Chapter 16
Author's note:
Incorporated within this chapter are what could be construed as spoilers for the end of the current season... If you don't want to be spoiled in any way, please don't read ahead. Well, until May, that is...
The following is my attempt at going my own way, while not going completely AU on everyone.
Important note: the title of this chapter is taken directly from the following poem by E.E. Cummings and is not mine. (But it did inspire me, greatly)
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea
E.E. Cummings
As Large as Alone
She looked out over the water and thought of her life recently. Well, the last 18 months, actually. Established fully in internship, facing the imminent approach of residency, she was finally able to think of herself as "Doctor." She still sometimes paused briefly before signing her new moniker to charts, but only occasionally. That had to be a good sign. She was finally, maybe, starting to really feel and act like an grown up...
Except now, she felt almost as small and helpless as a child again. She thought of their brief... affair? relationship? She didn't really know what it should be called. It felt like a love affair, at first. He, attentive and obviously (why? She didn't know) attracted to her -pursuing her even. She was attracted in spite of the age difference, their compromised working relationship, her own misgivings. And maybe, she was drawn toward him because of his... earnestness.
That was it, what made him so irresistible; he was earnest. No hiding, no games; he wanted her, fiercely, and she knew it. Maybe she wanted him, just as fiercely... But she didn't know this, at first. And that was her M.O. – always hiding, never fully revealing, never taking that step off the high rock and just plunging in. No... That was one thing Abby had never been able to do. Plunge.
She felt so very close to plunging in, at one point. It was that look in his eyes that said, "I'm not going anywhere" which almost had her, almost ensnared her into believing. But no. As soon as they arrived back from the visit with his family, she began to feel that abject terror again. Well, truth be told, she felt it before they even left his parent's house, really. Oh, hell, who was she fooling; she felt it at the baptismal fount. Him, standing there holding that tiny, perfect baby, eye's twinkling at her filled with conspiracy and all she could think was, "Not in this lifetime, pal." And the terror set in.
And now? It was over. After pushing back and forth a few times and some, let's face it, really good if slightly angry sex he...just gave up. Filling out his match list with someone else, tidying up loose ends without her, he was going to just walk away. Hunker down within the comforting embrace of his family as if he were some refugee from a terrible historic battle, until flight time. San Francisco. Long, long way away from here.
"I must be some piece of work," she muttered, breaking her silence to the gathering throng of ducks.
"Oh, I dunno -I couldn't live with you for very long, but surely there's someone out there who can stand you..." Her lips screwed up tightly in a half-suppressed smile, Neela sauntered lightly toward her. "How're you doing?"
"Oh, I'm contemplating the very real possibility that I may have to consider a career change. Celibacy and the sisterhood may be all I'm suited for, at this point." Trying to sound light, Abby knew she missed the mark by a few hairs.
"Don't know if I can quite picture you in a nun's drab habit -lilac's a better color on you." Her gaze steady, Neela came straight to the point, "Listen, I know you probably will tell me to bugger off, but, seriously -if you want to talk about it, I am here." Swinging her eyes mercifully toward the water, Neela fell silent. Waiting probably.
"It's just that..." this was NOT how she wanted to handle this, "you know... it's no big deal, really. I'm not pining... Longing, maybe, just a little..." a hoarse laugh burst out of her, "I think I just put my senses on hold... just for a little while, with him," how to explain what she didn't even fully know? "Jake... made me feel... wanted again. It was easy to ignore the danger signs, because I just wanted to feel– ' Springing tears startled her eyes, "...oh, damn, Neela -I don't know where this is coming from... I never thought for a moment that this was something serious..." she paused, searching frantically for the right words, "but, I guess, him pushing for it... I don't know." Her breath puffed out around her mouth, and immediately she wished for a smoke. "I'm fine; really -I just need to get this out of my system," chancing a look up at Neela, "and then, you know... I can move on." Abby was gracefully dismissing her, and she knew her colleague... her friend... was aware of the trick.
Neela looked at her in that clinical, inscrutable way of hers -the way that almost always made Abby think of a marble goddess- smiled quickly and made a move towards the stone stairway, "Okay... well, I'll just be going back, then." She darted quickly to the foot of the staircase, but then stopped, "but if you need to talk, or binge eat, or anything... well, you know," she started up the steps.
"Neela," Abby's voice almost caught in her throat, reminding her of the potential tears she was trying to smother, "do you think," oh, this was really pathetic, "do you think that I'm unlovable?"
"Absolutely!" she called back, but her warm smile betrayed her. A quick wave of her hand, and Neela was gone.
Glancing back over the water, Abby smiled to herself.
The dream was about to become the reality. Carter scrutinized the plans intently; it was all there -everything he'd asked for, right down to the courtyard. A place for grieving families to find solace, and peace. "This is exactly right. I'm pleased that you came to see it my way, Dr. Anspaugh."
"Please, John, in light of our evolving relationship, I hardly think it's appropriate to call me by my last name," extending a hand, "call me Donald."
Carter smirked just a little, "O...kay," a chuckle, "Donald." This was surreal. He had never been anything more to Dr. Ansp-, Donald than a grudgingly tolerated underling, in his entire time at County, and here he was, invited to call the man by his first name... Perversely, an advertising slogan went through his mind, "Membership has it's privileges" and he laughed again.
"You cannot expect to entirely sponsor a new wing of what I consider to be 'MY hospital' and address me in the same way you did as an intern, now can you?" Dr. Anspaugh's eyes twinkled with high spirits.
"Oh, I guess that wouldn't be entirely appropriate," sudden realization hit him, "but then, I've a lot of years to go, before I'm as comfortable in this role as Gemma was," He looked out over the vacant lot that would become his son's memorial, "but I'm learning..." Learning, in spades...
The weather was lovely, so Carter decided to cut his cab ride short. Passing a fifty through the passenger window, "keep the change," he called out absent-mindedly. As he ambled down the tree-lined street, he turned over in his mind the thought that, perhaps, Gemma was right; this is what he was born to do. He'd never felt any affinity for the choice, at all, in his entire lifetime. He'd dedicated his life to being a doctor; his life a living memorial to his dead brother. Dedicated to helping people. It had hardly turned out as he envisioned, though.
No, he helped people, sure, but he was still empty inside. Everything he thought he'd have was taken away in a simple, stupid accident. No one was to blame; certainly not Kem -she'd done everything right. Everything. But he'd been sure of that from the start. The assurance that came much more slowly to his heart was the assurance that he'd done everything right, too. He hated the helplessness he'd felt, and turned all the blame inward. He'd been powerless, just like with Bobby; he'd failed to make Kem happy after their son died, just like he'd failed to make his mother happy after Bobby died.
But lately, he could look at his face in the mirror and know, with certainty, that he'd been blameless, too. And then the plan began to form in his mind. The change in the weather he'd been praying for. A living memorial to his dead son, and Kem's work; a safe place, where those suffering from AIDS could find comprehensive care. A place where those who couldn't afford it otherwise, could find caring staff to meet their needs. A noble, fine place, in the midst of urban implacability.
Carter looked up into the cool, crisp morning sky; spring in Chicago. And he'd be gone by fall. Nobody knew yet, he hadn't even told Susan. Since Kerry inexplicably arranged for him to get tenure, their relationship was a bit strained. Recently, though, things weregetting better. Still, best not to table the news of his departure just yet; he had a little time. Time to heal that breach, soften the news a bit. She was operating the ER with a near skeleton crew as it was, he didn't relish breaking the news that she'd soon be down another attending.
Reaching his front walk, Carter stretched out a hand for the gate. He paused a little, looking up at the house that was supposed to be his family home. Knew right then that he wouldn't sell it; he'd keep it for when he had business in Chicago. There would always be business in Chicago; the Foundation was his to run, after all. He could get away with one or two trips to attend to pressing business, but most of the day to day stuff would be handled by those much more capable. Anything that needed his attention could be faxed. Or overnighted.
He entered the quiet house, threw his keys onto the entry table, and grabbed the phone. Pinning the phone to his ear with an awkward shoulder, he trained his fingers on loosening the knot in his tie. He counted the rings almost as an afterthought, guiltily.
"Hello?" her musical voice sang out notes that made his heart skip. "Kem, hello... how are you?" Their conversations usually started the same, with a little nervous volley, and he wondered if they'd ever get past the semi-formal greetings. "I'm fine, John! How are you?" Relating to her the triumph on the adjusted blueprints, he almost felt fine, maybe for the first time in his life. "They tweaked everything -no more burger joints, and gift stores- Oh, and the industrial meditation zone? They buckled on that one, too." Her soft laughter bolstered his confidence even more, "It's just as I envisioned it;it's going to be a quiet, tasteful meditation garden now -almost like an outdoor chapel."
"John, that is wonderful... I had faith that you would be able to persuade them, though." He heard her sigh happily, and then, "..and what will they name this beautiful place?" Softly, reverently, he recited, "The Joshua Carter Memorial Care Center, after our son." There was a long pause, but she let out a soft breath and said, "that's... that's very good. Yes, very ... I like it John, I do."
"I knew you would," he smiled at the thought of pleasing her, and continued, "..well, I will say good-bye to you,now -I've got a shift in," glancing down at his watch, "two hours. Need a quick power nap and a shower," he couldn't seem to end their conversations comfortably, either,"uhm...you take care of yourself, Kem."
"John -wait," he pulled the phone quickly back up to his ear, "there's something I have to tell you." This didn't sound good. "Go on," bracing himself for the blow, "I've got time."
"John, I'm going back to Paris for a while. I've been talking to an old friend there, and I think I'm going to take a sabbatical, just to recharge a bit." Hearing the difficulty in her voice, his mind began to race, keeping pace with his heart. "Michel, my friend, he is... We used to see each other, a long time ago; he has asked me to come, and speak on my work. Seminars for potential investors..." She paused long enough to let this sink in, "John, nothing is set in stone, but I feel I really need to do this."
He slumped to the hallway floor, sucking huge gulps of air.
It had taken a long time, to get over their loss... Both of them dealing with it in their own way. He'd respected her wishes to heal alone, surrounded by her work, and was almost surprised when her phone calls came with steady regularity. Oh, Carter suspected that she'd moved on with someone, just like he had with Wendell... But he'd hoped against hope, when he allowed himself to think about it, that she hadn't moved on so far ahead that he'd lose her altogether. He certainly hadn't. Or couldn't. He knew the moment Wendell told him she loved him, knew that he could not say those words in return. His vision began to clear that night; a man waking from a dream.
"Well..." he hesitated, "I think that could be very good for your clinic, Kem." He measured his words, carefully; what claim, after all, did he really have on her affections anymore. "This... Michel," tread carefully, Carter, "he a close friend?"
Kem hesitated just long enough, that he knew. Michel was no Wendell. This was more than fly-by-night; this... this was a wake-up call. "He is a very dear, old friend, John... someone whom I've known forever, it seems... and," another not-so-good hesitation, "yes; we are close."
There it was; hanging in the air between them. He didn't even know how much he longed...for her to wrap her arms around him and just hold him close, until that moment. Until she was seemingly beyond his grasp. He'd just assumed it was going to work out; that Kem would come back to him, that they would be together. It couldn't NOT work out. It just couldn't.
"I think I'll come to Paris, maybe meet with you and talk about funding... I'd," where in hell was he going with this? "I've got some extra capital set aside, and I think I could free it up..." but he couldn't find the words to finish the sentence.
She hesitated again, "You're... you're coming to Paris...?" Don't sound so excited, Kem... The thought was savage -but only for a moment. He concentrated on softening his tone, "Yeah... yeah, I think it's a good idea. I could use a break and," okay, really, where was he going with this? "and maybe, I don't know," and finallyinspiration hit "videotape your presentation... Yeah...you could have a professional copy to send to other donors as a fund raising tool..." he let this sink in, proud of his bottom-of-the-ninth save.
Her next answer would be crucial; if she didn't seem totally resistant to the idea, perhaps there was a chance that she and Michel were truly only close friends... If she answered emphatically that it wasn't a good idea, he'd know there was no chance left for him in her mind. "Sure... sure," she finally spoke, "that could be useful, John... and I'd really like for you to meet Michel..."
to be continued...