The Meaning of the Word

The show ER and all characters and situations borrowed from it are property of Constant-C, NBC, Warner Bros., etc. This fanfiction is for entertainment only and no profit is derived from it. Rated PG: Contains language and sexual references that may be offensive to some. My stories are archived at the ERnFanfic Web site:
http://www.oocities.org/TelevisionCity/Studio/5437/elizabeth.htm

Thanks to my friends, Claire and Jordan, for editing.


The Meaning of the Word

by Elizabeth
Eliz1296@aol.com

*This story is set during "Carter's Choice"*
______________________________________

Transcendent
Jan. 16, 1998; 5:36 p.m.


Doug pulled his brown coat closer to his body and wound the scarf around his neck, bracing himself as he stepped out of the ER to face the chill of the Chicago dusk.

There was the same snow-covered ambulance bay, the same Elevated line running over his head. Doc Magoo's was bustling, in contrast to the newsstand, already shuttered for the night.

Doug walked quickly along the sidewalk and took the stairs to the El platform two at a time, smiling to himself.

From his vantage point at the top, he surveyed the steel tracks, the dingy ads, the signs pointing the way "To Forest Park," "O'Hare Airport" and "Downtown." Everything was the same. And yet to his eyes it all seemed somehow new and fresh. The whole world was full of promise.

Anything could happen - good or bad - tonight and Doug felt that it wouldn't touch him. Nothing could shatter the calm, the peace he felt.

He thought back a moment and was incredulous when he realized that only 24 hours ago he had stood anxiously on another El platform across town, looking for her, worrying, fretting, just beginning a nightmare that threatened to destroy them.

Who knew so much could change, in only one day?
_____________________________________________

Tomorrow used to be a day away
Now love has gone and you're into someone far away
I never thought the day would come
When I would see his hand, not mine
Holding on to yours because I could not find the time

Hootie & the Blowfish, "Goodbye"
_____________________________________________

Fallout
Jan. 16, 1998; 2:41 a.m.


*Beep*

"Doug - I don't know if you're there, but if you are would you please pick up? ..... Doug? I'm so sorry. *Doug* .... Please call me. We need to talk."

*Beep*

"Doug, I don't know where you are, but I'm ... I need to explain what happened. Greg and I ... look, Doug, nothing else happened. Really. Please believe me. Call me when you get in."

Doug hit the erase button and turned the volume down, walking away from the answering machine. He remembered the days when he would come home to a tape brimming over with seductive invitations. Now there was this.

*Fuck it.* He crashed his fist against a door frame as he walked down the hallway.

What he really wanted was to get drunk. Rip-roaring, falling over, head-spinning drunk. Wasted like he hadn't been in a long, long time.

Too long.

There was only one problem. He'd ransacked his cabinets and the 'fridge as soon as he got home and turned up no more than two beers. Two lousy beers.

He walked into his bedroom and took his shirt and pants off, stepping back into the hallway for a moment to turn up the heat. Damn, it was cold. Cold and nearly empty. The sparse furniture that was left in this apartment was scheduled to be removed in a few days. He'd already given the manager notice that he was leaving.

Doug pulled a T-shirt on and looked around the empty apartment, thinking about his suddenly empty life. Hell, it was almost a done deal anyway - maybe he should go through with it. Just leave.

He'd done it before. Cleared out and left town on a few hours' notice, not really sure where he was going.

His father had shown him how: You packed light, just one suitcase and your shaving kit and your suit in a garment bag. You left everything you wouldn't need right away, then took off without looking back, stopping only to clean out the bank account on your way out of town. Anything you needed, Ray used to say, you could always buy it on the road.

Doug turned the idea over in his mind, picking up a beer and flipping on the TV just for background noise. What was keeping him here ... if not her?

He'd worked in County General's ER a long time. Plenty long enough to get the references that would secure him a job somewhere else. Someplace new, where he could start over without ... without any ties. Without people staying in his life even when he didn't want them there anymore.

Doug threw himself across his bed and stared blindly towards the television, watching the images flash across it but not really seeing them. He fought mightily to keep his mind away from thoughts of Carol and that ... that goddamned fireman. But the two of them haunted him, made his mind spin, every time he let down his guard.

They'd spent hours together. Talking, she said, and having coffee. But surely that's not all they did. What else happened?

Did they go to his place, maybe? Or ... to a motel?

Doug had had enough sleazy encounters to know exactly how it was done: You checked in at the front desk while she waited in the car. *A king-sized bed. Yeah, just one night.*

Doug pictured Carol with that guilty, shamed expression, following some guy into a dark motel room, looking up at him as she shed her clothes, breathless and excited. He saw her face at the moment when her sweet shyness turned to arousal and then abandon, when she would toss her hair back and close her eyes, part her lips ...

"Ugh..." Doug groaned out loud. He couldn't take it, torturing himself like this. He sat up and took another long draught of his beer, cursing again the lack of real liquor in this apartment when he *really* needed a drink.

He shouldn't be surprised that his liquor stash was so sparse, he thought. In the past year, he'd stayed as sober as he ever had. Settled down, stopped bar-hopping. He'd become a dull boy, really. Tied down to one woman for months, spending all his free time at her house - painting and wallpapering, fixing the plumbing, shopping for tile, installing new cabinets. Going straight home after work. Planning for the future. Rollerblading, for god's sakes.

*Ow.* There was a physical pain in his gut as his mind's eye flashed on Carol skating in the sun, her braid flying, her long legs pushing off in smooth glides, her lithe, strong body tantalizingly close but just out of reach. He saw her turn toward him, laughing and reaching out both hands to pull him up alongside her. He felt the security of her arms around him and he saw her face, suffused with joy, her heart so open to him, open to sharing her life with him. Or so he thought.

What the hell just happened?

Why would she turn to someone else tonight? Had she gotten tired of him? Could it be that she was stringing him along all this time, just so she could stage an elaborate payback? Or had she been swept up by someone else and simply forgotten all about him?

Doug pondered, his head swimming. No. No, none of that was like Carol.  She didn't play games and she wasn't careless. Never. He just couldn't understand it.

The telephone rang again and he heard his machine pick up, then go silent. He'd turned the volume down. No doubt it was Carol. She'd paged  him earlier too, but he hadn't answered. Should he pick up and talk to her about it? He anguished a minute, then closed his eyes again. No. He couldn't talk to her right now. Not now.

He turned off the TV and rolled onto his back. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, but he figured he should at least try.

Where was the justice in life? For the first time ever, he'd managed to be faithful to a woman.

And this was what happened.
_____________________________________________

Now there comes another part of life
Where I'm all alone
Sitting at a bar at Christmas
That I can't leave
'cause my house ain't no home
_____________________________________________

Consequences
Jan. 16, 1998; 2:20 a.m.


The door slammed after him and Carol took a deep breath, shaking, and ran her fingers through her hair.

What the hell just happened?

If only Doug had yelled, interrogated her, accused her, made her feel guilty for standing him up. Carol had prepared herself for all that. A loud, angry fight? That she could have handled.

But he hadn't done any of it. Instead, he'd been so cool and unemotional it was almost frightening: his steely-eyed calm, the set of his jaw, the tense voice. The hurt in his eyes revealing disbelief, then broken trust.

His incredulous whisper: *I'm ready. But you aren't?*

Oh god. Carol hadn't even gotten a chance to explain about that kiss. She'd blurted the whole thing about Powell too fast, not realizing he would leave as soon as he heard the words.

Damn it. Doug did not believe her when she said things didn't go any farther with Powell, Carol was sure of that much. She stood, rooted to the floor, thinking about how it felt when Doug was cheating on her.

She remembered how she'd tortured herself, imagining Doug with other women, wondering if he held them with the same tenderness, kissed them with the same passion as he did her. Worrying about how she compared to them in bed.

And now ... Doug was out there, somewhere, thinking the same things. Out there believing that she had been with another guy. That she didn't love him.

Oh god.

Carol walked swiftly to the window and pulled aside the curtain, looking vainly for his Jeep, hoping against hope that he was still there. Hoping that they could talk about it and straighten things out. Wishing that she could kiss away his worries and make love to him until he believed without a doubt that her heart was his alone.

But she knew, even as she scanned the empty street, that he was gone. He would not be back - at least not tonight. She sighed and walked slowly toward the bedroom, despair beginning to overtake her.

She flipped on the light and suddenly, her heart sank. There, next to the door, two overnight bags were lined up, waiting. Lying across the bed was what looked like fresh drycleaning.

What the ....?

She walked over and picked up the hangers, lifting the plastic sheeting that enveloped them. A tuxedo. And her long black dress and the short white jacket that Doug had bought her for Christmas.

Oh man. Carol put the clothing down carefully. She'd been right, of course. Doug was planning a wedding for tonight. But where? Surely they
wouldn't get married at the county clerk's office wearing clothes like these.

She wandered back out to the kitchen, perplexed, and opened the refrigerator. She'd hardly eaten all day and despite the emotional turmoil, she was starving.

What she saw inside the refrigerator made her pause again. A large box had been shoved onto the top shelf and everything else was shifted to fit below it. She stared curiously at the foreign wording on the box, realizing finally that it contained half a dozen bottles of French champagne.

Another little piece of the plan that Doug had put together so meticulously. Carol pulled a milk carton out of the refrigerator, tilted her head back and took a long swallow, realizing as she did that Doug wasn't around to laugh and tell her to stop being such a guy.

She found some yogurt and an apple and went to the drawer for a spoon. She carried them over to the counter, thinking maybe he'd gone straight to his apartment and that by now she could get a hold of him there.

But when she glanced down at the counter, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Doug had scrawled some notes and a telephone number with a Dundee area code onto a message pad by the telephone. She pulled off the top sheet, reading the words he'd written around his characteristic doodling.

*Eileen - Iron Hedge - cancel - judge's fee waived - flowers, room on Visa*

Carol turned the piece of paper over and saw one last word written there: *Sorry*

The Iron Hedge Lodge. Suddenly it all came perfectly clear to Carol: the lodge's great room, the fireplace, the wedding she'd seen set up there last summer.

The champagne. The tuxedo, her gown. The flowers. The judge. He'd planned it all out with Eileen, probably. Planned to surprise her. First a trip to the clerk's office for a license, and then a ceremony and wedding night up in Dundee.

Guilt flooded through Carol more strongly than ever. Doug, who never planned anything more than 24 hours ahead of time, booking a room and a judge? Ordering flowers? Her Doug, who didn't know a daisy from a daffodil? She picked up the telephone. Her hands were shaking again. She had to get through to him. Had to make him understand.

She punched out his number, praying silently that he would be home. But the phone rang and rang, and finally she got Doug's answering machine. Carol hesitated a moment, then left a message.

As she sat down at the kitchen table, Carol opened her yogurt and stirred it, absentmindedly spooning some into her mouth. She was sorry for what she'd done tonight, for not meeting Doug, for kissing Powell.

But as she thought about Doug's wedding plans, she wasn't sorry that they hadn't happened, wonderful as they sounded. She was more convinced than ever that she just wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. She'd almost gotten married once before - for all the wrong reasons - and she wasn't going to make a mistake this time.

The telephone rang and Carol jumped up quickly, grabbing for it with her heart pounding.

"Doug?"

"Hi, uh, no, it's Mark.... Carol, are you okay?"

Disappointment washed over her.

"Yeah, yeah, Mark. I'm fine. Is Doug with you?"

"No, I haven't heard from him in a while. Last time I talked to him, he was pretty desperate - trying to find you."

"Yeah, I know. He was here when I got home a little while ago but he left and I ... I'm trying to find him."

"What happened to you? Doug couldn't figure out why you didn't meet him. He was scared out of his mind when you didn't show up..."

Mark stopped himself, realizing he might be getting into sensitive territory, and there was an awkward pause.

"Uh, I guess ... I just ... things just didn't work out tonight, Mark," Carol said, her voice starting to break.

"Oh, so he ... told you? About, uh ... the ceremony?"

There was another pause. Carol sighed.

"No, Mark. He didn't tell me. He made those plans without me. But I ... I figured it out."

"Oh."

Another long pause. Mark was clearly at a loss for words and Carol was close to tears.

"Ummmm ... if you hear from him, Mark? Can you tell Doug to call me at home, please?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"Sure. Sure, Carol. I'll do that. I'm ... I'm sorry that things didn't work out. Glad you're okay, though."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just ... just tell him to call me. I need to talk to him, okay?"

"Yeah. Bye Carol."

"Goodbye."

____________________________________________

And now I can't deny, nothing lasts forever
But I don't want to leave and see the teardrops in your eyes
I don't wanna live to see the day you say goodbye.
_____________________________________

Remnant
Jan. 16, 1998; 6:57 a.m.


Carol trudged into the ambulance bay just as the sirens at her back grew louder.

"Ambulance's pulling up," she announced as she walked inside, glancing around quickly to see if Doug was in yet. No sign of him. She dropped her coat and hat into her locker and looked out the window of the lounge, watching the snow fall thickly. She was exhausted, needed coffee badly. She couldn't have gotten more than an hour or two of sleep.

If they'd made it to Dundee last night, she thought, she and Doug would have been stranded there until the storm blew over and the snowplows could clear the interstate. They would have slept in and woken up together and eaten breakfast downstairs. And then they would probably have spent most of this day in bed.

She sighed, then rubbed her eyes and put the rest of her things away, walking quickly down the hall to the trauma room. Best thing to do today was distract herself with work.

"Another one of those old ladies got attacked," Jerry said as she passed him in the hallway.

"Another one? Damn it, I don't believe this!" she said, going inside to help out. But between Mark, Carter and Anna Del Amico, things seemed to be under control. When they took the unconscious woman up to ortho, Carol followed slowly behind. She saw Powell standing in the hallway, looking stricken.

She remembered his panic of the night before. God, was it only last night that they had sat on the roof together? It seemed at least a week ago.

"How's she doin?"

"Well, her vitals are normal. They put her hip back in."

Powell's partner headed back to the ambulance bay, but Powell stayed a moment, looking at Carol.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," Powell said, but he sounded unconvinced. They spent a few minutes talking, Powell frustrated that another woman had been attacked again so soon and so brutally.

Carol did what she could to calm him, reassuring him that the police would undoubtedly catch the rapist soon.

"I guess... I hope so. I don't know how many more of these runs I can make, you know?" he asked. Then he looked at her. "How about you? Are you okay? Did you get to talk to your boyfriend last night, straighten things out?"

Carol grimaced and rolled her eyes. "Well, we talked but I wouldn't say we straightened anything out," she said, shaking her head. "He ... he walked out on me and wouldn't return my phone calls last night. I don't even know where he is right now."

"Uh, Dr. Ross!" Jerry's voice, to her left, caused Carol to look over sharply. And there was Doug, standing only a little way from her, a hurt look on his face. As Jerry walked up, talking about pedes being short-staffed, Doug turned and walked away, slamming two charts together.

Oh man, that was great.

"Dr. Ross? Was that your boyfriend, Carol?" Powell was trying to be nice, but Carol was irked beyond belief. This was just fucking great.

"Yeah, that was him and he saw me talking to you. That was about the last thing I needed this morning, Greg," she said.

"Carol, I'm sorry," he started, but Carol didn't have time to deal with his apologies. She held a hand up, as if to stop his words. She was looking down the hallway after Doug.

"Look, Greg. It's not your fault. Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it." Carol walked away swiftly. She had to get upstairs to talk to Doug, and now. It couldn't wait anymore.
_____________________________________________

Confrontation
Jan. 16, 1998; 8:04 a.m.


Carol was standing outside the Pedes ICU.

Doug saw her as soon as she walked up, watched her out of the corner of his eye as she leaned against the glass while he finished examining a third-grader who had had a bike accident.

"See ya later," he said, then he breezed out the door, heading down the hall away from Carol.

"Doug."

He ignored her.

"Doug, come on..." she pleaded, following after him.

Doug swallowed his barely contained fury and turned toward her. "Is that the guy?" he asked, certain that the young, good-looking paramedic he'd seen Carol talking to was ... Powell or Powers or whatever the hell his name was.

"We were talking. He was upset. Another elderly rape victim came in. I was trying to calm him down."

Avoiding the question. Doug shook his head at her, impatiently.

"*Was* that the guy?"

Carol was already annoyed. Doug's insistence on pinning her down, focusing on Powell and not letting her explain, was only making things worse.

"Yes, that's the guy," she admitted, her frustration showing.

Well finally - a straight answer. So, it wasn't enough for her to stand him up yesterday and fool around behind his back last night. Now she was going to flaunt this relationship over all the ER, too. Wonderful.

"I'm not seeing him or anything," she said.

But Doug's temper was boiling over fast and he wasn't even listening. He gestured angrily at her with the pen he was holding. "Now, you're not ready to commit, that's fine. You want to screw firemen? Fine! Just don't humiliate me in front of my friends."

Carol was taken aback a moment. Shocked. Humiliate him? How ironic was that? Oh god, that was just rich.

"Humiliate *you*?" He had his nerve even talking about humiliation. She was the goddamn expert on that topic. Carol looked away for a moment, took a deep breath, and all the pain, the embarrassment, the helplessness she'd felt years ago came back to her. Every selfish, thoughtless thing he'd done crowded into her mind like it happened yesterday.

"What about the surgical tech in the on-call room? Or the pedes nurse in the parking lot?" she fired off at him.

"Ancient history," he said.

"How about the drug rep with the fake breasts and the big hair!?"

"Ancient history!" he repeated, his eyes blazing with anger.

Carol put her hands on her hips and faced him, defiantly. "I'd have to do the entire Bulls lineup on the damn admit desk before I even *began* to be equal with you!!"

Doug was flustered, surprised by her attack. Why was she bringing this up? They hadn't talked about any of this in years. He thought she'd gotten over it long ago. Maybe his theory about payback had been on target.

"Is that what this is? Is this about getting even with me for things I did a long time ago?!" he asked.

Oh, god. How did this get so messed up? Why couldn't he give her a chance to explain? Did everything have to revolve around *him* all the time? Carol made one last, frustrated attempt to try and get him to understand.

"No. This is about me needing some time and you being really pissed off that things aren't working out exactly as you planned," she said, a huge lump forming in her throat as she thought about all the plans she'd abandoned for him, all the times she'd forgiven him.

"I've spent years ... *years of my life* changing to fit your needs, working around your schedules, your insecurities, your inabilities to commit..."

The tears spilled over, but Carol wasn't finished. She didn't know if she'd ever be brave enough to say it again and she had to get it all out this time.

"Well, y'know what Doug? It's not all *about* you. I know that may come as a shock. But a relationship is give and take, *two* people as equals, and right now I need something! So you can grow up and accept it or you can go on being the same selfish, self-centered bastard you've always been and refuse to give me the one thing - *one thing* I've ever asked you for!"

Carol turned around, shaking, and stormed away while Doug just stood and watched her walk off, stunned at her outburst.

She managed to hold everything inside until she was down the hallway and into a stall in the ladies' room. Then she covered her face with her hands and let the tears pour out.
_____________________________________________

So maybe while we're young
We'll figure out together
That even with the pain
There's a remedy and we'll be all right
I don't want to live to see
The day we say goodbye
_____________________________________________

Decisions

All day long, the ER was slow and Doug spent most of his time in the lounge or holed up in the sutures room, finishing dictations, writing up notes, reading administrative memos he'd been collecting with good intentions for weeks and catching up on pediatric journal articles he'd clipped but hadn't read.

Doug didn't see Carol again, but all day long her words echoed in his head.

He pondered her feelings as he helped out in pedes: *A relationship is give and take, two people as equals, and right now I need something.*

She'd been uncomfortable with the idea of commitment as far back as last summer, when he first asked her for a drawer for his clothes, he realized now, kicking himself for not picking up on all the little ways she'd tried to express her hesitation about marriage without hurting him. He saw that he'd pushed through this elopement plan without stopping to realize he was crowding her.

Then, eating lunch in a corner of the cafeteria, he thought about what she'd said: *You can refuse to give me the one thing - one thing - I've ever asked you for.*

The truth of her words struck him. What had she ever asked of him? Not marriage, not commitment, not children, or money, status, power ... not even love, really. She'd loved him without any expectation that he would reciprocate. And when she expressed it to him, so beautifully, he'd rejected her. She'd given him so much: Years of her life - years when most women her age were settling down, getting married, having babies. She'd given him friendship and support, nurturing and forgiveness. Her body. Her heart. All without any strings attached.

Later on, while he leafed through some pain study research, Doug turned Carol's request over and over in his mind: *So you can grow up and accept it or you can go on being the same selfish, self-centered bastard you've always been.*

She needed time. And she'd given him a clear choice, put the ball squarely in his court. He could go on with his life alone, or forgive her and bend to her will, even though she'd hurt him badly. Even though she didn't deserve his mercy. Even though he had every right to hold this against her, to make her miserable. To get even.

Doug tried and tried, all through the day, to dig down deep and conjure up the anger and the fury that he had felt just a few hours earlier. It hadn't just been petty jealousy, but righteous indignation. She'd wronged him. Stood him up, been with another guy - even if it *was* only a kiss.

And yet, as the day went on, Doug realized that he wasn't mad anymore. He tried and tried to picture his life, his future, without Carol.

And, in the end, he just couldn't.

____________________________________________

I just wanna touch you girl
I wanna feel you close to me
Without your love I would give up now
And walk away so easily.
_____________________________________________

Unfinished

Carol hadn't seen Doug all day and she was worried. And besides, she needed him to take charge of Mary's baby when she delivered, which would be soon. Her labor was progressing nicely.

"Is Doug still up in pedes?" she asked at the admit desk.

"Nobody's seen him," Jerry replied, promising to page him to the ER for her. But Anna was available and said she would examine the baby when it was born.

"Thanks," Carol said, deciding to take a few minutes for coffee in the lounge while Mary was still laboring steadily but not quite ready to start pushing.

Not quite ready.

All day, Carol had thought off and on about Doug and concluded firmly that they really weren't ready either. Not for the kind of commitment that Robert and Mary had apparently made without much trouble.

First the kiss with Powell last night, and then the unexpected eruption of anger and pain she'd felt talking to Doug this morning. Where did all that come from? She'd thought that they were so happy, thought she could push aside her grief and resentment over their past. But instead of going away, it had only grown larger the longer she ignored it.

She'd been waiting to say those words - rehearsing that speech in her mind - for years, without even realizing it.

They still had so much unfinished business. Before she and Doug could get closer, they needed to talk, and seriously. Not with angry words like this morning and not shrugging it off with jokes, either.

All the bantering they did, the teasing way they interacted so much of the time - it gave them a way out of the painful discussions, the honest conversations, like the one she'd had last night with Powell. They'd never really even discussed his betrayals and her suicide attempt, she realized.

Carol knew it was mostly her fault that they hadn't. Her own fears. She needed to tell him how he'd hurt her before, but she was so afraid if she did that, he would turn away from her. And she didn't know if she could stand to lose him again.

Both of them were so damned fragile emotionally, she thought. They  were both so afraid to say things straight out, so quick to avoid the tough moments, so happy to dodge the bullet until the next time.

Until this time. And there was no joking about this, now.
___________________________________________

When I first met you I couldn't love anyone
But you stole my dreams and you made me see
that I could walk into the sun
and I could still be me and now I can't deny
Nothing lasts forever
But I don't want to leave and see the teardrops in your eyes
___________________________________________

Perseverance
Jan. 16, 1998; 5:30 p.m.


"Mark, have you seen Carol?" Doug asked. He was at his locker, getting ready to go home.

Mark filled him in on the retarded couple from the clinic, the baby girl who had been born in the ER that day. "She's down the hall teaching them how to change diapers," he said.

Doug smiled, then put his brown jacket and tan scarf on and got ready to leave. But first he had to talk to Carol. Doug had made a decision and he wanted to let her know.

His selfishness and his self-doubt had made him leave town, give up, and run away from things before. And because of that, his son would never be a part of his life.

This time, his own cowardice and his past failures were not going to get in the way of him having the only thing he could remember wanting with his whole heart. The person who was dearest to him in the world.

Carol.

She was the only purely good thing he could remember in his life and he'd messed up with her once already. He thought about the night she was brought into the ER, over-dosed and nearly dead. The way he'd felt - the awful remorse, the realization that she'd needed him and he wasn't there. The revelation that he loved her, that he'd always loved her, but it was too late.

And then, the miracle had happened: He'd gotten a second chance. And there was no way he was going to throw that away. It was too precious.

When he searched his heart for outrage and wounded pride, Doug felt none of that. He felt only tenderness and forgiveness. He felt the way he had the night she came to his apartment, hysterical over losing the chance to adopt a little girl, and instead of taking her to bed, he'd taken her home to another man.

Why?

Simply, as if it had always been there just waiting for him, Doug realized he had finally discovered the meaning of the word.

He'd thought he understood what love was when he told Mark that he didn't want to be with anybody else but Carol. And then he thought he knew when she was sick and he felt such an overwhelming need to protect and comfort her. And when he'd decided he was ready to commit his life to her.

But all that had only been a preview, a glimpse. This time, he understood what loving someone was truly all about. The real essence. The hard part.

It was one person, putting the other person's needs ahead of his own. Sacrificing his plans and his desires for her. It was forgiveness and patience and longsuffering, even when the other person didn't really even deserve it.

It was persevering when he was hurt and he didn't understand her. When he felt like she didn't understand him. It was sticking around when he wanted to run away.

This was love.
_____________________________________________

So baby, while we're young let's figure out together
that even with the pain there's a remedy,
oh, and we'll be all right
I don't wanna live to see the day
we say goodbye.
_____________________________________________

Epiphany
Jan. 16, 1998; 5:40 p.m.


The train pulled up and Doug stepped inside, embracing the warmth of the stuffy, musty compartment.

He was surrounded by a crowd, but he felt singular. He looked at them all, the anonymous faces of the city, and wondered how many of them knew it too.

His father had never really understood it, he was sure of that. His mother? Yes, of course. Almost any mother would know what it was to love unselfishly - with her whole heart.

Doug smiled again, thinking about Carol and how much he loved the unconscious beauty that surrounded her in everything she did: Swaddling a baby, placing a compassionate hand on a patient's shoulder, risking everything inside herself to be with him again after he'd come so close to destroying her.

He pictured the luminous glow of her face just a few minutes earlier, as she'd looked up at him with her eyes full of tears and her cheeks dimpled softly and accepted the two words that were everything she needed to hear:

"I'll wait."

THE END