Zola was running across the gravel in front of the house. She turned to Meredith who waved for her to come back. "Should I stop? Say yes or no, Mommy!"
Yes, Meredith said, but no sound came, and Zola danced backward.
"Go or stay. Say it, Mommy!"
Meredith bobbed her fist. She nodded. She tried to run after her daughter, but every attempt pulled her into the grass—not like drowning, but like the quicksand cartoons had taught her to expect everywhere outside.
"Mama!"
She looked over her shoulder; Bailey was knee deep in the grass quicksand. She raised her arms to show him to stretch.
"You lose Zo-zee!" He jumped and sank further. "Up or down, 'tay it Mama."
"Umph." Signing "up, up." Pointing. Words, just get one of them out. She started tossing signs at the Zola, and the figure looming in the distance.
"Here. Stay. Please." Her hands couldn't move fast enough. "Z-O Z-O Z-O."
"Meredith. Meredith, honey, it's all right."
She wasn't home. She was in the hospital with a different Bailey touching her face. Two fingers of her other hand were holding the sling off Meredith's neck.
That dream could have staying power. She'd seen an alert on the iPad that there was a new moratorium on executions in Washington. She'd only dreamed about being strapped to the table twice, but she hoped her subconscious would let her retain that knowledge and logic out of any reruns.
"Gonna strangle yourself sleeping with that thing." Miranda grumbled. Meredith made a face. Strangle, really? "I said what I said. There's still bruising under here. Don't go making it worse now." She moved one hand to Meredith's shoulder and the other to the bed controls. "Time to sit up. You've got a visitor." Meredith pointed at her, and then shrugged. "I am well aware that I don't count, thank you. I'm on-call. This is a true visitor. Lean up. You slept pretty good on this. Want me to brush it out?"
Able to feel the way her day-old braid had loosened, she nodded. Derek had left from taking the kids down to daycare to run errands. As Miranda smoothed her hair out, she studied a piece that'd fallen onto her shoulder. There wouldn't have been much growth in a month; maybe it was not having it up constantly, but it felt like it'd gotten long.
"You had that done at the new year, right?"
"Mmhmm."
"Gonna put the highlights in again, now that he's back?" Miranda set the white board on her lap, uncapping the marker for her. "Your sister went blonde, you go brunette."
Meredith closed her hand on the head of the fox Derek had cushioned the sling with. She'd let it stay as part of the joke, but it'd moved, ending up to the side of her hand, where touching it was a choice, and she'd chosen it more than she expected. She shrugged.
Miranda's response was preempted by a thump on the door. "There we go!" She sauntered over to the door, and opened it for April Kepner. Meredith's first thought was the troops have been called in. The second was: what the heck? She tried to relax her eyebrows and force her eyeballs to stop bugging. Her brain had started transferring more of her reaction to surprise there, barely triggering the muscles in her jaw, and she knew it had to be obvious. Having to purposefully show emotion for Zola, then Bailey, had already made her more expressive in general, and this was exponentially worse. Her mother would be appalled.
Miranda looked between the two of them, smirking. "I'm gonna go do half the surgeries in the hospital. Lord knows I believe you should both take all the time you need, buy did you have to do it at the same time?"
""You love the extra OR hours,"April retorted Meredith clicked her marker back onto the board.
Miranda smiled "Guess I better mjoy it while it lasts"
April used to be the one with her feelings on her face. Meredith studied her as she put a dish down on the potholder she'd been using to carry it. There was nothing telling about her focused expression, or her voice as she narrated her actions.
"I reheated this on a burner, not in the lounge microwave, so it shouldn't have lost any flavor. Jackson says syringes are easiest, but a spoon is better for something this hot." She retrieved a ceramic bowl and a serving spoon from her bag, decisively scooping the reddish-pink Newtonian fluid into it. "It's a berry compote." She found the teaspoon that was perpetually drying by the sink and pulled the tray around with her to the visitor's chair. "Primarily strawberry. That's your favorite, right?"
Meredith nodded.
"Oh, good, I'm glad I didn't make that up." It wasn't until the bowl was in front of Meredith that April smiled.
That was where the change could be seen. It wasn't necessarily that it didn't reach her eyes, more that there were a multitude of other threads of emotion there that weren't reflected on her face. Her skin was too pale for her foundation, but this close up it was possible to see the way she'd blended and layered to hide the way her face had thinned out.
"Do you want me to hold the bowl in place for you?"
Meredith smiled, a little surprised that April's first assumption was that she needed minimal help. She could manage a spoon. Drinks without straws, she could tip into her mouth; but then she had to close her lips quickly to avoid dribbling worse then Bailey. None of it was optimal one-handed. The effort was at least a distraction from the actual whatever she was eating.
Derek was doing his best; it was the idea of blended meat more than anything. That'd been why they bought the baby-food making stuff in the first place. Zola had come home with several jars of Gerber. The "chicken" had grossed Meredith out enough that alternative options had been one of the first things she Googled during the in-between months, when non-tangible preparation was all she could do with time she hadn't had before she'd met the baby who wasn't there.
Altogether, there'd been about twenty weeks of uncertainty with Zola; twelve of them after she'd been snatched away. They'd done the ultrasound that let her believe Bailey could make it at twenty-five weeks. She'd wanted both of them more than anything, but she'd tried not to hope too much. April had spent just about the same amount of time not just hoping, but expecting. She could see horrible things happen to people every day without assuming she'd be next.
"Go on," she encouraged. "It should be cool enough."
Meredith tested the heat against her lips, a precaution she'd learned after a broth incident and then let it flow into her mouth. The sound she made formed the way she would've blurted holy crap normally. The more she could vocalize without thinking, the more vocal rest became talking rest.
"Is that's wired-jaw for 'wow, Kepner,' you're a kitchen goddess?"
"Ehh." Meredith rocked her band in the air while spooning in another bite of the dessert. April let out a few notes of laughter and went quiet equally quickly. For the next few minutes, she commented on the flowers on the windowsill, catching onto the way Zola's drawings were matched to the arrangements they were hanging under,, which had Derek putting far more effort than necessary into keeping bunches of cut flowers blooming.
April rarely caught herself asking a question that couldn't be answered with a yes or no. Letting someone help her eat to continue having a deeper level of conversation wasn't below Meredith's dignity—at this point, she wasn't sure what would be—but even she'd underestimated how empowering small moments of independence could be.
"Did you read A Wrinkle in Time as a kid?"
Meredith nodded. That'd been one she'd considered getting Jo to check outfrom Child Life. You couldn't be the daughter of a female scientist and not have it recommended, and as a preteen Meredith had identified with a protagonist who longed to match her mother's intelligence. There were other books in the series, most of which she'd only read once. As secular as she'd been raised, the thin, religious thread in the first book hadn't even registered, but time travel to the time of Noah's Ark hadn't been her thing. If she'd had a guess toward where April was going, it would have been something to do with that.
"She had a second series, about a normal family. Well, it overlapped with the sci-fi one later, but I didn't read that far. In the first one because toward the end the main character flips over her handlebars and breaks her jaw. It became one of those things that a nerdy kid latches onto because class isn't stimulating enough."
Meredith nodded again; scrapping her spoon over the bottom of the bowl. She hadn't been the prodigy with straight A's every semester in grade school. To some extent, that was because she'd had a tendency to start think about things she cared about more whenever she started losing interest.
"A year or so after I read it, Kimmy did the same thing. Bike accident and everything. I was convinced that I'd brought the concept into our lives. I'd read Judy Blume without thinking God was going to punish me. My parents are very Christian, but they weren't the type who only let us read books you could find at the Bible store. I just thought that if I hadn't known that it was something that could happen, it wouldn't have. Eventually, I told my mom, because that's what I did."
Meredith snorted. She'd talked at her mother a lot, too, before she'd started to give up on pleasing her; regurgitating everything in her head, hoping for something to catch Ellis's attention.
"She told me I was better off having known the possibility was there, than having to go through something I couldn't imagine. That it was egotistical to think that having ncountered in my short life was enough to cause Him to put that specific rock in my sister's path. I didn't realize how clever it was to put it that way." April sniffed sardonically. It reminded Meredith both of the wedding and the bridge; strong, but totally uncertain.
"She said we look for reasons to blame ourselves whenever something bad happens, because that's easier than admitting that God understands more than any person could." The muscles on one side of her mouth tightened. "I don't think she saw that you could expand that logic, and see religion as a whole being something humans invented to explain a universe we couldn't fathom. Or maybe I'm not imagining her as a full person, because if she had doubts, real ones, she never told us.
"The point is, we want to believe we're more powerful than we are. Doctors especially, right? We have to know we're responsible. To trace the cause of every effect. I've done that obsessively since Cathy Becker. The first time I got fired," she added. Meredith hoped the dryness would stay once the depression lifted. She liked it. "Most of the time, we do all we can, and things still happen, because the world is bigger than us. And if you think that the coincidence of that man having heard your name that day is punishment, you're blaming me."
"Mmm?"
"I picked the date, I chose who was in the room. I didn't need or want anyone else. That was my prerogative." She looked down, and Meredith noticed she couldn't see the gold chain of her cross necklace. "But I should've considered that I was closing the door on people who aren't good at sitting in the scrub-room and waiting.
"You lost your first pregnancy while looking at me. While you were pregnant with Bailey, you were so afraid of something going wrong, and it didn't. When you heard…you're not good at counting blessings without guilt. You'd never wish away your baby boy, but you'd wish it was you, because ladling more pain on yourself is easier than watching your friends go through it—That doesn't make it easier for us to see you suffer again.
"I'm glad all of that made you want to be with Derek. You were seeking comfort. That's healthy. I assume stayed because you weren't sure he'd get it. You waited to tell him about the miscarriage; he was confident Bailey would be healthy. He might not have understood why you weren't here, standing by, all thoughts and prayers, and good vibes. That's what I do. It's not you."
AFTER. I SHOULD'VE—Meredith gestured to the dish and the bowl, at April herself.
"I haven't been picking up the phone. I read the first word of messages, so I'll know if Herman goes in…. If anything, I've been selfish. Getting your card…. I didn't know, and you better believe I tore into Jackson." She raised her chin, and Meredith could see the ferocity that shouldn't surprise her anymore. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."
I'M NOT Then, because April hadn't had to respond to her note, let alone in person, or be as honest as she'd been, she added, ENOUGH PPL IN THE ROOM. THIS IS BETTER
"It's what we do, right?" April's smile was thin, but it was there. When she held out her hand, Meredith took it."I grew up being told to give my grief to God," she said. "But he doesn't seem interested. I forgot that here…it's not like at home. I don't have to stay in my room until I can show the world a happy face."
"And neither do you," added Arizona, who'd managed to open the door with her elbow, swinging a wheelchair in with her. "We didn't plan that, for the record."
Meredith looked between her and April, who shrugged. "I did suggest she come by while I was here."
"And I decided that we're going outside. Do you need one of these to transfer?" Arizona asked, holding out Meredith's crutches.
She shook her head, but didn't move any more than that. Arizona whipped the blankets off her legs and jabbed the nurse call button.
"Coming, Dr. Grey."
"Hold on, Gretch, it's Robbins. Has Dr. Grey had the sheets changed today?"
"Not yet."
"Great. I'm stealing her for the next half hour or so; if someone wants to come in and do that. There," she added, once the intercom light flipped off. "I saved you from having to get up later."
PT.
"Well, you still need the practice," Arizona countered. From the sink where she was rinsing off her bowl, April snickered. "Come on, up."
Y?
"Sun is shining." She opened one of the dresser drawers. "It's a beautiful day in February, and your view is a parking lot. Ha!" She held up a hoodie. "I've been in this building for about the same amount time you've been awake, and I demand better scenery." She held the sweater out to Meredith, using the voice she used on noncompliant children. "Up, pivot, sit."
WHEN DID U GET SO DEMANDING?
"It's Herman; she's a great influence. I'm spending a lot of time with your sister-in-law, too. Look, Meredith, I'm saying I've been around. I've heard things. If you need to come in, we will, but if you're supposed to go home tomorrow, don't you think you should've tried going outside first?"
NOT PARTICULARLY Meredith wrote, but she stuck her good arm into the hoodie before she let April take the lead on getting the other out of the sling, into the sleeve, and back in the sling.
"Doesn't feel real, does it?" Arizona asked as April pushed her into the hall. "Home?"
Meredith shrugged and picked at the cropped fur around the fox's face—she needed to let Zola name the thing—They were already past the nurses' station. She kept her gaze on the bulletin boards. Very pink. That it was the thirteenth hadn't made Valentine's Day register with her. It was too soon.
If she made it, she'd be spending Valentine's Day night in her bed with Derek. She hadn't been thinking that far ahead four weeks ago, but if she had it would've seemed painfully impossible.
He'd told her multiple times that it would be fine if she wasn't ready; that her discharge papers could be signed once she was in the car. He meant it, but it must be killing him not to be planning something to prove he meant everything else.
The posters sponsored by the health department were suddenly broken apart by an open closet door. Her back scraped against the drawers of the supply cart as he lifted her off of her feet. She kicked backward trying to catch one of the drawers with her shoe, but he pulled her away and slammed her into the hand-washing station.
"Meredith, look at me. Take a breath. Good." Arizona's hand was in hers. If she thought the finger pressed against her radial artery was subtle, she was wrong. "Do you need to go back to your room?"
Need.
That wasn't what anyone else said. We can…. Do you want…? Are you ready to…? She wanted to go back to her room. She wanted to go back in time. She wanted to go home. She wanted to move forward. To do those things, she needed to keep going. She wasn't going to hurt herself. She could still breathe.
She shook her head.
"Do you want to stay here?"
Meredith blinked. It was too easy to keep eye contact with Arizona, and preferring eye contact was not her normal.
She didn't expect her pulse to start settling at discovering they were on the bridge. There were people moving through all around them. Sunlight shone down on them from the windows to her left; on the other side she could look down onto the lobby. and another set of windows beyond that. Arizona had a point about what a beautiful day it was. It would be gorgeous on the land, and in the house with the light shining in the floor-to-ceiling windows, taking advantage of the gaps between the trees. She pointed toward the elevator bay.
They made it to the courtyard. April set the brakes on Meredith's chair next to the end of one of the first benches. "All right?" she asked, popping the cap off of Meredith's marker. When Meredith nodded, she stood up and took her phone from her purse. "I need to go say hi to Jackson. It's E.T. tube day, he'll be in the OR until late tonight. I won't be long. Definitely won't be long."
Meredith wanted to say it'd hurt him, too. To acknowledge the pain of different wounds. That it was better to be together through the whole thing. She didn't know how to do it without being sanctimonious, even to someone who knew she understood. Maybe it wasn't possible. Maybe that was what made her and Derek work.
"She hasn't been leaving the apartment," Arizona revealed. "That's second-hand, from Jackson. She hasn't been talking to me, either. I don't know if it's that I found out first, or…well...They had to consider it a termination at twenty-four. Sofia made it at twenty-three-and-a-half. "
Meredith lay her marker down across the white board to indicate that she hadn't thought of that, and had no idea what to make of it. She'd accounted for April envying her, because of how she'd felt while Sofia and Callie's lives were at stake. She hadn't considered that April's best friend, who'd done the tests that revealed her baby's fate, had a daughter who'd survived against all odds. Samuel hadn't been compatible with life, but in a less well-equipped hospital, Sofia wouldn't have been, either.
She remembered Mark and Arizona, both wanting to fulfill promises to Callie, the promise of the baby, the lives they'd promised themselves. The Sofia choice. Not a good time to ask if that was intentional.
I REMEMBER, she wrote. She'd understood Callie's side of their split; her assumption that Arizona had never wanted another baby. She'd also seen how helpless Arizona had been, knowing Callie would want Sofia to have the best chance. And she'd been unable to do anything until Sofia was out:a micro-premie, and not a fetus. Arizona wasn't good at helpless. It'd made sense that she'd wanted to protect others from being in her place more than she'd wanted to risk being there again.
U DID ALL U CLD 4 HER.
"I know," Arizona said. Neither of them clarified which "her." Meredith wasn't sure it mattered.
HOW'S HERMAN?
"Not leaving the hospital." Arizona's smile was strained. "I have a new respect for what Calliope went through while Mark was inpatient and I was out-. And I did appreciate it, then. For the record."
I KNOW.
"You don't miss much," she allowed. "You may've missed that I've been avoiding you."
HERMAN, Meredith wrote again.
"She does sleep. Rarely, but it has been known to happen. I've looked after your kids a couple of Sundays, and occasionally when Sofia was already hanging out in our little fetal surgery nest, two more…was more than you'd anticipate, honestly. Turns out Nicole has more knowledge about Thomas the Tank Engine than I'd have given her credit her for, but I'd have gone with 'none.'"
Meredith made the sign for "same" with one hand, and then started to write out ME TOO when Arizona touched her wrist.
"I've had my share of non-verbal little humans."
For a while Meredith had been a non-verbal little human, around almost everyone except her mother. At school, she'd done her work, and if she'd been a little spacey, it hadn't raised flags. It definitely hadn't inspired anyone to try signing with her. She might've been the only one who hadn't known any ASL until she started considering Zola's language acquisition.
"As a fellow, I treated a teenager with Deaf parents who insisted on translating for them, I was too green to insist otherwise, and…I vowed never to let a child explain their own prognosis again. Primarily, that means I call in Translation Services, but I learn what I can."
"I want to-learn right. Think people take class maybe?" She didn't know how she'd move beyond teaching herself online and bugging Maggie, otherwise.
"Yeah, definitely. Open it up to families, and they absolutely would."
"Good idea! Soon, I'll ask daycare teacher T-A-R-A, Maybe she knows people."
"She's a sweetheart. Puts up with me popping in at all-hours. By the way, visiting you is all I've heard Zola talk about this week. She's coping great. Things might've been different, if Derek hadn't prepped her so well. I felt like a hypocrite though."
"Why?"
"Sofia was fourteen months. Too young to remember; old enough to be asking for me and Mark. I never let her come up. I barely interacted with her at home for weeks. I shut Calliope out so completely that I couldn't figure out how to let her back in. I am not the one to give advice on dealing with physical trauma."
Meredith scoffed. "Not same."
"You're going to keep all your body parts. That's a plus." Arizona sighed"Before the crash, losing Tim was the only truly horrible thing to happen to me. He was my best friend. Some level of trauma bond, probably. You go one way or the other as military siblings. I don't thought losing him was like losing a limb. But it happened to my whole family. I was supposed to be the good man in a storm. Tim had been the amiable one who kept us all on keel. Taking that on wasn't changing myself, just never stopping. So, I kept going, being happy. I was the artificial Tim."
"When it happened? My depression was partially to do with how the pain of an actual amputation was…it was different, but it was also more than losing him. And I was alone with one quite got why I couldn't get past the physical crap and be myself again. I figured you wouldn't, in particular. I'd started as this obnoxiously sunny person in you didn't get, and I couldn't get past one thing?" She touched Meredith's moving wrist again. "Give me the floor, Grey. I made that up. You're affected by what you go through. Usually it's a positive change, but I've heard that you were pretty snappy after the crash too."
NOT MEDUSA FOR NOTHING
"And everything else you've been through to now was a Tim. You've never had a major injury. Have you?"
"Not same. Car crashed. No breaks."
"I had my appendix out. It wasn't the same kind of violation." She watched Meredith's face for a moment. "My residual limb didn't feel like mine. Everyone was constantly maneuvering me, and I had absolutely no control. I think that has more to do with how long it took me to come back to myself. And I'm a pediatrician. Talk about no control. Definitely made it hard to be sunny. It'll be different for you, but even if you do what I didn't-talk to Derek, don't base your identity on wheelie sneaks-you may feel different. Don't just deny that."
Meredith put a hand on Arizona's arm and smiled at her. She was grateful to have someone around who'd been through something similar, without a promise at the end of the road.
THANK U
I
She'd never considered burdening Arizona with her darkness, but hadn't they been there together in the darkest of it?
IT'S NOT JUST
FIRST PART: THE VIOLATION TO EVERY 1
& IM NOT...
IT'S NOT
WHAT YOU FELT ABT CALLIE
BUT THEY WERE ALL THERE
Not wanting to give words to what she was thinking, she gestured to her sternum. Her arm blocked it now, the scar from Maggie's incision, the smooth skin where she imagined more bruises than were left.
"It's worse. Different. I didn't have to feel or see. Just imagine."
NVR THGHT ID CARE
MY BODY
USED 2 LET PPL DO PLNTY TO IT
I VALUE MYSLF NOW OR SMTHNG
Arizona gave her the smile she was going for, because that was what she did. What was in her eyes wasn't pity, either; it looked a little bit like the sadness Meredith had felt for her younger self since she'd met Derek. More, as she went through this.
"We almost always lived on base, so everyone was coming and going. You barely got to know people, but if you had a label like 'the lesbian' it stuck around. Luckily for me, if you also had a big brother like Tim Robbins, you'd probably be okay, but there was always the chance the reputation would reach some homophobe who took DADT too seriously before he did. Once we split up for college, and then he was gone…I'm a peacemaker because my brother was. I'm amiable, because I thought I'd be safer if I got along with people. It took Callie having to take my leg off for me to reconsider. At that point, what I'd said didn't matter. That I was her wife didn't matter. Who I was, it didn't matter. In that case, I was a person whose quality of life would be better than death. I didn't matter to the infection or the forces that made me hit the ground in the wrong way.
"Anyone who would've beaten me up because of who I loved, or who didn't because of my brother, didn't truly care about who I was. They didn't care about who Tim was, just that he could hurt them. Should I have had to have a big strong brother to protect me? No. Should people think that us queers are hurting them? No. But it's not about us—Put the marker down, I don't care that I didn't know. I'm sorry that article outted you."
Meredith grimaced. She left her marker snapped to the white board to sign "Sorry."
Arizona rolled her eyes. "You didn't owe anyone that information. I get that it's more complex than your average gay-bashing, but it still wasn't about you. It was about a violent person who made his sister's death into the root of all his problems. He can't blame her. My brother wasn't perfect, but I'm the only one in our immediate family who'll bring up the times he was a shithead. A fifteen-year-old girl who wanted to be—I read oncologist, was that an exaggeration?"
Meredith unsnapped her marker slowly enough to make Arizona narrow her eyes at her.
PEDS CANCER. LITTLE BRO HAD NON-HODGKIN'S.
"Jeez. So, yeah. You were her friend, and you were a child. Anything you think you should've seen or understood? That's what parents are for. Whatever else is going on. If you have one child going through chemo, you have to do everything you can to watch the other ones more closely. It's hard, and they can't always do it. Parents of a kid who commits suicide? They blame themselves with every breath. Sometimes they can only keep going via denial, and there's securely no guarantee they patented differently afterward. They might never have asked questions; never gotten him help. That's twenty years ago.
"Whatever he told himself in the interim has nothing to do with you, Meredith. No one causes the pain of the loss of a leg, or a sister, or brother."
Arizona squinted up at the sun. Meredith had a blurry memory of her in the clearing, her eyes watering, searching for a helicopter. They'd been so lost. None of them had control over how long it took them to be found.
"It's never what you expect, is it? I remember walking across campus at Hopkins and constantly looking over my shoulder. But I sure as heck never expected to be the sibling who lost a leg." Her shoulders rose and fell like she had something else to say, but wasn't sure about it. "My mom pointed that out. I thought she was unconsciously saying she'd rather have Tim alive, but that's not true.
"Tim…I like to think he'd have gone his own way if he'd wanted, but the fact that he never mentioned any other careers makes me wonder. That he'd exist wasthe understanding by the time I was old enough to get that we'd have jobs one day. Mom's from an Army family. That's a whoooole thing... Anyway, she must've known from the day he was born that she might not have him for much more than eighteen years. I started saying I wanted to be a pediatrician at five. I was obsessed with Dum-Dums."
PLZ CAN I TELL ALEX THAT'S WHY U PICKED HIM? Meredith scrawled.
"Go for it. Surgeon came years later; they never thought they had a female Hunt in me. Mom knew which one of us she had to worry over. The worst happened. That was it. Then, I fell out of the sky."
Meredith didn't think Mrs. Robbins could've been prepped for either. The emotions she'd kept at arm's length contemplating disability diagnoses, or reading about everything from baby-led weaning to first-hand accounts of interracial adoptees would've been nothing to losing her children. There was no knowing if she'd be as affected if she'd been cornered by a stranger. Maybe it was easier to think it had to be because of her; the possibility of a random attack—one that truly couldn't have been anticipated—would've meant that she wasn't safe anywhere.
UR STILL A GOOD MAN IN A STORM
"Thanks," Arizona said. "That means a lot coming from you."
Meredith shrugged. She was at the center of storms, for sure. Maybe not the cause of them. Not directly.
"Everyone enjoying the fresh air?" April's voice was chipper, and Meredith didn't think it was a stretch to hear a note of the false-cheer she sometimes took on. "Worth coming up from the basement for?"
"Oh, we…." Arizona put a hand to her mouth, but it did nothing to block her laughter. "We're in a closet. Worth coming out of the closet for? Absolutely."
April sat down next to Arizona. The smile was the first real one Meredith had seen new her.