor moved up on the list? It's important to him. How's your vacation, though? I hope it's going well. I'll talk to you when you get back."
"That's how to ask for a liver," she murmurs and hits '9', the 'save' button.
"Cuddy, it's House. The woman died. It wasn't her liver after all…"
She presses '7' once more and puts the phone down. She doesn't know which is worse—that a patient died or that she has a maniacal employee who doesn't understand the concept of a vacation (although she doesn't really understand it either, but she can make-believe better than House can.)
And that's when she finally realizes why she's been avoiding Joe so much.
She's spent too much time around House and his closed-heart approach to love has worn off on her. Sure Joe's a perfect stranger, she knows that, but he seems nice and she can't help but think that he must know her—possibly a patient from a long time ago that she happens not to remember. But she can't let herself sink further into the pit of Greg House-like anti-socialism. This is her vacation. Wasn't she just pining over some nineteen year-old in a restaurant the other day?
Her hands comb through her hair as she slips into her flip-flops. She decides to eat out again this morning (taking the chance that Joe will see her.) She makes a mental note to really start packing later. She exits the house in a flurry of keys locking and smacking shoes.
;';
At around two in the afternoon she finishes shopping for the day. She lets the bags roughly caress her hands (figuring no man will be touching them anytime soon.) It really is a good day for shopping, she concedes. It's so hot that the beach would be intolerable. And it's also too hot to play slots at Fantasy Island because too many kids would also be looking to escape the heat. Shopping is the perfect medium.
(Although she does regret spending so much on a skirt that she will probably never wear. But that's what women do, she believes. Spend money on things that they don't need but they think are pretty. At least that's what she does.)
She stops in a diner and eats a burger quickly. The diner is pretty empty, with only one or two other customers eating their meals. But it is between mealtimes, so she knows that it is the reason and not that the food is bad (although it is, and she probably wouldn't eat here, but she figures Joe wouldn't step into an establishment that sells French fries dripping in more grease than McDonald's.)
When she leaves, she realizes that rich men like greasy fries just as much as poor men. Joe holds the door for her as she exits and he smiles at her, while shooing his kids into the eatery.
"Can I ask you out again? I'm a three-strikes kind of guy."
She almost feels bad for him, asking her out. He doesn't even really know her. Who is he to ignore the fact that's she's as selfish and insecure as House is? How does he know she has a doctor she can't control and a hospital she can barely run?
Lisa!
"Where?"
"Miniature golfing."
"You say it like it's a sin."
"I'm a good regular golfer. I hate mini-golfing."
"What makes you think I like it?"
"You look like the type of woman who likes to compete," he tells her and watches as his kids get a table. He is still holding the door open for her.
"Fine."
"But I'm picking you up. Now, where do you live?"
"129 Terrace Drive, Beach Haven."
"Say 8?"
"Alright," she says with more reluctance floating through her mind than through her voice.
"Great," he smiles and she walks through the door making a mental note to not go on dates with strangers.
;';
"So, where are your kids?"
"Well," Joe drops his ball on the tee and lines up his shot. "The oldest is fourteen, so she's watching the two younger boys. Plus, my cousin lives across the street—he does real estate down here—so he's helping me out. Let's me get a night out on a town with a woman as pretty as you are."
He smiles and strikes the ball. It skips its way over the bump in the green turf before ricocheting off the back wall behind the hole. He walks towards his ball and taps it into the hole.
"Two," he tells her and bends down to grab the ball out of the cup.
She writes the number on the scorecard and proceeds to hold it between her lips (along with the golf pencil) as she hits her own shot. It also bounces off the back wall and she then proceeds to tap it into the hole. Two.
"So, what do you do?" He asks her as they proceed to hole two.
"I'm dean of medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro."
"The teaching hospital?"
"Yeah."
"I had an uncle who worked down there about ten years or so ago. He left to start his own practice. He liked it very much."
"Yes, it's a great hospital," she grins.
They play out the hole without any conversation. On the next hole, Cuddy starts asking the questions again.
"And what do you do for a living? Business, I'm assuming from the looks of your car."
"Yup. Plus investments here and there."
"You're not going to tell me where you work?"
He blushes.
"I'm not a big fan of discussing that."
"But you certainly didn't mind divulging the fact that you own a Rolls."
"Well," he shrugs and putts. She stops the ball with her foot.
"Don't screw with me. Please. I've gone through enough bad guys to know that the good ones are usually a lot more open than this. Care to say anything?"
"Let my ball go?"
"Pay the ransom."
His lips tighten.
"I manage a few papers across the country. Some are small local ones and others are major publications. I don't like to bring work into pleasure. And my Rolls happens to bring me a lot of pleasure," he smiles at this last sentiment. Cuddy bites back a sarcastic remark (like something that involves masturbation and compensation…bad girl).
This isn't House, this isn't even Wilson…why does every man remind her of her employees?
"That's great," she responds and remembers that she never really was any good at faking happiness or enthusiasm. Her sister could hold up the false pretenses for much longer.
"You play any other sports?" He asks her as they continue to make their way around the mini-golf course.
"Tennis. I love the sport. You?"
"Tennis, too. It's a shame I'm leaving tomorrow morning, otherwise we could've played a couple matches."
Now, that is a shame, she thinks. She could've used a good match before she left the island. She had brought her racquet along to play, but it seems that no one wants to play tennis at the beach.
"When are you leaving tomorrow morning?"
"As soon as the kids cash in their points at Fantasy Island. It's 20 off of all the stuff from 12 until 2. I told them I'd just buy them the stuff, but you know kids," he shrugs and she finally decides to be truthful.
"Actually, I really don't know kids, but that's okay. Would you like to play in the morning? I don't mind getting up early."
"Sure we could play if you really wanted to. I guess 9 a.m. would be fine for me."
She putts her ball into the hole and grins back at him.
"Works for me."
They play their way around the course. The amusement park rides loom over them as the play—colored lights and the spinning Ferris wheel add a childish dynamic to the whole proceedings.
Joe proves himself to be the quite the golf player and Cuddy tallies their scores at the end of the game. She ends up losing terribly and congratulates Joe on a game well played.
"As victor, may I decide what we do next?"
"You've got the right to."
"I want to take you on the Ferris wheel."
She groans.
"What's the matter?"
"I'm…afraid of heights."
"I promise to hold you tight," he grins and they walk into the Fantasy Island conclave.
She waits as he gets tickets. The line is long and they wait patiently. She's worried now. There's just something wrong with being thrust up above the ground, above the safe haven of earth. They aren't birds, they aren't bees, and she knows they're not meant to fly. She's scared of falling, of opening, of drowning in the air. He takes her hand. And now, she's just afraid of him.
She's been scared of too many things for too long she realizes as they step into one of the Ferris' wheels compartment. She settles down, closes her eyes, and prays for safety. He lets an arm snake around her shoulders and he continues to hold her hand in his lap. The wheel turns—there's gravity, and motion, and energy, she figures. They stop. At the top.
"Oh my God," she says with her eyes closed.
"Open your eyes," Joe whispers into her ear.
And slowly, carefully, she opens her eyes.
She looks around and sees progress, people, and problems, but they're far away because she's floating above the earth with a man she doesn't really know. Her eyes immediately search for the ocean.
She finds it and the sight of the water comforts her. It's still there. It hasn't disappeared, it's still there, it's still there, it's still there…
And that's when Joe leans in and kisses her and the Ferris wheel starts moving again.
Slowly, carefully, but moving nonetheless.