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"Holly? " Gail's voice is calling from our bedroom.
I pick myself up off the couch where I have been reading the latest Journal of Forensic Science and drag myself to the door. Gail has been home for over a week. She is propped up in pillows and a blue corduroy backrest she likes to call her husband. There is a steel plate with eight pins in her right clavicle, but she is on bed rest for at least another two weeks due to her bruised liver and spleen. She jokes that if I took a close up photo of her abdomen it would match the decor of our bedroom as an abstract of purple, blue, and greenish yellow. She doesn't get why I don't think its funny at all.
"Hey." I greet her wearily.
"I've missed you!" She pouts, "You're so far away."
"I'm right here." I reply. "And I've been here all day."
"No, you've been out there all day." She pouts some more, "You used to like reading in bed with me."
She is right, and I know it. I sigh heavily and look at the floor. When she was in the hospital, I couldn't wait for her to come home. Now that she's here, I can barely stand being in the same room with her.
"Did you make that ultrasound appointment for later in the week with Dr. Sinclair?" I ask instead of answering. There is pressure building in my head behind my eyes.
"Holly. Holly, look at me." She demands. But I can't.
I close my eyes as the pressure moves into my chest as well. The air is so thick I am beginning to suffocate.
"Did you?" I ask again.
"Uh huh. But you're still not looking at me. Come on Holly! We tell each other stuff, right?"
I can't take it, so I literally run from our room, down the stairs and into our front hall. The cold stone floor steadies me as the silent tears begin to come and I lean back into the dark wood door of the coat closet. I have got to get out of here! I am throwing on my coat and boots, when I see her standing there looking lost. She is wearing nothing but my faded, grey Magnetic Fields t-shirt that falls gracefully over the tops of her thighs, her hair is in a wild, messy braid and her eyes are huge.
"Where are you going?" she asks softly.
I turn away so she won't see my tears. I swallow hard, but no words come. Soft hands touch my wrist and gently caress the back of my neck.
"Where is your sling? And why are you out of bed?" I practically whisper.
"Holly, do you want to tell me what's going on?" Her lips brush the back of my neck as she speaks, sending shivers up my spine, and more tears.
Her arms wrap around me, pulling me closer. I sigh, and lean into the soft comfort of her body. Her lips press into the space between my shoulders at the base of my neck.
"Holly," She murmurs into my skin, "It's just me. Turn around."
I close my eyes and shake my head. Oh God, it hurts! "I can't." I say in a barely audible voice that breaks.
I try to remove her arms, but she holds on tight.
"I can't do this. I don't know how." I whisper.
I can feel her moving around my body until she is directly in front of me.
"Can't do what Holly?" I can hear the soft note of dread in her voice. It breaks my heart even more. "Come on Holly! Can't do what?" She says louder, beginning to sound somewhat panicky. "Holly?"
I whimper and gasp as more tears come. She lets go of my body and steps back with a look of growing horror on her face. I can't seem to pull it together enough to answer. I clutch myself and sob harder. My nose runs. She is backing away from me now with huge sad eyes, her mouth slightly agape.
"Gail.." I finally manage to hiccup, reaching for her.
"No, don't." She says in a flat tone, shaking her head before she turns and runs.
Shit! What just happened? I crumple into a ball with my back to the wall and sob into my arms.
It takes a while before I finally manage to get up and go into the lavatory off the kitchen. Splashing cold water on my face, I lean heavily on the sink to look at my puffy reflection. I need to pull it together and talk to Gail. She's here. She's alive. She's ok! I chant in my head. Just last week I did an autopsy on a woman who died in a car wreck of injuries very much like Gail's. She ruptured her liver and bled out before she got to the hospital.
The door to our bedroom is closed and locked when I try to go in. So I knock.
"Gail?"
No answer. So I knock again.
"Gail? Come on Gail! Let me in!" There is still no answer.
"Gail! Look, I'm sorry, I'm kinda freaking out. You said you wanted to know, so please open the door!"
Nothing. I lean my head on the door jam.
"What do you want." Her voice finally comes, but its cold and hard.
"Gail, just open the frickin' door!" I know I am starting to sound impatient.
The door opens and I am met with the same impassive face and an icy blue glare I have seen her reserve to use on Nick and other people she doesn't like.
"Gail…"
"What do you want? Come here to gloat Holly? Come here to finish the job? You know I can't lift anything or I'd already be gone. So get your fleece out of my closet and just go." She says and turns her back to me.
"Gail…" I reach out and touch her shoulder.
"Don't." She shrugs my hand off and takes a step forward. "If you're going to leave, just go. I knew this was too good to be true. How long have you been planning this Holly? Since I got hurt, or before?"
"I'm not…"
"Not what Holly. Not sorry? Not able to stick around? And to think, I thought you were different." She snipes, and turns to jab at me with her finger.
"Not leaving." I say.
"Oh." She stands there looking at me with guarded eyes that intensify the pain in my already hollow chest. Why is it that she always gets to be the broken one? Why do I always have to pick up the pieces? I feel something inside of me snap.
"Fuck you Gail! Fuck you and your fucking need to see me as your enemy!" I round on her. I know I'm not being exactly fair, but I can't seem to stop myself. I hear my voice growing louder. "You could have fucking died! You know that, right? You could have fucking died, but you and your Goddamn friends think its all so fucking funny! You sit there and watch that stupid video over and over again thinking it's so fucking cool! And all I can see when I see that, is what that kind of impact trauma can do to the human body! Did you ever think about that? No, not you. You know, life isn't one of your stupid video games Gail!"
I know what I must look like, gesturing wildly as I yell at her. She is staring at me, but I can't read her face.
"People die from this shit!" I push my glasses up further onto my face and continue, "People die from this kind of thing all the time. And do you care? No! There's a woman in my lab right now. I did her autopsy last week. And she's dead Gail, in a fucking drawer in my lab! And that could so easily have been you..."
I pause to catch my breath when I am suddenly in her arms. She's still quick, I'll give her that. She gives a little grunt of pain, as our bodies collide, propelled by the sheer velocity of her movement. She is gripping me tightly, the fingers of her right hand splayed out across my back, her left hand tangled in my hair forcing my head onto her good shoulder. And I break with a sound like the wind screaming across the ice, the groan of icebergs and glaciers melting and cracking, the whimper of time being broken. There is no air as I mumble nonsense syllables, unable to form real words, and moan into the skin of her neck. I am drowning. I don't want to hurt her, but my arms come up anyway to grasp at her hips and hold on for dear life. I find the surface, gasping greedy gulps of air and the scent of her skin into my burning lungs. She's here. She's alive. She's ok, or will be given time. I feel her start to loosen her grip and pull slightly out of our embrace, but I'm not ready, so I hold on. She is backing up now, steering us toward the bed. She maneuvers us to sit on the edge, removing my glasses, wiping my tears away with her thumbs and gently kissing my eyelids.
She's here. She's alive. She's ok. I use that as a mantra to steady me. She's here. She's alive. She's ok. I find that I can look her in the eye now. I'm breathing hard like I've just run up a steep hill.
"I'm sorry this has been so hard on you!" She whispers, cupping my face in her hands. "We laugh and joke, and brag, and watch that video because we can't let fear win. You know that. Right?"
I do know that. I know that, but it doesn't make it easier. So I swallow hard and nod once.
"Holly, you and I both know that I have a dangerous job. Heck, your job put you in the hospital earlier this year for weeks! Do you know how frantic I was then?"
I know how much this admission must be costing her, so I lean in and take her hand. She pulls me closer so that our legs entwine and we are loosely holding each other. She absent-mindedly runs her fingertips from the palm of my hand, halfway up my forearm and back, giving me goose-bumps all over.
"I wasn't trying to break up with you. I can't believe you even thought that!" I whisper as I watch her do it again.
"I know. I'm sorry about that too. Knee jerk reaction." She confesses
"I know. I'm sorry I pushed your buttons." I sigh. "I'm sorry I had this melt down!"
"Don't be." She says softly "I should have known you were freaking out. If I had been paying more attention to you I would have."
"Gail," I look into her eyes then, "You were in an accident. You were injured. You're on drugs!" I smirk a little bit as I say the drugs part.
"I know. But still." She strokes my cheek and doesn't back down.
"You're here. You're alive. You're ok." I say, and it's all that matters, "I don't want to fight with you. I never did."
She nods and scoots back onto her nest of pillows, dragging me with her. "I'm glad we're ok!" She sighs, "Bob was starting to get nervous!"
I look at her sideways. "Gail, who's Bob?"
"You know, Bob," She gestures with her hand at the pillows, "My husband." She says with a shy grin.
I shake my head and chuckle softly at her. "You really are insane, you know that." And I kiss her softly.
"You love it!" She breathes into my lips.
"I do." And I kiss her more slowly this time.