Chapter 14

House came home from the hospital, looking for Karen. The kids were in the family room playing Guitar Hero. They told him she was in her bedroom.

He went into the master suite, then stopped short when he saw her. She was sitting on the bed, reading a magazine, with a kitchen timer beside her.

But what stopped him was her hair.

It was sticking out around her head with some sort of brown gunk on it.

He stared at her in shocked silence. When she noticed him there, she smiled at him.

"Hi. You're home early."

"What the hell is that?"

"What?"

"That shit on your head."

"Oh, sorry, it's my root touch-up."

"And what the hell is that?"

"Covering the gray roots."

"Your hair's not gray." He protested.

"Not entirely. But I get some at the temples and sideburns."

"I've never seen any gray."

"Of course not. That's why I use the color."

"Okay, but I've never seen you use that crap either."

"Well, do you think I would use it when I was with you on those weekends? We always had better things to do."

He realized that was true, but he continued to stare at her.

"Does it bother you?"

He shrugged. It didn't bother him – exactly – but it was strange.

"Talk to me, Greg. What's up?"

"I don't know. Just seems weird."

"I know. Remember, we were in a very odd relationship before. Just seeing each other twice a month. We didn't have to deal with the everyday things. Now we do."

He nodded. "Guess so. Well, I'll let you finish… that. I'm getting a beer."

She watched him go. She knew that all of this was strange for him, but if he couldn't handle the normal things, how would he handle the big things when they came?

He came home late from the hospital one day. She greeted him at the door, but he seemed distracted.

"Is everything alright?"

He just shrugged. "Got a case that's stumping me."

"Oh, she said. His work was a mystery to her. She knew nothing about medicine. There was no advice she could give him.

It made her feel inadequate. Maybe he'd have been better off with another doctor who would understand his work.

"Can I get you a beer?"

He nodded and limped to the living room, then practically collapsed on the sofa. She brought him the beer and sat beside him.

"There's food if you're hungry.'

"Maybe later."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah," he snapped. "Leave me alone!"

"Okay." She said in a shaky voice and headed to the kitchen.

Shit, he thought. This was why he didn't do relationships. He was no damn good at it.

He got up and followed her into the kitchen.

She was standing at the sink and her back was towards him.

"Sorry." He said quietly.

She turned. "What?"

"Sorry. When I'm thinking about a case, I'm, uh, not very social."

She nodded. "Okay."

He could see that she was still upset, but didn't really know what else to say. He decided to go with the banal.

"So did you say there was food?"

"Sure." She got a bowl and filled it with some stew from a pot on the stove. She put it on the table and as he was crossing the room to go to it he took her arm and looked into her eyes.

"Really," he said, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I have to understand that you're not always going to be in a good mood."

"It's not that. It's just when I'm preoccupied by a case…"

"I know. And I feel so inadequate. There's nothing I can do to help you."

"I don't expect you to help me. And you're not inadequate. You don't have that knowledge. You're not supposed to. You're…"

He stopped and stared off into space.

"Greg?" she asked "Are you okay?"

He was silent, his mind working feverishly. Then he got up and left the room as quickly as he could. As he headed out the door, she heard him talking on his cell.

"Stop the antibiotics. Check her blood again. I know you did, but this time check for…"

His words were lost as he reached his car and got in.

She watched him drive away in confusion.

Later that night, she was asleep when she felt him get in beside her.

She turned and said softly, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry I ran off. When I get the answer, I have to run with it."

"And you had the answer?"

He nodded.

"Your patient?"

"Will live to annoy again."

"That's good."

He laid there quietly for a few minutes, before saying, "I didn't mean to ignore you or shut you out, but I'll do that a lot."

"Greg, I understand. At least I think I do. You're a brilliant man. I have to be patient."

"Christ, no!" he said angrily. "You don't have to treat me differently. Stop being so goddamned understanding. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I shouldn't have walked out without saying anything to you. I shouldn't act like an inconsiderate jerk.

"But the truth is I will. I'll do this time after time. I'll yell, treat you like shit and act like a jerk time after time. I don't expect you to forgive me every time, but you're such a nice person, you probably will."

"What's wrong with that?" she asked him.

"Nothing. Except that I'll take advantage and act like more of a jerk the next time."

"So, what do you want me to do? Not forgive you?"

"As if I know. I know less about this relationship crap than you do."

She was silent as she thought about his words. When she finally spoke, she put her hand on his chest and said, "Greg, are you expecting this relationship to be perfect? Because I certainly am not. No relationship is ever perfect. Two virtual strangers trying to mold their lives together is never easy. Throw a couple of teenagers in and it's a sure recipe for disaster."

"So we don't have a chance?" he asked her.

"No, we just have to do what all of the other couples struggling to maintain a relationship do. We have to sometimes get angry, sometimes forgive and just …be. And hope for the best."

"Hoping for the best has never been my strong point."

"Always time to try something new."