Hello everyone! Here's chapter 14, sorry it took me so long. I'm sorry to say this, but the next chapter may take even longer. I'm very, very sorry about that. I do hope you all enjoy this chapter. I'm a little bit upset with how it turned out, but I 'll let you all be the judges. Please, please review! Thanks!
She's walking over to one of her patients, a little girl with a broken leg. Abby gives her a warm, reassuring smile and introduces herself. I see the girl immediately relax and smile in return. There's something about Abby's voice that could make anyone feel better; or maybe it's just how she says things. It's as if she hand chooses every word she's going to say before it leaves her mouth. When we would lie in her bed late at night, she would say things that were so pure, so unadulterated that I couldn't help but hang on every word. What amazed me even more is how she can turn around and become so cynical; I doubt that I will ever understand that. I once told her that she could be a poet because of her way with words and attitude on life. She laughed and said that poets don't save lives and half of all poets either are or were crazy. I laughed at her. I was going to make a comment about her practically being crazy already, but I bit my tongue; I know better.
Right now, my only wish is to have her talk to me. It's been a week now, and I never thought that I would be so upset over her silence. I think I'm addicted to her; I need her. She could say anything, anything at all and I would be happy.
Abby walks over to admit, passing me on the way. She smells great, like lilacs. I could breathe her in forever. I watch her lean against the desk next to Neela and let out a breath of air. Neela catches me staring at them and whispers something to Abby who in turn glances over her shoulder at me. I smile at her, praying that she will walk over here. Luck is obviously not on my side; she turns around. I sigh, looks like this isn't going to be easy. I slowly make my way to the desk; my feet feeling like lead the entire way.
"Hi," I say, almost whispering, "How are you doing?" She doesn't say a word and barely looks at me. Does she have any idea what this is doing to me? I want to scream. I want to scream at her and let her know how I'm feeling right now, how much her silence stings, and how much I want this to end. She finally looks up into my eyes, and I'm lost. I want to smile, I want to laugh, I want to hold her… I want everything to be all right. If only I could gather this whole mess up into a pile and throw it away. She's waiting for me to say something, but instead I stand here like an idiot.
"So," I manage so say, "My band is playing a show tonight at the Empty Bottle." She looks uninterested. "At nine o'clock," I continue, "I hope you would consider going… It'd be nice to see you there." When I finish talking, Abby raises her eyebrows at me, as if to ask, "Are you done yet?" I look over at the clock. "Listen Abby, I'm off now," I say pulling my stethoscope off, "I hope to see you tonight." She remains silent and so do I as I turn and walk away from her.
I've never realized how blind we are when we're up on stage. I guess I never noticed because I've never searched for anyone while standing up here. The lights combined with the smoke from the bar create an illuminated haze that hangs heavy in the air and seeing through it is nearly impossible. I play each chord with unmistakable precision, but my heart isn't in it. It's funny, even without paying attention; I can hit all the right notes. I hit the final chord and the lights turn off. I stare down at my guitar and say nothing as my band mates celebrate our successful show. The clapping and whistles from our audience resonate through my hollow body, I still feel numb. I walk down the stairs leading from the stage and scan the audience, searching for Abby. There's no sign of her anywhere; my heart sinks even lower. Right now I want nothing more than to be left alone to drown my sorrows. Sweet alcohol, my only friend, take me away. I sit at the bar, surrounded by people but feeling more alone than I ever have before. Hell, I could be in the middle of an angry mob right now and I'd feel alone.
After six shots, the world is slowly circling around me and I can see Abby's beautiful face floating in front of me. Alcohol is great, isn't it? I can't remember how much I've had to drink tonight; a few beers before the show, a couple during the show, and now a few shots. The more the better, right? A shadow falls over me, a soft silhouette. I turn around on the bar stool and come face to face with Abby. She smiles her beautiful smile and pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. God, she's beautiful.
"Hey," she says, pushing her hands into the pockets of her jeans. I try to smile at her, and judging by her reaction, I'm guessing that it's more of a drunken sneer than anything. I hop off the stool and stumble over my feet, almost falling into Abby. She pushes me up and smiles. I open my mouth to tell her how much I've missed her and that I'm glad she's had a change of heart. Instead of pouring my heart out to her, I puke, right on her shoes. There's nothing like fresh vomit to say 'I love you'.
What happens after that is all a blur to me. Images of a taxi and then the interior of the taxi flash in front of me. I gaze out the window and watch the streetlights streak by with tails as dazzling as shooting stars. Abby says something about stopping and the taxi comes to a halt. I slump forward with the motion of the cab before blacking out.
I roll over in bed and immediately sit up, trying to figure out where I am. I gaze around the room; my head is spinning and feels like it's going to explode. My eyes settle on the small curled up figure lying next to me. I follow the outline of her body from her feet, up over the curve of her hip and to her shoulder. I lean in and plant soft kisses on her neck. Abby slowly turns over and yawns. I smile at her.
"Good morning," I say, "Did you sleep well?" Abby nods and yawns again. She reminds me of a lion, or a large mouth bass. I can't help but smile while I watch her lazily gaze around the room. "So, how exactly did I get up here?" I ask, "I mean I doubt that I was able to walk at all last night, much less climb stairs." She smiles.
"Well you were in luck last night, that cabby was nice enough to offer to help me carry you up the stairs," Abby answers.
"And why did you choose to bring me here?" I ask, "Why not back to my place?" She shrugs.
"I guess I just wanted to take care of you and make sure you didn't die by choking on your own vomit," she answers nonchalantly, "And you didn't have your keys on you." She looks up at me and runs a hand through her hair.
"Well, I'm glad that things are better between us," I say, slipping my arm around her.
"That's another reason why we're here," Abby says, "You see, things aren't exactly back to normal yet." She looks down at her hands that she has folded in her lap and picks at her fingernail. After a few moments of silence, she looks back up at me, at my confused expression. "Ray," she says, "We need to talk." Is that ever a good thing to hear?
"About what?" I ask, trying to brush off the dull pain in the pit of my stomach.
"About us and our future," Abby answers looking into my eyes. I can tell she's searching for the right words. "I want to love you Ray," she says, "I'm just not ready for it yet. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want you to know me, I want you to know more than the doctor and the girlfriend." I laugh.
"Abby, I do know you," I answer, "If I didn't, I'd be a pretty bad boyfriend, wouldn't I?" She rolls her eyes while I talk.
"There are a lot of things you still don't know," she whispers, "Ray, do you know anything at all about my family? Do you know about my previous failed relationships? Do you know anything at all about my past?" I shake my head, but say nothing at all. "I don't know anything about you either," she adds.
"Okay," I say, lying down again, "Let's talk. You and I are going to make this work. I mean we're adults, we should be able to talk to one another." She nods and collapses onto the pillow next to me. "Tell me about your family," I say after she's gotten comfortable, "Any brothers or sisters? Where's mom and pop at right now? Tell me about your wonderful childhood." She's quiet for a while, and I figure that it's best not to pressure her at all; I don't need a black eye. She sighs.
"I have a brother named Eric," she says, "I hope my mom is at her house right now, but I can never be sure about that one. And my dad, well who the hell knows where he is right now? I really don't care." She looks over at me. "My dad walked out on us when I was seven because my mom was sick. I guess he just couldn't deal with what was going on anymore. I don't know what was going through his mind when he thought a seven year old could handle it." She pauses and chuckles to herself. "You know, I pretty much raised Eric when we were growing up. My mom wasn't fit to be a mother." She sees me wrinkle my forehead. "My mom is bipolar," she says to the ceiling. When I don't say anything, she looks over at me. "You do know what that is, right?"
"Yeah," I answer, "Last week I treated a girl with bipolar disorder; suicide attempt." Abby slowly nods and smiles at me. If I could see inside her head, I'm sure I'd see her calling me a lucky bastard.
"It's very different, treating it and living with it," she says, "You only saw the tip of the iceberg. When my mom was in her depression stages, she would lie in bed for days, weeks even. Nothing that I could do would get her up." She pauses for a minute and sighs. "She's tried to kill herself before." Abby pauses again and looks straight into my eyes. "Do you know what it's like to come home and find your mom with her head in the oven?" I shake my head. "Her mania was just as bad," she continues, "She'd run off with random men for days. I begged her to take her medication, but she wouldn't have it. She loved her mania… She was the only one who did. You know, she chased me with a knife when I was a kid. There were times when I wished she would catch me and just kill me, but I couldn't let that happen; I needed to be there for Eric."
"So, how is it now?" I ask, "Is she taking her meds?"
"Well, for a while she enjoyed dropping in sporadically and turning everything upside down. The first time she came to County, she was manic and was wearing a dress that was made for a woman half her age." She laughs to herself. "There was a doctor working at County at the time who thought he was quite the ladies man… he hit on my mom." The story gets a smile from me. "My mom brought in bagels for the whole staff and then ran around the hospital, screaming my name, trying to find me. That was everyone's first impression of my mom. Carter was somewhat supportive and he and I had a conversation very similar to the one you and I are having now. It's been a while since the last episode, but you always have to be ready for the next one." She smiles weakly and sighs.
What can I say to her? Abby just told me about her dysfunctional family and childhood cut short. I can't tell her that I understand, because I don't. I don't want to talk about my family and childhood, because it will sound like I had the perfect like compared to hers.
"Sometimes I like to blame her for my alcoholism and inability to cope," Abby says, "It's selfish I know, but it works for me." She sighs and covers her face with her hands. "She passed it on to my brother," she mumbles into her palms, "Eric is bipolar too. Somehow I managed to escape it… well, sort of." She looks over at me. "So, aren't you happy that you and I are dating?" she asks sarcastically.
I wrap my arms around her and pull her body close to mine. She snuggles her head into the crook of my neck. I rest my chin on top of her head and breathe in her scent and run my fingers through her hair. It's in this warm embrace that I wish we could stay forever, safe from the world, from the people and things that want to hurt us most.