After Afterall

38

When I walk into the kitchen first thing this morning, I find a bag of bagels and fresh cream cheese from the deli around the corner. A pot of coffee is also brewing. There's a dash and the letter 'R' written on the bag. In the last four weeks of my recovery, Richard has been stopping by a lot. Since my mom is in and out, it seems like he feels the need to act as my mother and father.

I pull an everything bagel from the bag and pop it into the toaster. I put almost all the rest into a bag and into the freezer. Alex is in Iowa until the weekend, but once he gets back, he'll tear through all the bagels.

As I've done every morning for the last four weeks, I check my phone for any updates on my patients. I might not be able to operate right now, but that doesn't mean I can't keep tabs on my patients. I find two text messages from Cristina. In the first one, she's sending me a picture of one of my patient's charts and in the second she asks, Lunch today? I write back, Yes.

Being on medical leave sucks. I want nothing more than to be back in the OR, but I have another two weeks. I had to beg Dr. Bailey for only six weeks. She gave Alex eight and we've both been going a little nuts. Alex even flew home to Iowa nearly two weeks ago just to give himself a distraction. I know he's happy he's gone home, though, and I know his family has been happy to have him.

During my leave, I did a lot of napping in the beginning and a lot of reading. By week two I started to feel okay, so I've been taking short walks. I've been checking in on my mom almost every day. I've been organizing and cleaning up my life. But by week three, I started going nuts. I tried to go back to work, just to do paperwork, but Bailey made me leave. She knows I'm getting updates on my patients every day and I know it kills her that I won't just rest, but I need to stay in the loop. Bailey should understand that; she barely took maternity leave after Tuck.

The one big distraction I've had is Derek. Although, he hasn't actually been in the country for almost a month.

When I woke up in the hospital and Derek was by my side, I remember feeling good. I wanted him there. I needed him there. But just three days after the shooting, Derek had to go to Cuba and then Argentina and then Brazil and now he's in Chile. He wanted to stay, but I told him to go. "I have a fleet of doctors looking after me," I told him. The part I didn't mention is the fact that we're not together and him being around wouldn't be easy.

I keep thinking of the voicemail I listened to before I got shot. He wanted to talk and work it out and I do want to talk, but I don't want to talk on the phone when he's thousands of miles away. If we're going to figure this out, we're going to do this in person.

I don't keep as close tabs on Derek these days, but he mentioned he'd be back sometime this week.

I distract myself from thinking about Derek by turning on the TV and eating my bagel while sitting on the couch. I have a plan to walk a few miles today to build up some strength, maybe stop by the hospital if Bailey doesn't see me, and do some laundry. I hate that I have to think about how to fill up my days. The next two weeks can't go by fast enough.

By early afternoon, after lunch with Cristina, I am bored. I've walked, I tried to go to the hospital only to be stopped by Bailey, and now I'm lying on the couch. I text Cristina and begged her to bring over some charts for me to read and she promised she'd come. That was hours ago and I'm losing hope. But suddenly the doorbell rings and I am thanking the heavens that my best friend didn't just abandon me.

But when I open the door, it's not Cristina.

Derek is standing on my front porch.

I know I should smile or hug him, but I just stand there stunned.