That night Max tossed and turned more than he cared to admit. His brief moments of sleep were not sound and always interrupted by his racing thoughts. He welcomed the sun and rose from his bed like a brainless zombie, only being brainless would have been preferable to him at that very moment.
If he were brainless he wouldn't have to think.
He wouldn't have to deal with all his anxiety driven questions making him wonder what was wrong with him, what was wrong with her, what could possibly have happened to make her ignore his calls and ghost him on his grand chance to apologise for ghosting her.
Had she done that on purpose? Was that her way of giving him a taste of his own medicine?
She didn't seem like the vindictive type but then again his hopeful personality had made him misjudge a good number of people before in his life.
Consumed by his thoughts, his usual morning tango with depression went unnoticed. Instead he raced through his usual morning routine, even finding an appetite for an actual breakfast (something other than a cereal bar).
He's short walk to work went unnoticed. The usual chirping that kept him company fell onto deaf ears and the flowers that normally got a bright smile of admiration were sadly ignored. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something wrong and that just didn't cut it with Max.
Before he knew it, he found himself in front of her office and to add fuel to the burning fire that was his anxiety, she wasn't in yet.
"If you're looking for Sharpe you might wanna try room 204." A passing nurse suggested.
"Room 204? Is she seeing a patient?" he asked though 204 was on the fifth level and that was generally where they kept temporary, non severe over-night patients. As far as he was aware Helen was head of oncology which meant her patients would most likely be on the seventh floor.
"Not seeing a patient. She is a patient."
Max's eyes widened in concern and he thought about her pregnancy.
Could something have happened?
He wondered as he thanked the nurse and headed towards the elevator. His previous sentiments regarding her grudge against him were silenced by his sudden worry for her and her babies well being. Perhaps it was because he knew how the loss of a child could affect a parent, it was a wound that seemed to never heal. A hole that could not be filled.
His past experiences allowed him to sympathize with her and simultaneously fed his panic. When he arrived at the room Sharpe was fast asleep. She looked peaceful, but drained.
A million scenarios ran through his mind and he prayed that the worst of them hadn't come true. That she simply had a small scare and that everything would be alright with both her and her baby. Curiosity drove him mad so he snuck back out of the room and went to find Dr Bloom for any details on who might have tended to Sharpe. He figured that as head of the ER she would most likely have the information he needed.
"Dr. Bloom." He approached and she looked up from her clipboard only long enough to identify the voice calling her name.
"May I help you?" she asked, more interested in the form she was filling out than in whatever it is that he had to say. She wasn't an unfriendly soul, he knew that from seeing her interact with her colleagues and her patients. She didn't, however, trust easily and Max guessed he was still under probation with her.
Another one I'll have to work on.
He thought, before he offered her a smile (that went unseen) and asked.
"Could you tell me what happened to Dr Sharpe?"
"Not unless you're her legal guardian or a family member." She regurgitated the receptions script and Max felt himself close to breaking a sweat.
"Um...I'm her boss and very worried about her. Does that count?" he presses on.
"If unicorns were real maybe but unfortunately not. So if you'll excuse me, I have an ER to run." She said, finally setting down her clipboard and turning to walk away.
"But..."
"I'm sorry boss. If you want any information your gonna have to ask her yourself." And those were her last words to him before she stepped behind a curtain to tend to a patient.
Max's shoulders sagged in disappointment. He doubted Sharpe would speak to him about the situation given the current tension that exists in their relationship, but he was really eager to help her. Weirdly enough, he felt responsible for her. Perhaps it was because he helped her and was there during a very important moment in her life.
He felt like that moment connected them.
So as he trudged back to her room he felt useless at his lack of power to help her. He walked in with his head held down and missed the first signs of her waking up.
"Max?" she asked, groggy, and his head shot up. He zipped to her side, asking if she's OK.
"I've been better." She said, trying to sit up. She moved slowly as if she were either too physically weak to move or in a tremendous amount of pain, so he automatically feared the worst.
"What... what happened?" he asked tentatively, his eyes pleading for her not to shut him out.
She opened her mouth to respond but instead she breathed out, unsure whether or not she was ready to talk about it. Her hands moved to her stomach mechanically and she sighed once again.
"I'm fine. We both are."
This time, it was Max who sighed out but in relief rather than dread.
"Are you sure?" he asked and she shook her head, still rubbing her belly like her hands had the power to protect the little life inside it from the outside world. She looked up at him, teary eyed.
"We're alright, but for a moment, for a split second, we weren't." she whispered, her voice shaky with fear. Max's eyes softened.
"And in that moment, all I could think was... was...."
Would it be so bad if it happened?
She was out of her mind, clearly. Her anxiety about having to raise a child all by herself triggered some form of twisted cowardice within her.
Helen felt ashamed. She didn't deserve this baby. She wasn't ready for it. But this was her last chance. It was literally now or never.
"That doesn't matter anymore." Max comforted softly.
"What matters now is that you're both OK. And how you move forward from here so that you're both safe." He said and though he couldn't possibly have known exactly what she was feeling or thinking, his words managed to comfort her.
Max was right. What she thought or didn't think didn't matter then. What mattered was that she had a baby to protect. And for the sake of that baby, she couldn't afford to let herself be drowned in a sea of self pity and guilt. She needed to get herself together and focus. Her life was about to change, drastically, and though she'd prepared for it before, this time was different.
This time she didn't have the love of her life standing behind her to catch her if she slipped. She didn't have someone to lean on.
All she had was herself and...
"Can I help in anyway?" Max cut into her thoughts and she watched him baffled for a second before getting her brain back into game mode.
"If it's not too much to ask, could you get my emergency clothing from the cupboard in my office? I'm dying to get home but my clothes look like something out of a murder scene."
His eyes widened at that description.
"Are you sure you're alright?"
She smiled weakly and nodded.
"I am. I'm just in desperate need of a shower and to sleep in my own bed."
He looked at her sceptically then left with the promise to be right back. On his way out he bumped into Dr Martinez, someone he later found out was part of the hospitals gynaecology department. He didn't, however, stop for chit chat, besides the apology for having almost knocked her over in his distracted speed walking.
His mind raced through the possible causes of bleeding during pregnancy, wondering which one Helen encountered. Fortunately, on his way back, he overheard a bit of information that answered his question.
"It was a threatened miscarriage. She was lucky this time around but it could have been worse. She could have passed out and not made it to the hospital in time and these situations are rare." One of the nurses commented.
"If I were Sharpe, I'd cash in my vacation days and go into full on bed rest. Preferably at a family members house. It's too risky for her to be alone right now." the other added.
"I agree. Even if there has been no conclusive evidence that bed rest can help, it would be better that she take precaution. You know what they say, better safe than sorry."
Threatened miscarriage. That was a serious problem. The fact that her and her baby are still alright is nothing short of a miracle. Threatened miscarriages aren't all that common and having it end happily is even more rare. The nurses were right. The less Sharpe overworked herself the better. She needed to do enough exercise to stay healthy but avoid physical and emotional stress of any kind. The wheels of his mind began turning as he neared her room. As medical director, he wondered what power he had to send her home to her family.
Alone, it would be an impossible mission. Unless he fired her which wasn't an option nor a guarantee that she wouldn't simply over work herself somewhere else. His only option was persuasion. He'd have to talk her into staying home.
Walking into the room he was met with her back as she faced the widow. She seemed thoughtful as if contemplating a course of action that could be life changing. Max stopped in his tracks, he couldn't help it. Despite the gravity of the situation, her beauty was undeniable and with the glinting sun rays dancing casually around her, Helen had an almost halo like glow that was nothing short of breath taking.
From her peripheral vision she noticed him come in and turned around to greet him but Max seemed momentarily mesmerised.
"Is everything alright?" she asked and Max snapped out of his trance. He blinked a few times then nodded his head, walking towards her and handing her the bag with her clothing in it.
"Uh yeah. Everything's alright. Here get dressed, I'll drive you home." He said, hoping to use the car ride as an opportunity to talk to her.
"Oh that's alright, I can just..."
"I insist." He stopped her protest and she stopped mid sentence, giving in. Secretly she was relieved. She didn't really want to be alone with her thoughts at that moment.
After she was dressed he helped her outside, flagged down a cab and got in with her. Max had hoped to use this opportunity to initiate their conversation but didn't think exposing her private life to the cab driver would win him any points. So he settled for small talk.
"Have you eaten yet?" he asked and she shook her head.
"Not since lunch yesterday." She answered which reminded her of their plans for the evening. She gasped, closing her hand over her mouth and staring at him with wide, apologetic eyes.
"Max, I am so sorry!" she said, resting both her hands on his arm. The action warmed him up inside and made him feel some what victorious. Maybe this was a sign that their relationship wasn't beyond saving.
That she didn't hate him as much as he thought she did.
"It's alright. It's not like you stood me up on purpose." He smiled and placed his hand over both of hers.
"You were planning on going right?" he added soon after, lightening the mood with a joke.
"Of course I was! I promise you I would have been there if..." she trailed off and he nodded, no words needed as he understood exactly what's she was about to say.
"That's alright. I guess we're even now." He said and she smiled gratefully. They stared at each other for a few seconds and Helen felt compelled to lean in and rest her head on his shoulders. He felt so familiar that it left her comfortable.
But a bump in the road brought them both back to their senses and they bounced apart, almost as if they had been burned. The rest of the ride was awkward and silent, with each of them sneaking a glance when the other wasn't looking. So many words left unsaid between them, silenced by the politics of relationships.
Too much history.
We don't know each other that well.
The timing is off.
And so they reached her house in silence. Max thanked the cab driver, paid him, then helped Hellen out of the car and into her home.
It was a cosy yet spacious place. Decorated with neutral colours and the occasional autumn brown and orange. It felt like home, but something felt like it was missing.
He didn't want to impose and waited for her to ask him to leave. But she never did. Instead, she allowed him to help her to her room where he sat her down on her bed and helped her lay back.
"Do you need anything?" he asked.
"A glass of water would be nice." She asked and he nodded with a smile.
"I'll be right back."
He leaves her alone to her thoughts and while Max explores her kitchen in hopes of finding a glass, Helen contemplates what she can do to keep him around longer. As much as her behaviour may resemble that of a crush stricken teenager, her intentions aren't romantic.
She just doesn't want to be alone.
She's afraid of what might happen, what thoughts may consume her if she's left with her ghosts for too long. Helen looked down at her flat tummy and sighed. In times like these her profession (or the knowledge that came with it) proved to be a bit of a curse. Just the thought of the numerous things that could have gone wrong and ended her short lived dream of having a family was enough to make her heart stop.
Suddenly the smell of hospital engulfed her, so overwhelming she almost gagged. It was odd considering it was her place of work so she shouldn't have been indifferent to the smell considering the length of her career. And yet, being there as a patient, in a life or death situation, had somehow changed her perception of the chemical and toxically clean scent.
She needed to get rid of it.
Without hesitation nor a second thought, she walked into her in-suite bathroom and stripped herself of her anaesthetic scented garments. Stepping into the shower, Helen allowed the hot spray to work out the tension from her muscles. She closed her eyes, feeling blissfully at peace then....
"Helen?" his voice came, softly from the other side of the door. And suddenly she was very aware of his proximity.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, but she seemed to have been paralyzed. Too afraid not to speak lest he worry that she's passed out on the shower floor, yet too afraid to make a sound in hopes that he'd come in.
Helen get a grip!
Her inner voice spoke louder and she cleared her throat just as he knocked on the door.
"I'm fine Max, thank you. I just needed a shower. I'll be out in a minute." She answered.
"OK. Shout if you need anything."
I need you.
The thought was fleeting, barely there long enough for her to register it. But it landed in the depths of her mind, like a seed being planted.
A seed that would soon take roots.
Helen came out of the shower feeling refreshed, like a new woman. There was nothing that cleanliness couldn't fix. With a lose tracksuit on she walked back into her living room to find Max exploring. Seated, yet looking through every corner with his eyes.
"Would you like some coffee?" she asked, bringing his attention to her arrival. He stood and smiled then wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and nodded.
"Coffee would be great, thanks." She smiled awkwardly and turned to leave when she was suddenly hit with dizziness. Helen swayed for a moment and Max noticed. He rushed to her side to aid her only to end up catching her as she fainted.
His medical impulses kicked in and he hooked one of his arms under her knees, swooped her off her feet and carried her to her bed. He checked her vitals and to his relief they were all normal. She should wake up in a few minutes.
As he waited, he ventured into the kitchen to prepare her a meal. He didn't think she'd eaten since the night before and suspected that the dizzy spells could simply be her babies way of telling her its hungry.
Did he feel like an intruder snooping through her kitchen again (without her consent this time)? Yes he did. Was he worried that she might see the action as offensive and an invasion of privacy? Without a doubt. But did he take the risk anyway because he felt it was what was best for her well-being? Absolutely.
The eggs, milk and bread were relatively easy to find and her colour coded spice rack actually inspired him to cook. So Max got busy, losing himself in his effort to make the best scrambled eggs and toast he'd ever made in his life (which was relatively easy because it was about all he ate during med school, that and instant mac and cheese).
Within minutes the piping hot meal was plated, put on a tray and carried towards a still unconscious Helen. Max, realizing his impulsive mistake, took the tray back and covered the plate with foil to preserver the heat. Then he took a glass of warm water back to her room, anticipating that she'll need it to clear her mind once she regained consciousness.
Placing the glass on her bedside table he looked down at her and for the second time that day, was struck by her beauty. Even asleep, bare faced and in her simplest home clothes, she still managed to look like the picture of perfection. His hands suddenly felt an itch, an unconscious need to caress her cheek.
That's just creepy. You barely know her.
He thought to himself, and straightened from the leaning position he hadn't realised he'd taken in order to get a closer look at her.
Deciding that he better leave lest she wake up and find him stalker-ish for ogling her in her sleep, Max started to walk towards the door when something on the floor caught his eyes. He bent over and picked up the photograph, surprised by what it revealed.
A pregnant Helen smiled sweetly at the camera while a man (Max assumed to be the father of the child), held her close from behind and looked down at her with eyes so love filled that Max almost felt uncomfortable. As if he was spying on an intimate moment. Needless to say the photo left him with many questions. Questions he was not sure he could get the answers to.
The rustling of sheets brought him back to the present and he turned around as Helen began to stir. He walked back towards her and placed the picture on the bedside table, his questions just forgotten thoughts as his attention was fully captured by the waking woman.
"Hey... are you alright?" he asked as she opened her eyes, confusion registering in her groggy glare. Helen looked at him for a second, piecing together what might have happened before slowly trying to sit up. Max lent her a hand, adjusting the pillow behind her and helping her sit up against it.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice croaking slightly despite the fact that she was only unconscious for a brief moment.
"You fainted." Max clarified then handed her the glass saying:
"Here."
Helen took slow sips, the water helping her centre herself once again. When her mind cleared she placed the glass back on the side table. That's when her eyes noticed the photo. They widened for a second and a thin layer of tears glossed them over. Max saw her reaction and mentally face planed himself for having been so thoughtless.
"I'm so sorry, I just picked it up from the floor when you woke up and..."
"It's alright," she cut off his partially panicked justification.
"It seems like a lifetime ago." She added, her eyes never leaving the image.
"What happened?" Max asked, too captured by her pensive state to realise the insensitivity of his question. She looked up and him and he came to his senses, panicking once again.
"I didn't mean to pry, I-"
"You don't have to be sorry. And before you let your guilt get the best of you, I wasn't actually pregnant." She clarified. Max looked at her stunned then his brows knitted into confusion. Helen couldn't help but smile, she found the expression endearing.
"That's Muhammed, my fiancé and if things had turned out a little differently, perhaps, my life partner." She stopped a bit, at the mention of her lost love, giving herself a brief second to grieve before continuing her story. All the while, Max listened intently.
"We were together for three years before he proposed, and during our year long engagement as we planned for the wedding we started discussing children. We were both family orientated and couldn't really wait to have one of our own, it was one of the many things we had in common." Her chest tightened a little and she balled her hand into a fist in her lap as she was reminded of what life took from her.
Max placed his hand over her fist and she looked up into his understanding eyes. He nodded and smiled, making her feel at ease and less alone. She took a deep breath before continuing.
"We decided to try out a planned parenthood course I'd heard about. It helped you navigate the emotions, strains, thought processes and responsibilities of not only pregnancy but of raising a child as well. The end goal was to help the couple realise if they were really prepared for such a life long commitment. One of the activities included a fake belly, hence the photo. It was life size and heavy and I remember putting in on for the first time and looking at myself in the mirror. I felt so entirely complete that what ever shred of a doubt that existed in my mind that I was meant to be a mom simply vanished. I had never been so secure about anything in my life."
"Had?" Max pried, seeing the change in her expression. Her doubts creeped into her eyes and he read her fear in her stare. She looked at him teary eyed, surprised that he'd picked up on her insecurities, almost like he could read her thoughts. Her eyes dropped to her lap and the first tear left her eyes, splashing onto her sheets.
Max, who had been kneeling beside the bed sat on the edge of the mattress beside her.
"Hey," he said softly while lifting her chin so her teary eyes met his.
"It's OK." He said simply and with those two words he allowed her to unravel. She let herself cry and he pulled her closer, holding her against his chest as she cried and stroking her hair gently.
"I'm not ready to do this alone Max. I can't do it alone." She sobbed.
"Well, you don't have to do it alone. You've got me." He said, meaning every word.
A rational person would have suggested family or friends, but at that moment Max wasn't thinking rationally. He had in his arms a woman he deeply cared about, despite the brevity of their meeting, and a need to help her be happy. So within his irrational state, the idea that bloomed into his mind seemed perfectly feasible and without hesitating he blurted out...
"Move in with me."