If All Could Be Told
Disclaimer:I don't own ER or the characters.
Chapter 9: Guilty Pains: Present Cares.
Abby arrived outside the familiar entrance to her apartment. She punched in her code at the entrance waiting for the beep that permitted her entry. Reaching her door and turning the key, she had to give it some violent persuasion before it opened.
Dropping her keys on the small table, she promptly collapsed onto her couch. Deep red, the old couch although somewhat frayed, provided the squishy comfort that only aged furniture could. This was the first time that she had been alone since her night time walk in the rain; emotional exhaustion was finally taking its toll. She was still bewildered by the events; confusion ate at her very core. She was ecstatic to have seen Jess, in the flesh and apparently healthy, this was accompanied by fear, for what had come, and guilt, for what had passed. Emotions coursed through her whole body, she disliked this, and usually she could quash them instantly. That particular wound had just been patched and now, was freshly raw once again.
Thoughts of Carter surfaced from within the whirring motions of her pondering; these thoughts were coupled with a stirring from within her stomach. They had never really disappeared, her feelings for John Carter, friend and soulmate. Not that she'd admitted it. Abby had since continued to delude herself that there was real reason for it and that she didn't really love Carter. She was unlovable, and resigned to being alone, after all, she didn't want to get hurt again.
Grabbing the remote and flicking on the television, she was contented to watch the black and white static, flicker hypnotically across the screen. Her thoughts and emotions continued to stir, but her tears were spent, her eyes too tired to respond to the whirlpool of feeling inside. She fell asleep where she was sitting, still in the garish blue coat Carter had given her to wear.
She gently stirred awake the next morning. It took a while for her to realise that she was still on the couch, and was reminded only shortly afterwards by a searing pain from her shoulders to her neck, "aaah...jeez" She exclaimed tamely as she straightened to a sitting position. Fatigue still penetrated her bones, as she shook off sleep and came to her senses. Her stomach sunk heavily releasing a thousand butterflies. It had come. It was Saturday, a day she had imagined for 16 years, and yet a day she'd never dare think would actually happen, and a day she could never prepare for. The time on the nearby clock, burned its crimson information into her eyes: 9am. This made the sinking feeling even worse.
Groggily, she padded over to the kitchen, getting a caffeine fix was essential to the survival of any day, not least a day as potentially traumatic as this. Drunk dangerously fast, she headed towards the bathroom. The mirror was unforgiving, despite successful sleep, her eyes remained red from all of the crying, framed by purple rings, her skin tone was sallow looking. God, she was a mess. The cool water attempted to remedy this, it was soothing, the cold on her skin diverted her racing thoughts for a moment.
It had done her good, her skin was a better tone, and her eyes were nothing that a light bit of make-up wouldn't fix. She dressed and applied her make-up swiftly. She brushed out the temperamental tangles in her dark hair, tying it loosely at the nape of her neck. Her nervousness had had her ready in less than half an hour. It was 9:45am she still had a couple of hours. Breakfast would have normally been on the cards, except that the fluttering in her stomach had turned from simple nerves to full-blown nausea. Her fear and worries again dominated her thoughts now there was nothing to distract her.
Later she had managed to kill half-an-hour channel surfing, her attention not functioning enough for any programmed to keep her occupied for more than a few minutes. Using the remote satisfied her nervous urge to fidget, a habit of hers which she smiled, often caused Carter some chagrin. Distraction had so far proved to be an unsuccessful tactic. All she could think about was Jess. What was she going to say to her? How could she tell her little girl about why she had ended up with strangers? It wasn't an option not to, she owed her the truth. Would Jess be angry, what would she say? Abby wondered, as she often had, what would she be like, her interests, personality, her mannerisms...would they be like hers, her fathers? Would there be any right words to use? Abby knew that she would soon have the solutions to these questions, but she was terrified of what Jess could have to say.
Abby got up off of the couch and headed into her bedroom. She tottered around the piles of books, journals and clothes. Abby kept her mess contradictorily organised into piles of stuff. Forcing the closet door open, knocking over a pile of magazines, she tiptoed, just reaching a cardboard box on the top shelf. The box was extremely dusty; she regretted patting the lid as she disappeared behind a dust cloud. Reaching inside she pulled out a book. The cover was dirty and dusty like the box, but had retained its baby pink tinge in the centre. The inside pages revealed some photographs, the book had kept them in a pristine condition. They were of a smiling child. A newborn, eyes shut; a small jet of dark hair over her small head. Another picture filled with, high dimples, and more dark hair, wide eyes of laughter reveal bright green irises. It was the first time Abby had seen these pictures in fifteen years. The photos abandoned, hidden and suppressed just like her memories...kept a secret, to prevent the pain.
Abby traced the outline of her baby daughter's face. Her favourite picture was one of Jess grinning but with eyes full of tears. After the picture and on production of a toy, her tears had turned to giggles. Only now was Abby allowing her self to remember this, this memory still tainted with pain and regret. She delved inside the box and found Jess' baby-suit; she also found the sixteen birthday cards she had written for her daughter. Each read almost the same message inside:
Happy Birthday to my baby girl.
Carrying you in my heart and soul forever.
I'm sorry for everything
Love Always, Your Mom xxx
A small tear trickled a line down the side of her face. Angrily, she slammed the contents inside their dusty home, it had been self-inflicted. She shouldn't wallow. She shouldn't have been so weak as to rely on alcohol as her vice. She deserved all she had gotten. Abby regrouped herself before noticing the time on her clock once again, 11am, she should leave now. She hastily grabbed one of the baby pictures, her purse and keys, leaving her box of memories behind.