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SOLAR POWER
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SPOILER ALERT: Four years wasn't long enough.
Not by a fucking long shot.
I couldn't quite explain the suddenness of seeing Mark's face after all this time, hearing his voice, catching the scent of his stupid cologne. Whatever it was, it wasn't far from the feeling you go when you're staring into the sky. A cloudy sky, one where the clouds are thick and full and you can't see anything but the grey and white smog. But then suddenly there's a shift: the wind blows, the earth rotates and then you're staring directly into the sun--
Mark was a pretty shit sun to be blinded by.
Four years wasn't long enough for me to forget that. He wasn't worth my time, he wasn't worth my energy or my breath. In fact, four years seemed to only place a magnifying glass underneath his shitty light; seeing him sat alongside me at Joe's Bar was enough for my chest to deflate and my arms to ache and my mind to think about how devastatingly strong my love had been for him--
I'd blinked the sunspots from my vision and moved on with my evening, pretending that he wasn't there. He became a black hole in the corner of my vision, one that sucked out all of my energy and my patience. I conversed with my old friends, stirred my lemonade and thought about how desperately I didn't want to be in this city. In my head, I pledged to get on the first flight I could get once Archer was conscious and stable; it hurt my heart, but I knew he'd understand.
I was going to flee. I'd never liked the sun much anyway. I'd flown too close and gotten burned and I'd caught some of its heat in the process-- in all honesty, I was scared that I was going to feel the familiar anger, the negative emotion that had driven me to the edge back in New York. It was what had moulded me into the person that we'd both (referring to myself and Mark) had hated so feverishly.
Anger wasn't good for a Montgomery kid. It did shitty things to us, seemed to unlock a hidden gene in our DNA that triggered self-sabotaging behaviours like a proclivity for addiction. Addison's anger had unlocked the 'stealing your sister's boyfriend' DLC. Archer had spent half of his life determined to stay calm.
So I sat there, in that bar, listening to them reminisce over things that just seemed sour to me, thinking about how orbiting around the sun had been a shit deal to begin with. I'd never really even liked astronomy anyway. I felt their eyes on me, I felt the spin of the earth and wondered whether any of them knew how hard I'd had to fight to get my feet back onto earth.
***
─── Archer was on the road to recovery three days later.
Thanks to my ex-brother-in-law, he was worm-free (something he didn't really like to repeat out of the fear that someone would mistake him for some sort of veterinary case). Derek was very happy to tell me that it looked as though Archer was completely out of the woods; he was going to be fine, he was going to make a full recovery and, so long as he didn't go off to South America and eat any more questionable fruits, there wasn't going to be any more worm infested cysts in his future.
The news had both delighted me and troubled me.
I liked being with Archer. Over the past few days, it'd been what I'd looked forwards to the most: the hospital visits, sitting in the corner of his room and flipping through the trashy magazines that Archer seemed to accumulate (despite claiming to never read them, he was obviously way too mature to read about Britney Spears' love life) and making witty conversation whenever Archer breezed into a talkative news. Naomi appeared at his bedside for most of the time, offering me a wide, welcoming smile that felt far more sisterly than anything Addison could offer to me. They were dating now, an unlikely couple that I'd never envisioned... but they seemed happy. We'd talk about LA, talk about the last four years of my life and how I'd managed to make myself a solid career in Psychiatry... Archer wanted to know it all. I even told him about Charlie, leaving out the fact that I'd left the poor man hanging on a very important question--
Meanwhile, Addison, thankfully, kept her distance.
I was going to miss this. This. The warmth in my chest whenever I reconnected with the brother I'd missed. The way that Naomi hugged me so tightly (it felt so different from Addison's, so soft and relieved) and told me that she was so glad that I was back. Archer echoed the same sentiment; everyone seemed to think that I was back.
Back?
I'd already booked my plane tickets.
I couldn't really find it within myself to tell my brother. I couldn't tell him that I had my boarding pass at the bottom of my bag, that I was all packed and ready to go. I didn't really even know how to bring it up in conversation; Ah, yes, by the way I'm leaving again and probably not going to turn up again... but I hope you don't die again. Was there even a right way to do it?
I sent a message to Charlie as I stood in the hospital elevator, telling him that my flight was that evening. I was on my way to break the news, having given myself a hefty pep talk in my hotel toilet on how to break my brother's only-just-recovered-from-intense-surgery heart. I'd be back in Indonesia within two days, back to the reality that I'd built for myself, back to trauma and rubble and grief. Back to normality and as far away from Addison and Mark that I could possibly get.
I didn't look up as the elevator doors in front of me opened. I really should have. I would've exited and just taken the stairs. Anything but to be stuck in a elevator with--
Mark didn't greet me.
Instead, he just seemed to hesitate. I was the only one in the elevator, which was just my luck, and it seemed as though he was in a rush; my face twitched at the familiar sound of a surgical pager. It was loud, demanding, and made me think about the hospitals I'd worked in during my time in New York. It left a bitter, remorseful taste at the back of my mouth. I glanced upwards just as Mark seemed to decide that he was desperate enough to trap himself in a box with me-- I exhaled loudly in distaste; what a professional.
I finished my message to Charlie, watching Mark out of the corner of my eye. He stood on the opposite side of the elevator, a couple of paces in front of me. I could tell this was a surgical elevator, probably one that I shouldn't have gotten into, it was wide enough to let the two of us avoid each other and pretend that this was definitely not happening.
But it was, it most definitely was.
I hadn't been this close to Mark Sloan since I'd told him that I hated him.
The tension was definitely palpable. Silence crept in between all of the holes that New York had left. Suddenly, my heart was racing and I had the strong urge to kick something. Proximity did nothing to help the way that my throat tightened and my skin crawled. I fought to keep my calm, stifled every single twitch in my body; I hitched my travel bag higher up my shoulder, dug my heels into the ground and watched the elevator very slowly climb up the building-- Is it just me or was this going so much faster before Mark had gotten on?
"You off to see Archer?"
My immediate trigger response was a shaky smile, one that betrayed the way that my body trembled very slightly. Mark wasn't looking at me, he didn't see the way that I clutched my cell phone tightly and tossed a glance at the back of his head. He had the sort of back that I'd have been able to recognise in a room full of people.
"Don't do that." My voice, thankfully, was a lot more composed than my body. I managed to gather myself, returning my stare to the floor counter. Inside, I was screaming at the machine to go faster.
"Do what?"
I let out a bitter chuckle. "Talk."
He turned his face towards me, just a tiny bit. It was enough for me to catch the way his lip twitched almost fondly; but there was tension there too, his jaw was clenched and his fists were buried inside the pocket of his scrubs. There was something so familiar about the sight of him; the scrubs, the stance-- I blinked quickly and shook my head very slightly, willing him to disappear back into the blackhole I'd tossed him into.
"I thought I'd try to..." He trailed off. I wondered whether he knew how much I wanted to raise my fist and deck him across the face; I would've paid good money to see him set his own nose. "I thought we should..."
He was unsure, he was uncomfortable-- Good. Let him suffer. I could almost imagine his Google search history over the last few days: 'How to make conversation with your ex-girlfriend after leaving her for her sister?' or maybe even, 'How to get over your psychobitch ex-girlfriend?'. I liked to think, in my own scorned, malicious way, that it'd at least taken a few sessions of therapy to get over me.
"Don't think either," I dropped my eyes back to my cell phone as Charlie responded to my surprise return. He was happy, glad that Archer was okay. I could tell there was something else he wanted to add into his message, and it made my stomach twist into knots. "That's not a good idea for you."
I was trying my best to not be Angry Beth; that's when things got messy, that's when blood got shed and things got thrown and conversations peaked into shouting matches. So I feigned disinterest as best as I could; Mark didn't look back at me, he kept his back turned and his chin tilted upwards and just festered in the sound of my fingers tapping against my cell phone. I opted for nonchalance instead of poison, despite the fact that my blood boiled for the chance to scream so loud that I'd pop his ear drums.
"I meant what I said at Joe's," Mark tried again, clearing his throat. "You look really good--"
"And I meant what I said too," I said matter-of-factly, not removing my eyes from my cell phone screen. "Don't waste your energy on talking."
Idly, I chewed on my cheek, adding a emoji for good measure at the end of my message. I couldn't decide what was worse... talking to Mark for the first time since I'd found out about his affair or having my first conversation with Charlie since the whole... proposal thing. If people only knew what sort of shit I was dealing with at the moment...
"Beth," He sighed, exhaling loudly as if I was being extremely difficult. I actually looked up from my phone at that, raising an eyebrow at his tone. "I'm just trying to be nice--"
"You're not nice," I said shortly. "You're an asshole."
So much for indifference, huh.
I'd never really considered the word 'nice' and Mark to be synonymous. They didn't really fit. Instead, yes, asshole came to mind, alongside other variations of 'ass' involved words. Depending on my mood I would've also opted for cheater, bastard, narcissist, coward or self-involved-sadist. They were all extremely interchangeable.
I stared over him, my lip curling in the only malicious gesture I could allow myself to carry out. I liked the way his shoulders seemed to roll, head wobbling to the side as he, much like myself, probably begged the elevator to go a little faster. Maybe he was realising that four years had definitely not been long enough for this to just blow over? I never would have guessed.
"Look," Mark started, another sigh escaping his lips. "I'm not going to pretend that I'm happy to see you... I just thought that... it would be best to handle this like adults while you are here--"
"Don't bother," I interjected sharply, feeling relief fill me as my floor crept closer. "I'm leaving tonight."
I didn't exactly want to know what 'handle this like adults' meant. All I knew is that I couldn't let Mark speak for too long, otherwise I'd get the strongest urge to throw something at him. I also didn't want him to say something that would make me get angry; I had a very short fuse and I'd gone through way too much therapy to let him blow it all down the drain-- because Mark always seemed to find a way. We knew each other too well. We knew exactly what to say to really piss the other person off.
"Leaving?" Mark repeated. He sounded both surprised and relieved. "Addie said that you were in town for a couple more days..."
I hadn't spoken to my older sister since before Archer's surgery. I hadn't said anything about staying, I hadn't even said anything about leaving. Mark read into my beat of silent in which I was momentarily caught off-guard-- he let out a breath when he realised that Addison was more than likely talking out of her ass.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about me, Sloan," I drawled dryly, biting back the distaste that rose in me whenever I thought about my sister and ex-boyfriend even making eye contact. "In eight hours I'll be out of Seattle and we can both sleep easy at night. I know how vigilant you are about your beauty sleep..."
"You're running away..." Mark said quietly. Then he chuckled to himself, shaking his head side to side. "What a surprise."
I glared at the back of his dumb head.
He was condescending. He was far from nice. Mark had never been a nice guy to begin with. He'd been the risky one, the heart throb, the man who you had to love with a constant deck of cards like a poker game. My poker face had always been strong. I knew nice guys and Mark sure as hell wasn't one of them.
"And you fucked Addison," I said, a shot of adrenalin sparking through me as I heard his breath catch. "I guess we're both full of surprises, huh?"
My rhetorical question was perfectly punctuated by the ding of the elevator arriving on Archer's floor. My eyes lingered on the back of Mark's head, but looked away immediately as I passed. I pretended to be completely miles away, reading my phone as if it was far more important than any bullshit Mark had to offer. When I did, eventually, look up, I was momentarily struck by the look of pure frustration on his face.
Had his eyes always been that bright? They seemed to burn through me with ease. I turned around to face him and, in that moment, stared into the sun without fear. The man who I'd very briefly orbited around like he was the centre of my universe, just stared back.
I had to give it him, even though he was a scumbag, he was still a handsome scumbag. I'd always had good taste when it came to exteriors. Such a shame inside he was devoid of any decent, nice human qualities.
I, also, had always had to get the last word in.
I gave him a parting smile. "Give my love to Addie, won't you?"
Yeah no, I thought to myself as Mark's face disappeared behind those gilded elevator doors, Four Years really wasn't long enough.
"Asshat," I muttered to the empty hallway.
Four years was the cycle between the Olympics. Four years was the presidential term. Four years was the span of a bachelors degree. Four years was the span of time it had been since I'd left New York and promised myself to never go back.
Well, nearly five years, to be fair.
I felt like patting myself on the back as I made the familiar trek to Archer's room; I'd handled Mark with grace and decorum, all while avoiding a nuclear detonation and a fist to the nose. Now that's what four years can achieve: a window for Beth Montgomery to get her shit together and handle things diplomatically—
Oh fuck.
Addison was inside Archer's room.
Goosebumps raised on my neck, my mouth went dry and I found myself leaning back against the doorframe as if to make a hasty, sudden escape. Idly, I wondered whether this was what Spider-Man felt like when his "spider-senses" tingled and he narrowly saved a school-bus full of kids from plummeting to death. It was a peculiar sensation, just an overwhelming feeling of being unsettled as if my body just knew that nothing good would come from this hospital room. It urged me to move, to leave— to go and swing down and save some screaming damsel from deadly chaos. But this sensation wasn't from disasters that called for superheroes and spider-webs.
No, on the contrary, my shitty flight response was triggered by the presence of Addison Forbes-Montgomery.
I'd managed to go three days without seeing her or Mark. I'd managed to time my visits around what Derek had told me was Addison's work schedule; they had her in the OR covering some surgical cases that needed some extra help. Derek, apparently, had heard that Mark was just doing his best to stay clear of me completely-- yet, in the span of the last ten minutes, all that effort had been for nothing.
"Beth."
She was folded into the corner of the room, hidden by the shadows and obscured by a shaft of light that just happened to cover her completely. Her voice cut through the still air like a knife stabbing a cadaver in a science lab; it just carried enough emotion for me to know that she wasn't quite over our last conversation. With all of the strength I had left inside of me, I resisted letting out the world's longest sigh and just walking away. Instead, my muscle memory swung my head slowly towards her and I caught sight of her tired face as it loomed out from her perch.
"Addie," I said, my voice catching at the back of my throat. I spoke quietly, lingering in the doorway as I mentally debated whether it was worth it to stick around and speak to her--
"How have you been?"
Her eyes bounced in between me and Archer's bed. My brother was sleeping. He was stranded in his hospital bed, still hooked into a few machines, and wrapped by the thin linen sheets in a sleepy daze. I paused in the doorway, watching the way his chest rose and fell. But then I looked over at my sister again and remembered how desperate I was to leave this city.
I was making the right decision. Sure, it was sad to say goodbye but... I had a life to return to. I had comforts to throw myself back into. I'd spent the last four years trying to rebuild some sort of career and life for myself. All Seattle accomplished was a slow dissolution of the work I'd put into getting into a healthy mind space. Apparently, having a nervous breakdown required a lot of time and therapy to move past.
"Good," I said hesitantly. That was a partial lie. Nothing about Seattle had been good. The city rained constantly and I'd completely forgotten what it was like to be stuck in traffic constantly. "I've... been good, you?"
I didn't miss how she seemed to perk up at the incentive.
"That's great," Addison said quickly, almost stumbling over her words. "I'm great."
"Great." I repeated back to her. I was very quickly realising that with Addison, things were possibly even worse than they had been with Mark. How do you make conversation with someone who had knowingly ruined your relationship, planned the ruination of your life as if you were one of her surgeries? I could have really done with a Wikihow article. "That's great."
"Great," My sister breathed out. I could tell she was thinking the exact same thing.
If I could choose one word to describe Addison, it would've been bitch. Sure, she had good qualities; she loved passionately, she was naturally caring, she was extremely dedicated to her career. A hard worker, a good source of conversation, extremely intelligent and kind at times-- but my sister was also innately insufferable and had a tendency to screw people over when she didn't get her way.
As I hesitantly settled in the chair beside Archer's bed (on the opposite side of the room so I could avoid being anywhere near my estranged sister), I wondered whether Addison had eventually gotten her way. She'd wanted this, right? She'd wanted this tension in the room. She'd wanted the stalling conversations, the brief, awkward glances as I swallowed my temper. She must have, otherwise she would have never betrayed me and Derek like that, right?
I had so many questions, but I was too exhausted to vocalise any of them. Just seeing Mark had drained me of all of my energy; it had taken a lot of effort to not get angry. I didn't want to get angry. Getting angry with Addie sounded exhausting. I'm exhausted. I just want to go home--
"I heard you've been working in Indonesia, right?"
Her attempt at further conversation made me think back to the last ten minutes, where Mark had attempted to be something he wasn't: 'the nice guy', the nice easy going guy who could pretend that we hadn't screwed each other over and left each other for dead. Addison's attempt was lighter, less gritted and more breezy-- I could hear the underlying tone in her voice:
We're sisters, you've got to forgive me at some point.
"Yeah," I said, my face contorting slightly as I looked over at my brother. I wished he would just wake up and set us straight. He'd always been a good middle man during our conflicts. It made sense that things had started to fall apart when he'd gone home to Connecticut.
"Amazing," She said brightly, "Is that non-profit work or..."
I didn't appreciate how she was trying to force conversation. "Yeah."
There was a very long pause.
Addison cleared her throat and I pressed my hand to the side of my head, refusing to remove my attention from Archer. I just stared at his sleeping form, cell phone gently buzzing in my hand. I couldn't bring myself to read Charlie's messages. I was too busy thinking about how easy it would be to tell Addison to go fuck herself and continue the rest of my life without her or Archer in my life. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as my older sister got to her feet, putting aside the medical journal she'd been reading before I'd entered. She walked to the bottom of Archer's hospital bed, tilted her head and chewed on her bottom lip.
There were things she wanted to say. There were things we both wanted to say--
"Addie," I began, fully prepared to tell her to keep her apologies to herself.
"My flight back to LA is tonight."
My reaction to Addison's news was less impassioned than hers had been to mine. "Oh."
The 'Oh' was an odd 'Oh'.
It got caught in the back of my throat and struggled more than it had intended to. My voice wavered and my sister, fleetingly, looked up at me, as if to catch a quick glimpse of emotion. But no, I stayed stone-cold, despite being rustled by Addison's revelation. Inwardly, I couldn't believe that my sister was living on such short notice, not even staying the duration of Archer's critical period. Outwardly, I was bored and detached— I'd gotten rather good at that over the years.
"One of my patients has gone into labour," As she spoke, she trailed her fingers over the metal bed frame and appeared sad. "I've got a few hours before it progresses to an intervention- but, but I've got to go-"
I shouldn't have been surprised that she was leaving Seattle for work. Addison had missed my college graduation because of her career. I couldn't exactly blame her; we were workaholics by design, we'd been raised by our Father to be career-focused and cut-throat. I'd done the same in the past and Addison would continue to carry that ethic for the rest of her life.
"Duty Calls," I nodded.
We'd both dropped everything for Archer. It was the most genuine sign of affection and love that we could show. As a family, our language of affection was questionable; but the fact that both Addison and I had taken leave from our careers to stand by Archer as he went through surgery... it had meant a lot to him.
But now the world was moving on.
"Exactly." Addison breathed out, her short mousy-looking hair bouncing as she looked over at me. "I feel terrible to leave Archer but I think he'll be fine with you and Derek."
I think. Wow, one hell of a confidence booster.
I couldn't understand why I found it such a surprise that she was leaving Seattle: Why hadn't I thought about Addison leaving? Why hadn't I realised that this was something she'd do? She was leaving Archer to me but she didn't realise that I was halfway out the door.
My chest felt tight with guilt.
"I guess there's just so much going on... So many people— all of the technicians, surgeons, the nurses.... It's all very full-on at the moment." A beat passed. Addison wasn't aware of the turmoil that was spinning around my head. She continued talking, letting out a long breath and shaking her head."It's the same as it was with Sam and Naomi really-"
The ex-couple had left the evening before. I'd watched the reluctance in Naomi's eyes as she explained that she had to return to LA. She'd kissed him, pressed her forehead against is and promised to come back as soon as everything was sorted. Sam was less passionate than his ex-wife; he gave the awkward man-hug (at an even more awkward angle due to my brother's bed-bound status) and clapped him gingerly on the shoulder. To me, they both extended invitations:
"Come to LA," Naomi had said as she hugged me tightly. Sam had echoed the same. Then they'd gotten on their flights and I'd idly wondered whether it would be another five years before I saw them both again.
Back in the room, Addison was looking over at me. We met eyes for a brief window in time. I could tell what she was thinking; she was thinking that I was staying in Seattle. She was telling me that she was counting on me to be there for our brother-- her career had always been far more important than the rest of ours. I just pressed my lips into a thin line and looked away; I didn't say anything.
"It's been good to see you."
Her voice was tender, soft. It was the most genuine thing I'd heard from her in a long time. My lips twitched into the familiar bitter smile but I managed to restrain it. Instead, I rubbed my forehead and watched the line on Archer's heart monitor. The regular beeping had been the only thing keeping my sane over the past few days.
"I know..." I wanted to tell her to stop. I wanted to tell Addison that it wasn't worth it. This conversation wasn't worth it. But she started talking and I couldn't find the energy to make it stop. "I know I'm the last person you want to be around--"
"Addie." I sounded breathless.
"I know, okay," She said tightly, but her eyes were round and blinking at me in a sad way. "I know that you hate me and... you have good reason to..." I attempted to interrupt her, but she shook her head and waved a hand. "No, I know... But I'm really glad you came here. I'm really, really glad that you're okay."
I just stared at her.
She wasn't exactly wrong. I had so much hatred in my body for Addison that sometimes it was overwhelming. Sometimes, when I laid in bed at night, it terrified me. I'd become a very vengeful, bitter person who I didn't recognise. I'd become the sort of person who became emotionally drained from a single glance. Her words were making my skin crawl and my heart throb and I had to blink quickly to make sure that I didn't tear up out of sheer fury.
Don't get angry.
"Okay," I murmured, not exactly sure what else to do. It wasn't an apology but she also wasn't crying like last time. I noticed how she looked, looming on the edge of the shadows. She'd had a few restless nights, I noticed. It didn't take any form of a doctorate to tell me that she was still stressed, despite Derek fighting tooth-and-nail to keep Archer alive.
I really hoped that I was a source of stress.
I hoped that I was keeping her up at night. I hoped that I was a reason for her to avoid this part of the hospital whenever she heard I was here. I really hoped that I'd made her feel just a tiny bit of guilt for everything she'd put me through.
I also really, really hoped that she'd hated every second she'd spent with Mark.
Bringing up these topics were, again, too much. I was filled with the same emotion that I had when Mark had spoken. I wanted it to stop. I wanted everything to stop. I wanted to just tell Addie that I didn't give a shit about anything she had to say to me and that I was going back to the airport, never to be seen again.
How the hell was four years not long enough?
Addison seemed to sense that I wasn't going to talk. So she moved onwards, gripping the bottom of Archer's bed and sighing: "I hate that I have to leave him."
She looked over her shoulder back at Archer and I felt my chest tighter.
Him. Not you guys. Just him.
So much for the whole caring schtick.
I guess I'd sensed it somehow. My absence had an irreparable impact on our familial relationships. I'd been able to tell it in the way that Addison and Archer had bundled together at all times, acting as each other's emotional support when everything looked as though it would go to shit. It'd been awfully lonely, watching from the doorway. I'd toed back and forth over the threshold as I looked back on a part of my life that had made me so dark and twisty, wondering how the hell I felt like I was completely alone when my brother and a person who had once meant the world to me, sat a couple of steps away.
They'd grown closer in my absence, they'd filled in that hole that I'd left by sharing the roles of a third sibling between them. I could feel the separation between us. The physical distance between us, my lingering at the threshold of the rooms they occupied, only partially signified the distance I felt emotionally.
The Montgomery siblings had always been close. Back in New York, I'd been so close to them that they'd known (mostly) every single thing I thought and felt until a year before my departure- only because it just became too much to think or feel anymore. We'd done novel things like have takeout nights, go to baseball games and more candid moments like holding each other while they cried and cheered up each other when they had bad days.
But now, in Seattle, there was no place for me to return. There was no room for a third sibling.
And fuck, I missed it.
Hating people was exhausting. I was exhausted.
I wondered if Addison could sense the fact that there was a distance between the three of us. I wondered if it would ever go away. And Archer- could he tell? Obviously, he could tell that Addison and I were no longer best buddies, but what about me and him?
The only thing I could muster was a very tired blink.
"I hope you're okay."
Addison's voice was smooth, unwavering. She'd taken a deep breath and didn't even look at me as she spoke. I shifted uncomfortably, pulling the sleeves of the blazer over my hands as if that would shield me from my sister.
I guess I missed having siblings rather than missing Addison in particular.
"I am." I couldn't tell if it was a lie.
"Good." Her voice implied that she didn't believe me at all. Probably because she knew me, knew that behind the exterior it was a fiery hellscape of emotional baggage and incoherent screaming. "I'm proud of you for staying. Archer has missed you a lot, it'll mean the world for him. It'll be good you two to spend time together, especially as I won't be able to get in the way—"
Staying. I didn't feel like telling Addison that she'd assumed wrong. I'd gotten pretty tired of her assumptions over the years. She'd spent so long pushing me around and regulating what I did... at this point I don't even think she realised what she was doing. It was second nature. I just wished that, this time, it wasn't at Archer's expense.
"I'm really proud of you." Her words probably didn't have a desired effect. "I thought you were going to leave once you saw Mark at Joe's... but you didn't and I'm... I'm so proud of you. You've grown so much and I just..."
She'd always been able to make me feel so small.
I looked towards her, watching the hope pool in her eyes. It triggered a weird reaction inside me. A feeling that was suspended between indignation and regret. Maybe it was because I could tell that Addison was hoping that I'd forgive her but I wasn't sure when I'd be able to do that.
"I still hate you," I said quietly, sounding far more tired than upset or angry. "Whenever I look at you I just... I just want to... I want to slap you."
I watched her eyes tear up a little bit. She kissed her teeth, looked away and nodded slowly.
"I know."
I was sure that the little hidden line in the T&C's of "running away from your old life and starting over" was that it makes it really fucking hard to move on from things. Many people achieved it, but I'd always been a little less good at things than most people. Looking at Addison, telling her exactly the truth, I could tell that she had expected it. She wasn't surprised.
"I'm sorry-"
"I know." I repeated those cold words back to her. I held my legs to my chest and gritted my teeth, staring at the floor as Addison attempted an apology. I didn't want anything from her. I didn't need anything from her. I hoped she knew that. "I know you're sorry."
In my peripheral, I saw Addison nod again. It was a choppy movement, as if she was trying not to cry. I heard her sniff, watched as she wiped at her eyes. Her back turned from me and she cleared her throat, trying to shake off the attempt at an emotional heart to heart. I'd rejected it. I didn't want it. I was far too happy sitting in my disinterested bubble, swallowing the screaming and shouting that reverbed through my head. Addison didn't seem to share the sentiment.
"Do you want a coffee?"
Addison's offer had a meaning behind it. I could sense it. My stomach rolled. Swallowing thickly, I nodded, my chin jerking as she just gave me a . Holding my breath, I watched as she picked up her purse and turned towards the door.
"There's this cart down in the hospital plaza..." She picked up her coat from the back of the chair. Addison was dressed smartly, it was as if her brother almost dying had not been a good enough excuse to look anything but pristine. In contrast, I'd been wearing the same jeans and Patriots hoodie for the past few days. "Everytime I go I just think about you and how you'd always need coffee..."
Addison paused, as if confessing that she thought about me a lot was something she felt awkward to say. I just leant my head on my knuckle and let out a sigh. Her head turned towards me, she hitched her purse higher up her shoulder and smiled sadly.
"I'll be back in ten," She gestured towards Archer, "Watch him for me."
Like a little mechanic doll, I nodded for a second time. It was a very slow, almost reluctantly polite nod. My lips were pursed and my molars were locked and I had absolutely no intention of sticking around.
Addison did this a lot. Extended peace offerings in her own little ways. In our hometown in the prissiest part of Connecticut, you could find, it had been car rides, in New York it had been Golden Girls and wine, in Seattle- now, it was coffee.
I waited until she was a couple of minutes down the hallway, out of earshot and sight; then, very carefully, I leant towards my brother. I stooped gently, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then turned, my eye catching the monitors and alarms he had attached to him. He doesn't need to be watched. He had plenty of nurses and doctors doing that for Addison. So, I ignored Addison's request, ignored her attempt at peace between the two of us and high-tailed it, right out of the ward and into the busy heart of a surgical wing.
I'd just have to tell Archer later.