|
Summer Rain And Roses |
Chapter 2 |
Song Title: Unsettled Scores (from the musical "Whistle Down the Wind")
Lyrics by: Jim Steinman
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So many cries in the night that you try to ignore
Why didn't I do that, why didn't I do this
So many unbroken chains, so many unsettled scores
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tapping her foot impatiently, Kerry silently cursed the slow mechanism of the elevator. The compartment seemed to shudder slightly as it passed by each floor and she made a mental note to have maintenance look into it. The descent finally came to a halt and she bolted into the hallway before the doors were even halfway open.
"Pardon me," she murmured, sidestepping around an older couple who were standing right by the doors. They drew back in surprise as she brushed past them, their ankles almost clipped by her crutch. She kept on the lookout for him as she hurried down the hall, hoping she wasn't too late. "Has anyone seen Carter?" she called out, approaching the admitting area slightly out of breath.
"I think you just missed him," Abby Lockheart informed her, tapping away at the computer keyboard. She made a small sound of frustration as she lost the internet connection again. That was twice now in the last ten minutes. She realized Kerry was still standing there and glanced up at her. "Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing's wrong." Kerry held back a sigh, wishing she hadn't misjudged the time. She gave a weary smile. "Have a good night, Abby. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Dr. Weaver."
Kerry headed for the lounge, her pace unrushed now. Considering they'd been working the same shift, she'd barely seen John all day. The afternoon had been busy and then she had gotten tied up in a dinner meeting. But that was no excuse. She should have made a point of seeking him out and telling him they needed to talk. Another day of lost opportunity had slipped by and she regretted it. Dave wasn't the only one who was worried about him.
She pushed open the lounge door, only to find exactly who she was looking for. "Hi, I'm glad you're still here."
John barely turned his head, closing the locker. "Not for long. I just forgot something."
"Do you have plans for tonight?"
"Nope."
"Well, I'm off now too. Have a beer with me."
He turned around fully to stare at her. "What?"
"We can make it something stronger if that doesn't suit you." He didn't even crack a smile at her joke. "Let me take you out for a drink."
"Uh, I don't think so, Kerry."
He was so transparent. She could almost visualize his brain trying to formulate a reasonable excuse. But she wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Why not?"
"I'm tired. All I want to do is go home and sleep."
"That doesn't sound like much fun on your birthday."
Looking faintly surprised, he leaned back against the locker, fiddling with his keys in the palm of one hand. "You remembered."
"Yes, but apparently everyone else forgot. That can be quickly remedied, of course. All I have to do is go out there and make an announcement."
The sweetness of Kerry's smile was contrasted by the gleam in her eye. John ducked his head, one corner of his mouth curling upwards in spite of himself. "Isn't this called blackmail?"
"Such a nasty word. I prefer to call it enticement."
She was up to something. That much was obvious but John wasn't quite sure what her true intention was. But what the hell, it had been a lousy day. Two patients had died under his care despite his best efforts; one an elderly heart attack victim and the other a teenager gunned down in a drive-by shooting. He could definitely use a drink.
He'd been slightly uneasy all day, expecting to walk into the lounge or an exam room and have all of the ER staff yelling 'surprise'. Cake, a little music and some party hats were usually in order whenever someone's birthday came around. He used to enjoy those impromptu celebrations but these days he shrank away from being the center of attention. He'd been relieved that no one had remembered.
And now here was Kerry, practically demanding that he join her. He'd always enjoyed her company and it had been a long time since they'd done anything together. On the other hand, he truly was tired. Maybe he should decline and just head home. He hovered in a state of indecision.
Kerry watched the emotions play across his expressive features. He was going to say no. "All right, have it your way."
She spun briskly on her heel but didn't quite make it to the door before he stepped in front of her path, his eyes beseeching. "Wait. Come on, Kerry." When she didn't respond, he sighed. "Okay, okay. One beer," he relented. There was only one other matter to settle. "Your car or mine?"
***************
Since Kerry had the day off tomorrow and needed her car to run some errands, John decided to leave his Jeep at the hospital. He would just take the El in tomorrow.
The ride was a mostly silent one, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. The radio playing softly in the background kept the mood from growing too uncomfortable.
John gazed out the window, contemplating that his birthday was almost over. He'd received the obligatory phone call from his mother early this morning. She'd accompanied his father on another one of his business trips overseas, this time to Germany. They'd only chatted for a few minutes, their conversation touching upon the weather and her numerous complaints about the hotel. When he'd asked to speak to his father, she had apologized and told him he'd already left for a meeting. She'd quickly ended the call at that point and had wished him a wonderful day.
John really wasn't surprised that his father couldn't be bothered to talk to him on his birthday. But it still stung. And the fact that he cared enough to be hurt by it annoyed the hell out of him. He was now thirty years old, for God's sake. One would think he would've developed thicker skin by now. He had to stop being so damned, foolishly sensitive.
Kerry occasionally stole glances at his profile as she drove, absently gnawing on her lower lip. Now that she would finally be sitting down to talk to him, she found herself growing strangely nervous. The feeling was rather vague, a sort of jittery flutter in the pit of her stomach. Nervousness wasn't something she was accustomed to but she realized she only felt this way because this was so important to her. John was important to her.
She cared about all of her colleagues at work, of course. But somehow she'd grown to care about John a little more than the others, unfair as that seemed. She knew this was a result of John having been a former boarder in her home. Initially, she'd tried to keep a professional distance from him, treating him as just another tenant. But gradually the walls had come down and they'd shared many lengthy conversations, lingering over dinner or coffee and sharing the problems and strains of each day. Without question, he understood her better than anyone else at County. He knew the real Kerry Weaver, not the evil administrative bitch that most others believed her to be.
Unfortunately, it had taken John's brush with death to make her realize how precious their friendship was to her. Even now, so many months later, she could recall with vivid clarity the horrific scene that she'd stumbled across in Curtain 3. Two bodies sprawled on the cold floor, their lifeblood spreading in wide pools around them. In the weeks after the incident, she'd had numerous nightmares and would awaken gasping and trembling, her heart pounding wildly. The disturbing dreams had faded now but whenever she thought back to that night she felt ill.
Kerry swallowed hard, fighting the greasy swell of nausea that rose in her throat, threatening to choke her.
"Hey, you drove right by it."
John's voice startled her and she jerked the wheel, causing the car to veer off to the left for a moment before she straightened out again. "Sorry, what?" she questioned, her voice sounding strained.
"Are you okay?"
Kerry almost snorted with disgust at herself as John gave her a concerned look. She was supposed to be asking him that. "I'm fine. I passed by it, didn't I."
John leaned back in his seat, relaxing once again. For a second, he had thought he'd have to grab the steering wheel. "Yeah, assuming we're going to The Arms."
He was referring to The Wincester Arms, an English pub near Kerry's home that they had sometimes frequented.
Forcing her thoughts back to the present, Kerry turned the car around at the next set of lights. When they entered the smokiness of the pub, they decided to sit outside on the patio. The night was still warm but the air seemed to be getting colder. Kerry removed her light jacket, the cool breeze feeling delicious on her bare arms. She ordered a dark ale while John asked for anything that was on tap. It wasn't too busy for a Sunday evening and the waitress was prompt to return with their drinks.
John looked rather pensive as he took his first sip. Whenever he became quiet like this, it meant something was bothering him.
"So how does it feel to hit the big three-oh?" she inquired, sipping her own drink.
He shrugged. "I don't feel any different from yesterday. How did you feel?"
"When I turned thirty? Hmm, that was so long ago, I don't remember."
He gave a small smile at her joke. "Are you telling me five years can feel like a lifetime?"
Kerry chuckled softly, thinking back to her thirtieth birthday. "Maybe. Actually, it was fine. I thought it would be quite traumatic but the day passed like any other birthday. Just another year older."
"Did you do anything special?"
"Not really. I think I just went out to dinner with friends. I'm a little surprised that you didn't have other plans for tonight. Are you getting together with some friends later?"
"No, I don't think so. Kevin is away for the weekend but he'll be back tomorrow. We might do something after work."
"So how is Kevin?"
After a few more minutes of small talk, Kerry was anxious to get to the heart of the matter. She'd been hoping to get some sort of inspiration in how to approach the subject but nothing seemed to be forthcoming. She decided to be blunt. "I'm worried about you, John."
He felt a sudden urge to slink away from the table. So that's what Kerry was up to. If he'd known the real reason behind her invitation for tonight, he would have turned her down flat. All this birthday talk had just been a pretense for wanting to corner him. "I'm fine," he stated shortly, his annoyance just barely concealed.
"Bullshit. You're far from fine and you know it."
"Did Dave put you up to this? Because I don't appreciate..."
"Dave is concerned about you," Kerry interrupted. "But I wanted to talk to you. And I'm not going to let you brush me off by saying 'I'm fine' anymore. I thought maybe you just needed more time to heal but you seem to be getting worse, not better. I know that your physical scars have healed but I want to know what's going on inside of you." She paused, watching as he traced the rim of his glass with one finger, seemingly fascinated by its contents. He refused to look at her. "We used to be able to talk about all sorts of things," she continued quietly. "I only want to help you. Please let me try."
Kerry fell silent, having tossed the ball into his court. She could only wait to see what he would do with it. Much as she wished to, she couldn't force him to speak, any more than she could read his mind. In order for her or anyone else to help him get through this, he had to be willing to open up.
She sat back in her chair, taking slow sips of her beer. A minute passed and then two. She began to think that he wasn't ready or was simply unwilling to reveal his feelings.
"I don't know what's wrong with me, Kerry," he said finally.
She leaned forward slightly, straining to hear him above the rumble of conversation from other tables and the noise from the street. He was speaking very quietly, continuing to stare into his beer. Placing her glass back on the table, she waited to hear more.
"I feel like I've been walking around in a daze the past few months. I go to work. I come home. Sometimes I eat, sometimes I don't. I go to bed and then the next day it starts all over again."
"Well, sad as it may seem, that sounds like a pretty familiar scenario. You could be describing my life." Kerry spoke in a light-hearted tone but for the most part, she was entirely serious. She suspected that in a nutshell, that was the routine for many people.
John knew he wasn't expressing himself very well. How could he make her understand when he couldn't quite explain it to himself? This was something that he had never discussed with his counsellor. For about a month after the stabbing, he'd talked regularly with Dr. Sandra Horton, a staff psychiatrist at County. They'd spent the majority of their time discussing his lingering feelings of guilt over Lucy's death. He knew that he would never completely erase those feelings. Part of him would always wonder, had he chosen a different course of action that fateful day, would Lucy still be alive? It was a question that had haunted him relentlessly for a month or so. There had been times when he'd been sure the guilt would drive him mad but gradually, it was beginning to ease.
And yet there was something else that plagued him. He knew he was unhappy but had been avoiding the issue. Sitting here with Kerry, he almost felt forced into confronting the root of the problem. She had poked a hole into the barrier he'd built up and now it was starting to crumble around him. While he felt rather reluctant to talk about his true feelings, he also felt some relief by unloading his burden.
"I guess I don't feel the same passion for my work anymore. Being a doctor used to mean everything to me. It was what I lived for. I just don't feel the same way anymore."
"I think that's a natural reaction after what you went through."
"Maybe." John finally raised his eyes to meet Kerry's gaze. "It scares me," he confessed. "I'm afraid I've lost the part of me that makes me a good doctor. I just..." He struggled to find the right words. "I just don't care the way I used to. I've lost the edge. And I'm afraid that I'll never get it back."
"You will," Kerry said, trying to assure him as well as herself. "Just give yourself time. Maybe you should get away from the ER for a while. Take some time off."
He shook his head. "I've taken a month off already. I can't do that."
"That was right after the attack. Back then, you had to concentrate on recovering physically. Now you have to heal your soul. It might help to be outside of the hospital environment."
John was tempted, he had to admit. But he didn't want to abandon his responsibilities. "I don't know..."
"It's ultimately your decision, John. Much as I'd like to, I can't force you to take the time off. I can't say that your work is being affected. From what I've seen, you seem to be a little more distant with your patients but perhaps that's not such a bad thing." She hesitated, almost reaching out to touch his hand, hating to see him looking so lost. But her hand remained in her lap. "Will you at least think about it?"
"Yeah, sure," he murmured.
The waitress came by then and asked if everything was all right. Kerry wondered how honest her reply should be. Of course, she only smiled briefly, stating that everything was fine, thank you.
The interruption seemed to sever the connection between them and they returned to sipping their drinks. Kerry considered whether she should pursue the subject further but she didn't want to push too strongly. She truly believed that John would benefit from a leave of absence. It concerned her more than she had let on when he'd talked about losing his passion for his work. She knew how important his work was to him so it disturbed her to hear him talking like this. She could hear the confusion in his voice; could see the beginnings of defeat in his eyes. If he continued on in this manner, he would burn himself out. She hoped that a break from the hospital would help him regain some perspective.
Seeing that John was looking self-conscious again, she tried to steer the conversation to more neutral ground. They chatted for another half hour or so before deciding to head home. The air had grown a little chilly and Kerry was glad she had brought her jacket. Once back in her car, John gave directions on how to get to Kevin's apartment. In less than fifteen minutes, she pulled in front of the lobby doors.
"Thanks for the beer, Kerry."
"You're welcome. And Happy Birthday. Let me know what you decide about the time off."
John nodded, already starting to open the car door. He'd had enough discussion for one night and was anxious to escape before Kerry had the chance to add anything else. With all that he had to ponder, he already anticipated another night of tossing and turning before he'd be able to sleep.
Grateful that Kevin was away, he entered the stillness of the apartment. He needed this solitude right now. Finding the room stuffy from the build-up of heat during the day but not wanting to turn on the air conditioning, he opened the main balcony doors. The glass panel slid open noiselessly, allowing fresh air to stream in. Leaning against the wall and closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, filling his lungs to capacity and then exhaling slowly.
He didn't want to think about whether or not he should take a leave. That decision could wait until tomorrow. In truth, he didn't want to think about anything. But random thoughts kept popping into his head. He wondered if his father had even remembered that today was his birthday. Had he entered his father's thoughts at all, today? He wondered if Kerry had ever gotten another tenant to fill the vacancy in her basement. She'd never volunteered the information and he'd never asked. He wondered if Lucy was now in a better place.
John's eyes snapped open and he wrapped his arms around himself, as if warding off a sudden chill in the air. That thought had snuck up on him without warning. He recalled a conversation with her in which she'd revealed that she was agnostic. She had never believed in God or fate. He, on the other hand, had been raised to believe in Him whole heartedly. It would be a grave sin for him to admit that he sometimes had his doubts. But after witnessing the things he had in the ER, how could he not? Not just the attack on Lucy and himself, but the all too frequent acts of violence that human beings committed against strangers, family members, children.
A strong gust of wind ruffled his hair, his shirt rippling crisply against his skin. He welcomed the cold air. It helped to clear his mind. He remained standing there for a long while, continuing his train of strange, unconnected thoughts. Only when the exhaustion overcame him did he move slowly towards the bedroom. He wondered what tomorrow would bring.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
There's a prayer for the living and the dying
There's a prayer to soothe the savage sea
There's a prayer, it seems for almost everything
But you haven't got a prayer for me
And I haven't got a prayer
|
|
|
|
