I tossed some cash on the bar and followed her through the terminal. We were silent and apart, no longer seizing every moment of togetherness. We reached the gate before I could cut through my outrage and figure out how to fix this before Erin spent the next eighteen hours flying back to England.
"Come here," I said, tugging at the hem of her shirt. "Don't go like this."
"Maybe…maybe there will be a time for us," she said as she stepped into my arms. "Maybe we'll get a second chance, and we'll be able to do this all over again."
"Erin, don't," I pleaded, my lips on her hair.
"Maybe we'll do it right," she said, looking up at me with a sad smile. "Maybe then I'll be better. You never know. I could change, and…be everything you want."
"Erin," I said, trying to pack all the agony I was feeling into that one word.
"Don't," she whispered, shaking her head against my chest. "Don't try to take it back. It's okay that you meant it, and it's okay that it hurts. But I've never been able to give you all that you want, and all that you deserve. I shouldn't pretend that I can."
She turned, and walked to her gate without a backward glance.
III
Little Mermaid and Lightning
Chapter Thirty-One
Nick
I scowledat the group texts from Lauren for a long moment before shoving my phone in my pocket and returning to my surgical notes. I got through two charts before pulling it out and rereading it again.
Lauren:It's time!!!!!
Lauren:Baby Froggie is coming! Shannon and Will are headed to the hospital now!
Lauren:They don't want anyone coming by yet or hanging around in the waiting room (shocker) but my mom's there and will let us know when Froggie arrives
"Um, Doctor Acevedo," one of my residents started. I called this one EMA, Even More Annoying. I hadn't stopped to learn this rotation's names. In my head, they were Really Annoying, More Annoying, Even More Annoying, Weird Hair, and Super Annoying. "Do you need someone to scrub in for that—"
"No I'll tell you when I need you go away right now," I said, all the words flying out in a single breath.
I grabbed the hospital phone and called over to Brigham and Women's while I stared at Lauren's texts. Shannon was delivering there, and I wanted to see who was on duty tonight. I had privileges at that facility, and knew many of the residents and attending physicians. Once I got through to the nurse managing the labor and delivery floor, and I asked about staffing and let her know that Shannon was a friend. That heads-up served all interests, as I wanted the best for Shannon but also knew she required a room far away from other laboring mothers. I was betting that she'd invite everyone in earshot to suck her dick at least once before this baby arrived.
When I was finished, I resumed scowling at my phone, and toggled to Erin's contact information. It was Monday afternoon in Boston, which meant it was early evening in Iceland. Odds were good that she was still in the lab. If she wasn't heading home to meet me for a video chat, time was known to fade away for her, and she'd work straight through the night without noticing. I closed my address book app, and opened an internet browser.
Not that I knew anything for sure, as we'd barely communicated since parting in Cozumel.
She'd texted from Charles de Gaulle to share that she'd landed and was enjoying some Parisian breads before her connecting flight to Heathrow, and that felt normal. Like we hadn't unraveled the past two years of us in an island airport terminal because I'd lost my fucking mind.
So it was no surprise that after confirming that she'd arrived in London and then Oxford, the texts stopped. I knew she was tied up with research and our schedules were out of whack with me back at the hospital, but it had been five weeks without an email or call, video chat or text.
Erin's silence was like a slow, painful suffocation. The oxygen was sliding out of my lungs and there was nothing I could do to stop it. At first, I struggled against it, flailing and fighting and shooting off ten emails in a single day. But then I found myself sinking deep, deep, deep as I surrendered to the reality that I was without air, without Erin. I was cold and alone, and I'd done this to myself.
She only shut down and shut out as a means of protection. She wasn't doing this to hurt me—or Shannon or anyone else she'd muted—because the one thing that mattered most was her free will. Her choice, her autonomy. Robbing her of that only guaranteed that she'd take cover in a quiet, separate place. And that was what I'd done. I'd pushed her to the point of ultimatum, and those were never choices. So I waited, emailing every day, even if only to say "I'm sorry and I love you."
There was no spectacular spin-out on my part, no epic alcohol consumption or destructive behavior. All of that required gathering a certain level of energy, and I didn't have it. I was tired and heartsick, and the worst part was that I knew she could lose herself in enough research and travel to forget all about me. I fucking hated it, but it was true.
My life shrank down to three small priorities: work, sleep, and running. That, plus the occasional visit from Riley, was all I could manage. He'd been making a habit of showing up at my apartment with a six-pack of beer to watch Monday Night Football recently, and that qualified as my only non-professional interaction with humans most weeks. He kept the discussion localized to football, and I appreciated the hell out of him for it.
Getting back to the hospital wasn't as jarring this time around, or maybe I was too numb to notice. All of this translated into a grouchy demeanor that had the residents gossiping about Africa and Central America "changing" me. To them, I was a cautionary tale, proof that the best surgeons shouldn't sully their skills on lost Third World causes.
Unfortunately, my problems were of the First World variety.
When I wasn't working, I was out hitting the pavement and reteaching my body how to run farther than the distance between operating rooms. The exercise was good for me, and it came with the added benefit of clearing my head. I could focus on the road, my breathing, my pace, and get away from all the things I should've said in that airport terminal. So I ran my soles thin, and for once, I was thankful that Boston wasn't loaded with memories of Erin.
