Perfectly Adequate(88)

Dorothy was right … my problems are small even if in my heart they feel incredibly large and unbearable.

*

The next two weeks turn into a blur as I acclimate back into working full days. I still go to physical therapy. But I’m back to walking normally. Warren and I make silent amends, focusing more on work and less on personal life.

Julie and her things continue to infiltrate my house, like she’s moving in without actually announcing it or renting a big van to do it all at once. And I’m letting it happen because I don’t know how to stop it or if I should stop it.

I hope one day soon I’ll just wake up and everything will click. Julie will be the love of my life again. Roman will frolic around in bliss because he’s back in a full-time, stable home with two parents tucking him in every night. My sisters will stop scowling at me during Sunday brunch because they’ll accept my reasons for allowing Julie back into my life … my home … my bed.

And Dorothy …

Well, I have to believe that one day I will thank her. One day I will stop missing her. One day it won’t hurt to pass her in the hallway at the hospital. But that day feels unreachable right now.

After lunch with my mom, I grab a coffee to cut through the chill in the fall air and wait for the elevator to take me up to my lab.

“Shit!”

I glance over my shoulder just as Dorothy rounds the corner, holding out her hot coffee that she’s dribbled down the front of her shirt. Before I can say anything, she glances up. From the size of her eyes, it’s obvious she wasn’t expecting to see me when she turned the corner.

“Hi.” My smile reaches a new high, one it hasn’t seen in weeks.

It feels good and awful. Refreshing and heartbreaking.

“Gulp.”

I chuckle. That feels pretty damn good too. It just happens. I’m not doing it to play the part. I’m not doing it for her. It’s for me.

The smile.

The laugh.

The warm sensation of contentment.

It’s for me.

And it’s fucking incredible, even if this moment passes in a blink. For now, I’m just going to keep my eyes open.

“Did you actually just say gulp?”

“Well…” she wipes her hand down the front of her scrub top, making the dripped coffee spread into bigger spots “…I uh, thought it first. Then it just came out.”

“You might need a new top.”

Keeping her chin tipped toward her chest, she continues to mess with the spots. “I don’t have a matching top. Not one that will work with my undershirt and shoes.”

More laughter fills my chest as my grin threatens to crack my entire face. “Sometimes you have to make the alternative work, even if it feels all wrong.”

“Easier said than done.” She looks up.

My words that were spoken with no great meaning, take on a life of their own. Sucking all the oxygen from the space around us. Echoing a very grim reality. Erasing my smile and silencing my laughter.

The elevator doors open. I step aside and let her go first. She pushes the button to the fourth floor. The same floor as my lab.

The doors close.

I move behind her to hide everything that’s etched into my face.

I miss you.

I love you.

I’m living with the alternative for Roman … and for you.

“How are you?” I whisper.

She doesn’t have to say it this time. I hear her gulp. “Fine,” she squeaks like it barely makes it past her throat.

Fine.

I don’t like fine Dorothy. Fine Dorothy breaks my heart because I know her “okay” is spectacular, but fine feels along the lines of barely breathing. Does she know how incredibly fucking fine I am right now too?

The doors open.

She bolts out.

And I would let her go. I really would, but she lifts her hand and wipes her face as her feet move as fast as they can away from me.

I take one more sip of my coffee, toss it in the trash, and follow Dorothy, doubling her pace to catch up to her.

“Don’t! What are you doing?” She tries to move past me when I get ahead of her and turn to stop her. I want to grab her. Shake some sense … shake some more emotion out of her. But I don’t physically touch her.

“A word.”

She shakes her head.

“I’m not asking.”

She bites her upper lip, but it doesn’t keep her bottom lip from quivering or prevent the redness building in her eyes. I jerk my head toward the on-call room, and she leads the way, again wiping her eyes with her back to me.

A groggy resident lifts his head when I open the door to the otherwise vacant room.

“Out,” I snap, holding the door open.

“But I just—”

“Out!” I blow out an exasperated breath, not feeling patient enough to explain my demand with more than one word, and definitely not patient enough to listen to his reasons for not getting out right this minute.

Dorothy turns like she’s decided to flee as the resident slips on his shoes and slides past us with a grumble. But I step in her way again, taking several steps to force her backward as I close and lock the door.

She opens her mouth to protest again, I grab her face, lowering mine to her eye level.

More tears fill her eyes.

“I need you to be okay. I need it like oxygen.”