A/N: Thanks again for the feedback and thoughts on the story. It means a lot and keeps me going. This chapter contains description of memories that do not include child abuse, but are related to that storyline. I'm warning in an abundance of caution. As always, my intent is to treat serious topics with the sensitivity and gravity they deserve, and I welcome your feedback. Thank you for reading.
you're watching all the speeding cars moving like you wish you could
It's what everyone says - it's what always gets said - but it's true: it wasn't until she had her own children that she understood motherhood. How fierce it is, how eagerly she would rip the tubes and wires and needles from her daughter's body and pierce her own with them if it would spare her pain.
Her daughter is smiling now, though, her eyes bright, a deck of cards spread out on the bed and a cautious but cheerful Max delighting in playing with her.
"Everything looks great."
Addison glances at Meredith, who's making notes in a chart and looking pleased with the results. She also looks pale, run down even, and Addison feels a pang of guilt. Juggling a surgical career, marriage, and motherhood can be exhausting even under normal circumstances; she has to admit that the visiting Sloans may have pushed her past the breaking point.
"Thank you so much," she says gratefully. "Are you feeling any better?"
"I'm fine." Meredith smiles at her. "Just a little tired. Thomas didn't sleep well last night. Oh," and she looks apologetic. "I'm supposed to deliver the message that your father is looking for you."
..
The Captain is lounging against the reception desk in a familiar posture, his eyes skating with obvious intent over the figure of…
"Callie?"
"Oh, hey, Addison. I was just telling your father here that I'm kind of off the market these days."
Addison shakes her head, embarrassed, glaring at her father. "Unbelievable."
Her father looks utterly unbothered, of course. "How are you, kitten?"
"Don't call me that." She sends Callie and apologetic glance, and the other woman grins at her.
"I should go … break some bones or something. See you."
Addison's phone buzzes a moment later. Coffee upstairs in 15?
So at least Callie doesn't hate her. That's a relief. She lost a few friends years ago this way.
The Captain watches Callie walk away with blatant appreciation. Addison snaps her fingers to get his attention.
"You do realize you're not actually divorced yet."
"That doesn't necessarily stop a Montgomery, does it?" He lifts an eyebrow – his tone is calm, as always, but the words hit their target, slicing deeply.
"One time, Captain." Her voice shakes. "I wasn't screwing everything that moved for five decades of marriage."
"That language doesn't suit a lady, Addison."
"Well, I'm not a lady." Her heart thumps, makes her feel reckless. She's sick of him. Sick of all of them. "Captain - I want to know."
"You want to know … what?"
"I want to know why. Bizzy, I mean. You finally wore her down, after all these years. I'm just wondering what the final nail in the coffin was. Or should I say the final screw."
"I hope you don't use this language in front of your children."
"Oh, don't you dare talk to me about parenting." She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Just tell me. I want to know. How much worse can it be than everything else you've done? You cheat on her for my entire life and she sticks around. And it's not because you were so subtle about it, either. Now, all of a sudden, she wants a divorce?"
He's gazing over her shoulder. "You should talk to your mother," he says finally.
"I don't talk to my mother. Not since she called my daughter a drunk mistake."
"She was upset." His tone is mild. "You were having an affair."
"And where do you think I learned to do that, Dad?" She starts talking again before he can respond. "I cheated on my husband with one person eight years ago and I still feel guilty about that. You spend your entire marriage cheating on my mother, you make us lie for you to cover your tracks, and you've never lost a single night of sleep!"
She's breathing heavily at the end of her outburst, waiting for the Captain to remind her that a lady never raises her voice. It's coarse, that's what she expects him to say.
He just regards her silently for a long moment, then says: "Your mother is in Europe. With Susan."
She stares. "How is that - do you even – do you hear me when I talk? Do I sound like the Charlie Brown cartoon to you? Is that why you've never listened to one thing I've ever said in-"
"Addison," he interrupts, his tone still very calm. "I am telling you that your mother is in Europe with Susan."
"I know that already," she says impatiently.
"No, I mean she's … with Susan."
..
Numbly, she retraces her steps to Annabel's room. When in doubt, stick together. It's the Sloan family motto, the four of them against the world, and right now she needs that bubble. She'd rather have it at home in New York, in the duplex they decorated with children in mind, soft fabrics and comfortable seating and the kind of floors that forgive fast little feet. Or in Central Park, watching the kids shout with joy at the Ancient Playground. Or at the Connecticut house, where life always seems to slow down to the perfect golden speed, stretched out in the hammock with Mark while Annabel shows Max how to throw a Frisbee. She closes her eyes for a moment, summoning comforting memories.
Annabel is sleeping when she gets there, one little hand resting on her stuffed panda, playing cards still scattered on the bed around her. Max is cross-legged on the couch now next to Mark, fisting a rainbow of crayons in one hand and coloring with the other in the book open in his lap. He says something to his father that Addison can't hear, but that makes both of them smile. Mark looks up when she crosses the threshold, and furrows his brow immediately.
"What's wrong?" he mouths to her.
She shakes her head slightly, mutely, and crosses the room to give Max a kiss and praise his unusually restrained behavior. Mark meets her eyes and then leans over to ruffle Max's hair before he stands up and beckons Addison to the other side of Annabel's generously sized room. They can see both children from here, but in lowered voices, keep their conversation our of earshot.
"What happened?" Mark asks out loud as soon as they have relative privacy.
She just watches her children for a moment, tries to imagine what it would be like to recruit them to keep her secrets from their father. To lie for her. Then her stomach turns again as she tries to imagine doing that for no reason at all.
She made something close to peace, years ago, with the Captain's philandering and his involving Addison in keeping his secrets. She's had therapy. She's learned to pronounce terms like boundaries and conditioning and parentified. She's tried to make sense of her mother's coldness, the impossibility of pleasing her – after all, Bizzy was a victim of the Captain's constant adultery, and she needed to be protected. She might even still be doing it, if not for Bizzy's attack on her family when she was pregnant with Annabel. She was conditioned to protect her mother, to repress her anger, but a switch flipped in that moment, and it was her child she needed for protect. Her family. Archer made noises about reconciliation when he was alive – or the WASP version at least, where you pretend none of it ever happened – but she's resisted any fleeting thought over the years of getting back in touch.
She can do for her children what she can't do for herself.
"Addie?" She feels Mark's hand on her cheek, palm warm against her skin. "What happened? Talk to me."
She meets his gaze with some difficulty; he looks concerned, she's swimming in numb confusion.
"My mother is a lesbian."
His expression makes clear he wasn't expecting that. "Bizzy's a lesbian?"
"You know how she's in Europe, with her social secretary? Well, apparently she's not with her, she's with her. And she has been for years. Twenty years, Mark. Twenty years!"
He's nodding, taking it in.
"My entire childhood was a sham. Everything I thought about my mother, their father, about marriage. All those times I lied for my him, all those years I spent thinking she was his … victim or something. I thought it was my job to protect her."
"It wasn't." He sounds intent, almost angry, and she glances at him. "Addison. They should never have put you in that position, no matter what Bizzy was … doing while your father was-"
"No," she cuts him off. "You don't get it. I was wrong about them. I was wrong about all of it."
"Can we get ice cream now?" She climbs carefully into the car, loving how it smells like leather and how much fun it is to get time alone with her father. And she was very good waiting by herself in his office with her book during his meeting, he even said so. "Please?"
"Not this time, kitten." He has the mirror down and is fixing his hair. "Your mother will be upset with me if I get you home too late."
Addie nods, smoothing down the skirt of her dress so it won't wrinkle. "Okay."
"But remember, Addie, if your mother asks…"
"I know," Addie says. "I'll tell her we got ice cream." She turned six last month – she's not a baby. She knows Bizzy would be upset if she knew about the Captain's meeting. It's Addie's job to make sure that doesn't happen, just like it's her job to make sure her toys stay upstairs in the nursery and make sure she doesn't speak until spoken to at the dinner table.
"That's my good girl," he says, and Addie beams. She folds her legs under her on the big seat of the car. She likes looking out the front window. But she likes it best when he drives the big green convertible with the top down and she can feel the wind blowing in her hair. That's the kind of car she wants to drive when she's big.
"And…" the Captain prompts.
"And I won't tell her we were at your office with Miss Cindy."
"Right again." He smiles at her and that makes her feel happy.
She's still smiling back in the nursery while Nanny Janet helps her change her dress for dinner. "Looks like you had fun with your dad, Addie." Nanny Janet moves some of Addie's hair out of the way so it doesn't get stuck in the buttons. "He took you for ice cream, right? Which place?"
Bizzy would never ask her that. If Bizzy even knows the names of the ice cream places in town, she's never said them to her. Addie's confused for a minute, trying to keep track of what she's supposed to say. She knows she's supposed to tell Bizzy about her day with the Captain, but her father didn't say not to tell Nanny Janet. But her nanny's face kind of makes it seem like she shouldn't know either. Addie's not sure why she thinks that, but she does.
Here's what Addie does know: if you look at people's faces real close and listen hard when they talk, you can figure out what they want you to tell them. That way you can make sure you say the right thing.
"We went to the Sugar Drop," Addie says. "By the harbor."
"Ooh, yum. What kind of ice cream did you get?"
Addie can't figure out if this is a test or something or if Nanny Janet really wants to know.
"Butter brickle," she says. "In a cone." She feels kind of bad lying to Nanny Janet, because she's nice and plays with her and everything, lets her hold her sparkly pink baton and pretend she knows how to twirl it, and she never even yells.
But Addie's also kind of happy because she's pretty sure it worked and Nanny Janet believes her now and the Captain will be proud of her.
And anyway, that's the kind of ice cream she would have ordered, if the Captain had taken her.
"That sounds good, Addie." Nanny Janet stands behind her, twisting some of her hair into a barrette. "No dessert after dinner tonight, okay? Too much sugar gives you cavities."
Addie frowns for a minute. She hadn't banked on that, and the new cook makes really good brownies. She fingers her loose top tooth for a minute. "But, Nanny Janet, my teeth are going to fall out anyway."
Nanny Janet laughs. "You're a real trip, you know that?"
At first Addie's not sure if that's good or bad, so she's confused, but then Nanny Janet picks her up and gives her a hug so it must be good. Addie rests her head on her nanny's shoulder – Nanny Janet always smells good, like Lemon Up shampoo and cherry bubble gum – and sighs a little with relief.
Mark's hand is on her shoulder, massaging, and she lets herself feel comforted for a moment.
"I just don't understand why. You know? Why did he – for all those years…"
"Did you ask him?" Mark's voice is gentle.
"You don't ask the Captain why. Even if he knows the answer he's not going to share it. We don't exactly have real conversations."
Suddenly she realizes the time. "I said I would get coffee with Callie – remember, she's the one who-"
"I remember."
"Do you mind? I'll just be a few minutes."
"Of course not." He kisses her and with a little wave to Max, she heads upstairs.
..
"I was about to give up on you," Callie says as Addison slides into a chair next to her. The damp breeze feels almost refreshing as she apologizes for her tardiness.
Callie glances at her. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." She smiles tightly and accepts the cup of coffee the other woman offers.
"I hope it's still hot."
"It's great. Thank you." She takes a welcome sip. "I'm sorry about my father."
"Why? You didn't tell him to hit on me."
"Well, no, but…" she pauses. It's a novel concept, not taking responsibility for his behavior. She files it away for later consideration.
"Don't worry about it." Callie sets her coffee down and rests her hands on the table, her face very serious. "I have much bigger romantic problems than a horny old man right now."
Addison pats her mouth with a napkin, having almost lost a mouthful of warm liquid at the word horny.
"What's wrong?"
"What's wrong is this text. Look." Callie holds out her phone. "Arizona. She said 'last night was terrific.' Terrific. What does that mean?"
"I think it means she thought last night was terrific."
Callie makes a face at her. "Terrific, Addison. Terrific. It sounds like something Gidget would say. Did she have a good time? Did she have a bad time? Could she tell I'm new at this? Does she think I should give up and go back to penis? Is she planning to change her number and pretend she moved to Cuba like that- Addison," she stops talking. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"My mother's a lesbian," Addison says abruptly.
"Okay, then." Callie sits back, taking a sip of coffee. "Floor's all yours."
"I had no idea until today. I spent my whole childhood hiding my father's conquests from her. Four of my nannies. My French tutor. My tennis coach. Two piano teachers. All his secretaries. And basically every pretty nurse on the eastern seaboard."
Callie nods.
"I thought my mother was this poor, pathetic woman – I mean, in terms of her marriage. She never bothered to be much of a mother to us, and who could blame her, with what the Captain put her through? But apparently she spent the last twenty years sleeping with her social secretary." Addison shakes her head. "Not even sleeping with, in a relationship with, which is …a lot weirder."
Callie nods slowly. "Do you know her, um …?"
"Lover… mistress … person? She worked for my family forever. She's around my age and she was always friendly, you know? She'd joke around with me and she used to refer to Bizzy as the Dragon. Oh my god," Addison pauses. "Was that a pet name?" She covers her eyes with her hands. "I need to get that image out of my mind. Tell me something else. Please?"
"I think I might be in love."
"Really?"
"Really."
Addison smiles. "Now that's a lesbian story I can get behind." She glances at the time. "I should get back."
"Right." Callie looks at her again. "You sure you're okay?"
"Of course. I'm just … blindsided, you know? I've always thought it was my father's fault that I'm a cheater. That my brother was a cheater. But I guess it's hers."
There's a little flash of orange light in the gazebo as they wind up the drive. After she says goodnight to Cricket and Courtney – and kisses them on the cheek, as you do – she picks her way through the grounds carefully so her sharp heels don't sink into the grass.
"What's up with the tramp costume?" He gestures toward her with the lit end of his cigarette as she approaches.
"Hello to you too." Addison slumps onto the padded seat next to her brother, tugging down the end of her black minidress. "There was a party at Parker's place tonight." The invites have been flying fast since she got her braces off, and she figures life's too short to be offended.
"Which Parker?" Archer takes a swig from the bottle he's holding – it's too dark to read the label – then hands it to her.
"Sterling. But it was boring." She'd been ready to come home before midnight, actually, but Cricket had her eye on a guy from St. Bernard's. Addison ended up with Hays Crackstone, home on break from Exeter and half a foot taller than the runt they used to call Crackhead at the club – nothing she's interested in doing again, but it passed the time.
"So I don't have to kick any asses?"
"Not tonight." Addison takes a sip from the bottle. It's gin, of course. She kicks off her shoes and stretches her feet, rubbing one of her insteps through her sheer black stockings.
Archer stubs out his cigarette on the railing and lights another. The ember glows in the dark.
"Bizzy will find out," she warns. "You know she says nicotine is bad for her flowers."
"But not for her kids, right? Don't worry, she won't fly back from Paris even if both my lungs fall out and land on the begonias."
She sticks her tongue out, and Archer imitates her. They both laugh, shivering a little in the chilly early spring air.
Addison pulls her legs up under her, rubbing her arms to warm herself. "Ugh, I'm freezing. Why aren't there any blankets out here?"
"Warmth, in this house? It would just dry up and die."
"True." She gestures at the bottle. "Hand it over."
"Lush." He passes it to her.
"So who was the lucky girl tonight, Archie?"
"Gigi Teague."
She takes a cigarette from the packet and lights it off his. "Liar. Where is she, then?"
"She left after I tired her out."
Addison promptly starts coughing, reaching for the bottle of gin to wash down the ash.
Archer snickers. "You've never been good at that."
She raises her eyebrows. "I have other skills."
"That's not the kind of thing a man wants to hear about his baby sister."
"A man?" She laughs. "You've had one semester of college, Archer."
"One and a half," he corrects her.
"And why are you home, again?"
"Because intersession means sad girls who flunked their midterms and lonely girls whose boyfriends are in the Bahamas."
She narrows her eyes, taking another drag. "No, really."
"Really … I crashed the car, and I'm back so the Captain can do his sole fatherly duty and buy me a new one."
"He's in the city." She hasn't seen her father in a week or two, and the time before that she saw a lot more than she bargained for, so she's in no hurry for him to return.
"So? His financial manager is here," Archer says with a shrug.
"At least get a convertible this time, Archie, so I can have it when you get sick of it." She wrestles the bottle out of his hand and takes a long sip to warm up. "Was Gigi Teague really here?" Everyone wants Gigi, but she's been practically married since sophomore year. "You know she's been dating Bassett forever."
"I do know that." Archer grins at her. "And now I also know for certain what a lucky bastard he is."
Addison laughs in spite of herself. "So you concede that you're a whore."
"Takes one to know one." He props his legs up on the gazebo railing and exhales a ring of smoke. "Don't we make the Captain proud, sis?"
"All along, I thought the wrong parent was a whore," she explains. "Turns out it was my mother all along. Or they're both whores. And they turned us into whores too."
"You're not a whore," Callie says quietly, her eyebrows knitted together.
"What do you call someone who sleeps with her husband's best friend?"
"I call her someone who made a mistake. I call her someone who's owned up to the mistake and made amends and made a life, a really great life, it seems. I thought everyone in Manhattan was in therapy, but Addison, no offense, it seems like you could really use some."
She laughs darkly. "I've had plenty."
"Well, then maybe you need some more. Or maybe you need a refund. Hey," she says as Addison prepares to leave; she turns around.
"Look, Addison, I know I just met you, but ... you have this perfect family, husband, kids – and I knew he wasn't having an affair, by the way, so you owe me a drink for that one."
Addison smiles a little bit at this.
"And Derek and Meredith … I've worked here longer than he has and they're the freakin' love story of this hospital. They made everyone sick for years with how happy they were. My point is, you and Derek are both remarried. You're both better off." Callie shakes her head. "Okay, I don't know if this is some New York self-deprecating humor thing or if you're really this cripplingly … whatever. Just don't call yourself a whore. Not like that. Not when you have a daughter who's going to look at you to figure out how to define herself."
Addison swallows hard.
"Anyway, I know you have to go. Just wanted to tell you that I … had a good mom. A really good one. I've seen you with your kids, in the hospital – we all have. Even if your parents screwed you up – and I don't doubt it – you still turned out pretty great."
..
From her perch on the third step of the west stairs, with her book on her lap, she can see out the window to where Archie should be coming home from his tennis lesson. She can hear the clink-clink of glasses and low voices from the parlor where her parents are entertaining some of their friends, and the sound of dishes and cupboard doors opening and closing from the cook's kitchen down the hall. She can tell time and everything, so she knows Archie should be back to play with her soon. She turns the page and starts reading again.
"What are you doing all alone out here?"
Addie looks up, startled. She was so busy reading she didn't hear anyone coming. It's Mr. Rutherford, one of the Captain's sailing friends. He's really tall, like her father, but he gets down on the stairs near her and then she can see him better.
"Waiting for my brother," she says.
"And reading." He indicates the book on her lap. "A great long book like this one – how old are you, again?"
"Six," she says. "And a half."
He looks back at the book. "The Secret Garden, hm? How do you like it so far?"
"I've already read it," she admits. "I'm reading it again now."
"Then you must have really enjoyed it the first time."
She nods, feeling a little shy.
Mr. Rutherford points to the pages of open book on her lap. "And this … must be your favorite part of the book."
Addie stares for a minute, even though staring is rude. But how did he know that?
Mr. Rutherford smiles at her. "When I reread a book, I always go right to my favorite part."
"Me too," she says, eyes widening. She didn't know anyone else did that.
He touches the bookmark sitting in the middle of the open book. It's a white leather one that someone gave Archer and Archer gave her. "Why do you like this part?"
No one ever asked her that before. Once Archie asked "why do you read so much?" but not in a mean way or anything, just because he doesn't like chapter books, especially the ones that have a picture of a girl on the cover like this one. And Nanny Janet says she's a good reader and a fast one, and that makes Addie feel good, but she never asks her questions about what she's reading.
When she looks up, Mr. Rutherford nods and smiles at her, like he's waiting for her to answer.
"Well…" she starts slowly. "…'cause Mary has the key and she's looking and looking for the garden. But she doesn't find it 'til the end of the chapter, and then-"
"Addison! Why are you bothering Mr. Rutherford?"
Addie jumps at her mother's voice. Bizzy's heels clack on the floor; she's holding a cocktail in one hand and she doesn't look very happy.
"I'm sorry!" Addie stands up so quickly the bookmark falls out of her book onto the stairs below her. "I was waiting for Archie, and-"
"Skip, I'm terribly sorry," Bizzy says before Addie can finish. "I'll need to have words with the nanny again, I suppose. She knows the children aren't to bother our guests."
"Now, she wasn't bothering me at all, Bizzy!" Mr. Rutherford is really tall again, standing up. "In fact, it was a splendid reprieve from that minute-by-minute update of Biff's valiant campaign for tenure."
He winks at Addie and she wants to giggle, but Bizzy won't like it.
"Well. I can't fault you for that." Bizzy looks amused which means Addie's probably not in trouble. Whew. "But Cece was wondering where you'd gone off to, Skip."
"Then I'd better get back quickly. I'm the only one who can mix her drinks exactly right, you know. That's why she keeps me around."
They chuckle and then Bizzy looks at Addie, who tries to stand up extra straight - her mother really does not like slumping.
"Addison, run along and find Nanny, dear."
Addie holds her book tight and nods, starting to climb the stairs.
"Addison?"
She turns around.
"You forgot this." Mr. Rutherford is holding out the bookmark she dropped on the stairs and she takes it from his hand.
"Thanks."
Bizzy is already walking back toward the parlor. Mr. Rutherford smiles at Addie again and then follows Bizzy back through the doors. But after her mother has walked in, he turns around and indicates Bizzy and kind of makes a face before he closes the doors behind them. Addie is too surprised to laugh, but it's funny. For a grownup, Mr. Rutherford is pretty neat.
She jumps, startled, when a hand closes around her arm.
"Addie." Mark is looking at her with concern. "You're miles away. You okay?"
"I'm fine." She smiles apologetically. Teri has picked up Max, who was delighted to join Thomas for a few hours, and Annabel is resting quietly. Mark is studying Addison over the top of the coffee she brought him.
"How's Callie?" he asks.
"Good." She draws a deep breath. "She's good."
"The Captain left to pick up Stockton," Mark tells her. "He said he's going to bring him by the hospital – ostensibly so he can get caught up on Annabel's progress. He thinks you should say hello when they get back here."
"Fine." Addison heads for the lobby to wait.
Dr. Stockton.
She doesn't know him, not really. She grew up alongside his children at the country club, at charity balls, at the kind of elite inter-school events where you can only tell the students apart by the type of plaid on their uniform skirts. But she doesn't know him. And now she's counting on him – this stickler, rigid rule-follower, to be swayed by the Captain into releasing Derek from all his charges.
She's been running on fumes and hope for two weeks and it's too late to stop now.
..
"Ida? You're supposed to be resting," Addison mock scolds when the familiar face approaches her in the lobby, then stands up quickly when she sees her expression. "What's wrong?"
"It's Lauren." Ida's pregnant daughter-in-law. "She's in labor."
Twenty-nine weeks. Addison rests a hand on her arm. "Which hospital?"
"Downtown Memorial."
"That's Rachael McGuire's department. She's terrific; I've worked with her. She has an excellent record with preemies. I'll give her a call."
"You don't have to." But Ida looks relieved, grateful.
"I want to. And you need to fly back, Ida. I'll have the agency book you on the first flight out."
"Are you sure? I hate to leave so quickly. I can stay."
Addison's already typing an email to her assistant to make the arrangements. "Don't even think about it."
"Are you sure you're going to be all right?"
"We'll be fine." Addison stretches her mouth into her most reassuring smile. "Annabel's improvement has been phenomenal. She should be leaving the hospital by Friday. And Meredith has been incredible about sharing childcare with us as well."
Ida studies her face. "I know the kids will be fine. I was more concerned about you."
"Me? I'm fine."
"Addison."
She glances up. She stopped trying to get Ida to use her first name years ago. Ida's looking at her fondly, the way Addison has seen her look at the children so many times, and for some reason her eyes prickle.
"The two of you created this bubble," Ida continues, "with so much love and warmth. Your kids are wonderful. They're secure. They're safe. They're happy. But the world is big, Addison. The kids can handle more and you can too. Walls are good," she says after pausing for a moment, "they're strong. But cracks – that's what lets the light in."
..
Addison sits on the scratchy fabric of the lobby chair, still processing Ida's words. The walls she's built were to protect her children, her marriage, the life they created together. But maybe Ida's right – they're strong enough to let a few cracks in.
She thinks about Savvy, about the way they left things in New York before she moved to London. Had Addison been so desperate to protect her newly growing family from attack that she saw danger when it wasn't there?
She glances at her watch. Mark is with Annabel. She has a few minutes before the Captain brings Dr. Stockton to the hospital. Addison dials the call and takes a deep breath as it rings.
"Savvy? Hey. Yeah, no, everything's fine. It's tomorrow, but – no, I didn't call for legal advice. I just wanted to thank you, for everything you've already done. And to see how you are. So, um, if you have a minute, maybe we can … you do? Oh, good." She crosses her legs, thinking about twenty years of phone calls with Savvy, long and short calls, long and short distance, and can't help a broad smile at her old friend's response. Addison has to swallow hard before she responds: "I've … missed you too, Sav."
Reviews are the best thing ever and make me feel like I'm not writing into a void! Thank you thank you thank you.
Even though it's long, I liked this chapter. I agonized over the flashbacks; I adore Addison and hurting her hurts me too. Also: some dialogue comes from the fantastic three-part arc on Private Practice with Addison's parents, and the followup with Mark's visit. I highly recommend watching them if you haven't, and they're only on Netflix until June 6, fyi.
Title Lyric from Josh Rouse's Sad Eyes. (Bonus points if you recall which episode of Grey's featured that song!)