"Puppet Master"
Chapter Eight-"Taking a Seat"
By: Purpleu
House leaned forward to give Lydia another kiss as he gently held her face in his hands. He could see from how puffy her eyes were that she had been crying quite a bit; that and the pile of used tissues on the coffee table were a dead giveaway. He wanted to just stand there and hold and kiss her for longer, but his leg was giving him an inordinate amount of pain. He either had to walk around or sit down.
"So, where's the patient?" House asked. Lydia was confused for a moment, but then realized he was talking about the rocking chair.
"Over there," she said motioning over her left shoulder. "I think it may be hopeless." House walked to where the broken pieces of what once was a beautiful rocker lay. It appeared to be made of walnut, with carvings on the headrest of edelweiss with small fleur de lis at each end of the piece. The spindles that it was once attached to were still connected to the back of the seat which had a small split at its front. The left arm had become unattached from its side support; the right arm had managed to hang on. Both rocker bottoms had been broken off. House walked over to the pile of remnants and knelt down to get a better look. The splintered pieces did look hopeless; he became aware of Lydia's presence to his right. She had sat down on the floor, a box of tissues in front of her. House looked away to his left; he was feeling guilty enough that he had ignored her when she was clearly upset earlier today. Now, he didn't know what to say. To him, it was a piece of furniture that once looked very pretty and it was too bad it got broken; to Lydia it held a much deeper meaning
"It's bad, isn't it?" she asked, her voice quivering. She leaned her head against House's shoulder and stared at the smashed pieces.
"Well, if my name was Gepetto instead of Greg, I might have a better answer for you," House replied. "But as it is, it does look…destroyed." Lydia let out a small sob at his words. He put his arm around her shoulder and sat down next to her. House drew Lydia in to him and kissed the top of her head.
"What did those idiots do?" House asked gently. Lydia sat up and took a tissue to wipe her eyes. She shifted her position so that she faced House.
"It's not even entirely their fault," she said as she sniffled. House shook his head.
"They are responsible for packing the truck, driving it across the country and then unloading it here safely. Oh, and did I mention that the contents should be," House paused and then said with great intensity, "UNDAMAGED? You're willing to make an excuse for these guys, but all you have to show for their efforts is a pile of fire kindling and the need for stock in Kimberly-Clark." Lydia gave House a puzzled look. "They're the company that makes Kleenex." He picked up the box of tissues and showed her their name. "Now, tell me how this is not the grunts' fault." Lydia took a deep breath before she began.
"As the truck was packed in Phoenix, the boxes went in first, then the furniture. I had never specified where things were to be dropped off, because I didn't know what the status of things would be here. So when they called and said they were ready to deliver, I wasn't thinking about how the truck had been set up and I told them to come here first. When they got here, they double parked, opened up the back and I realized that things were backwards. The movers weren't concerned, they said they would just take couple of pieces off the truck and rearrange some other things and it would be fine, no problem."
"That should have been the first warning sign," noted House. "Any time someone whose bicep measurement is larger than their IQ says 'no problem,' precautionary measures should be taken." Lydia chuckled.
"If only I had known," she said as she cleared her throat. "I need something to drink; do you want anything?" She stood up and headed for the kitchen.
"Yeah, I'll take a beer. Bring me in a slice, too. My blood sugar must be nearing zero by now." House reached over and started to examine the pieces of the rocker; the way some of them had splintered, he could actually fit them back together, like a jigsaw puzzle. Maybe, he thought as he was able to do the same with two other pieces, there's hope for this yet.
"Here you go," Lydia said as she handed House a plate. "I got a mini Sicilian pie with meatballs and sausage. I hope that's OK." House smiled.
"Their Sicilian is my favorite," he said as he took the food from her. "And the meat choice is fine."
"Good. Could you put this on the floor for me? I have to go back for the beers."
"Feel like indulging?" House asked as he took her plate.
"After today, you're lucky I'm not invading your scotch over there," Lydia said nodding her head in the direction of the bottle. House made a face as he looked at the bottle of single malt whiskey sitting on his bookshelf.
"I'd be right behind you if I didn't have to get up so damn early. Wilson's picking me up at seven-fifteen."
"That is early for you. From what you've told me, you don't like to show up at work so soon after sunrise," Lydia said returning with the beers. She sat down and crossed her legs in a semi-yoga position.
"I want to be there as Foreman's running the EEG. He's a board certified neurologist, but a second set of eyes can save you time and grief. We've gone through enough with this case in relation to the multiple medical maladies the kid has; any way we can cut down on problems can be of good use to us." Lydia looked at him curiously.
"What did you find out since I left this afternoon?" House shook his head.
"The accountant who works for Hunter got these files…" House stopped and looked at Lydia, her eyes red and the box of tissues at her feet. No he said to himself, albeit reluctantly, this time belonged to her.
"Why don't I tell you about it later? It's too long of a story and I want to hear about what happened with the Mario Brothers." Lydia hesitated as she took a bite of her pizza, but after a moment, she spoke.
"Where did I leave off? Oh, the furniture was in the way of the boxes. So, they started to move some of the pieces of furniture off the truck and put them on the sidewalk and reposition other things within the truck. They had placed the rocker on the edge of the truck loading ramp; I don't know if they were going to put it on the sidewalk, or somewhere else on the truck. As they were moving the love seat out of the way, one of the movers who was walking backwards with the couch, backed into the rocker and knocked it off the back of the truck. It bounced and rolled over when it hit the street and fell into the lane of traffic, right in front of a car. The poor driver couldn't stop fast enough and smacked in to it. She was elderly and I thought she was going to have a heart attack on the spot."
"Usually when a car and a tree meet, the tree wins the confrontation," House said with a disgusted sigh. "In this case, there was too much car and too little tree."
"I can't believe it broke the way it did it." Lydia undid her legs and moved to pick up one of the pieces of wood. "This chair is over seventy years old and has been around the world and back and forth across this country. I know it's been knocked around a bit, but to have it end its journey here? Like this?"
"Yeah, you'll always remember it met its end at my doorstep, great." Lydia looked at House and then at the remnants of the rocker.
"That's not the way I'm going to remember this chair," she said softly. She seemed in a daze and House was about to reach out for her, when she began to speak again. "The moving men were so apologetic; the fellow that knocked it off the truck couldn't stop saying sorry. When Annie explained that it was my grandmother's, even the driver kept saying she was sorry. They gave me all the paperwork I need to file a claim, but to what end? I doubt it can be fixed and I could never replace it." Lydia started to tear up again. "This chair has seen so much joy and sorrow." She looked over at House. "Please help me turn the seat over so I can show you the bottom." House moved forward and grabbed the seat carefully, not sure what Lydia was going to show him. He moved to a sitting position next to Lydia and turned the seat so the bottom faced them; it was then that House saw a series of names carved into the bottom: Constanza-Marie, Marie-Lydia, Lydia-Benjamin, Elise. The history of the chair. Lydia reached her hand out and gently ran it over the names, tracing the letters of each one. She rested her head on House's shoulder and softly began to cry. House took a swig of his beer before he began to speak.
"Constanza was your grandmother and Marie your mother," he said. Lydia nodded.
"The rocker was a gift from my grandfather, Rafe, to my grandmother when they found out she was expecting my mother. He said that all their children would be rocked to sleep in this chair; but he was killed in a factory accident when my mother was two and my grandmother never remarried." House shook his head.
"I see where that strong, independent spirit of yours comes from." Lydia managed a smile. "Hey, you've barely touched your pizza and I'm ready for round two," House said indicating his empty plate; he had managed to scarf down the entire slice in just a few bites as Lydia had been talking. "Let me put this back here," he said picking up the seat and replacing it on the pile, "I'll warm up your slice and get another for me. Then let's sit on the couch; the floor is beginning to get to my leg." House stood up, bent down to pick up the plates and gave Lydia a kiss on the top of her head as he did so.
"I'm sorry; I didn't even think about how it would bother your leg to sit on the floor."
"Normally it wouldn't, but it's killing me at the moment. And I'm glad I'm not the only one around here who's forgetting to think of others before reacting." Lydia stood up and picked up the beer bottles; House's was empty, hers was almost gone. She chugged what was left as House returned to the room.
"Want another?" she asked. House nodded and sat down on the couch. "Oh, you're not still talking about my phone call earlier today, are you?" she called out from the kitchen. "Because I'm not upset about that."
"I think your line back at Mayfield was 'I'm not crying over you.'" Lydia smiled as she joined him and placed the beers down on the coffee table.
"I don't believe you remembered I said that." House picked up his bottle and took a drink. He turned to Lydia and smiled.
"I remember every word you said, everything we talked about; I used to watch for you from the windows upstairs. I can still see you getting out of your car and walking toward the building." House had closed his eyes as the memory of different things came back to him. "I know what your perfume smelled like and the fact that you wore a different one the night of the cocktail reception." He opened his eyes and took her hand.
"The lunatics that ran that asylum thought we were either Amish farmers or in the military. They'd start the call for showers and other morning activities at five-thirty and lights out was nine at night. So to avoid too much late night interaction with the rap master Alvie, I'd face the wall and think over what we talked about, how you looked, your smile." House turned to look at Lydia. "It was all that kept me going through Mayfield. When Annie left, I knew I had to get out of there, whether Nolan was going to give me a letter to recommend I get my medical license back or not." House put his beer on the table and leaned back against the couch. "Even when I came back here, I thought about you every day; something you said, something you did. You got to me. I even told a dying patient that I was confined with during a lockdown that you got to me. I had convinced myself I wanted to be alone, that I was better off that way. Then I met you and you…changed me." Lydia had a twinkle in her eye as she leaned over to pick up her beer.
"I thought people don't change," she said. House gave Lydia's hand a squeeze as he turned to face her.
"By people, I mean humanity as a whole; they don't change. But then again, I would have to say that a good ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine percent of them have never met you; give or take ten million or so. And you are a force to be reckoned with," House said as he brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, "especially when you smile." She broke out in a wide grin at his words. He moved his hand down to her neck and very gently placed it on the back of her neck to bring her head closer to his. He gently kissed her once, twice….but just as he was about to kiss her again, a shot of pain from his leg made him quickly move back and wince as he rubbed his leg.
"Greg, are you OK?" House nodded his head as he stared at the floor, silently cursing the leg.
"Yeah, the damn thing has been killing me all day."
"I know you don't want to hear this," Lydia said as she reached over and placed her hand on top of House's, "But I really do think you over did it last night; and this morning," she said, smiling. "I picked up something at the store, I'm sure it was silly on my part, but it's made with lavender and tea tree oil and is supposedly very good for sore muscles and to calm and relax you." House shook his head.
"The problem is that I don't have a muscle in there to relax," he said. He sighed as he looked at her and saw the disappointment in her eyes. "Thanks for trying."
"I can still massage some into your leg later," she offered. "You never know what effect it may have." House smiled.
"If it involves you putting your hands on my body, I know exactly what effect it will have. I have an idea; stand up for a minute." Lydia complied and House swung his left leg on to the couch and stretched it out. "OK, now move your beer next to mine and then sit down with your back to me." Lydia looked confused, but did as House asked. "Now take that beautiful tush of yours and slide it back until it's resting against my crotch." Lydia turned around and shot House a look. "It's spooning while in a sitting position," he explained. She pondered what he said for a few seconds, and then nodded her head in understanding. She slid back toward House until her body was resting against his. "Perfect; now let me get the bum leg up there." Lydia reached down as House started to move his leg up to the couch; she helped him lift it up and placed it on top of her legs.
"Mm mm….this is a very good idea," Lydia said snuggling back against House.
"I have them all the time; it's just that nobody bothers to listen. Now see, my arm can go here," he said wrapping his left arm around her waist, "my lips have easy access to your neck," he said as he placed several kisses on the nape of her neck, "and I can still reach the food, so I can make sure that you eat." House reached over, picked up Lydia's slice and held it out in front of her. She laughed and tried to take the slice from him.
"I don't need you to feed me. I'm a big girl you know."
"The pampering is all part of the service." Lydia turned to look at him.
"What service?"
"Greg's House of Comforting and Consolation. It's a new venture I'm getting into." Lydia took a bite of the slice House offered and leaned back against him.
"So far, it's a huge success," she said quietly. House saw her staring at what once was the rocker and felt her take several deep breaths. "I thought about you all the time, too. Every day, several times a day. I needed to get through things that were happening," she said keeping her gaze on the rocker, "And thinking of the different things we did, or imagining how you would react when I heard someone say something inane at a store, all helped. Remembering how I felt when you looked at me, made it so much easier to deal with the hurt and pain." House had picked up her slice as she has started to speak, but now replaced it on the plate and rubbed her shoulders and arms gently.
"You said a little while ago that the chair had seen so much joy and sorrow," House said. "The joy is pretty easy to figure out; I assume that some of the sorrow comes from your grandfather's death." Lydia turned her body so that she could place her head on House's collar bone and nestle it in to the crook of his neck.
"That was the start of the sorrow the chair has seen. My mother had miscarried twice before I was born and twice afterward. Each time she made it into the early part of her second trimester, but then she lost them. She was on complete bed rest after the first two miscarriages; the pregnancy where she was carrying me went smoothly, so when she became pregnant after that, everyone thought they had found the formula for success. Sadly, she lost those two babies, too. I'm the only one who survived." All the medical reasons why the losses happened bounced around in House's head, but he restrained himself from blurting them out. It didn't matter what caused the loss, it was the gravity of it that mattered to Lydia.
"Could I have my beer?" Lydia asked as she sat up. House reached over, snagged the bottle and handed it to her with a flourish. He picked up her pizza and held it out in front of her. She looked at it, then at House as she took a drink; she knew it was useless to argue, so she took a bite.
"It doesn't feel very warm," House said. "Do you want me to reheat it or get a new slice?" Lydia shook her head.
"It's fine. Besides, I don't want you to get up from this couch; it feels too wonderful." She took another drink and leaned back against House again.
"I suppose you have a tale relating to the rocker," House said. "Want to tell me about it or skip it for now?" Lydia let out a deep sigh and handed the beer to House to put back on the table. She ran her hands through her hair and paused momentarily to hold her head. "If you don't want to talk about it…"
"Elise had colic and my ex couldn't stand the screaming and crying," Lydia said quickly, interrupting House. "I understand it was horribly difficult to listen to; I listened all day long while he was at work and at night he would disappear for hours, sometimes all night leaving me alone. Each time he left, he'd say 'You wanted them, you take care of them'. I tried everything to ease the colic: Mylicon drops, chamomile tea, swaddling…" House nodded.
"Those are the usual treatments; unfortunately none of them usually work." Lydia gave a rueful laugh.
"Don't I know it. Well, one night, when Elise's crying woke little Ben up, he found me in the rocker, crying from exhaustion; I hadn't slept more than fifteen or twenty minutes at a shot for three days. I was holding Elise on my left shoulder." Lydia gestured as if she was holding a baby. "Little Ben climbed up on to my right knee with two tissues, one for me and one for Elise. He first wiped away my tears and then Elise's and said 'Don't cry little sister; your big brother will make you feel better'. Of course that just made me cry more. Finally, she stopped screaming as much and out of sheer exhaustion, I fell asleep holding her and with Ben still on my knee. Looking back now, I know how dangerous that was but it's not like I chose to do it."
"You basically passed out," House noted. He reached up and rubbed her neck and shoulders; he knew she was tense and needed to relax.
"I woke up maybe ten minutes later and I was aware of someone singing." Lydia half laughed, half cried at the memory. "Here was little Ben singing 'Rock-A-Bye Baby' and patting Elise on the back…and she was asleep! I checked right away to make sure she was OK; then I walked with her into my room and put her in the cradle next to my bed. Ben followed and he wanted to sleep in my room so he could help me take care of Elise. I said OK and the next thing I know, he's trying to drag the rocker into my bedroom." Lydia reached up to brush tears off of her face. "I got more sleep that night than I had in days. There were so many more times Ben helped me when Elise and I were in the rocker; I think the really sad part was my three year old was more of a man than his father was." She hunched forward, put her head in her hands and began to cry in earnest. House put his arms around her; she started rocking back and forth, just shaking her head.
House was doing his best to hide his reaction from Lydia; it wasn't just what her son did at all of three years old, it was the idea that Lydia dealt with it on her own. If her ex didn't want the kids, there were things he could have done to prevent having them. Besides, he was already getting action elsewhere; it's not like he had to keep torturing Lydia with his grimy touch. House thought about how he had judged Jeanne Hunter earlier in the day: 'Well she's the one who choose to marry Malcolm Hunter.' Lydia chose to marry Annie's brother out of loneliness and desperation. Who knows what Mrs. Hunter's reasons may have been?
House realized that Lydia needed tissues and saw the box across the room on the floor. He put his right leg down on the ground and swung his left leg over the top of Lydia's head. Pushing off the couch to stand up, he walked over and retrieved the box of tissues. Lydia looked up at him as he came back over to her.
"Thank you," she said her voice hoarse from crying.
"It's OK; I need them, too," House admitted. "But just one." He pulled out several tissues to hand to Lydia and kept one for himself. House reached over, picked up his beer and Lydia's and offered hers to her as he took a drink. She took it from him and took a long drink, almost emptying the bottle. House moved closer and held on to her tightly. He wanted to say something, but anything he could think of criticizing her ex or praising her son, would probably start her crying again. The past forty-eight hours had been an exercise in letting out years of pent up emotion and House was glad she finally doing it before it made her sick, but she needed a break.
"Hey, my blackberry just told me that Kimberly-Clark's stock just went up again and I haven't had the chance to buy any yet." House let go of her and changed position so they were face to face. "Are you done producing saline solution for now? 'Cause your eyes are almost swollen shut." He reached up and gently touched the area under her eyes. Lydia chuckled and nodded her head.
"I'm better now, thank you."
"I'm going to get another one," he said indicating the beer as he stood up, "You?" Lydia shook her head.
"I don't want to be going into the interviews I have tomorrow with a foggy brain," she said.
"I forgot about them," House admitted. "What time do you have to be at the first one?" He walked in to the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was a small white box with the name of the pizza parlor on it; they had recently begun offering desserts from a well-known bakery a couple of towns away. House grabbed the box as well as a beer for himself.
"Ten-thirty. The first one is at the school I went to yesterday; the second one is at a private school, the Waldorf Academy and that one has me very interested. It has a very generous salary and health insurance plan; the position that is open is for an assistant teacher, but the teacher is going out on maternity leave and isn't returning. If I somehow could pick up a few more credits at the local college, I might be considered for that job permanently."
"You have your associates degree? Not just a certificate?" House asked as he sat down. Lydia nodded in the affirmative as she opened the box.
"My degree is for a teaching assistant with certification in music as a specialty. I also took some special education classes, so I can be placed in an inclusion class." She offered the pastries to House; inside the box there were two mini-cannoli, two mini cream puffs and two mini éclairs.
"Good choices," he observed as he took a cannoli.
"They were out of napoleons or I would have gotten them, too," she said still sniffling. House handed her the box of tissues; he gave up on guessing how many she needed.
"So this job at the private school looks better than the other one? Being private, maybe the silver spooned children will be better behaved."
"Well, the pay and benefits are definitely better," Lydia said, "but most interesting to me, is that their school nurse is retiring next year. I don't know what qualifications are required to hold that job, although I'm sure they come from the state. I don't know if I should stick with the idea of a music teacher or go back to medicine in some way. It's just that I was so close when I had to leave school to care for my parents. I really want to know if I would have made a good doctor, so I could say," Lydia looked upward to the ceiling, "Siehst du, Papa, ich wusste, dass ich es tun kann". House understood exactly what Lydia said: "See, Papa, I knew I could do it."
"Your father doubted that you'd be a good doctor, that you would excel in your chosen profession." Lydia nodded her head and looked at House. He didn't see tears as he had expected, but a fierce, steely look, determined to prove her father wrong. "I've got news for you: your father isn't capable of passing judgment on you anymore. So why are you still trying to prove something to a dead man? Why do you give a crap what he thinks?" House voice rose and became more intense as he spoke to Lydia, but she didn't flinch at his words.
"For the same reason you put your medical mysteries above everything else in your life. You think that each one you solve will bring you a little closer to hearing your father say, 'I'm proud of you' or 'You made the right choice'. But even if he was here, he would never say that, any more than my father would praise me. Their minds were made up, don't try and change them." Lydia let out a little laugh. "Maybe that's where you get the opinion that people don't change." Lydia reached out and took House's hand as he sat staring at the floor; she noticed a few tears rolling down his cheeks. Leaning over him to get to the tissues, she caught his eye; he picked his head up and she brushed away the tears with the tissue. "You are very lucky; you know, without any one's approval how good you are at your chosen field. You said to hell with following in my father's footsteps, I know what I want, I know what I'm good at, and that's what I'm going to do with my life. It's a shame that it forced you into this narrow way of apportioning all the aspects of your life, that you haven't been able to share it with any one. Your talents in medicine are amazing; but you, yourself, are the best gift you have to offer to this world." House grabbed Lydia, held her and began to cry; gently at first, but with greater intensity as the minutes passed. Lydia let it go on for a bit; she knew how cleansing it felt just to let it all out sometimes. She finally turned her head so she could whisper in House's ear.
"I think Kimberly-Clark just hit an all-time high." House couldn't help laughing as Lydia pulled back and looked at him. She too started laughing and ran her hand down House's cheeks, brushing away most of the tears.
"Hey, the stock's going to plummet if you do that," he said.
"It's OK; it will give you the chance to buy low." House shook his head.
"Can't do that. With how many tissues we've used here tonight, it would be considered insider trading," he said. Lydia continued to laugh as she leaned into House to hug him once again, but something caught in her throat and she started to cough. House jumped up and hurried into the kitchen to get her a bottle of water. He cracked the top open and quickly handed it to her. Lydia took more than a few sips before she was able to stop coughing. She was still trying to clear her throat several minutes later. "I guess laughing and crying aren't the best combo," House noted.
"I'm sorry; I don't know what got me. I'm alright now." House took her hand.
"No one, not Wilson, not Stacy has come out and said to me the things you just did about my relationship with my father and why I am so intense about solving medical mysteries. I need the puzzles to keep me from going crazy, any more than I already have in the past; I need them to be medical to show my father….not so much that he was wrong, but that I was right." House stood. "I had no disrespect for my father's profession or anyone who serves in the military, for that matter. I just knew it wasn't for me and I thought it was better to be a good civilian than a lousy soldier."
"A very wise choice if you ask me," Lydia said. As she rose up from the couch to stand next to House, she said, "Now tell me: If I shouldn't care what a dead man thinks, why should you? You don't need to show or prove anything anymore. You never did." House moved forward to Lydia and ran his hands up and down her back.
"How do you know me so well? For whatever time we spent at Mayfield and the past two days here, that is not enough time to know someone the way you know me." Lydia smiled.
"Because so many times when I've watched you or listened to you talk, I feel like I'm looking in a mirror."
"You are about as much like me as Kate Middleton is like Lady Gaga," House said shaking his head vigorously.
"I know what it feels like to be ripped away from people you make friends with, I know what it feels like to move every few years or months and be told this is your new home, this is the new view out your window and nothing ever looked the same. You were always the new kid in school and no matter how nice or cool you were, you got picked on." Lydia placed her hands on House's shoulders. "I know what it feels like to be ridiculed and rejected by your father because you weren't turning out the way he thought you should be. I am more like you than you realize and it's what allows me to see past the attitude and the smart ass comments and be completely in love with you." Lydia leaned forward and kissed House intently, the emotions of the night culminating in that kiss. House responded in kind, knowing full well how lucky he was to have earned the love of such an amazing woman. They remained lip-locked for several minutes until Lydia broke away and looked at her watch.
"It's almost eleven," she said. "If I'm going to massage that oil into your leg before we get some sleep, we'd better call it a night."
"Party pooper," House said as he picked up his beer and began to chug it down. Lydia opened the water bottle House had gotten her, took a drink and set it back down on the coffee table.
"Could you please take the water into the bedroom with you? My throat's still a little scratchy." House made a face.
"What am I your slave? Boy, share a few emotional moments and they think they own you." Lydia gave House a look.
"As a matter of fact, I do own you," she said as she wrapped her arms around him. "And you will never be put up for sale." House hugged her and as he did, he looked over Lydia's shoulder to what once was the rocker that held so much meaning for her. Now, House understood: the broken pieces of the rocker represented all the heartbreaks that Lydia had been through in her life. He didn't know if the rocker could be fixed, but he was going to do everything he could to mend her heart one step at a time.