“Do you want a soda? Coffee?” Doug asked her. Meredith shook her head.
“I’d like a Coke,” Marcia told him. Marcia’s mother was snoozing in her chair, her head nodding up and down. Doug left the room with quarters for the vending machine.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Marcia said to Meredith. Meredith imagined her before the accident, washing Kevin’s clothes with fabric softener. She wondered if Kevin could hear them.
“You’ve been through a long haul,” Meredith agreed. “Are you seeing any changes?”
Marcia let out a hard, brittle cackle. “Well, the doctors don’t think he’ll recover. I could try to believe in miracles, and then I’d still have hope, but Doug’s the Catholic in the family.” Her voice was high-pitched and edgy. She let out a long, deep sigh. “I just don’t know how much more of this I can tolerate. I feel like I am about one minute from a nervous breakdown.” There were no chairs around Marcia so Meredith didn’t get up and sit next to her, but she would have liked to.
“You’re doing great. You’ve got an amazing amount of strength. I wouldn’t have even made it to this point,” she added.
“You’d be surprised,” Marcia commented. “You think you could never tolerate this, but once you’re forced down the road you just go.” She looked at Meredith over her son’s inert body. “You’d be surprised.”
That night in bed, every time she shut her eyes, Meredith felt like she was spinning through the darkness. Her insides, layered in years like sediment, were stirred up and swirling around inside her. She woke three times in the middle of the night; each time to a dream that she was falling. The third time, she lay still in the dark, whispering, “All is well, all is well,” as she stroke Mendra’s head and prayed for a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Ten
Meredith woke to Ben, shaking her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Sleepyhead.” He handed her a cup of steaming coffee. Meredith sat up, relieved to have made it through the night. She had a sip of coffee. It was black and strong. She was glad she’d given Ben a key. He spent most of his time off at her place anyway. She looked up at him. He looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot with purplish marks under them. There was a day’s worth of stubble on his chin. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I couldn’t wait. I’m dying to give you your Christmas present.”
Without thinking, she leaned in and gave him a long kiss. Ben forgot presents momentarily as he leaned into her embrace. It felt good stop thinking about her dreams. She ran her fingers through Ben’s ruffled hair, enjoying his solid, warm presence. When they came up for air, she studied him under a raised brow. “How much sleep did you get last night?”
He laughed, self-consciously running a hand over his hair to straighten it out a bit. “That bad, huh?” he asked. “About thirty minutes,” he added, pushing himself up from her bed. “And if I stay near this bed any longer I’m going to collapse into it.” He reached for her hands and pulled her out of bed. “Leave your pjs on. You look adorable. I can almost picture you at age eight, running downstairs to see what Santa brought you.”
He led her into the living room, where he’d set up a small, real Christmas tree, decorated with small white lights and some miniature, colored balls. A few presents sat underneath. Meredith stood in the doorway, inhaling the smell of pine. “Where in the world did you find the time to do this?”
“I bought it two days ago. It’s been in a big bucket of water in my backyard. I wasn’t sure if it would make it this long. I stopped for it when I left the hospital today. Merry Christmas,” he told her, suddenly shy. They sat down next to the tree.
He’d brought a present for Mendra, too. A plastic ball that bounced in unexpected directions. While Mendra was off chasing it, Meredith gave Ben his gift.
“Nope. You first. Please. I’m dying.” He was, Meredith could see. There were two. Both were rectangular boxes. The wrapping job was simple but neat. Meredith tore off the wrapping paper of one to reveal a maple case with small brass hinges on either side. Alarms began to ring faintly in the back of her head as she flipped up the clasps and opened the box. Inside was an elaborate set of oil paints. Thick, silver tubes with colored labels were arranged neatly in rows. To the side were small containers of linseed oil, Damar varnish, and Turpenoid. She sat speechless, staring at painting set.
“Open the second one,” Ben urged, handing her the box. He had bound together with string three pre-stretched canvases. Meredith held them away from her at arm’s length. They were glaring white, waiting, judgmentally, she thought, to be slathered in paint. “Jesus,” she said softly.
“I know,” Ben told her. “I haven’t been able to get over the fact that you don’t paint any more. I thought this might get you going again.”
“Yes. It might.” Meredith said slowly. She looked up at him, trying with all her might to hide her emotions. “I’m blown away,” she told him. “Thank you.” They stared at each other in silence. Meredith handed him his present. “Open yours.” Ben was ecstatic about the espresso maker, but less enthused by the acupuncture.
“In some people, it really does work,” she informed him. “They leave the office and never smoke again.”
“Wow. Great.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thanks. These are great presents.” Next door, they heard multiple car doors slam. The Gonzaleses were leaving for church.
“You look really tired. Why don’t you go take a nap. I’m going to cook a fancy Christmas day breakfast.” Wearily, Ben nodded and stood.
“I think I’ll take you up on that. Wake me if I sleep for too long.”
Meredith went into the kitchen, formulating an elaborate breakfast in her head. She was making a hollandaise sauce when Kira called.
“Merry Christmas!” she cheered into the phone. “What’d ya get?”
“A painting set.” Meredith’s voice was low.
“What for?” Kira was clearly appalled.
“It’s my undergraduate degree. Painting.”
“Oh. Then great!”
“Not great. I’m blocked sorta.”
“Blocked?”
“Creatively. I can’t paint. Haven’t since I graduated.”
“Maybe you’re just lazy.” Kira suggested.
Meredith laughed. “Maybe so. What’d you get?”
Now Kira’s voice lowered. “A juicer. Can you beat that? We’re trying to get out of debt, right? We agree to one gift, right? And of all the gifts he could choose for my one and only gift, he gives me a juicer.”
“What’d you get him?”
“Cufflinks,” she said. “But that’s different. Jeremy doesn’t care about presents the way I do. I used to put a lot more thought into his, but why bother? It was always the same, ‘Thanks, babe. I love it.’ Then I’d never see it again.” Kira laughed. “But enough of that. The other reason I called was to see how you were doing. Last night got heavy. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She paused. “Where’s Ben?”
“Sleeping. Yeah, I’m fine.” She began to chop up scallions and garlic for omelets. “It’s something I don’t talk about. Haven’t talked about it at all, actually, to anyone. I thought time would ease it, but instead it seemed to grow bigger and bigger.” She took a deep breath to keep the panic out of her voice. “I thought that saying it out loud might help some.” She put the knife down.
“And did it?”
“I don’t know. Yes. But I don’t feel any less horrible and selfish. And cowardly.”
“Oh, no, Meredith. Courageous is the word I would use to describe you. Why did you leave him?”
“Oh.” Meredith pulled a bowl out and began cracking eggs into it. “I cycle around with different theories. Mainly, I think I felt overwhelmed and controlled by his personality. He was very driven. I was intimidated by him. In awe of him. Unequal.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why, really.”
“And he never tried to contact you?”
“No.”
“Did that surprise you?”
“And your parents. They must have liked him a lot to want you to come back and marry him.”
Kira’s words made her eyes sting with tears. “They loved Eric. That’s probably part of why I stayed with him so long. Being with him made my parents like me better.” She turned around from the counter and Ben was standing in the doorway with pillow-face. She jumped involuntarily, then clutched her heart in a playful way. He smiled back. She turned away from him and talked to Kira for another fifteen minutes while breakfast was prepared. Ben sat at the counter and drank a cup of coffee.
As soon as she hung up, Meredith started serving Ben food. “You didn’t sleep very long. Are you sure you want to drink that coffee?” Before he could answer she handed him a plate. “Merry Christmas breakfast,” she announced. “Do you like Eggs Benedict? This is a modified version of it. Eggs Meredith. Kira has never had Eggs Benedict. Can you believe it?” She shoved a forkful into her mouth.
“Who’s Eric?” Ben asked.
There were any number of responses she could have chosen. She chose poorly. “Who?”
“Eric.”
Meredith could feel a deep scarlet rise up her neck to her cheeks. “Oh. Eric. Just someone I used to date. Back in New York,” she added.
“Your family liked him?”
“He was partner in a law firm. I was an art school graduate in combat boots. They loved him. They couldn’t believe that someone like him would want to...date someone like me.” She sighed deeply. “That’s part of why we aren’t close anymore. They never forgave me for ending it with him.”
“How long did you guys go out for?”
Meredith sighed again. “I don’t know. Why are we talking about some guy I haven’t seen or heard from in five years?”
“I don’t know. Why were you talking about him?”
“God, what is this? The inquisition?” Ben was silent. She studied him from across the table. Mendra hopped off the sofa and walked into the kitchen silently. “Are you jealous?” she asked tentatively.
Ben snorted in surprise. “A little. Yeah. Should I be?”
Her tears came unexpectedly. Mostly, she thought, she was crying from relief. Relief that it was Ben she was spending Christmas morning with and not Eric. Ben dropped his fork and came around the table. He wrapped his arms around her and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. “What’s wrong? Don’t cry,” he whispered. She began wiping her eyes. He took over the job, gently dabbing at her face with the sleeve of his shirt.
“No. It’s okay. I’m crying because I just...” She took his face in her hands and met his gaze, which was frank and honest. “I just...” Meredith focused on his eyes, but no words would come. She stroked his cheek. He stroked hers.
“Tell me,” he whispered tenderly. “It’s okay. What are you trying to say?”
“I just...” She shook her head. “You just don’t need to be jealous of Eric. You never have to be jealous. Of anyone. There’s no one who can hold a candle to you. I promise. Do you believe me?”
They were almost nose to nose. Ben smiled, although his eyes looked like they were holding something back. “If you tell me it’s so, I’ll believe you,” he whispered, kissing her nose.
Kevin died four days after Christmas. Someone from Marcia’s family was making all the calls. When Meredith put down the phone, she sat watching the crystal that hung in her kitchen window move back and forth with the air from the heating vent. After awhile, she paged Ben.
“What’s up?” he sounded busy.
“Kevin died.”
“Shit. When?”
“This morning.”
“Damn. How’s Doug?”
“I don’t know. A relative called me.”
“When’s the funeral?”
“Tomorrow at two.”
“O.K.”
“Can you go?”
“I don’t know. I need to talk to people here and see if they can spare me for a couple of hours.” He paused. “How are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” she gasped. She had been fine until he’d used that sympathetic tone of voice on her. Now tears were pounding her eyes. Damn him for making her cry.
“Just let it out,” Ben urged.
Meredith took a deep breath to calm herself. “How could you tell?”
“That you’re fighting back tears? Because you’re making the same strangling noises you always make when you try to hold them back.” Someone began talking to him and when he got back to Meredith he said, “Babe, I’ve gotta go. Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
“I’m fine. I’ll just talk to you later.”
“O.K. Bye.”
Ben and every other Family Practice Resident who asked got the afternoon off to attend the funeral of Doug’s son. The Family Practice clinics were staffed down to the barest minimum and Internal Medicine docs were completely staffing some of the satellite sites. Doug was well-respected and well-liked. The funeral parlor was packed with people from all areas of the School of Medicine. Ben and Meredith sat with a group of residents who, despite their sympathy for Doug, managed to raise their eyebrows at Meredith’s presence next to Ben. So, he hasn’t told everyone, Meredith deduced, and she felt a small knot of hurt form in her chest. Shut up, she told the knot. Weren’t you the one who said we shouldn’t tell? If you can’t walk the walk, don’t talk the talk.
The ceremony was very informal and very sad. When Meredith noticed the group of young boys sitting in the front with their parents, she felt an attack of hysteria moving over her, but Ben squeezed her hand and she managed to calm down a bit. By the end of the ceremony, however, after a procession of family and friends had taken turns remembering Kevin, she was sobbing uncontrollably, sucking in her sounds with large, painful gasps. Ben had thoughtfully come with tissues, and he sat next to her, one arm over her hunched back, the other holding the small plastic package.
They stood outside after the service. Ben smoked a cigarette. Two, actually, and a few residents came up to bum smokes off of him. Meredith watched them light up and wondered what else doctors told people to stop that they couldn’t quit themselves. They were talking lifelessly about the service, when what they clearly wanted was the scoop on Ben’s new flame. One particularly gossipy male resident, Anthony, gave Ben several piercing looks, but Ben ignored them. Cathy Garcia, a short, pretty resident with a large bosom, who apparently didn’t smoke, came over to invite everyone to her house that night for coffee. She made a special point to include Meredith in her invitation to Ben.
The idea of coffee with all the residents almost made Meredith start dry-heaving, but she nodded agreeably to Cathy and refrained from comment.
Meredith had picked Ben up from the hospital. On the drive back, a memory popped into her head. It was of the residency director referring to Ben and Cathy as “Frick and Frack.”
“Did you used to date Cathy?”
Ben said no too quickly for Meredith to necessarily believe him, but she let it drop.
At the hospital entrance, he turned back toward her and spoke through the window. “What time do you want to head over to Cathy’s?”
“Oh. I’ve got a lot to do tonight. I think I’ll pass.”
“Oh? Like what?” He climbed back into the car, ready to grill her.
“Well. House stuff, for one.”
“Such as?”
“Wax my kitchen floor,” she said.
“That sounds suspiciously like ‘washing my hair.’”
“It’s not an excuse,” she said, knowing she sounded lame.
Ben stroked her cheek with his index finger. She felt goose bumps rise on the back of her neck. “I’m not going to try to coerce you into going tonight. But eventually, I’d like you to be able to comfortably hang out with my friends.” He leaned forward and kissed her. His mouth was very smoky from the cigarettes. “Thanks for driv
ing,” he said, and disappeared into the hospital. Meredith sighed.
Cathy’s house was small and somewhat sloppy. Newspapers and medical journals were hidden in piles behind clothes and dishes were stacked in the sink. There was cat hair on every surface, with concentrations on what must have been the cats’ (there appeared to be three) favorite haunts, a particular chair, a certain pillow.
Meredith felt everyone in the room was staring at her, even though her eyes were on the ground. Ben seized her hand and pulled her through the room, returning greetings along the way. She relaxed a little once she had huddled into a corner. The room was crowded and dim, lit primarily by a fireplace to her right. Residents were sitting on every available piece of furniture and the floor.
Broken pieces of conversation floated by. “Great kid, I can’t imagine...lost two cc’s of blood...paged the head resident for ninety minutes before he strolled in with his shirt untucked and a hickey on his neck.”
Ben had left to get coffee and now he was back, sitting next to her with two mugs and a plate of shortbread cookies balanced on his knees. She looked at his face in the firelight and wondered why in the world he was bothering with her. He was smart, handsome, great body, great personality...she could go on and on. He could date any woman he wanted. What in the world did he see in...
“Hello there Dr. Abel. And who is your friend?” Meredith’s thoughts were interrupted by two ER residents, who Ben introduced as Ann and McCauly. McCauly was a short, powerfully built woman in her late twenties. Ann looked to be mid-thirties, slender with long blond hair. She was the one doing the talking.
“Ann, McCauly, this is Meredith.”
McCauly’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Are you a first year?”
“I’m not a resident.” Don’t give them more information than they need, Meredith told herself. Let them wonder. “I’m a computer programmer,” she added, feeling betrayed by her own mouth.
“Ah.” Both doctors nodded politely.
Searching For Meredith Love Page 14
