Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟰𝟭 three-step program

Sitting in Balthazar's on a Saturday morning was definitely not my sort of crowd. I was surrounded by tables of Upper East Side clones, all who thought Saturday was the ultimately chic time to have a morning brunch. 

It was busier than it was usually on a Sunday; it made me think that all of these socialites drank a lot more at their Saturday night galas than they let on. I busied myself with my drink— I'd ordered a simple orange juice to start off, didn't want to get tipsy too quickly into this conversation. 

I needed to have a clear head for this brunch, admittedly the first time I'd ever been determined to be sober at a social event.

Addison appeared late.

She trotted into the restaurant and was led towards our table by a waiter; I spotted her immediately and watched as she struck up a friendly conversation with the staff members as if they were best friends. I didn't doubt that she knew every single server in this place. Addison had always been the social type and always left a fat tip too. 

Her smile faded a little bit when she noticed me at the table. Even so, I got to my feet and even did the air-kisses like she seemed to do with all of her friends. There was a suspicious look in her eye as she greeted me. It only seemed to intensify when she realised I wasn't drinking a cocktail yet.

"You're in a good mood," Addie observed, her eyebrows raising as she sat. 

My face was done up into this little smile that really fucking hurt. I was sure it didn't meet my eyes. She placed her coat on the back of her chair and breathed out loudly as if she was uncomfortable.

I was uncomfortable too. I was wearing heels. I hated heels. Of course, Addison looked like she'd just come out of an episode of Dynasty.

She was wearing a long Burberry coat and had her hair in this very tight up-do; I watched as she very elegantly crossed one leg over the other and didn't even bother looking at the menu when she ordered her food. 

Once the waiter had taken our orders, we were left just staring at each other, both on the edge.

"How's work?"

"Good," I said. 

It was. It was very good. I actually felt excited about a conversation for once. 

"I've been working in Ortho for the last week or so— had a guy who was stuck from the waist down in a wood chipper that other day. His bones were all mangled and—" The next table over gave me a very odd look, overhearing my words. I pursed my lips. "It's been busy."

"It's that time of year." Addison waved a hand around, shrugging as if having half mangled patients were the norm. "Valentine's day is, somehow, an excuse for everyone to just lose their minds." I didn't speak, just watched as she rooted through her purse, as if she was looking for something. "Talking of losing our minds on Valentine's Day... you excited for your birthday?"

Ah yes. 

The irony of a loveless child being born on Valentines Day. It'd never escaped me.

"I guess," I shrugged. "I'm not a big Valentines Day person or a big birthday person."

My sister rolled her eyes. "You're not a big holiday person as it is... and you only like New Year's Eve because it gives you an excuse to drink all night. Do you remember when we used to celebrate birthdays as kids?"

"Oh, what?" I frowned, trying to dive into the locked away childhood memories. They were covered in caution tape, bound and hidden at the back of my mind. "The annual barbie doll and twenty-dollar bill?"