I’m not at all happy with this part! Its really just a bunch of gobbledy-gook blabbering. Seriously, its all about Carol whining to a bunch of people. =) But if you like that kinda story, then by all means, read on.
Also, if you’re finding this series a bit depressing, be patient because I promise you, it will get happier. I just have to drag Carol through some shit first. Remember, this series is a re-write of Carol and Doug’s lives from “The Storm” to “Such Sweet Sorrow”, but with my own twisted storyline. I still have to take into account everything that happens, but in reflection to Doug’s death instead of Doug’s leaving. Is this making sense? I’m trying to explain just why Carol crept into herself and turned away from everything in her life.
Thanks to all the wonderful people who’ve sent me feedback on this series! I had no idea anyone would even read it, much less enjoy it! Your kindness is appreciated beyond words.
The song used in this piece is ‘Shame on Me’ by The Wilkinsons.
One Candle Burns – Part 4
‘Without ’
March 11th, 1999
It hits when I set the table
Or when I turn out the lights
And I don’t hear a voice that whispers goodnight
___________________________________________________________________
‘He was supposed to be home today.’
The thought was there when she woke up in the morning. It stayed with her, pulsing behind her eyes, throbbing in her head, as she picked the candle wax off of the kitchen table. It pounded in her ears as she capped the bottle of sleeping pills she’d left open the night before, and put it back in the medicine cabinet.
It tingled on her lips, begging to be spoken.
Carol bit down hard on her tounge and dug her nails into her palms until they drew blood, never surrendering to the pit of grief and pain that curdled in her core. Never allowing the emotion to surface, never acknowledging the sorrow.
She’d unleashed herself in a fit of cleaning and dusting and sweeping in the week she’d taken off from work. Both Mark and Kerry had been insistant on the time away. She didn’t care much. It was better to avoid the pitiful hugs and whispered condolences and sympathetic stares. It was better to ignore the cards and phone calls flooding her house, to disregard the constantly ringing doorbell. It was better to block out all that reminded her that Doug wasn’t coming home.
It was better to forget.
And so, every morning, she’d get up early, after a sedative induced sleep, her head fuzzy and her thoughts muddled, and spray and vacuum and polish and wash until the furniture shined and the the whole house smelled of lemon cleaner. It was all she could do. It was all she could focus on.
On that Saturday, though, she was going back to work. Her shift didn’t start until noon, so she had a few hours to scrub the already meticulously spotless floors and iron her already crisp, starchy clothes.
‘He was supposed to be home today.’
Carol growled in frustration, closing her eyes and shaking her head. It just wouldn’t go away.
She unplugged her iron and sat down at the kitchen table, folding her arms and letting her heavy head fall into them. She groaned. She coudln’t even clean.
‘He was supposed to be home today.’
“Stop it, stop it!” She spit out miserably, burying her face deeper in her arms.
‘He was supposed to be home today.’
“I know!” Carol finally cried, jerking up from the table, her hands clenched at her sides. “I know he was supposed to come home!”
But he’s not. He’s not coming home...
She sighed and glanced up at the clock. 3 hours till she could leave. The house was suffocating her.
“Carol!” Her mother’s patronizing voice sliced through her tired gloom. “Caaaarooool!”
“Go away, Ma,” She whispered quietly, collapsing onto the hard, cool surface of the table again.
“Why aren’t you answering my calls? Carol! Let me in!”
With a grumbling sigh, she heaved herself from the chair and went to open the door.
“Carol, there you are!” Helen Hathaway exclaimed in her thick Russian accent, pushing her way into the house.
“Hi Ma,” Carol said feebly. The last thing she wanted was to deal with her mother.
“Can I make you tea?” Helen asked, taking the tea pot from the cupboard and rustling around for the tea.
“Its ok, I’ll do it,” She reached for the kettle.
“No, no, sit down, Carol.” The older woman batted her daughter away. “I want to do it. You just sit.”
Too exhausted to put forth much of an effort, she complied and took up her former position at the table. “What are you doing here, Ma? I have to be at work in a few hours.”
“I just wanted to check on you. How are you doing? Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine. I don’t need you to check up on me.”
Helen poured the steaming tea into two mugs and sat down, setting one in front of Carol. “You don’t look fine,” she said, studying her daughter carefully. “You eyes are bloodshot and your hair is a mess and you skin is so white I can almost see through it,” she reached out to lay a soft hand on Carol’s cold cheek.
“I’m just tired,” she shrugged away from Helen and looked down.
“Aren’t you sleeping?”
“Yeah, I’m sleeping.”
“You know, its normal to be a little depressed after something like this happens.”
“I’m fine.” She looked away, out the kitchen window, and watched a bird fly to her nest and dip her head down to feed her anxious children.
“Why, after your father died, I didn’t get out of bed for two weeks. But I had responsibilities, I had three children, so I had to face my grief and get over it.”
“I’m not depressed, Ma. I’m going to work today.” She stared intently at her teacup, watching as furls of smoke danced gently in the air, slowly dissolving.
“I know, I know, and I’m proud of you. But you should really start thinking about what you have to do now; putting away his things, giving his clothes to good will, funeral arrangements...”
Carol’s attention was snapped back to her mother. “What?”
“A funeral, for Douglas. It might make things easier. You know, people do have to say goodbye. You have to say goodbye.”
“They haven’t found his body.” Her eyes were wide and accusing, shocked at Helen’s blunt suggestions.
“No, and they probably never will. It was a fire, Carol. His body’s probably gone.”
Carol shook her head fiercely. “Not yet. I can’t... not yet.”
“Why not?” Helen’s voice was firm.
She looked away again. “I can’t do this with you, Ma.” She started to get up, but Helen caught her wrist and held her back.
“Why not?”
Falling back into the chair, Carol’s eyes filled with tears. She let her fingernails dig into her palms again, hoping the little stings of pain would take the pressure off the ache inside her. “I don’t feel it yet,” she said, her voice stained around the lump welling in her throat. “Its hard to believe he’s really gone.”
“But he is, and you have to realize that.” Helen’s voice softened and she reached out to take her daughter’s hand. “And the funeral will help. You don’t even have to do anything. Just leave it all to me.”
Carol shook her head again.
“If you would stop suppressing your feelings, I’m sure you’d get over this much quicker.”
“I don’t want to get over it!” She shouted suddenly, tearing her hand away from Helen’s. “I want you to leave me alone. I want everybody to just *leave* me alone. I need some time to get used to this!”
“You’ve had a week, and all you’ve done is avoid the truth and pretend it didn’t happen. He’s dead, Carol.”
Carol let out a tiny, curbed sob then, a small tear rolling down her cheek. She turned her head away.
“Maybe its for the best, honey,” her mother said softly reaching for her hand again.
“Wh– what?” Carol said, barely audible, disbelief and fury immediately flickering in her eyes.
“Maybe its better that he died this way. I mean, he was always a screw up, never did anything good with his life, endlessly hurting people...”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this!” She shook her head, her brow furrowed, her mouth slightly agape.
“Just let me finish, Carol. He went to Kosovo to help young children, which is a noble thing in itself. But that he died for it... well, its makes him a kind of a hero.”
“How can you find something good in this? I don’t care if he’s a hero! I don’t care if he’s a drunken, homeless failure.” She was crying now, so angry with her mother, so angry with the Serbians, so angry with fate. “I just want to see him again. I want to touch him. I want to tell him that I love him.”
“You have to face the fact that you never will. I’m not being cruel. It’s only the truth. You’re pushing us all away so that you can pretend it didn’t happen. You’re hiding all your feelings, and its not healthy. I know you, Carol. I know how you tuck yourself away until no one can find you.” Helen pursed her lips. “Please don’t turn me away. I love you. I want to help you through this.”
“You never liked him. You never wanted me to be with him. I’m starting to think that this is all very convenient for you!”
“You’re not being rational, sweetheart.”
“I’m plenty rational. I want you to leave.”
“Carol–,”
“Ma! Leave!” Her jaw was set firmly, her hands clutching the side of the table, her eyes blazing.
Helen nodded slowly and got up. “Call me if you want to talk. I do know what you’re going through,” she offered her daughter a small sigh. “I do know.”
She left then, leaving Carol sobbing over her teacup.
~*~*~*~
It was blue.
No matter how she looked at it. No matter what light she held it under. No matter how long she waited for it to change colour.
It was blue.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God....” Carol mumbled as she lowered her head into her hands, her teeth chattering madly, her whole body trembling.
She was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, shaking like a leaf, too scared to curse, to confused to cry.
She was damned. It was the only explanation.
“Why now?” She asked softly, looking up. It seemed to be the question to everything lately.
She stood up slowly, her knees unsteady. “Why now, huh?” her voice was louder now, and it carried the shrill tone of despair. “Why are you fucking with my life? Did I do something wrong? I can’t *do* this!”
She pursed her lips and shook her head fiercely, trying to shake away the dreadful anguish settled around her.
With a harried sigh she tossed the empty box into the garbage and marched out of the bathroom.
Oh God.
It was blue.
___________________________________________________________________
It hits when I’m in the backyard
And the summer sky smells like rain
Small things like that make memories come back again
___________________________________________________________________
‘You can do this,’ Carol silently coaxed herself. “You’ve done it before.”
She was standing outside the ambulance bay doors, her pink scrubs on, her stethoscope in her bag, her ID badge snapped to her pocket. ‘They’re your friends. They love you. They only want to help you.’
When she sensed the first flare of courage within her chest, she pushed the swinging doors open, and soon, she was standing in the ER.
“Carol!” Lydia’s voice squealed immediately, and the whole ER looked up.
“Hey guys,” she offered a small smile and took a few feeble steps, so that she was in front of the admin. desk. The nurses and Jerry rushed around the greet her, and soon, she was enveloped in a see of ‘how are you?” and ‘how are you holding up?’ and ‘I’m so sorry...’ and ‘he was one of our best.’ She nodded politely at each of them and accepted their teary hugs.
But she was soon overwhelmed with their sympathy. She was suffocating in their condolences.
“Carol,” Jerry asked suddenly, his voice breaking through the noisy chatter surrounding them, his large frame blocking the other nurses. “Can you help me with new computer system? None of us can seem to figure it out...”
“Oh Jerry, not now!” Haleh tried to usher him aside. “She’s just got back!”
“No, I’ll help ya,” she smiled gratefully at him, and followed the desk clerk to the computer. The nurses, feeling a little rebuffed, slowly went back to their various tasks.
“They’re one helluva welcoming committee, huh?” Jerry asked, pulling out a chair for her.
“Yeah...” Carol laughed curtly. “Thanks for rescuing me.” She elbowed him affectionately.
“No problem.” He turned on the computer. “We’ve missed you.”
“Aw, I’ve missed you all too. It can get kinda boring by yourself all day...” she smiled sadly. “So what about this piece of junk’s got you befuddled?”
“Uh, the antivirus protection goes crazy every time one of us enters a file in the chart review section.” He demonstrated with a click of the mouse. “See?”
Carol nodded and leaned in to show him how to correct it, the anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach slowly dissolving.
~*~*~*~
“Trach kits here.... foleys under here... and gauze pads in medium and large right there...” She murmured quietly to herself as she packed the supplies into the metal shelving. “Just gotta replace the french blades in the pedes unit, and I’m done with inventory.”
Taking the packages in her hands, she headed out of the supply closet.
“Carol, we need some more intubation trays in trauma one!” Lucy called to her as she sped down the hall, answering a page.
“I’m on it!” She answered, grumbling softly. What did they think she was, a waitress?
When she stepped into the ped’s ER unit, she was immediately hit with a feeling of displacement. The place seemed so wrong without him hunched over the little desk in the corner or comforting some small child, or reassuring a frantic parent. A deep sense of longing settled itself in the pit of her stomach and spread slowly through her body. It was wrong. He was supposed to be here.
Suddenly, a small gasp of whimper emanated from behind one of the curtains. Thinking it was a lost or sick child, she pulled back the colourful, hanging sheet. There, sitting on the bed, her head down, one hand clasped over her mouth, was Jeanie Boulet.
“Jeanie...” She exclaimed lightly, setting the supplies on a tray beside the bed. The PA looked up, and upon seeing Carol, began to cry harder, her shoulders shaking, her brow furrowing, one hand clutching the bedsheet.
“Hey, hey...” Carol gently extended a hand, laying it on her arm. “What’s the matter? What happened?”
“Carol...” Jeanie choked. “I didn’t think anyone would be in here... I– I just...”
“Did something happen?”
She shook her head, looking away, trying desperately to compose herself.
“Are you sure...? Jeanie... its ok you, I’ll listen if there’s a problem.”
She shook her head again, struggling with what to say, not wanting to cause the nurse more grief.
“I just– I was just finishing up with a patient, and I was going to get... to get Doug to sign the discharge papers. I came all the way here and I didn’t realize it until I saw his desk all packed up, his things put away, his pictures gone...” she let out a small sob and wiped her eyes. “Its not right, Carol. Its such a waste.... I’m so sorry...”
Carol nodded slowly, the enormity of Doug’s contributions to County’s ER sinking in. He meant so much to so many people...
Swallowing hard, she eased down onto the bed to sit beside Jeanie. “You just couldn’t help loving him,” she whispered, staring at her hands, feeling a profound connection with the young woman. “He radiated charm and goodness and kindness...”
“This place isn’t going to be the same without him.”
Carol shook her head. “He made a difference to so many children... its really amazing when you think about it. He was a hero a hundred times over. He saved that many lives, that many babies...”
“He was the life of the ER,” Jeanie smiled.
Carol was silent for a moment. Then, she breathed deeply and looked to her co-worker. “He was my life.”
The PA wiped a tear from her beautiful, coffee-colored cheek, and then reached out, embracing Carol softly.
~*~*~*~
“Wanna get some lunch over at Magoo’s?”
Mark’s hopeful face appeared in her line of vision. She capped her pen and placed the chart she’d been writing on in the rack.
“Na, I think I’m just gonna work through lunch today. I’m not real hungry.”
“C’mon, Elizabeth’s coming, you two can talk about girly things while I chow down.”
“Oh great, so I’ll be a third wheel?” she laughed.
“How would you be a third wheel? If anything, I’m the only guy, so I’m the third wheel. Or if you’re looking at it by culture, Elizabeth’s the only Brit, so she’s the third wheel.”
Carol shook her head, and gave him a small smile. “If you want me to go that badly...”
“Oh, it would please me very much.” Mark raised his eyebrows in mock sincerity.
“Then I suppose I am entitled to a break right about now.”
“Thats the spirit! Lets go before the good booth’s taken.”
Reluctantly, Carol let Mark pull her away from the admin. desk, where she’d been working. He and Elizabeth had been the only people she’d spoken to in the last week, and she was very grateful for their unassuming, humble company.
“I do need my coat, you know.”
“Elizabeth’s got it,” he nodded in the direction of the lounge, where the red headed surgeon was emerging with their jackets.
“Here we are,” she said in her thick accent as she handed them out. “Your locker was open, hope you don’t mind.”
Carol shook her head and shrugged into her coat. “Mark talk you into this too?”
“Ah, no, I’m here on my own free will,” she smiled.
Mark zipped up the front of his jacket and reached for Elizabeth’s hand.
Carol suddenly felt a pang of grief rip through her like lightening, and she had to clench her teeth to keep from crying out.
“You ok Carol? You look kinda pale...” Mark furrowed his brow as they headed for the doors.
“I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy,” she lied.
“Its probably because you haven’t eaten,” Elizabeth reasoned as they stepped outside, into the windy March afternoon.
“Help me! Someone help!” Shrill cries suddenly emanated from across the ambulance bay, where two men were trying to make their way to the ER. One man was hunched over, his arm around the other, in obvious pain.
“Please help my brother!”
The nurse and doctors immediately rushed over, taking the injured man. “What happened?” Elizabeth demanded, as Carol motioned to Malik to get a gurney.
“My brother– Stan, he, he...” the other man stammered. “We were trying to fix my oven... he was half inside of it, when we turned it on– just to test, you know? And– and it blew up! He’s burnt real bad, you’ve gotta help him!”
They could see where the skin on Stan’s face and arms and chest was red and bubbling. His hair was charred and his eyebrows were gone.
Carol of a sudden couldn’t stop shaking. Her breath was stuck fast in her chest, and she coughed, trying to rid the ill ,stricken feeling that had seized her. For a moment, the man in front of her wasn’t a stranger, but Doug, calling out in pain, his skin raw, his voice hoarse with smoke, the life slowly and distressingly draining out of him.
Malik and several other nurses and doctors arrived with the gurney, and they carefully lifted the man onto it.
Elizabeth, sensing her dazed distraint, grabbed Carol’s arm, pulling her away from the gurney, towards the street. “Come, lets get some lunch.”
“I– we have to help with the trauma...”
“No, no, Mark and Carter have got it. Lets go.”
Mark looked towards the two women as the trauma team wheeled the man into the ER and waved them on.“Go ahead, I’ll meet you there in a few.”
Biting her lip, Carol nodded slowly, willing her hands to stop trembling, letting her friend guide her across the street and into the little diner.
She sat down quickly in the red leather-lined booth, and Elizabeth sat on the other side.
“I just kept seeing Doug,”she choked, feeling she need to offer an explanation for her strange behavior.
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes gentle with compassion.
“Its so hard to believe this happened to him....”
“You know, he was most likely unconscious. The smoke would have knocked him out long before...” she trailed off, unsure of how to finish.
“I just wish I could have been there. You know, if it had happened any other way... any other way than a fire over in Kosovo, I could have been there. I could have held his hand... and told him that I loved him... I really, really do love him...” the last part came out in a sort of strangled sob.
Elizabeth reached out and laid a sympathetic hand on her arm, listening quietly.
“I could have told him that I was proud of him. I never did tell him that.” She gasped in an attempt to sniffle and swiped a hand over her eyes. “Not just for going to Kosovo, but for everything; changing his life, giving up the booze and the sex, for making attending and setting up the pedes ER. He did so much good in the last three years, and I never gave him credit for it.” The words tumbled out, spawned by the frightening reality suddenly seizing her.
“I’m sure he knew.”
“No, no, I don’t think he did.” Carol let out a trembling sigh trailed with a heavy sob. “Oh God, I wish I would have told him. I was so proud of him...”
“When two people love and care for each other as much as you and Doug did, you don’t have to say these things to have them known. I know you must have shown him everyday, when you cooked him breakfast or when you kissed him goodnight, or... or when you picked out his sweaters at Christmas time.” Elizabeth soothed wisely. “If he had never once told you that he loved you, would you still have know it?”
Carol nodded, hiccuping.
“Well then, same goes for him.”
“I never told him it.”
“Told him what?”
“That I loved him. I mean, I waited until he said it first. God, I was so unsure of everything, so afraid he would leave, that I pushed him away. I’d just started to feel safe...” She shook her head sadly. “I should have married him that night.”
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth leaned in closer.
“About a year ago Doug arranged a surprise wedding for us... Mark was supposed to be the best man, he had a set of rings... everything. I was supposed to meet him at the corner after my ride along... but I did something horrible...” she paused, a fresh wave of tears flowing down her face. “I kissed the paramedic I was with. It didn’t mean anything... but I was confused, and I left Doug standing on that corner for hours, worrying...”
“Its not your fault Doug died, Carol. That has nothing to do with it.”
“Maybe if we’d have been married, he wouldn’t have left.”
Suddenly, a tall, skinny waitress stepped up to their table. “Can I take your order?”
“Um, can we just have another minute, please?” Elizabeth asked, looking up at the girl, annoyed.
“No, lets order now.” Carol shook her head, clearing her throat and wiping her face with a napkin. “I’ll have a bran muffin and a coff– uh, a glass of milk.”
“Coffee and cheeseburger,” Elizabeth ordered, peering at Carol oddly. “Is that all you’re eating?” She asked when the waitress left.
“I’m feeling a little queasy.” She forced a weak smile.
“Are you coming down with something?” the doctor asked with concern.
“Uh, no, actually...” Carol looked down at her hands, folded on the table. She’d already blubbered to Elizabeth enough... what was a little more? “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, Carol...” she gasped in spite of herself, her face immediately showing her shock. “Did Doug know?”
“No,” She shook her head, her voice catching. “He would have been so happy...” Her face crumbled again, and Elizabeth rushed around the booth to sit next to her and gently wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“Congratulations,” she said softly, the word void of its usual cheery felicity.
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” Carol murmured, her gratefulness extending far beyond the felicitation.
“Not a problem,” she said gently. “Not a problem at all.”
___________________________________________________________________
Shame on me
For kissing you with my eyes closed
For telling myself I had so much time
Loosing you never crossed my mind
___________________________________________________________________
“Mark...” Carol called to the tall, balding doctor as she made her way to the admin. desk. He was wiping a name off the board, clearing the marker with two, precise strokes of the brush.
“Hey, have a nice lunch?”
“Uh huh,” she nodded, holding up a grease-soaked brown paper bag. “Brought you a cheeseburger, thought you might be hungry.”
“Mmm, yeah,” he took the bag readily and pulled out the dripping burger, sinking his teeth into it. “Whewgidelishabeshgo?” He asked, his mouth full.
“Gross, Mark.” Carol grimaced. “What did you just mumble?”
“I said,” he swallowed. “Where did Elizabeth go?”
“Oh, she got paged by Romano.”
“That bastard’s been running her ragged. She’ll be mighty happy when she finishes this internship.”
“I’ll bet. Having Romano boss you around all day is enough to drive anyone crazy.” She grinned. “Hey, maybe thats why we’re all slightly unhinged!”
Mark laughed. “That would explain it.”
“You know that burn victim from before?” She asked suddenly, tired of the charade. Her cheeks were sore from trying to smile, and her head had begun to ache.
Mark nodded.
“Did he make it?”
“He’s still alive,” he shrugged. “Up in the ICU.”
“How bad is it?”
“Um... about 80 percent.”
“Does he know?”
“Yes.”
Carol swallowed. “Ok. Enjoy the rest of your lunch.” She hurried through the ER and to the elevators, stopping once to let Haleh know that she could be reached in the ICU.
She felt the rise of the elevator in the pit of her stomach and bit her tounge again. The inside of her mouth was becoming raw from her repeated attempts to deflect the bursts of pain she was experiencing, and her palms had little red slits of scabs where her fingernails had pierced the skin.
“What room is Mr. Bryand in?” she asked a nurse as she walked down the ICU hall.
“211,” the woman answered, pointing.
Carol found the room number and hesitated outside the door. Upon looking in, she realized that he was alone in the room, no other patients and no visitors.
“Mr. Bryand?” she asked softly as she entered. The room was small and yellow and reeked of antiseptic and sterilizing cleaners. The lights were dimmed and the shades drawn, and the only sign of life was the hiss of oxygen and the slight rise and fall of Stan Bryand’s chest.
“Who’s there?” was his strangled, muffled reply.
“I’m Carol. I’m a nurse... gonna check your electrodes, ok?”
He nodded with the feeble shake of his chin under the oxygen mask.
She made sure the little white cups were secure on his chest and checked the monitor.
“This– this,” he struggled, tugging at the bandage laid over his left shoulder.
“Is that hurting you?” Carol asked softly.
He nodded, grimacing.
“Here, let me take it off,” she removed the dressing with utmost care and gentleness.
He sighed with relief, and fought to reach up, taking her hand. “Thank you...”
“Its ok, Mr. Bryand. Where’s your family?”
“...Coming.... back...” he said, choking out the words from beneath the mask.
“Are you married?” she asked, sitting down in a chair beside his bed.
He nodded. “...Two... little boys”
She smiled, although it felt to her like there was a clamp around her heart, squeezing ferociously, draining all the life from inside her.
“I want you to do me a favour, Mr. Bryand. I want you to tell them that you love them. I want you to tell them that they mean more to you that anything else in the world. I want you to tell them how proud you are of them.” she gulped. “Can you do that, sir? Can you tell them?”
The young man reached up shakily and tried to wipe away the tear running down the nurse’s cheek. She took his hand in hers and set it down in her lap, being careful not to touch his burns.
“I.... will....” he promised.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she whispered, getting up.
“Please,” he implored, extending his arm again. “Stay.”
Carol nodded and sunk back down into the chair, patting his hand soothingly, feeling a thin, restless relief settling over her.
___________________________________________________________________
It hits when I’m out with old friends
___________________________________________________________________
“You know, I can take the El. My pass is just as good today as it was last week,” she turned to smiled at Mark as they entered her house later that afternoon.
“I know that. I just...” he paused as Carol went to start the coffee. “Get free coffee this way.”
“Cheapskate,” she shook her head in mock disgust.
“And proud of it.” Mark jiggled his eyebrows as he headed out of the kitchen. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Na, just go ahead and piss in the gardenias.”
“Thanks!” He called, heading into the little bathroom tucked in the corner of the house.
A second later, he emerged carrying a little plastic meter, a perplexed look across his face.
“Carol?”
She looked up from her meticulous coffee pouring.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Oh...” her face fell sheepishly, and she looked down at the counter. “You found that, huh? I’d forgotten I left it in the bathroom...”
“So you are...?”
She nodded, still staring at the marble counter top. “Uh huh.”
“Just found out?”
“This morning. Only Elizabeth knows.”
“That’s really great, Carol. Congratulations.” He placed the test on the shelf.
“Thanks,” she pursed her lips and slowly set Mark’s mug on the table. He sat down, and she sat across from him. “We’re going to talk about this now, aren’t we?”
“Only if you want to.”
“I’ve done so much talking today...I cried on Elizabeth’s shoulder for an hour...God. After a week of numb silence, its just all of a sudden ‘woosh’...” she made a sweeping motion with her arms. “Maybe because I went back to work. Maybe because of the– the test... I dunno.”
“Its good to get it all out though, right?” Mark offered.
“Yeah... well, no. Sort of.” She heaved a great sigh. “I gotta admit, I feel pretty horrible. I just wanna curl up and die. But a coupla shots of something real strong wouldn’t hurt either. But of course, I can’t do that.” She chuckled sarcastically.
“What are you going to do?”
“Lord, I have no idea. Jump off a bridge maybe.”
Mark looked at her blankly.
“Kidding. That was a joke.”
He smiled halfheartedly.
“I wanted to have a baby with Doug, you know? I don’t want to be a single mom.”
Mark nodded in understanding. “You do have friends, Carol. We’ll help you through this, whatever you decide to do.”
“I don’t get the life insurance until they find....” she gulped, feeling that familiar surge of fear and grief. “Until they find his body.”
“If money’s a problem–,”
“Its not. There’s just so much to think about. It’s all so new. All of this, its all so new. I wake up every morning thinking it was all a horrible nightmare. But its not, is it?”
He shook his head sadly, his lips in a tight line, his eyes heavy, laden with sympathy.
“Its so hard to believe he’s gone. I still think he’s gonna ring the doorbell and be standing there with a bunch of flowers. I never imagined that it would be like this. He was supposed come home today. Did you know that?” She waited until Mark nodded, then continued. “Its been almost a month since I’ve seen him. That last day, we went skiing. He was so happy up there in the snow and the cold air. I still remember how he laughed when I kept falling. His whole face lit up, you know? Eyes sparkling, dimples flashing.” She bit down on her trembling lip. “God... I miss him, Mark. I really miss him.”
“Me too.” Mark reflected softly. “I miss playing hoops with him. I miss grabbing a beer with him after work. He was my best friend. I think he was probably my only good friend.”
“How am I gonna do this, Mark? How can I live the rest of my life without Doug?” She cupped her hand and pressed it to her chest, her voice warring thin. “It just... hurts so much. I don’t think it’ll ever go away”
“I don’t imagine it ever will goe away. But it’ll get better. It’ll hurt less.”
“I don’t see how.” Her eyes filled with tears as she thought about the life growing inside her. A life that she and Doug made. “I’m so tired. All day I had to smile and... put on a happy face, you know? Its so hard to laugh when I can barely breathe.”
“Everyone understands, Carol. You don’t have to put up a front.” He knew she would anyway.
“I don’t see how they could understand. I don’t see how anyone could feel like this and not... die.”
“Its normal to grieve. You’re allowed.”
“Not according to my mother. She thinks I should just move on. But– I can’t. Its too soon. I can’t get used to living without him.” She sighed. “I don’t want to live without him. I’m still in love with him. Can you love someone who isn’t alive?”
“I think you can love the memory of them.”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure if I feel it yet. I don’t think I feel like he’s really dead. Like, he’s only gone away for awhile.”
“You just need some time to get used to the idea. Maybe you should talk to a grief counselor.”
She offered him a feeble smile. “Is that your way of saying I’m talking your ear off?”
“No, of course not, Carol, I’m always here when you want to talk...”
“Kdding. I was, uh, kidding again. Thanks, Mark.”
He smiled, looking over at the counter. “That candle... its– there’s something strange about it. Its very pretty.”
“Yeah, it is...” She nodded, momentarily enraptured by its flickering, dancing flame.
“Well, I think I should get home, go to bed. My feet are sore.”
“I want to give you some of his things,” she spurt out quickly. “Just some special things, that I won’t give to good will.”
Mark wasn’t sure how to react, for a moment. “Well, uh... are you sure? Don’t you want to keep it?”
“I’ll keep some of it. C’mon, follow me,” she stood from the table and led him into her bedroom, throwing open the closet. Their clothes were interspersed in the small storage area, his shirts wedged in between her blouses, his ties on the same racks as her belts. She sifted through a few items, pulling out a golf shirt, a dress shirt, a tie, a stack of magazines and a small tin.
She handed the shirts to Mark. “These are his favorites. The green one was the shirt he always wore golfing. He hit a lot of hole-in-ones with that one.”
Mark raised an eyebrow.
“OK, maybe one hole-in-one. But he did love it.” She smiled. “The other is the shirt he was wearing his first day at County. See–,” she pointed to a small stain on the collar. “Baby vomit.”
“Yummy,” Mark grinned softly.
“Oh, you don’t have to wear them,” she explained. “I just didn’t want to give them away.” She handed him the tie. “He called this his ‘Mark tie’.”
“He had a tie named after me? I had no idea...”
“Doug said that it reminded him of you, something you would wear.” It was narrow and pale green, with a pattern of little yellow diamonds. “These,” she smiled, loading the magazines into his arms, “Are his Basketball Digests. He practically had each one memorized. I don’t know what you want to do with them, but I think he’d want you to take them.” She sat down on the bed to open the tin.
“His baseball card collection,” she explained, running a finger over the stacks of neatly arranged cards. “It was his since he was 10. He would never let me touch them.” She smiled wistfully. “Hell, why would I want to touch a bunch of old cards?”
“They look ancient.”
“They are. Probably pretty valuable. You can sell them, if you want.”
“God, Carol, no. I’ll keep these forever. All of these things– you have no idea how much this means to me.”
She nodded. She had some idea. “There’s one more thing.” She walked over to the dresser, pulling open a top drawer, taking out the item and handing it to Mark.
“His stethoscope,” he realized, his voice quiet and wavering.
Carol nodded. “He listened to a thousand children’s hearts through that thing.” She started to close the drawer, but Mark stopped her.
“What’s that?”
“What?”
“Those markings,” he pointed to the side of the drawer.
Carol looked at it. For a moment, she was back on the front porch, more than a year earlier, in Doug’s arms. –“Well, that’s a drawer!” He’d exclaimed happily. She would later carve an inscription into the side.
Carol was still for a moment, her face unreadable, looking at the carving. Then, suddenly, her composer crumbled and she was crying, heaving sobs so heavy her shoulders shook with the force.
Mark furrowed his brow and laid a comfortingly hand on her shoulder.
“It says,” she wept, gulping out the words;
“For Doug– my greatest love, a place for your socks.
Your Carol...”
“Oh God,” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “He’s gone. He’s really, really gone.”
___________________________________________________________________
I thought the way that it was
Was how it would always be
To love someone so carelessly...
Shame on me
___________________________________________________________________
Carol went right back to the closet when Mark left. She threw it open, searching for an item she’d seen earlier.
Her fingers brushed against the soft material of what she’d been looking for, and she pulled it off of the hanger.
When she’d told Mark about Doug’s favorite shirts, she hadn’t quite been truthful. The shirt she had in her hands was by far his most preferred. It was soft and worn, the fabric so thin it was almost transparent.
It was the shirt he’d been wearing the night he came to her doorstep.
The night he kissed her.
The night she willingly gave her heart to him for a second time.
The night she’d waited for her whole life.
Carefully, Carol pulled off the sweater she’d worn under her scrubs, and slipped Doug’s shirt over her head.
Oh God. She was immediately struck with the unmistakable, irresistible scent of his cologne. He’d always worn the same aroma; a wonderful, robust citrus flavour that smelled so delicious on him, her desire flared at the mere scent of it.
It was that glorious sensation she’d noticed first that cool, May night a year previous. He’d been standing so close to her, her heart had been pounding wildy in her chest. She’d been so afraid he could hear it...
~ flashback ~
He leaned in a fraction of an inch closer, and she could feel his breath on her face. Then, in a mere second, his lips were gently grazing hers, so delicate, so feathery in their touch that when he pulled back, she wasn’t sure he’d even kissed her at all.
But he did it again, this time with more intention, with building passion. In her breathless daze, she kissed him back, felt her lips move against his, following his tender rhythm. He felt so good pressed up against her, his skin soft and warm, his lips wet and full, his long eyelashes brushing against her forehead. His hands were in her hair, stroking luxuriously, the pads of his fingers tracing lavish patterns on her scalp.
All the memories, the experiences, the knowledge of what it was like to be in Doug’s arms came flooding back to her in that instant, and she needed him desperately, wanted him fully.
Reaching behind her, she turned the doorknob, letting the door slip open, never tearing her lips away from his. She took a step backwards into the warmth of the house, and he followed.
“Wait, Carol–,” He whispered hoarsely. “Are you sure?”
Was she sure? Sure she wanted to get involved with the man who’d broken her heart? Sure she wanted to drudge up the past? Sure she wanted to destroy the friendship they’d found?
“Absolutely.” She breathed, unbuttoning her jacket and heaving it onto the sofa, then reaching to undo his.
He pulled her near again, kissing her eyelids lightly, then her nose, her chin. “Do you know how precious you are?” He asked her softly, dipping down to press his lips onto the delicate skin of her neck, kissing a trail down to her chest, stopping just above the low collar of her dress.
“Mmmm,” she mumbled, her thoughts growing hazy. She reached up and wove her fingers into his hair, stroking the soft wisps at the nape of his neck.
“Can I, Carol?” He asked, his fingers playing with the zipper on the back of her short black dress.
She nodded, rapidly loosing control as he gently pulled it down, exposing her back; shoulder baldes elegantly well defined, pale skin smooth and glowing.
“Its going to be different this time,” he whispered into her ear, his warm, strong hands roaming slowly from her neck, down to the small of her back.
He pulled away to look at her. She smiled, her eyes shinining sensuously, her cheeks flushed brilliantly, her hair falling around her face in dark ringlets.
“Its going to be different,” he said again.
“I know,” she nodded, pushing her dress straps off her shoulders, letting the material slide down her arms, and reaching for him again. “I know.”
~ end flashback ~
Carol opened her eyes slowly, a heady warmth still coursing through her in gentle waves. She sighed sadly as the feeling faded and she was left sitting on the edge of the bed, alone.
She would never have that again.
She would never have him again.
Shakily, she stood up and made her way to the bathroom, in front of the full length mirror. Hesitating, her hands trembling, she pulled Doug’s shirt up over her flat stomach.
There was a life growing inside of her. A life that was partly Doug. It was all she had left of him.
“So thats how it is, huh?” She asked her reflection softly. “A life for a life.”
She had to loose something precious in order to gain something precious. A piece of her life was taken away, and another was added. She just wasn’t sure if it was worth it.
If it would ever be worth it.
Leaving the bathroom, she picked the afghan off the sofa and curled up in the big chair in front of the window, bringing the blanket up to her chin. She was still wearing Doug’s shirt, and the smell of him was still there. If she closed her eyes and ignored the sharp sense of grief and ache present inside, she could almost imagine that he was there beside her, his arms loosely wrapped around her waist, his face nestled in her hair, his warm breath tickling the back of her neck.
Carol shook away the image of him. He wasn’t there. No amount of pretending would change that.
She sighed deeply. It still felt like a mistake. The notion that he could ever leave her forever was so strange to her it was difficult to comprehend.
“I need you, Doug,” she breathed softly, bunching the fabric of the afghan tightly in her fists. “I can’t do this alone. I need you here.”
The only answer to her plea was the quiet, low whistle of the wind outside the window.
It was still light out, and the sun was reflecting off the snow outside in bright patterns, little flecks of ice glittering on the windowsill.
Suddenly, Carol jumped up. She threw the blanket to the side, and rushed to the coat rack to pull on her jacket and gloves. Grabbing the keys off the shelf, she raced out into the biting, bitter March air.
___________________________________________________________________
I’m taking more time for sunsets
And the sound of the birds at dawn
I know how it feels to miss whats gone
___________________________________________________________________
There was still half an hour of light left before sundown when Carol pulled up to the ski hill in Doug’s jeep. The twilight was casting slices of shadows across the mountains, illuminating the snow in certain places.
Everything was closed up for the summer season, the chalet windows boarded and locked, the lift halted in mid-swing. The snow on the slopes was beginning to melt, little patches of dirt and ground showing up everywhere, grass peeking out in yellow-ish bursts around the trees.
She stepped out of the jeep, the cold air abruptly whipping against her warm skin, the sun reflecting off the snow and stinging her eyes. She shielded her eyes with her hand and looked up to the mountain.
It was hard to believe that she’d been there with Doug only a month before, in the icy heart of winter. It seemed like another lifetime, yet, she could still feel the bitter wind whipping across her face. She could still hear his rapturous laughter as he helped her up. She could still feel his reassuring embrace as he guided her gently down the snow covered hill.
Pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders, she hiked the few yards to the base of the hill, right underneath the chair lifts.
She looked up, watching them dangle in the air, 40 feet above. She squinted against the sun, hearing Doug’s voice whispering in her ear as she remembered.
<“Carol, do you really think I’d let anything happen to you?” Doug tilted his head and took her shaking, gloved hand in his. > She’d been afraid in that tiny, swinging chair. But not even close to how scared she was now. Carol placed a hand to her abdomen, breathing in the crisp, cool air, letting it sting her lungs. A breeze passed her then, and the lift chairs swung dauntingly.
<“I can’t, Doug. I can’t do this.”
“Yes you can.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Trust me, ok? Trust me.”>
Closing her eyes lightly, she basked in the sound of his voice. It seemed to echo off the mountains, playing off her memory.
Slowly, she began to climb the slope. It was a long run, but not very steep, and much of the snow had melted, creating a little path of gravel for her to walk up.
She stopped, a half a mile up, and looked around. The trees seemed familiar, but odd, without their burden of snow. The wind whistled through them eerily, causing a chill to run up her spine.
<“Let yourself go, Carol.”
She looked to him, confused.
“Relax. Close your eyes.”
“I– I can’t.”
“I’ve got you. Just close your eyes.”
Carol breathed in a mouthful of cool, bitter air, the frigid taste releasing chills of cold and excitement through her. She shut her eyes, clinging to Doug. >
Shivering, she continued on, trying to remember where she was on the trail, looking for familiar landmarks. Half way up she stopped again, and turned around. She was high up now, the jeep like a little matchbox car. She felt the same tingle as she had that day, looking down. Only this time, there was no hand to hold, no calming voice to reassure her.
“Doug?” She called to him, opening her eyes, letting them grow accustomed to the bright sunlight. “This is wonderful.”
“It is, I know,” he grinned and abruptly let go of her arm.
“What– what are you doing?” She wobbled, suddenly unsure of herself.
“Letting you fly.”>
Biting back the rush of emotion her memories were causing, she pressed on, the cold wind numbing her cheeks and forehead, her legs tiring, her shins aching.
She squealed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Doug! We’re gonna crash!”
“We’re not–,” he laughed, just as his ski traveled over a branch lying in the middle of the mild slope. In a second, they were in the air, then, landing in a pile of snow. It flew out from beneath them, little flakes puffing out like wheat flower. >
Finally, she recognized the right path, and climbed up it. The terrain was getting steeper, the rock jutting out sharply. Carol was having trouble keeping her bearings. When the rock came into view, the flat one that protruded from the side of the slope, she eased herself down onto it and looked out, taking in the horizon.
<“What are we doing up here?” She asked, somewhat out of breath, shaking her head at his strange antics.
He motioned to the steep cliff and sweeping landscape in front of them with a flicker of a wave. “Just look.” >
The view was just as breathtaking as it had been a month ago, the snow shining majestically, Chicago glittering on the skyline, the buildings reaching up towards the sky.
The sun was just beginning to set. It was half out of view, it’s blazing brilliance just visible on the horizon. The lower sky had been dusted a gorgeous, deep pink, kissed with orange, dancing with furls of red, all of the colours reflecting off the tendrils of white clouds strung along the skyline.
Carol sighed, shivering, as she gazed at the brilliant, serene display.
“Like you could almost hold it in your hand.” His voice was low and gentle.
“Yeah,” she agreed, remembering the children’s song. “She’s got the whole world, in her hands...”
Doug closed his eyes and drew his arms tightly around Carol’s shoulders, relishing their gentle intimacy. “I’ve got the whole world in my hands,” he whispered into her hair.>
She was alone. There was no one to enjoy the sunrise with, no one to hold her tight and whisper softly in her ear. The longing she felt then was incredible, so fierce and stinging that it was almost physical, ripping through her, tearing at her soul. She ached for his touch, his lips, his voice. She yearned desperately to hear his low chuckle, to bask in his coy, vivacious smile. It was unreasonable to think that she could never have him again. That she would be without him forever.
Slowly, Carol pulled herself up, standing shakily on the boulder. The wind whipped through her hair, sending it flying around her face.
Steadying herself, she tilted her face into the sun, head back, eyes closed. Thrusting her arms out from her sides, she imagined sliding down the slope with Doug’s arms around her, gently guiding her, never letting her fall. But instead of the happy laughter rippling from her throat, a quiet, murmuring weeping emerged, speaking her heartache, utterly sorrowful in it’s languish. She wept into the sky, tears falling down her face, offering herself to the grief and pain that burned within her very existence.
It was wrong. Everything was wrong. He should have been there. He should have been with her.
The burden of harsh truth and reality carried the knowledge of her anguish. It rode on the vicious wind and scarred her face. It danced in the sky with the glorious colours of sunset. It was whispered through the mountains and echoed inside of her head.
‘He was supposed to be home today...’
___________________________________________________________________
Shame on me
For kissing you with my eyes closed
For telling myself I had so much time
Loosing you never crossed my mind
___________________________________________________________________
Part 5
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