England provides new experiences. Many which may reflect in upcoming stories. I'm a bit overwhelmed, but I love England! A bit different from Sweden. If you want to read about it visit my parent/sister friendly blog apurebecca. blogg .se (no www)
Pink, blue, yellow and green balloons. There were balloons everywhere, donning every surface. It was either the actual thing or a table cloth and napkins with balloon prints on them. Children were running around with balloons attached to their wrists. The sound of a popping balloon was not rare and it was usually followed by a cry. It had been a long time since she had been surrounded by this much sound, but the trips to House during the weekdays had prepared her for this, slowly letting her get used to outside noises. However, this did not sound like outside noises, it felt like every sound was piercing into her.
Dana stood by the candy, making sure that there was no hard candy or anything dangerous that other mothers had brought with them. She walked over there, so she would not have to stand alone in the huge crowd of children. It was amazing how many people they managed to get into this room, even though there was a lot of people standing outside in the spring air that was slowly getting warmer. Today was the warmest day so far this year, and people were taking advantage of that by standing outside with no jackets. She shuddered at the thought of going outside in no jacket; she was cold enough as it was.
"Ally, can you take these into the kitchen? I don't feel comfortable having children eat them," Dana asked, holding out a small tray filled with various candy, none of it looking dangerous for a children's birthday party. She could not tell Dana that she was being ludicrous, so she took the plate with a tight smile and made a beeline towards the kitchen.
Her parents would come soon, they were supposed to be there at ten am, but their plane was delayed. It made her a bit angry that they would come to Leslie's birthday, just because she is John's daughter, but wouldn't come when she had left her husband and needed support. The tray filled with candy slammed down on the kitchen table, sending candy all over the table. No one heard; it was drowned out by the children's cries and laughter.
---
When her parents appeared, it was like everything shifted in the room. Leslie came running to them, throwing her arms around her grandmother's leg, rambling up all of the presents she had gotten from the people at the party. Cameron's mother pats Leslie's head in a lovingly gesture before pulling herself free from the grasp of the small child to look at her son who was coming towards them.
"How do you feel about another present, Les?" Cameron's father asked, and Leslie squealed in happiness, knowing that this present was going to be better than the rest, since her grandparents had more money than her parents.
"You're spoiling her," John said as he hugged the two of them, shaking his head as his father led Leslie outside to get the present, probably because it was so big.
"That's what grandchildren are for," his mother said, smiling happily as she put her hands on her son's cheek. "She's lovely."
Her parents were used to being in the center of attention; they thrived on it. Even though the people in the room did not know it, they could sense that these people who had just entered the room were important, so everyone seemed to gravitate towards her parents, listening to what was said.
"Allison," her mother stepped up to her after a while, her hands on her hips in a condescending way. "Where is that husband of yours?" She looked around the room, searching for the scarred face that was Charlie's, but did not find him. This surprised Cameron, because she was sure that her mother had known she left her husband a long time ago now.
"Ah, mom…," John started, wincing slightly as he caught Cameron's pained expression when she thought about her husband.
"Schych, John, I'm talking to your little sister now." Cameron closed her eyes, tried to force away the memories of the two years after she had married Charlie. She tried to remember the way it smelled during the spring back home, how she would run out on her birthday to the fields and sit and wait on a rock for her friend Jane to come and play with her. Jane always brought a gift, mostly it was a pen or a cupcake, but it always made it tingle inside of Cameron as she held up a glittery pen towards the sparkling sun, or shared a cupcake under a tree with the rain drenching their clothes. It was just after the grass turned green, when the leaves on the trees had just started to grow out again, casting a green shadow above them.
"Mom, uh, Ally has left her husband." Those were the words that caused her mother to freeze, to stop and look at her only daughter in a way she had not done in years, if ever.
"Why?" She asked, the confusion lacing her voice, changing it into a high pitch scowl. Her mother was never big on divorces, despite the fact that she herself had one at an early age, a marriage that resulted in John.
"Mom, it's nothing to bring up at a party," John said pointedly, looking around at the people who very discreetly listening to what was said by this impressive elder woman that had walked into the room, but luckily there wasn't many within hearing distance.
"I didn't bring it up, you did," her mother stated, this time dramatically showing that she was hurt by the accusation. She was so different from her mother, she realized suddenly. Her mother conveyed what she wanted people to believe in her voice. What she did though, was completely denying her words, to let her body show what she was feeling. It was harder to lie with your body, and this her mother did not seem to know, since her body showed that she was lying. She knew herself that she had brought it up.
"Fine, but I'm not going to say anything here," John said and pushed a plate in his mother's direction so that she could eat.
---
"Leaving your husband is not the brightest choice you have made, especially at your age," her mother scolded her as they sat in a couch far away from everyone else. She looked up from her plate and looked at her mother, preparing herself for a lecture.
"When you're this age you have to settled with what you get. There won't be many other men out there. They may say that there are many fishes in the pond, but many of these fishes are useless now." Her mother stopped as she put a lettuce in her mouth, thinking over what she was going to say next.
"You should go back to him, Allison," her mother put a hand on her thigh and smiled a reassuring smile. "You might be bright when it comes to science and medicine, but when it comes to family life; trust my word." And with that her mother stood up and headed towards the kitchen with her plate.
People only see what they wanted to see, and in her mother's case she could not see the consequences of an abusive relationship in her daughter. All she saw was a person who gave up too soon, a woman afraid of a long lasting commitment. It might be true, but it was not the case here, or so she thought. Had all of this happened just because she was afraid to make an effort, afraid to have a functional and happy marriage? Had she unintentionally ruined it for him, made everything worse so that he had no choice but to hit her? She looked out of the window, watching the children run around, radiating happiness, squealing with delight. Suddenly she felt a pang of regret. By now she could have had a big bump on her stomach, inside of her womb her little baby could have lived. How could she have been happy when the child died? Was she so cruel? If she had not left him, she was sure their child would have lived, that he would have been happy with her if she had simply stayed. What if, she wondered, a child was exactly what they needed, what he needed her to give him? What if that had been the thing that would cure their relationship? She would never know now, she thought, as a lump grew in her stomach. She could have become a mother, but now she probably would never have a chance to.
She had ruined her marriage.
---
"I talked with Allison," her mother announced to John when she thought that Cameron was out of hearing distance, putting her plate down on the kitchen counter.
"Really?" John asked surprised, his voice edging on sarcasm.
"Yes, sarcasm is not a favorable feature John, so please stop with it now. At least in your old mother's presence," she answered dramatically, rolling her eyes at her son's behavior.
"No, it's just that Ally hasn't spoken a word in over a year mom," he said in a hushed voice, taking her plate from the counter and putting it in the sink which was piling up with dishes.
"Don't be silly, John, of course she has," her mother waved her hand dismissingly in his direction.
"No, Mom, I don't know what that Charlie guy did to her, but she won't speak," he sighed, throwing the towel he had wiped off the counter with over his shoulder. "I don't know if she just won't speak, or if there is something else…," he shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "The doctors say that there is nothing physically wrong with her, mentally though… ," he shook his head more violently this time, as if he tried to get rid of the thoughts.
"Take her to a psychologist then," she said accusingly, something that resembled worry glimmered in her eyes.
"That requires her being able to talk, Mom," he bit back angrily. "All that we can do now is to support her, keep her included in conversations, try to bring her back to the real world again," he said tiredly, the anger wearing down with each word he said until nothing of it was left.
"She should come and live with me and her dad, not live here. I'm sure it has to be terrible for her to see a happy marriage," she shook her head, the mother in her taking over every rational thought, already planning on how she could get her daughter to speak again.
"No, she's staying here. Leslie and her are getting along really well," John argued, closing the door to the kitchen so that potential eavesdroppers were shut out of the conversation.
"We are talking about what is best for Allison, not who she is getting along with or not." Each one of the words pronounced with an edge, as if they all were equally important, so not a word would be missed.
"What is best for Ally is to stay here. She has a friend at the hospital she visits every weekday. Here she gets out of the house, building up her life, while someone takes care of the parts she cannot manage yet," he answered her, mimicking her tone, his voice even sharper than his mother's.
"It's her choice, isn't it?" She put her hand son her hips, pushing her shoulders backwards, her chin up. It was a classical Mrs. Cameron look, the woman who never backed down, did not let anyone walk over her. It was the look that reminded him how easily she had walked over them in the past, walked over his little sister, and he stared at her, because he needed to save his sister from another crash and burn.
"Mom, she's staying here," he said after a long silence, finality in his tone that not even his mother could argue against. There was no way to budge him.
It pained her, how she could not be the mother she wanted to be, how she always tried and it came out wrong. She, however, was not one to admit her mistake. She watched her child with dismay, wondering when they had gotten so big, when they had started to realize that fighting back was an option. It made her proud, in one way, but in the other she knew that from now on everything would be a big struggle for power. It made her glad then that her daughter would not fight, at least, since she had always been the nice and humble one.
As she stepped out of the kitchen she looked at her daughter as she stepped out of the front door, car keys in her hand, and wondered if this all could possibly be her fault.
---
As Cameron reached her car outside of her brother's house, the grey clouds that had hovered above let a soft rain fall, the raindrops falling softly on her cheeks as she for the first time since she had lost her baby felt the tears building up behind her eye lids.
Everything seemed different now. The colors jumped out, the dead grass, the birds in the trees. It was too real. She had made a mistake when she blamed him for everything, and now there was nothing to go back to.
She sat down in front of the wheel, gritting her teeth at the rain that was falling more heavily now against the windows. This mess had taken her only child away from her, and there was no one to blame but herself.
She slammed her hands down on the wheel, wanting to scream, but all she could do was gasp through her teeth, her chest heaving. She needed to get away from here, get
perspective of things. She needed to see House.
---
The faces were all the same, the same emotion seemed to be written across them. Boring, normal, healthy. The mere look at them had him speeding towards his office again. It was the boredom of how stupid people could be, how easily he could diagnose them, that he knew he could empty that room in only a minute, but he needed to go through an unnecessary speech of what is wrong with them in a private room, that would steal valuable time from him. If they would just be smart enough to drop the act of being kind doctors and just tell patients straight away what was wrong with them, he could only imagine of much time he would have left to watch General Hospital, for example.
Today, he did not feel like obeying Cuddy, despite the fact that she had been down his throat about it. Nothing would make him face that humongous moron that hid out in the clinic. He had been there before, the moron, several times in fact, claiming that something was wrong with him. Pneumonia, he claimed when House had seen him, coughing poorly and was sent away with crude remarks. Only ten minutes later had House caught him running up and down the street in only a t-shirt when it was freezing cold.
He looked forward to an afternoon spent watching his precious TV, but just as he put his feet up on the table his door opened. Quickly he closed his eyes, hoping that it would not be Cuddy, but could not figure it was futile, since who else could it be, if not Wilson, but he was definitely with a patient at the moment.
"I can't see you, you are not there," he shook his head stubbornly, but was only met with silence. This surprised him, since she usually had something snide to say to him when he acted like a kid. Still, he refused to open his eyes, just in case she was playing him.
A pair of cold hands touched his fingers that were wrapped around his cane, since he had not had the time to put it away yet. The hands were surprisingly gentle and tentative, and he had to admit that if this was Cuddy, she had succeeded in scaring him into open his eyes. No way Cuddy would do that!
It was not Cuddy. In front of him stood a very disheveled Cameron, something in her eyes screamed desperation. Silence, right, it was Cameron's trademark, he thought bitterly, gently pulling his bum leg off of the table before putting down his good leg. He watched her in confusion and scratched his scruff.
"You are not supposed to be here today," he stated, his eyes squinting as he looked her up and down. She was wearing a pink silk shirt and a pair of dark jeans, definitely not her usual attire. Maybe the kids got to her, he thought as he looked at her hair which was still in a perfect shape. Everything seemed fine, except her face. She had obviously tried to wipe away mascara lines, her eyes were puffy and swollen, and so was the rest of her face.
She lifted her hands up and shrugged her shoulders. I can't, she clearly said.
"Interesting," he said, just as tears started to fall from her eyes. It reminded him of the night he had visited her when she had miscarried, how she had clung to him and he had not minded. He had actually liked being there for her then, but now?
He cleared his throat, his eyes averting from her and watched the rain falling outside. It had looked to be a nice day, so he had ridden on his bike to work, but now it looked like he would have to take a taxi home. He rubbed his forehead as he thought of what she could possibly want from him.
Once again her hand was touching his, but this time she was not so gentle, irritated that he was ignoring her.
"If I didn't know better I would say that you are crushing on me again," he sniggered, knowing that she was expecting him to scoop her up in his arms and tell her it all would be okay. This was not what she wanted though, she simple wanted his attention; that he would say sit down and she could sit in his recliner until she was ready to leave. She did not want to go home, because she believed her mother would convince her to go back to her husband, but she knew her husband would not forgive her now.
"You are supposed to be grown up, not cling to me like a monkey. You need to move on and get on with your life," he then said, feeling her fingers slip from his hand and once again he looked at her. Everything about her said disbelief, her frown and her mouth hanging open slightly. He did not regret his words; he did feel a bit sorry for hurting her though.
"This is your past - the last thing you need right now." The silence was expected, but it seemed fuller now, it did more than scream. His words hung in the air, falling down like daggers on them.
"Life sucks. You knew that a long time ago, so why do you act like it is a surprise to you?" This time she opened her mouth, as if she would actually say something, prove him wrong, but nothing came out. She stood there for a few seconds; it closed in on a minute
Just when he was about to open his mouth again, she put her hands on his shoulders, pressing him into his chair with a strength he did not know she had. Her eyes bore into his and he was surprised by this action because this was not something that he had expected from Cameron. All he had really expected was that she would run, or just take his insults and stubbornly stay, but there she was, staring into his eyes.
You know nothing. I hate you.
"Cameron," he started, but he had no chance to say anything else, because she turned on her heel and left his office. There was nothing no denying in the fact that Cameron was beyond angry.
(
His breathing was still, he was calm in a way he had not been for ages during the days. Everywhere she turned, he was there, his body rigid. Her body felt battered and bruised; every movement reminded her of her mistakes during the past week. The plate she dropped, when she missed dinner, and that time when she stepped on a piece of broken glass and screamed out in pain. Everything she had done wrong was impossible to forget, because he wouldn't let her.
She hugged her knees to her body, pressing them against her bruised ribs. Before she had not known how it could be possible to love someone who caused you so much pain intentionally, someone who calculated the easiest way to hurt the person you loved. There were no words for what she felt for Charlie, she loved him more than anything in this world but still she hated him for what he was doing.
Before she could justify what he was doing, but that day, just eight hours earlier she had seen a woman fighting for her life after her husband and pushed her down a flight of stairs and then continued to beat her. Never could Charlie do that, she truly believed that, but to live with the possibility that one day he could hurt her more than he intended to, that when she was lying on the floor hugging her stomach she could have an internal bleeding, and he would not know.
There was only one way to make sure this would never happen, and that was to leave him. She loved him too much for that; she could not leave him even if she tried. Once she loved someone, gave someone a promise to be there for him until they died, she intended to stick to it. Promises were meant to be kept.
That was why, as she hugged her knees tighter, she forced herself to only remember the good times, before they exchanged vows, before it all turned out all wrong.
)