Author’s Notes:
* This story is set sometime before the first series, and hopes to document the final weeks of Doug and Carol’s first relationship. It’s a very personal story and subject for me, so it’s taken me several long months to write. I apologise for the delay. It’s also my longest story to date, if only because I felt splitting up the events into episodes would make them an easier read, and therefore less realistic. It’ll take some time to trawl through, but please bear with me.
* I chose to use a cyclical structure for this story because its aim is to recreate the confusion that must have dogged Carol at that time. I hope this isn’t too confusing for you!
* These aren’t my characters and this isn’t my show. I do this for fun and get no money from it.
* The song featured is ‘Still’ by Macy Gray. It is taken from her ‘On How Life Is’ album.
* Feedback is always appreciated. And many thanks to all those people who’ve contacted me to tell me they’ve enjoyed my stories.
* For Jack. Still. Unconditionally.
****
By Jo
dynamojo26@hotmail.com
‘It was with a crooked arrow that he sunk into her heart. And with the screaming of her agony echoing in her ears, she felt him twist through her flesh. With every second, the blood spilled faster from her wounds. With every minute, she felt her soul dying.’
- ‘The Crooked Man’, a short story by Eleanor Foreman.
****
Carol had to pull out of her mother’s dinner party that Saturday at the last minute. Doug called her late in the afternoon, saying he’d just got some great news. He told her about the kid from the window accident and was so excited, she could practically see him pacing up and down with the phone in his hand. She had been swept up by his enthusiasm and sudden dynamism and ended up agreeing to go out with him, forgetting all about her promise to her mother. He swore to arrive by eight, but by the time the flat’s buzzer went, Carol had almost given up hope. She had almost paced the carpet bald between her bedroom and the telephone as she’d alternately checked her reflection and then waited, like a teenager on a first date, certain that Doug was going to call at the eleventh hour and cancel with some stupid excuse.
She’d left half-drunk cups of coffee all over the apartment until she had run out of mugs and moved on to the wine; she’d watched ten minutes of the news, five of some documentary and almost half an hour of a murder mystery on HBO, before giving up on each in turn, unable to concentrate. Her teeth were so clean they squeaked whenever she ran her dry, nervous tongue over them; she’d kept having to stop herself putting on more perfume, and her legs were so hairless that they slid over one another whenever she tried to cross them.
The buzzer practically sent her orbiting around the moon as she double-checked the neatness of the apartment and the straightness of her bra. She raced into the bathroom to fluff her curls for the twentieth time, then frantically sprayed shine-spray when she went a little overboard. Next she dashed into her bedroom and checked that the bed was perfectly made, the trashy romance novels were kicked very firmly underneath and the coffee cups were whisked quickly to the sink. Breathing hard from the sudden burst of activity, she paused in the hall, checking her reflection yet again, and then went to the door.
She had been going for the classy look tonight. She’d planned on greeting Doug in her smartest woollen pants and her sheer black top, but, at three minutes to eight, she’d decided that, hell, if she was going to be a mistress then she might as well do it with style. She’d flung herself into the bedroom, ripped the pants off and replaced them with a skin-tight black satin skirt.
"Hello?" she said into the door-phone, her voice coming out in a strangely husky lilt.
"Taxi for Hathaway," announced a jolly Indian voice.
"What?!" Carol almost lost her balance on her ridiculously high heels. "I didn’t order a cab!"
"Er…" The taxi driver stumbled for a moment, as if trying to remember his instructions. "Er, instructions of Doctor Ross. He is saying to me to pick you up here. Am I good?" Carol smiled into the receiver.
"Oh, right, yeah. I mean, can you hang on for a second…?" She spun and raced around the apartment, blowing out the candles in the bedroom, closing the window in the kitchen, and then hurling herself into the bathroom to check her reflection one more time. "Okay," she said to herself. "Deep breaths." She obeyed herself, and swallowed slowly, closing her eyes. "Okay, let’s go…" The buzzer rang again, this time, more insistently, and Carol panicked. She had no idea where her bag was, least of all her keys. Wheeling on the spot, she ran into the kitchen, spotted her rucksack on the counter and whisked it up. The buzzer was ringing again. Pausing, Carol let out a scream, and then burrowed through her bag, hoping she had her spare keys in the pockets. She started walking towards the door, and then realised she had no overnight kit. No hairbrush, no toothbrush, no change of underwear, or shoes.
"Damnit!" she yelled at herself. She’d been waiting for almost two hours, and somehow all of this had managed to slip her mind. The buzzer began screaming again, and from down the corridor, she heard someone yell a protestation. "Okay, okay, I’m coming!"
She fell down the stairs and out of the front door, sweating from the rush, and feeling like the sexy look she’d been going for had completely gone to pot. Straining to gather herself, she tried to walk up to the taxi with her shoulders down and her back straight, and opened the door.
Expecting Doug to be sitting in the taxi, she was surprised to find she was alone. The driver let her know his impatience with a pointed sigh, and then started the car up. "Where are we going?" she asked.
"I cannot tell you that, madam."
"You mean you don’t know?" Carol said the words before she’d even thought about what she was saying.
"No." The driver sighed again. "I have been told I cannot tell you. You must be quiet now." Carol dropped her head, knowing that she would have extreme difficulty in getting out of the taxi with any dignity still intact when they stopped.
****
As they crawled through the late night traffic in Chicago, Carol sat fidgeting in the back seat of the cab. The driver kept glancing around and giving her curious looks as she tapped her foot, played with her hair, did breathing exercises and tried to stop herself from biting her nails over and over again. She had no idea what was going on, and her confusion grew as they bypassed the whole of the city centre and headed out of town.
The taxi dropped her about 800 yards from Wrigley Field, in a leafy suburban terrace. The houses were practically standing on top of one another, and their gardens were all surrounded by identical walls, almost all of them covered in Cubs graffiti. The summer light was gone, and the streetlights had come on, attracting swarms of moths and mosquitoes that rattled her even further. She climbed out of the cab, and turned to address the driver. "How much?" she asked.
"It’s an account cab," he had explained patiently as she dug through her bag trying to find her wallet. "Dr. Ross is paying." She fumbled for a moment, surprised that Doug had actually thought to consider such a mundane thing.
"Oh, okay. Well, thankyou…" she mumbled, but the taxi had already sped off.
Abandoned on the pavement, with no idea where the Hell she was, Carol began to panic once more. The houses all looked identical. She couldn’t see Doug’s car anywhere, and so she stood composing herself as people wandered past and cast her bizarre looks. It was a less than perfect neighbourhood, and by the graffiti and the sounds of car horns as she stood shivering, she could tell that it was no place for a woman to be on her own after dark. Feeling like she was going to kill Doug when she found him, she looked up, and noticed that three houses along from where she was standing had a roof terrace, where there were dim lights on and the figure of a man was visible. She took a step back to get a better view.
"Carol! Up here!" came a sudden voice, and she jumped. Her heels sent her off balance and she tripped ungracefully into the gutter. Cursing herself, she looked up to the roof, from where an amused chuckle was emanating.
"Doug?!" she called, squinting in the darkness.
"Come on up. The front door’s open."
Still unable to identify his figure on the roof, she sighed and headed for the door of the house with the roof terrace. There were three bells, she noticed as she opened the door and was greeted with a dingy entrance hall, complete with damp crawling up the walls. Quickly, she headed up the stairs, and on finding the door to the terrace, paused and checked herself over. She brushed her skirt down and adjusted her top, flicking her hair into place again. She was just pulling the under-wire on her bra out from her ribs when the door swung open and Doug was standing there. "Oh, sorry," he chuckled. "You’ve got trouble…"
Carol blushed madly, and bundled herself quickly past him. He caught her forearm and pulled her into his arms and into a beautiful tooth-bashing kiss. "Welcome to my first home…" He told her, keeping her pressed tightly against him, his nose gently rubbing on hers.
Relieved beyond words, Carol cupped his smiling face in her hands and pressed her nose to his inquiringly. "Doug, what are we doing here? I thought we were going to the dinner party. You said it was still okay this morning…"
"I changed my mind." Doug laughed at her expression and took her hand in his. He paused briefly, and passed his palm tenderly over her cheek. As if realising his moment of weakness, he dropped the hand suddenly and then turned back onto the roof. "Come and look – it’s not much on the inside, but the view is just about the best in the city. You’ll love it!"
It was clear that he had made some effort to make it presentable. A wooden picnic table, missing its seats from rot, had been pushed to centre-stage, and a couple of crates had been turned over into seats. The broken flower pots had been moved aside, and he’d put candles on the table. It was hardly Homes and Gardens, but she had to admit that it was endearing in a dilapidated manner. "Are you allowed to be here?"
He smiled roguishly and looked away from her. "Well, I used to live here, so technically, I’m not really trespassing." He grinned even wider. "Besides, the landlady and I are old friends."
I bet, thought Carol as she stepped up to the edge of the roof and looked out over the city. Sure enough, the view he had enthused about was mostly of the Cubs stadium. The spotlights picked out a large quadrangle of the pitch, and they were far enough way for the cheering to be just a hum, but close enough to see the little players running like ants. "So, what d’ya think?" he asked her, coming up behind her and slipping his hands around her waist.
Raising her eyebrows thoughtfully, Carol looked around her and shrugged. "Lovely, very… you…"
Doug chuckled, and for a while, they were quiet. He rested his head on her shoulder and watched the game for a few minutes. "Why did you move?" she ventured finally.
"Did you see it?" He stepped away from her and came to sit on an old chimney pot to her right. "The place was a mess. Damp, roaches and the like… I’d wake up in the morning and find my bed filled with plaster from the ceiling. And there’s no central heating, so in the winter, it was fucking freezing. There were these little portable heaters, but you were lucky if they made the ice melt from the inside of the windows." He chuckled to himself. "I only lived here just after I came here, for about ten months I think…"
Carol nodded, intrigued by the sudden information burst. Doug so rarely shared details of his life with her, that when he did, she found herself hopelessly interested, no matter how mundane they were. "Carol…" he added, suddenly, his voice sounding more than a little wary. "Is your skirt supposed to look like that?"
Her eyes shot down and almost immediately realised she’d ripped the skirt and that slowly, the stitching was creeping undone up her thigh. "Ohhhh… damnit!" She bent to investigate, but that only sped up the slipping thread and before she knew it, the skirt was ripped to half way up her thigh. I must have done that as I fell, she thought. It was pointless to ask Doug if he had a needle and cotton, so she looked up, helpless.
"I’ll go ask Jacqui if she’s got a sewing kit. Hold on." He disappeared down the stairs, leaving Carol cursing herself once again on the terrace.
He returned five minutes later and steered her to the picnic table. "Here, it’s the best I could do." He handed her an enormous blunt darning needle and a reel of dark purple thread.
"Oh," she took it off him, trying not to look too disappointed. Gamely, she threaded the needle and pulled her skirt together. A rip-stop stitch ought to stop the damage, and for the time being, that would have to do. She fought with the material for a few minutes, wrestling it down and snagging the unravelling thread with her fingernail.
"Why don’t you take it off, Carol…" he murmured after she’d done a few dips of the needle.
Her eyes shot up to his and saw his mouth twisting into the cutest of horny smiles. "Well… we’re not exactly in a private place…"
"I’ve locked the door… No-one’s coming up here unless they’ve got the key, and the only other person who’s got a key is Jacqui." He grinned. "And she’s in the bath."
"She’s in the bath?" Carol wondered aloud, thinking that he’d only just been down to get the needle and cotton from her. Doug flicked his head, sensing her real reasons behind the question,
"She was getting ready to get in the bath when I went down." He explained, his dark brown eyes so intensely sexy in the low light.
Shit, Carol thought, fighting not to respond to him. There he was again, taking control. Suddenly, his voice had changed. From being quietly conversational and friendly, it had slipped into that tempting growl. Shifting her position, Carol met his eyes and swallowed. He had that breathtaking ability to just turn her on like he was flicking a switch. How did he know exactly what to do? Sometimes she wondered if he knew just how he made her feel, or whether he just saw her as one of the hundreds of willing little bimbos who threw themselves at him twenty-four-seven. His smile was undressing her even though she’d not moved. It was typical Doug, she knew. Assured of his ability, he knew exactly how to make her mind empty of anything other than where they were going to do it. He was utterly domineering. And very, very sexy.
As usual, she found herself on her back. Doug took her skirt off her, and then her top and tights in equal turn, until he had her laid out on the dust sheet in her underwear. "Oh…" she groaned as he ran his tongue in a circle around her tummy button. He kissed up her stomach and buried his face in the warm skin between her breasts. She stretched out on the sheet, feeling the cold concrete floor through its thinness, her arms reaching out for him. She took off his shirt and cast it aside, and then loosened his belt and wriggled her fingers into the elastic of his boxer shorts. She could feel him hard against her thigh as he kissed her neck, lapping at the soft nape hairs. Finally, she could stand it no more and she pushed him off of her and straddled him possessively. Now, she was really going to test him.
She threw her hair back and reached behind her to undo her bra. Doug was watching with large eyes, his hands supporting his head and giving him an infuriatingly casual look. It made Carol mad. How could he lie like that when she was giving him all she’d got? She dropped the bra away and his eyes glinted in the dark.
Carol’s face lost its smile and suddenly became serious. He saw her through a haze of desire as she edged her way down his legs, unzipping the slacks and pulling them with her. He kicked them off, and she glanced down with heavy eyes. He was so turned on by this suddenly aggressive stance that he thought he would explode out of every pore the minute she touched him. Her hands were creeping along his thighs, running through the hairs, making him tingle.
"Oh, oh…" he betrayed himself as her fingers burrowed up the leg of his shorts, agonisingly slow. She found his balls and gave them a gentle squeeze. They were already tight, and her pressure on them made him want to scream out loud. He bit his lip and swallowed. She was still watching him, in fact, her eyes hadn’t moved an inch. Her face was stony, unreadable in the darkness.
Her hands slipped out of his shorts and trailed up to grasp his cock. Doug closed his eyes briefly, trying desperately to find some tolerance. She was moving her hands up and down him now, her fingers finding his tip and rolling his foreskin back. Oh God, he thought. She’s gonna do it again… Suddenly, he gave up the fight and released a ragged breath, punctuated by sudden intakes as she pressed her thumb into the tip. The muscles in his stomach were contracting uncontrollably, and he felt almost sick. He’d discovered about two months ago that she could do this to him, and although he hated losing control like this, the feeling was drugging. No other woman could make him come with her hands alone, not even the girls from his first times in high school. She was tracing a pattern up him now, and when she reached the tip, she gripped him between interlaced hands and massaged him. For a moment, he felt like he was about to lose consciousness.
Finally, she said something, "Okay, Doug…" her voice was agonisingly calm and precise. "I want you to tell me when you’re ready…" She was grinning inside as she saw him twisting on the sheet like a wounded animal. It was in their most intimate moments that she believed he almost let down the walls. When she had him on the edge like this, she was certain she was seeing the real Doug Ross, the one without all the mental shields and cocky arrogance. She kept her eyes on him, trapping him with her gaze so that he couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. With a sudden gasp, Doug cried out,
"Now…" She quickly bent at the waist and took him in her mouth. As she sealed her lips around him, she felt him coming, and he almost doubled up, as if someone had hit him in the stomach. He was trembling as she swallowed and continued to twitch until she lifted her mouth off him a minute later. White liquid was still oozing from him as she slid off him and into the gap between his legs. She licked it up slowly, making him shake again with aftershock.
He laid still, gathering himself again. She’d done it again, he thought, and now she was turning away from him. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms, thank her for everything and tell her she meant more to him than anything else in his life, but no matter how hard he wanted it, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it. "Carol," he whispered after a few minutes.
"Yeah?"
"C’mere…"
If he couldn’t have her in his every second, then he knew he could at least have her for these few minutes on the rooftop. She was sitting a few feet away from him, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees, almost feline in posture.
She looked at him, lying there, and saw that it was the same; nothing at all had changed. The mask was back in place, and the sexy twinkle was there once again. She crawled to him and nestled into his arms. He’d slain her once again.
****
In my last years with him there were bruises on my face
In my dawn and new day
I finally got away
But my head’s all messed up and he knows just what to say
No more dawn and new days
I’m going back to stay
So why say bye-bye
When it only makes me cry.
****
They left sometime after midnight, and they climbed into his car, arm in arm, amiable and as if nothing had happened. Her skirt had ripped almost for good, her hair was wild, and she was so embarrassed about going back home late and facing the possibility of meeting her landlady in the corridor that she told Doug to take her to his apartment. He was unwilling at first, saying he had to work in the morning, but with a little gentle pushing, she persuaded him. And, in her own mind, she was certain she had him closer to the edge than she’d ever had him before, and she didn’t want to give him the night to lick his wounds.
He took her inside and gave her a drink while he found her an old shirt to sleep in. He came back out and she took the shirt from him with a smile. "Thanks," she murmured, catching his eyes. Doug nodded and looked away almost nervously. There, she had him! He couldn’t look at her! Carol’s heart yelled in triumph, and with her head held high, she moved towards the bathroom.
She’d only been here a few times, despite having been with him for nearly two years. Usually they met at her place, or just settled for a bar or restaurant. She hadn’t voiced any questions, mostly because she simply didn’t want to know the answers. Yeah, she’d heard rumours of what he got up to here after visiting his favourite bar, but rumours we all they were, and when she thought of it like that, it didn’t seem quite so awful. Of course, there’d been the nurse from paediatrics she’d caught him madly kissing in the parking lot, but she’d forgiven him that months ago. She saw the attention from other women, and she knew he didn’t exactly have the best reputation when it came to faithfulness, but for all the suspicious circumstances, all the stand-ups and late arrivals, she somehow managed to convince herself that they were not threatening.
When inside, she stripped down to her underwear and pulled Doug’s shirt over her head. It smelt slightly of aftershave, and from the feel of the cotton, she guessed that it had been worn fairly recently. "Hey, Carol…" She heard him call through the door. "How long are you gonna be?"
"Not long. Why?"
"Well," he paused, and she heard his feet shuffle outside the door. "I just left something in there."
"What is it, and I’ll pass it out…"
There was a short silence. "Nah, you’re okay. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting in the shower or anything." She heard him move away, and shook her head, wondering what on Earth it was that he needed so urgently. Going to the sink, she went for the toothbrush that was lying in the soap well. Searching around for toothpaste, she opened the cabinet and something fell out onto her foot. "Ow!" she called out, shutting the door quickly before anything else could fall on her.
Realising she’d shouted quite loudly, Carol paused and glanced at the door. There was no sign of a response from Doug, so after a few seconds, she dropped to her knees to hunt for the fallen object. It took her a minute, but she eventually located it behind the toilet. She reached around the back and pulled what felt like a small plastic bottle out of the dust.
Holding the bottle between her fingers like someone would hold a rat by its tail, she read the label. It was something called an ‘energising lotion’, and it was definitely not hers. Her face was frozen as she twisted off the lid and realised that it was certainly not an old bottle that had been there for years, in fact, the seal had only recently been broken.
Cautiously, she opened the cabinet again, and inside she found more expensive cosmetics, a few packets of condoms and a fancy electric toothbrush, complete with engraved initials that were anything but ‘D. R.’
Suddenly, and without warning, fury descended upon her and she grabbed her clothes and stormed out of the bathroom. Doug was sitting on the sofa watching the television, his feet resting on the coffee table, languid and comfortable. He turned his head and looked at her standing there in nothing but his shirt, fighting her heels on as best she could. "How could you do this?!" she said, her voice equal parts angry and hurt. Doug stared at her.
"Do what?" he asked. His calmly perplexed voice did nothing but make her madder.
"This." She threw the bottle onto his groin, smiling as he doubled momentarily in pain. "This isn’t mine. I know it isn’t. And most of the stuff in that cabinet isn’t yours." She paused, not knowing quite where this inner strength was coming from. "So, whose is it, Doug?" His gaze flicked from the bottle in his lap to her face and back again.
"Er, it’s…"
"I thought so." Carol snatched her bag from the coat rail and walked straight out of the door.
"Carol!" She heard him calling behind her as she walked down the corridor, trying not to let the tears that were building in her eyes slip out. "Carol, come back! It’s not what you think!"
"Oh yeah? It’s not?" She turned briefly at the front door. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment.
"No, it’s not…" His voice had dropped an octave, softened. She stared at him, knowing he was trying to do it to her again. Fighting the tremendous physical attraction of him standing there with such a pleading look on his face, Carol turned back around, gritted her teeth and flung open the door, letting it bang on the wall.
"Well, you know, Doug, I don’t think I want to know. Goodbye."
****
Doug stood pinned to the spot in the corridor for long minutes after she’d left. "Evenin’, Doug…" said his landlady as she bustled past him. "What you doing out here? Havin’ trouble wit’ your lady friends again?"
"You could say that…" he murmured, defeated.
"Well, y’know what’s said about burning the candle at both ends, don’t ya?"
Doug looked up, his mouth open to reply, but she was already gone. He sighed and made his way back up the stairs. Things were going to be difficult from now on.
****
The Scotch burned as it went down Doug’s throat. He’d intended to give the bottle to Mark for his birthday, but as he’d walked back into his apartment, stunned from what had happened, he’d taken the bottle from its paper bag, in the hope that it could make everything go down more smoothly.
Now Doug, alone in his cold apartment, poured himself his third glass. He resisted the impulse to swig it straight from the bottle. Somehow such a thing just wasn’t his style. He tossed back the double measure, blinking.
Twenty minutes later, he was decidedly drunk. He stared at the bottle and realised he’d downed half of it. His mind was foggy, and for a moment, he couldn’t remember what had got him so upset in the first place. "Carol," he said out loud, reminding himself.
What the Hell had he been thinking of anyway? Getting involved with a close colleague was something he’d avoided for years. Somehow, workplace relationships always led to trouble. He’d made a rule with himself when he’d started at County that he’d steer clear of all the staff in the ER, but then she’d come along with her hypnotic eyes and her shining smile and he’d forgotten every promise he’d ever made.
And not just involved either. He sighed, sipping from his glass again. He’d actually had to go and get… feelings for her.
"Not feelings," he slurred to himself, and tried to take consolation in that. Yes, that had to be it. He hadn’t really felt anything for her. Not really. It had all been just a complication of his plan. An attempt to convince her that there was some kind of genuine affection for her rattling around his heart, because that was the only emotion that her type would accept before they would get to the worthwhile part of a relationship. He thought about this for a minute, but it stood out as a rather shallow explanation.
The buzzer rang, making him jump. He stared at the door, trying to focus. For a millisecond, he believed it was Carol back again, and he headed for the button. "Yeah? Doug Ross here."
"Hi, Doug, it’s Petra. I just thought I’d drop by… is that okay?"
He smiled. "Yeah. Come on up…"
A minute later, she opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside. She was dressed up as if she’d been out to dinner or something. "I thought you were out with Mike tonight?" Doug asked, deciding to sit down because his legs were beginning to buckle.
"I was…" She smiled, flashing him her luminous teeth. She stared at him, "Doug, you look upset. Are you okay?"
"Of course I’m okay," he sneered. "Why? Do I sound upset?"
"Actually, you sound drunk." She put her bag down and took off her long coat, revealing a low-cut corset type top.
"I’m not drunk." Doug told her, slurring his words once more. He stood up again, to show her that he wasn’t, but sat down fairly rapidly. She giggled at him. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, and this time stayed standing. He swayed for a few moments and then started to wander aimlessly around the room, taking exaggeratedly slow and steady steps. "She’s not even that pretty…" He said, without any explanation. Petra stared at him.
"Who?"
"Her! Her…" He stopped walking and dropped his head. He sighed, his voice heavy. "I, I don’t know what I was doing. I mean, when have I ever spent two years with ^anybody^? I just don’t do that sort of thing."
"Maybe you didn’t want to end it." Petra whispered from the sofa.
"Why shouldn’t I?" Doug demanded. "I don’t even know what was stopping me…"
"Maybe you’re in love."
"Love!" He scoffed. He paused. Strangely, her answer sounded more of a legitimate explanation than the one he’d offered himself just five minutes before. He stared at her. Her blonde hair was hanging loose on her shoulders, and her cheeks were glowing from wine. She had her long, slender legs crossed, and despite the too-short skirt, and the too-tight bodice was somehow managing to look absolutely gorgeous. "I’m not in love…" He walked over to where she was sitting and knelt down in front of her, taking her face in his hands. "Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?"
Petra grinned, sensing what he was doing. "Not for about half an hour, but… go on…" He grinned back, feeling giddy.
"And," He paused. "Has anyone ever done anything about that?"
"Not for an even longer time."
He kissed her, feeling it all float away. She was warm and supple against him. Undemanding. Yielding. Wanting nothing more from him that he was willing to give her.
****
Carol hailed a taxi from the stand down the street, her attire and flustered state drawing interested stares from the drivers gathered there. "Where do you wanna go, Miss?" asked the driver whose car she’d climbed absently into. Miles away, Carol didn’t answer, her mind whirling. How could he be so damned blatant…
"Excuse me, Miss?" She snapped awake.
"Oh, sorry…" She told the driver where to head for and he nodded. A minute passed in silence, but soon the driver started talking.
"Are you okay, Miss?" he asked in a concerned voice, turning slightly in his seat so he could look at her.
"I’m fine." Carol answered sharply, certainly not in the mood to discuss what had just happened with a taxi driver. The driver shrugged.
"Well, if you don’t mind me noticing, you don’t look so fine…"
"What?" Carol was shocked at his forward remark. "How do you…?"
"I’m sorry if I offended you." His eyes didn’t move from her face. "But, really, Miss… You’re wearing nothing but a man’s shirt and a pair of high heels." Carol glanced down. She’d completely forgotten about what she was wearing. "Your mascara’s run, and well, you don’t exactly look like you’ve won the lottery." He cast her a warm smile. "Man trouble?"
She sighed. "Yeah,"
"Always the same…" Carol’s eyes shot up. "That’s what my wife says to her friends. You can’t live with ‘em. You can’t live without ‘em."
The cab dropped her outside her building, and, realising she had no money, she told the driver to wait while she went inside. She pulled on pants and then began searching through the pockets of her coats looking for change. In frustration, she gave up and raided the box where she kept the money for the lottery, but as the minutes past, she began to think. Maybe she’d been so harsh… He ^had^ looked very desperate standing there in the corridor. And he hadn’t just given up without a fight, as he’d done in the past when she’d stumbled upon something she wasn’t supposed to find out. Shaking her head, she suddenly, with no clear understanding why, bolted back outside and jumped back into the cab. "Turn back! Take me back, please." The driver pulled into a side road without question and turned the taxi around. They practically flew back to Doug’s apartment, even though it was across town, but the time couldn’t go quickly enough for Carol. As they drew nearer, her heart began to flutter.
"Let me take you to the door, Miss…" The driver pulled up alongside the building she indicated, and she jumped out, thanking him.
She practically flew up the stairs, thinking about what he’d do to her when she told him she was going to give him another chance. Her heart was pounding. She’d never believed she’d stand back and ignore his misdemeanours, but here she was, just as she’d done before, knocking on the door to his apartment, all ready to take him back without a second thought.
There was no answer. She stood for a moment, fidgeting, and then tried the door handle. It opened easily. She walked into his apartment and stopped dead in her tracks.
The lights were still on and she could see a bottle of Scotch, three-quarters of it somewhere else, standing on the coffee table. Her eyes darted around the lounge. There, lying on the sofa, was Doug, naked except for his boxer shorts, which were twisted around his ankles. The rest of his clothes were tossed in several places around the room. He was asleep… and in his arms was the perfect figure of a blonde woman.
Carol made no sound, but her mind screamed out in embarrassment and mortification.
It was more than enough to wake Doug.
He sat up, confused and disorientated from the drink. His hands reached out to steady himself and it was then that he saw Carol, standing just inside the doorway, backlit by the hall light. It took him a moment to reach the full realisation that he wasn’t still asleep. "Carol?" he said in a voice that sounded distant and ill.
She wanted to run screaming down the hallway, but there was no way she was going to retreat in that manner. "Doug." She paused, gathering herself. "Seems I’ve called at a bad time." She said simply, her back straightening. He struggled out of the arms of the blonde woman and started towards her, tripping over his boxers. He pulled them up quickly and moved towards her, but his co-ordination was way off and instead he crashed to the floor with an undignified thump.
The noise awakened Petra and she sat up in confusion and looked around. She saw Carol, blinked in mild chagrin, and pulled the sofa’s throw around herself.
"Carol," Doug began again. He grabbed at his pants and started to pull them on.
"How nice. You have a thorough command of my name," she said slowly and gravely, the anger generating a strange calmness. One hand crept to her hip and as he stumbled to his feet, she followed his every movement with cold, penetrating eyes.
"This isn’t what it seems." He looked at her face, saw it hardening and then corrected himself, "Okay, it is what it seems. But I… you said we were finished and…"
She cut him off. "I ^never^ said we were finished."
"You stormed out. You were mad with me."
"Yes, I was. And it’s been less than…" She glanced at her watch, "four hours since you last had female company. So naturally, you were in need again. And as this proves," she waved her hand towards the sofa, "you were not even mildly distressed about what happened. In fact, you were clearly delighted, and felt the need to jump into bed with someone else and celebrate," Carol said, her voice getting louder and more agitated.
Doug made shushing noises and stepped towards her, but this only prompted her to raise her voice further. "Are you scared someone will hear?"
"No," he whispered. "I just don’t like you shouting… it makes my head hurt…"
"Well, I’m sorry about your head. I won’t burden you any further, Doug."
She spun on her heels and walked down the corridor. Doug, his hair dishevelled and his belt hanging loose down his leg, nevertheless ran after her. He caught up with her and grabbed her by the forearm. "You said," He began, but she cut him off, yanking her arm away from his grasp.
"I know what I said. And do you know why I came back here? I came back here because I thought I’d been harsh. I thought I’d not given you a chance to explain to yourself. But it seems I was just foolishly assuming that the way I felt about you," she paused, hot tears welling in her eyes. She fought them back, sucking her lip. "Was the way you felt about me."
"I do,"
"No, you don’t. I’ve crawled out on a limb for you, Doug, and you chopped it off behind me. It’s just gone too far this time."
"It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t thinking…" He stopped. Her eyes were on him like a pair of snarling dogs. "What you did upset me," he said slowly, realising what he was saying only after the words had left his mouth. "That…" He looked back along the corridor. "That didn’t mean anything."
"And how do I know that our time together didn’t mean the same to you? God knows anyone else would think so."
He took her by the shoulders, probing her with his eyes. "You know it didn’t."
"Doug, let me go. I don’t want you to do this to me anymore." She closed her eyes, summoning what inner strength she had left. "Just leave me alone." She turned away from him and started walking again. The tears spilled uncontrollably.
Doug felt something slipping away from him and suddenly, propelled by a strange force that came from he knew not where, he realised he wanted to save it. He caught her arm again and almost balked when he saw her wet face. "I can change," he said.
"No, you can’t, Doug. You have to grow up before you can change, and I don’t see that happening right now…" She was shaking with anger and tears. For a moment, he bristled.
"You sound so damned sure of yourself, Carol. How do you know anything about me? Maybe it’s you who have to change. Maybe you’ll decide that you don’t have to be head over heels in love with someone to be with them. Maybe you’ll realise that no-strings-attached has its attractions too."
Carol stared at him. "Maybe I will, but there’s one thing I’m positive of right now."
"What?"
"It’s not going to be you who’ll be there to find out."
And she turned and walked away. Doug stood there, unmoving, watching her go. Wanting to say something, but unable to. Perhaps it was the drink still buzzing around in his brain, or perhaps he just didn’t know how to.
****
For every woman you will leave an open door
You find yourself thinking, why can’t I have more?
You say there’s nothing you can do
You tried your best, but you were only being you
Oh no, she’s gone
Back wherever she came from
You watch her go
Your reaction’s far too slow
Runaground, runaground.
You don’t know what you’ve got until you’ve lost it all
Might I suggest you find a softer place to fall
You take for granted all the riches of your world
You may have oysters but you’ll never find a pearl.
- James, lyrics taken from ‘Runaground’ -
****
That night had been the final chapter. Carol went home and cried herself to sleep, feeling, like always, like it was she who’d been the bitch, she who’d pulled the plug on her own happiness.
She woke in the morning feeling no better. As she laid in bed, tears of frustration budding once more, she started the same old process. Had she been too harsh? It was so easy to simply forget all about it. After all it was what she’d done in the past…
****
He’d been flirting with that temp all day. She’d seen him when the kid from the bike accident had been brought in, catching her gaze and giving her his grin. Carol had been furious, but at first, she just shut it off, thinking she was probably just being paranoid. But then the rumour had circulated that someone had caught them in the storeroom, doing something a lot more than flirting.
"Doug, can I have a word…?" she smiled a dry smile at him. He looked at her, and for a millisecond, she thought she saw a slight worried expression cross his face.
"Yeah, what’s up?" They were walking up to paediatrics to speak to the parents of the bike kid, and she grabbed his arm and side-stepped into the stair well. She waited until the door sucked shut, and then she shouted,
"What were you doing?!"
He looked at her with such perfectly faked confusion that she almost balked. "What do you mean, what was I doing?"
"Don’t give me that!" she yelled, her eyes filling with involuntary tears. "I saw you with her all day! You couldn’t stop yourself! She was like a bitch in season and you couldn’t stop yourself!" Carol was shaking, repeating herself because she was so angry. She’d known exactly what he was like when she agreed to go out with him, but it had been eighteen months and they were still together. Some of the other nurses had teased her about managing to tame Doug Ross, and secretly, she was proud of what they thought of her. But, what they didn’t know was the occasions when he’d shown up at her house blind drunk, or the numerous times he’d already stood her up, or that time when he’d shown up at 3AM smelling of perfume with a love-bite on his neck. Mostly, she ignored it, because the thought of being without him was just too awful to contemplate and because she’d quickly discovered that she just couldn’t be mad with him for long. But then, today, he’d done it right before her eyes, humiliated her in front of the rest of the staff as if he hadn’t got a care.
Doug gathered himself and took her by the shoulders. "I didn’t do anything with her."
"See!" Carol shrieked, a little too loudly. Her lip quivered, but she forced herself to carry on. "I didn’t even ask you that, and you’re telling me anyway! Doug, I know what happened in there, so don’t tell me it isn’t true!"
"It’s not true. I didn’t do anything with her." He looked her deeply in the eyes, and her face creased, trying to hold tears in. "I didn’t… I promise…" His finger curled and he caught her chin, pulling her face up so he could look directly at her. "Carol. Look at me, I didn’t do anything with her…" Carol bit her lip, rolling her face away from him. She had no more argument, and he’d just destroyed all the self-protection she’d built up for herself, just with that one little gesture. A single tear rolled down each cheek, and she sobbed slowly,
"Why, Doug? Why did you have to do it to me?" It was more of a question to herself than to him, but he answered it anyway. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, slow and tender, and it took her away. How could he do this? If he was so bad, why did he make her feel so wonderful whenever he laid his hands on her? She sobbed harder, and he kissed her harder, murmuring indiscernible words into her mouth.
He moved from her mouth and kissed up the tears seeping from her eyes. "Come on, let’s go…" He took her hand and started down the stairs, heading for the basement.
"But we’ve got to go to Paeds, Doug…" she objected, but when he cast that sexy, daring smile back at her, her objection dissipated, and she found herself smiling back at him through her bleary eyes, not to mention finding herself getting turned on just by the thought.
"That can wait." He told her with a bob of his eyebrows, melting her resistance completely.
****
I still light up like a candle burning when he calls me up
I still melt down like a candle burning every time we touch
****
Carol arrived home to find her mother trying to get into her apartment. "Ma? What are you doing?" she sighed. She was tired and the last thing she wanted right now was to explain herself or her relationship with Doug to her mother, and such discussion was bound to be on the cards.
"I haven’t seen my daughter for seven days and she asks me what I’m doing? Carol, how am I supposed to contact you? You won’t return my calls." Trying not to sound peevish, Carol moaned,
"Ma, I do return your calls. Just not all the time." She reached into her bag and took out her key. "Besides, I’ve been really busy just lately."
"I know you have. With that Doug Ross." Helen Hathaway’s voice conveyed all the displeasure necessary for Carol to bristle once again. "Why are you still with that man, Carol? He’s trouble, and I told you that when I first saw him." Carol stepped into her apartment, ignoring her mother and taking her coat off. "I can’t believe you’re still with him."
"Ma. It’s my life, and don’t you think I’m old enough to make my own decisions?"
Helen said nothing, but strode into the kitchen and began to make coffee. Carol followed her through and took up a seat at the counter. The kettle boiled, the only sound in an otherwise soundless room. The pointed silence infuriated Carol, and she slapped the counter impatiently. "He’s not as bad as you think, you know. If you actually took some time out to talk to him rather than just taking him for what he seems on the surface, you’d see he’s not everything he makes himself out to be." Helen turned and looked at her daughter with raised eyebrows.
"Really?"
"Yeah…" Carol looked down, her mother’s penetrating gaze enough to make a corpse turn. There was a long pause, while Helen poured the coffee into the jug and set about adding milk to clean mugs. Carol itched.
"So, when did you last see each other outside of work?" Carol sighed. That pointed question was Helen’s attempt to make her daughter see the errors of her ways. Becoming angry, Carol stood up and answered sharply,
"Ma, you know the answer to that question."
"No. No, I don’t Carol. Because you don’t tell me anything any more." She handed Carol a mug. "I just have to assume things."
"And what sort of assumption is that? You know the answer!" Helen sighed, and Carol gave up in a fit of frustration. "He’s not been round for a few days, alright, Ma?"
"How many days?" She was in there like a cat on an injured mouse. Feeling her tension double, Carol said,
"About a week…" Her voice turned heavy. "Maybe more…" Helen made a noise in her throat,
"And that doesn’t bother you?" Carol sighed, dropping back to her seat and placing her head in her hands, feeling its weight.
"Well, there’s not exactly a lot I can do about it, is there?"
Helen paused, but then ploughed forward anyway. "You could…"
"Ma!" Carol cut her off, sensing exactly where that line of attack was heading. "I don’t want to! How many times do I have to explain myself to you?! Just please… stay out of it." She gave a sigh that measured her anger, and then added, knowing she was doing just what she vowed not to do. "I can handle him just fine."
Her mother stared at her piercingly. "And how do you think ‘just fine’ is? I don’t think you’re handling it ‘just fine’ at all…"
"Ma. It’s okay." She paused, making a critical frown at her mother. "Okay? I can deal with it without your help, and that’s all you need to worry about."
They finished their coffee in near silence, and Helen left early, passing a parting shot as she left. "Carol, you may be handling it right now, but how about in another month? Or another year?" She’d looked at Carol with, for the first time that evening, genuine concern, and added, "Just don’t let him do to you what your father did to me…" Enraged and depressed by the whole evening, Carol went to bed in tears. And fell asleep in tears.
She woke shortly after eleven, and feeling no less settled, did what she knew she shouldn’t do. She picked up the telephone and dialled his number.
****
Oh say what you will
He does me wrong
And I should be gone
But I still
Be loving you baby and it’s much too much.
****
Doug lay on his back in his apartment, tipsy from the wine he’d drunk over dinner with… what was her name… ah, yes, Marianne. She was a nurse from Pharmacy he’d bumped into at the Cafeteria, a lovely, leggy brunette with a smile to make him want to drop his pants in the middle of the room. Admittedly, she laughed too much when he told a joke, and she did have an annoying habit of flicking her hair at him as if she were in a shampoo commercial. It was something he’d found quite attractive at first, but after the hundred and tenth flick of the evening, he was beginning to tire of it. But, he’d been quite happy to kiss her back when she’d kissed him in the taxi on the way back to her house, and would have been still happier to get out with her when they arrived. But, there had been no invite for coffee, and she’d left instead with a flashing smile and a wiggle of her hips. In the cloud of disappointment Doug had gone home feeling like he’d been a bad boy again. He never meant to be unfaithful… it just… well, happened. He had no willpower, and that was the root of it all.
He consoled himself with that thought for a moment, and it made him feel a little better. He stood and began to undress himself. The telephone rang, and he jumped onto the bed, wriggling out of his pants in an effort to save it before the answer-machine clicked into life. "Doug Ross," he said.
"Oh, you’re home…" It was Carol. She stumbled for a few seconds, obviously thrown by the fact that he’d answered the phone instead of his answer-machine.
"Yeah, I’m home," he chuckled at her. "What’s up?" She sighed and fussed into the phone.
"Oh… my mother… who else?" He smiled.
"Yeah?"
"She’s just been round giving me the third degree… I told her she should stay out of it." Carol’s voice became suddenly rebelliously confident, and Doug sensed it.
"I s’pose that’s a good thing…" he chuckled again. There was a short silence. "How was the rest of your shift? I didn’t get to see you after… you know…"
"It was fine," she replied, and he could tell she was grinning. "Not as exciting…" She was becoming more daring, and it was turning him on.
"You roll with the dice…"
"Yours?"
"Not bad, not bad. I’ve had better…"
She paused, and he grinned, listening to her taking the bait. "Oh…" she said finally. His grin widened.
"Well, I had this pain in my groin…" He heard her shift position on the other end of the phone. "It was like I’d pulled something in my workout." She giggled girlishly and then inwardly chastised herself. "It was tender, and a bit sti…"
"Doug!" she interrupted, and he burst into a warm chuckle. They laughed together for a while, and then he broke the light-heartedness,
"Carol? Can I come round?" He was suddenly serious. She glanced over to the clock,
"It’s really late, Doug…"
"I know… it’s just… I think I want you…"
There it was. She could practically pin-point the second when she almost voluntarily started to wind herself round his finger. She sighed, giving in, "Okay, but don’t be long…"
****
Doug arrived at the building and pulled up outside. Looking up at Carol’s windows, he saw they were all in darkness. For a brief moment, he wondered whether she’d fallen asleep, but then dismissed it. From the sound of her on the phone, she was wide awake. He reached the door and pressed the buzzer for her room.
"Come in…!" came a demanding voice. He grinned, and bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She was standing on the landing when he saw her, clothed in only a white bathrobe, her body arched slightly, her face mirthful and loving, her black curls cascading around her shoulders. He stopped on the half-landing and grinned up at her. She raised her left hand up and beckoned him with a slow finger, her eyes looking down at him with a sexy sparkle in them. "Come…"
"Have you got a washing machine?" he asked when he’d leapt up the remaining stairs and swung her into his arms. "Cos then I will…"
She laughed at him, and pulled herself away, taking his hand and dragging him with an outstretched arm through the open door, holding his gaze and nearly driving him wild. She took him to the bed and then purposefully stood a little away from him and dropped her robe. It hit the floor and Doug hit the roof. She slipped quickly between the sheets and he looked at her with a crooked smile. "What do you want?"
"I want you to seduce me…" She smiled at her own boldness. He grinned, enjoying this unusual role-play.
"Okay," he backed away, grinning wickedly. The only thing he didn’t drop was his steady, amused gaze as he discarded each item of clothing slowly and deliberately to the floor. Carol bit her finger in delight as her own smile widened still further. "Take your socks off." Her eyes crinkled as he bent over, and she stared unabashedly at his butt.
"There, happy now?" Doug asked, standing naked before her. She grinned,
"I’ve had better…"
He was mildly surprised by her sudden attitude change. "Right," he drawled, rolling the word around his mouth, "Nurse Hathaway, let’s see about that…" He shimmied up alongside her and touched her thigh through the sheet. "Well, this is gonna have to come away…" He grabbed the sheet and she dived away from him with a shriek. He caught her wrist and fought the sheet away from her.
Then, with an amused sigh, he flipped over onto his back and laid beside her, gazing at her, a twinkle in his eyes. Carol, tired by the loss of tempo, climbed on top of him and kissed between his nipples, alternating play-bites with flicks from her tongue. Doug looked down his chest at her, his eyes now black and sexy. "Now what are you doing to me…?" he asked in a husky voice.
"Ah…" Carol slid her hands up the bumps of his ribs and along his arms until she was gripping the taut tendons of his wrists. Crossing them together behind his head, she held them still as she dropped her kisses lower.
The moon swam lazily across the sky, the curtains stirred sleepily and cars hummed by outside as Doug and Carol crumbled the sheets, threw the pillows from the bed and explored one another with slow, easy movements. Doug was getting hot, his breath coming faster and deeper than she’d ever known it. He kept trying to push into her, but each time she blocked him, stringing out the long tease.
"Let me in…" he pleaded eventually, rolling atop of her and staring down at her, intense and demanding. Carol’s grin vanished and as she parted her thighs, he sank between them, filling her up. "Oh yeah," he growled and nipped her neck with his teeth. He started to thrust, his chest away from her skin, letting cold air in between them. He was pushing into her hard now, punching her uterus with every thrust, bending occasionally to kiss her roughly on the mouth. Not enjoying herself at all, Carol ran her hands down to his butt, trying to limit his movement.
"You’re hurting me, Doug," she whispered after a minute.
"Okay…" He paused and looked down at her, "Okay, I’m sorry."
Covering her face with apologetic kisses, he slowed right down until she gasped with delight at every smooth, caressing lunge, her body arching to meet him half way. She could feel the boiling inside her, gentle at first, but then, as his thrusts once more accelerated out of control, mounting to a violent shudder. Doug came just seconds after she’d finished. He let out a deep, throaty groan and rolled off her, laying out beside her and swinging a companionable arm around her, as if he’d heard somewhere that that was what you were meant to do after sex.
She was quiet and brooding afterwards, and soon slipped into sleep. Doug kept her close to him, not wanting to move. He had often tried to fathom his feelings for her. He knew there was something different about her, something that all the other women didn’t possess. Maybe, it was a look in her eye, a smile on her lips; he had no idea what it was, really. He had so many other appealing options, but every time he came right back to her, falling into her arms as soon as she let him. Sometimes it would be days, even a week or more, before he plucked up the courage to approach her again. She wasn’t stupid, she knew what went on when her back was turned, and silently, Doug was ashamed of himself. He knew she was hurt by the things he did, and that, he told himself, was why he wouldn’t let her get any closer. If he told her, or even hinted at, how deeply he cared for her, then her pain when he would inevitably mess things up would be even greater. And the worst thing he could imagine was to see her in pain…
So, in the quiet of the night, he slipped her from his arms, and dressed without a sound. She was lying at an angle in the bed, her head nearly falling off the pillow, her hands drawn up around her, crossed over her heart. He was about to leave, but a glance towards her caught him for a minute. There was something about her that snared him, made him want to get back between the sheets and just hold her, but, shaking his head in confusion, he tore himself away and stole out of the apartment.
In the car on the way back to his flat, he felt as if someone had just ripped off his right arm. He ached, partly from the sex, and partly from… well, he didn’t know exactly. When he thought about it, he knew he was a fool to run away from something that made him so happy. But he’d been so used to being miserable - for the memorable years of his life he’d been mostly miserable - that he couldn’t see how the glimmers of happiness he felt when he was with her could possibly develop into anything more satisfying. And so, he took what he could when he could, like an addict hopelessly settling for methadone.
Little did he know, he was draining her dry.
****
We are going down cos you’re always getting high
And your crumbs of loving
No longer get me by
Wow! It gets better every time that we get high
Then your crumbs of loving
They somehow get me by
Why say bye-bye
When it only makes me cry.
****
"Morning, Carol," Doug murmured in an unapologetic voice as he walked past her in the corridor. She cast him a filthy look and carried on, ignoring him. She’d woken up alone once again, and had spent so long crying that every time she applied her mascara, it ran and she had to scrub it all out and start again. Consequently, her eyes were now reddened beyond her ability to hide and several people had already commented that she looked in need of a good night’s sleep.
She had managed to avoid him all morning at work, making sure she was always busy and never at the desk for long so there was little possibility of him catching her and taking her away to do his customary explanations. The past few times he’d stood her up on dates, he’d not even had the decency to apologise, assuming that a quick fix in the basement would soothe her. But this morning, she’d told herself with a conviction she certainly didn’t feel, she was not going to let him crawl back in. She’d rolled over at seven o’clock, wanting more than anything in the world to find him still asleep beside her, and was met by only empty crumpled sheets and a hollow in the pillow. That was it, she’d informed herself, he’d played his last card.
"Carol?" he stopped and back-pedalled down the corridor. Carol walked faster, head down, trying to block out his voice. "Carol, I’m sorry, I… I had to work early…" He paused, and, getting no reply, simply bludgeoned onwards. "Carol? Will you listen to me?"
Casting a look around to see if anyone was watching her, she span into the store room and angrily turned on him when he followed her in. "I’m not answering you for a reason, Doug. I don’t want to talk to you again. I’ve had enough of playing your dupe. You’ve blown it this time." She turned away, faking an interest in the stock shelves. He was silent for a long while, and she heard him shuffling nervously. But suddenly, and much to her surprise, he said simply in a low voice,
"I’m sorry," and then left quietly, without further protestation.
Carol turned in astonishment, for it was so unlike Doug to do what she asked him to under these circumstances, but was confronted only with a dimmed room. Outside, voices were distant, but inside, they were clamouring. She leaned up against the glass door of the store room and sank to her heels, dropping her face into her hands, letting the hot, frustrated tears of shock slide from her eyes.
Meanwhile, Doug stood briefly outside, hoping she would open the door and change her mind, but she did not. Sighing, but trying not to let his emotion show, he headed off down the corridor, reasoning that perhaps it was best to just let her be. His arrogant conscience told him that she’d come round eventually, if only because she always did. He made a quick decision to grab an early lunch from the Cafeteria and slipped past Mark wordlessly. He’d walked less than ten paces before a massive man with a puffing red face, grasping a freshly sutured boy, stepped in front of him and blocked his way. "Excuse me," he muttered and tried to move around.
"Doctor Ross, yes…?" said the man, his voice low and threatening. Doug looked up and stared at the man, his face ringing instant mental bells. The overwhelmingly large man was the father of a kid he’d sutured and referred to DCFS this morning. The seven-year-old had been brought to the ER with a gaping laceration to his right temple and a collection of bruises big enough to make a professional boxer weep. His father had been curt and demanding with Doug, informing him the kid had fallen out of a tree while watching a praying mantis. It was a fairly radical story, but the child’s chart showed treatment for numerous breaks and a dozen or more hospital visits. A set of subtle x-rays showed a further handful of untreated fractures. To his judgement, the boy was being abused.
"Yeah, can I help you Mr. McIntyre?"
"Sure you can help, you fucking bastard! You can get back here and tell social services I don’t want them sniffing around with my boy! He’s fine, he only came here with a few cuts and bruises and now I’m being told he’s gonna be taken away from me!"
Doug shook his head. "I’m sorry, Mr. McIntyre, but I’m concerned for your son, and I think that maybe it would be in his best interests if he was to spend some time with DCFS, give you some time…". Doug had not even got the final word out before the fist landed him square in the jaw and sent him toppling backwards, grasping lamely onto a drip stand in an attempt to break his fall.
"I’m taking my boy home now." McIntyre spat as Doug staggered to his feet, lifting his hand to his mouth and bringing it away with blood on it. "And I won’t be coming here again!" He span and stormed down the corridor, dragging his son with him.
By now a crowd had already gathered around the scene, but Doug was oblivious. "Doug, you okay?" came Mark’s voice, but it was more of a buzz than a sound. He nodded unconsciously, clearly dazed from the impact, the blood dripping down his chin. "Doug, come on…" He felt his arm being taken and then he was led down the corridor.
Mark tugged the curtain around the gurney he’d sat Doug on and pulled up a stool, "Here, take this…" He cut a rough piece of gauze and handed it over. Doug took it and gingerly pressed it up against his lip. "So," he murmured, as he set up for suturing, "you wanna tell me what that was all about?"
Doug released a painful sigh and closed his eyes. The day was going from bad to worse.
****
Susan Lewis shook her head in disbelief. "Men are so stupid."
"And which planet have you been living on for the last twenty seven years, girl?!" Haleh laughed. Doug scowled. Mark glanced up and showed his objection with a brief flash of his eyes at both of them. He’d called Haleh to help him out, and Susan had merely poked her head around the curtain to see what the damage was.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Doug murmured, twitching on the gurney.
Mark shooed Susan away and then returned to closing Doug’s numb lip. "Keep still. How do you expect me to do this without a scar if you squirm around like a four year old?" Doug sighed and repositioned his head. A few minutes passed while Mark finished the suturing. Haleh left with the sharps and in the moment of privacy, he pulled slightly away to look him straight in the face.
"Have you spoken to Carol yet?" he asked. Doug blinked in surprise.
"Why?"
"Well, I’m only guessing, but I just saw her coming out of the store room looking pretty upset…"
Doug shook his head. "Why does everyone assume that it’s me when she’s upset?"
"Cos it usually is…" He sighed.
"Mark, I don’t mean to be short, but I really don’t wanna talk about it. I’m gonna go get some lunch…" He stood up and, taking a length of gauze with him to hold to his lip, headed out of the ER.
****
Carol stepped out of the store room twenty minutes later, having stemmed her tears and wiped her face again. She went to the desk and checked the board for who needed help. The other nurses were gathered around the telephone, talking in hushed voices. "Hey, Haleh, what’s up?" she asked, wondering what had happened to suddenly bring on such intense discussion. Haleh looked up and stared at her.
"Where’ve you been, girl?"
"In the store room. I was restocking…" she lied quickly. "Why?"
"Well, you’ve missed a performance! Doug Ross has just got himself a cold one in the teeth!" She chuckled and Carol frowned. Doug had left her in perfect shape just minutes earlier.
"When?"
"Twenty minutes ago," Haleh replied.
"Where is he?" Susan Lewis appeared at the desk with an old chart and piped in,
"If we’re talking about Doug, he’s just walked out… Don’t ask me where he’s gone."
Without a word, Carol turned and walked out of the double doors. She had a good feeling that she knew where he was…
****
Like a soul without a mind
In a body without a heart
I’m missing every part.
- Massive Attack, lyrics taken from ‘Unfinished Sympathy’ -
****
Doug sat at his customary table in José’s bar, nursing a glass of Scotch. A couple of times, other regulars or stray doctors from the hospital started to wander in his direction, but when they got close enough to pick up the unspoken message that said, "Leave me alone", they invariably backed off. Everyone of course, except Carol. She stood just inside the doorway and observed him for a minute. With his half drunk Scotch, wad of gauze and downcast expression, he looked pretty pathetic.
Doug looked up and saw her standing there, her arms folded across her chest. She was staring at him with an arched eyebrow, her face completely unreadable. Doug swallowed nervously. Carol’s chin jutted out and she walked across the bar, weaving through the few and lonely lunchtime drinkers with a measured stride. Then, as she approached the table where he was seated, she swung her hips into the bay and pulled one foot up onto the upholstery, bringing her knee into her chest. Doug dropped his gaze, but then looked back up at her with eyes that were anticipating a verbal onslaught.
Instead, Carol simply stared at him, awaiting some form of explanation. "I am…" He paused, trying to find the words, but nothing more than the obvious occurred to him. "So, sorry…"
He looked back down at his drink again, avoiding her piercing gaze and meandered. "He was the father of a patient I saw this morning, a kid who was being abused…" He stopped and noticed Carol had shifted positions so she could stare at him more directly. "He’d got cuts and bruises and he’d been in before with fractures. I thought of it when I saw the chart and so I did some x-rays behind the dad’s back, cos I knew he wouldn’t let me do them for the real reason." Doug sighed and span his glass on the smooth table-top. "There were untreated fractures. I called DCFS straight away and…" He swallowed. "And the father didn’t like that…"
There was a tense silence. "And what about this morning?" she said slowly. Doug looked up in mild surprise.
"This morning?"
"When I woke up on my own," she prompted in a blank voice. "Again."
He tilted his head and breathed heavily out through his nose. "Carol, I told you… I had to work this morning…"
"Don’t give me that bullshit, Doug," she snapped angrily. "I had to work too." He stared at her, and she stared back. "Do you think that it’s okay to do this, huh?" Doug said nothing. "What would you feel like if I told you I was seeing one of the paramedics?"
With a blink, Doug opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. "Or if you caught me making out with a surgeon in the car park? Or if I flirted with Mark?"
The thought filled Doug with dread. Somehow losing Carol seemed something he never wanted to contemplate. And then he realised what she was saying. "I, I don’t know…" he muttered.
"You don’t know?!" Carol exclaimed, leaning forward and slapping the table. He reached over and gently picked up her hand from where it had landed, taking it between his fingers and turning it over. He scrutinised the lines on her palm.
"I’m sorry… Carol…"
She let out an exasperated sigh. "But are you, Doug?" she demanded, but her voice was softening.
He looked pointedly at her. "I am… this time. I promise I won’t do it again…" He lifted her hand and kissed the smooth skin, holding it to his lips for a few seconds. Carol tried not to think how sweet the gesture was, and instead slowly pulled her hand away.
"This is your last chance, okay?" she told him quietly. He smiled at her, and she could have been forgiven for thinking that the expression held a little remorse.
"I know…"
****
I still light up like a candle burning when he calls me up
I still melt down like a candle burning every time we touch
I still light up like a candle burning when he calls me up
I still melt down like a candle burning every time we touch
****
He called that evening for her, around eight thirty, smelling of a heady aftershave. When she opened the door he was standing on the porch, lit by the last rays of summer sun. His broad shoulders were hidden beneath a perfectly ironed pale blue shirt and a dashing dark grey suit. He smiled as broadly as his sutures would allow from under his thick, rumpled bangs, his eyebrows arching in a manner that told her he was thinking more about how she’d look like without her cream linen dress than what she looked like with it on. "You look… stunning…" he said in a carefully measured tone, his dark eyes flashing heat and sex. She smiled at the compliment. It was so hard to see the other side to Doug Ross when he showed up like this.
"You don’t have to take me out to dinner, Doug…" she said as they descended the steps arm in arm.
"I do. Think of it as a…" He paused, "as a kiss-and-make-up present." He grinned.
"What tells you I’m gonna be kissing you tonight at all?" she asked as he helped her into his car. He shut the door on her with a still wider grin.
When he emerged on the drivers’ side, he was still grinning and she gave him a quizzical, half-joking, half-serious look. "Doug?" she warned him as he strapped himself in.
He leaned over and kissed her hotly, his hand on her jaw, pulling her up to him so he could slip his tongue into her mouth. He moved away and grinned at her, "Does that answer your question, Nurse Hathaway?"
She blushed violently, quickly looking around to see if anyone had seen them. He was so intoxicating and so exciting; like a stowed bottle of vodka in a school bag. "Doug…" she said slowly, her own voice trying to chastise herself. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"What? Don’t you want it?"
She let out a long breath and dropped her head. "Can we…" she paused, her nervousness getting the better of her once again. Struggling, she repeated herself, "Can we, you know… just… can we just have a night out?" She swallowed, anticipating that he’d think she were crazy or possessed or something. His eyebrow dropped and his face took on an instant sobriety, his memory harking back to what she’d said today about this being his last chance.
"Yeah, sure we can." He smiled, and she weakly returned it. "Just the two of us."
****
When Doug pulled the car up alongside the expensive Indian restaurant, a thought flew through Carol’s mind. Romance had never been a part of his agenda, so what was this? If he’d wanted nothing more than sex then the date would have surely fallen on its face twenty minutes ago. However, the journey had been smooth, quiet conversation, friendly banter… It was almost too good to be true. Quickly and self-destructively assuming the worst, she panicked, believing that this was just another piece in his little puzzle. Did he think that she didn’t realise what he was doing? She turned slightly and looked at him as he snapped his seatbelt off and opened the door. He grinned at her and said,
"Are you getting out or do I have to give you a hand?" She smiled and shook her head, climbing out of the car and going around to meet him. As they walked up to the restaurant, his hand slipped to hers and gently clasped it. For a second, Carol had to fight herself from bolting with surprise.
"Doug, you okay?" she asked him when they were seated.
"Hmm?"
"You just seem… like there’s something wrong, that’s all…" She smiled, trying to break the question with humour.
He shook his head and reached for her hand across the table. Of course, he knew, from the happy smile she gave him in return, that she had no idea he’d spent the afternoon lying on his back in his bedroom trying to work out what was going on in his head. He’d gone back to work after lunch, only to bump into Sara from Radiology. She’d offered him lunch, but he’d declined, saying he’d already eaten, but as they’d spoken in the corridor, his eyes had been undressing her, picking at the already tight buttons on her shirt, tugging the enticingly loose scrub bottoms from her rounded butt. Carol knew none of it.
Of course, it was meaningless flirtation, and he knew it, but it was what he did. It was how he told himself that this thing he had with the woman sat right in front of him was unimportant. And yet, he had to admit, when she’d delivered her ultimatum to him this afternoon, he’d been gripped by panic…
"I’m fine. It’s just been a busy day…" He smiled gently and she smiled back. They were caught in that moment when the waiter interrupted them with his notepad and pencil.
"Good evening, can I take your order, sir?" he directed the question at Doug, whose face snapped upwards. He slipped her hand back to the table, as if he were embarrassed to be caught in such a compromising position.
"Yeah, hi… er, can we share a starter selection." He looked briefly at her and she nodded her agreement. He opened the menu and quickly scanned the list. "And, then, I’ll have the chicken saag, pilau rice and a plain naan."
"And madam…?"
"Can I have a lamb balti, please… with pilau rice."
The waiter nodded, scribbling on his pad. He smiled and then asked, "And can I get you anything to drink? We have bottled beers and lagers, some spirits, soft drinks and a selection of red and white wines on the board tonight. Our champagne is Lanson Black Label." Doug glanced at her.
"Yeah, can you get us some of that champagne?" The waiter nodded.
"I’ll do that right away."
"Thanks,"
He turned back to her. Sometimes she found him so hard to understand. It was like there were a million different layers hiding beneath that charismatic exterior. She sometimes wondered what they were; whether they were to do with his childhood, or his work, or his personal life. It was a conundrum she simply couldn’t fathom though, for every time she tried to peel back one of those layers, he’d managed to wrap another one around by the time she’d finished. She stared at him, watching her intently, as if he was trying to figure her out himself. "That was nice, Doug…" she murmured softly, smiling at him.
"What?"
"The champagne. It was a nice gesture." He flicked his head in nonchalant response.
"Ah, it was only right…"
"So," she pondered, reaching out to play with the napkin swan sitting in front of her. "What are we celebrating?"
He looked down briefly. "I dunno… tonight, I guess…" He fidgeted, his fingers tapping on the table top. Sensing his discomfort, Carol quickly changed the subject, wanting to hold onto the pleasant mood for as long as possible.
"Well, I don’t care what we’re celebrating. I like champagne all the time," she giggled and he grinned back, his expression easier now. There was a strange silence while his eyes met hers and then shied away again. "How’s your lip?" she asked.
He raised his hand to his still slightly swollen bottom lip and gingerly touched it. "It’s okay… he hit me pretty hard." Doug sighed. "Mark says he’ll take the stitches out in a week."
Carol nodded. "It looks uncomfortable."
"It’s not so bad now, cos I had a couple of Advils before I came out…" He was smiling, but it was even more crooked than usual, because of the tightness of the injury. Another brief silence passed. "Are you mad with me?"
She looked up suddenly, observing him, trying to determine if he was being for real or not. He looked deadly serious. "Am I mad with you?" she re-phrased. He nodded slowly, tilting his head slightly. "I don’t know, Doug… I was this morning…"
"I know," he smiled wryly. She paused a moment,
"Let’s not talk about that right now. I think we should just have a nice night out, and not talk about that." She was babbling a little, trying to steer away from potentially unstable topics as best she could, but finding them somewhat hard to avoid with him. He met her eyes with a nod of agreeance.
"Yeah, let’s not talk about that…"
****
Oh, say what you will
He does me wrong
And I should be gone
But I still
Be loving you baby and it’s much too much
****
And so their evening passed sedately and quietly, without so much as a heated word. They talked about everything and nothing while they ate, so that the time passed so quickly and when she next looked at her watch, it was nearing midnight. "It’s late, Doug," she said as he helped her into the car, the champagne having worked its way to her brain despite the enormous portions of glorious food.
"I know," he smiled, leaning on the door. He was still stone-cold sober. "Do you wanna go back?"
She paused a moment. "Where?" He gave a little shrug.
"I dunno, it doesn’t matter…" He was grinning now, hankering down a little so he could look her straight in the eye. "Your place or mine?" She smiled up at him, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, falling under his spell.
"How about yours?"
He nodded, patting the door in agreement. "That’s fine…" While he was walking around to the other side of the car, Carol took a deep breath. He was so damned compulsive that it hurt. She’d promised herself that she’d just leave him tonight, get him to drop her off at the door and play it cool, just wind it down with a kiss and then get out of the car and walk away. It was supremely frustrating, if only because all it took was for him to flash her that quiet little smile, the one that promised so much fun and so much passion, and her resistance would crumble. "Hey," he greeted her rather unnecessarily as he slipped in behind the wheel.
She glanced over and smiled at him. He started the engine and then they were driving. The champagne had really gone to her head, and she quickly found that she had to focus hard in order to stop the spinning sensation behind her eyes. Feeling a little ill, Carol reached over and pressed the window button, opening it just enough so that the cold air washed over her face. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest. Doug looked over and saw her resting, saw her hands that gripped her clutch bag slowly relax so that her knuckles were no longer the little white pearls they had been a few minutes earlier. Looking back to the road, he decided to stay quiet, to just let her unwind…
"You okay?" he asked her a fifteen minutes later when he parked the car up. There was no answer. He glanced over and saw that her head had lolled a little to one side, and a stray curl had crept its way across her temple and was trailing over her face. She was asleep. He smiled at her, seeing the beauty in her calm, innocent face, feeling suddenly compelled to protect her and hold her. "Carol?" he murmured softly, reaching over and tucking the curl away. She was motionless and her breathing was soft, slow and resonant.
Pausing, Doug wondered whether he should wake her. She looked so exquisite lying there, it made his heart pound. Slowly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and then went around to the passenger side and opened the door carefully. He reached in and gently picked her up, feeling her stir in his arms and softly sigh. He juggled with the car keys, setting the alarm, and then headed up to his apartment.
He laid her down on the bed and carefully removed her shoes, dress and hair clip, then went back to shut the door. The place was dark, and had a slightly musty smell, because, after all, he’d not actually lived here much in the last few weeks. His post was piling up on the kitchen counter, but tonight, he was once again not interested in bills and medical journals.
He went back to the bedroom and stripped all his clothes off and slipped under the sheets, gently pulling her to his body, feeling her warmth permeate through his tired skin. She changed position as he eased himself alongside her, and he closed his eyes. His head ached and his lip was sore again. He didn’t know if he could manage to stay awake much longer. "Carol…" he murmured for no reason, passing his finger up to her cheek and tracing the line of her cheekbone. Inside, he was a ball of confusion, unable to understand the emotions that had begun to surface in him. When he was honest with himself, he knew his life wasn’t exactly a bed of roses. Today had just proved it. There were nights when he’d walk away from the hospital wanting nothing more than a pair of loving arms to hold him, someone to tell him that things would be okay. It was at those times that he’d seriously begin to weigh up his life, and when he’d always end up going to the bar and pouring alcohol down his throat just so the thoughts and memories that haunted him would vanish for just a few hours. And when he’d met Carol, he’d found out that she could have the same calming effect on him. Somehow, when he was with her, nothing felt as if it was about to accelerate out of control.
And so he treasured her, hid his face in her shoulder and tried to sleep.
****
Carol woke late, and heard him banging around in the bathroom. She stretched her body out, arching her spine and yawning. In the bathroom, the shower went on, and she heard him hang his robe on the back of the door, the material brushing against the wood with a swish. Then, she heard the door of the shower shut, and the water slow as he must have stood under it.
Pulling herself up, she yawned again, and then made her way through to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and she peered in, through the steam that was already gathering. She looked at his shadow, behind the door, and stepped toward it, shrugging her underwear off. She opened the door and he smiled jadedly at her. "Morning, sleepyhead…"
She smiled and slipped under the water with him. It flowed over her in hot little rivulets, making her curls tighten. He had shampoo on his hair, and she reached up and smoothed her fingers through the wet mass. He closed his eyes and tipped his head forward, as if its weight was too much for him to hold up. "Carol…" he murmured and released a sigh. "I’m sorry…"
She glanced at him, hanging his head, and saw something she’d never seen before. He was standing naked before her, but he was also bare. She took his head in her hands and gently pulled him to her. "Doug…" she whispered in return, willing him to release the tension he was carrying.
His head raised itself and now, she could smell his shampoo and feel his breath. He moved forwards. His lips touched hers, and then melded themselves to hers. At first, his kiss was gentle, weary even, and then it morphed, and before she knew it, she was kissing him back with equal passion and fierceness. His arms slid around her and he held her in a vice-like grip, almost crushing her with his strength, as if he thought that if he let her go, she’d evaporate into thin air. He was holding her so closely, she could hardly breathe, but that didn’t even cross her mind. It was like being consumed by someone, feeling his mouth bruising hers. He moved away from her mouth, kissing roughly up her cheekbones, her eyelids, her jaw, her neck, like someone who’d been denied human contact for years. She leant into him, loving the sensation of his mouth on her skin. Her fingers were splaying across his neck, caressing him. And still they kissed, deeply, passionately, hungrily.
Carol moaned, feeling her whole body giving in to him, but tried to summon the strength to fight back. The water streamed over her face as he pressed her backwards against the wall. "Doug… no…" she whispered, knowing he was going to take her there, like that, like one of the hundreds of other women he’d used in his time. She could feel him hard against her, feel how desperate he was, feel his craving for her. She gently pushed him away. "Let’s go back," she murmured, trying to sound undemanding and suggestive, rather than worried. "I want to go back to the bed…" She looked him straight in the eyes, seeing the hollowness that was there. "I want you…there…"
He stared numbly. She reached behind her and turned off the water and then opened the door. He stepped out of the shower, dripping wet, and waited like a lost child while she towelled him off with tender, soothing caresses. He looked so worn, so alone and in need. She took one of the huge bath sheets from the radiator and wrapped them both in it. Opening the bathroom door, she led him with her body through to the bedroom without a word.
She practically laid him down on the bed, feeling how weak he was; he was totally submissive. "Doug, come here," she said tenderly, sliding onto the bed beside him and laying herself on top of him, resting between his legs, feeling his erection against the inside of her left thigh. She held her weight off his chest and looked down at him. His hand crept upwards and he stared at her, acknowledging the power she had over him right now.
"Doug, just do something for me," she murmured, lying absolutely still. He looked at her, as if he barely understood her words. "Let it go…" She stroked his shoulder and up his forearm, taking his hand away from her face. "Let it go and I can help you. I can make things better." She was firm, and Doug knew that she was right. He closed his eyes and surrendered subconsciously.
Carol lowered herself onto him then and began to kiss him, slow and fluttering kisses all over his handsome face, forgetting all about the stubble he’d not had time to shave off in the shower. She feathered kisses all over his face before softly tapering down towards his neck. Tenderly, she left a trail of kisses along his collar bones, her lips hot against his already burning skin. Doug breathed in and out slowly, his arms encircling her, clasped at the base of her spine, like a drowning man hanging on for dear life.
The sheets still covered them, and Carol explored him leisurely beneath them, not wanting to expose him, wanting only to make him content so he might let the demons he harboured inside escape. He turned her on so. She skipped her kisses lower, the sensation of her bare skin on his bare skin so incendiary he thought he might come then and there.
Instead, though, he clung to her, let her hold him and dictate the pace. Let her soothe his broken soul. In the heat of their love-making, as she felt him gathering to his climax, she lifted her head and looked at him. His eyes were wide open and he was staring directly at her with bald intensity. And in his eyes, she saw something she’d never seen before; she saw love.
****
The following day, at work, Doug was energetic. A trauma came in around lunchtime, and he pumped through the run-down at top speed, hustling the gurney off to surgery in under six minutes. Carol watched his sudden outpouring of activity and silently marvelled at him. He was a talented physician, and it infused her with a sense of odd pride to see him pull another save. "Hey, Carol," he smiled warmly after the gurney had left and the other nurses had drifted away. "How’s your morning been?"
"Not bad," she replied, starting to clear away some of the used equipment.
"Lunch?" he said quietly, coming up behind her and snaking his hands around her waist. "I can get some time off around two…" Carol paused, wondering if he was changed by what had happened in the early hours. He seemed confident and at ease with himself, but at the same time, she couldn’t say that this was any different from the usual self-assured Doug she knew.
"Yeah, that sounds nice," she answered absently. He moved away from her, casting her a grin over his shoulder.
"Okay, I’m gonna go up to Paeds now… I’ve got a patient I need to check on." He nodded to himself. "I’ll come and get you later."
****
The morning was hectic for Carol, and by the time she’d paused for breath, she glanced at her watch and realised that it was nearly three o’clock. Her stomach had been grumbling throughout the last hour, but because she was so busy, she’d not even noticed what time it was. "Hey, Carol, wanna go get some lunch?" Chuny asked her in a cheerful voice, brushing past her at the admit desk. "We’re gonna pop over to Doc Magoo’s."
Carol shook her head, realising she’d not seen Doug for at least three hours. "Nah, I’m supposed to be meeting Doug…"
"Oh, Doug…" Chuny gave her a knowing grin.
"What?" she asked, bemused. Chuny was rummaging under the desk for her bag, and when she stood up, her grin was failing a little. She judged Carol’s expression, and then shook her head,
"Oh, nothing." Lydia, who was standing waiting for Chuny dropped her head, and said quickly,
"Come on, let’s go…" Chuny darted away, as if she’d accidentally revealed some terrible secret. Carol stared at where they had been standing, and then picked up her own bag and headed for the elevator.
She pressed the button for the Paediatrics floor, and waited while the elevator took her there. The doors opened and she stepped out into the corridor. It was quiet all around, only a few doctors strolling absently along. She went to the desk, and asked the clerk there, "Hi, can you tell me if Doug Ross has been here recently?"
The clerk, a petite, curly-haired woman in her late forties, looked at her and then said, "The ER doc? Floppy hair… kinda handsome…"
Carol tilted her head slightly. He even had the desk staff chasing him. "Yeah, that’s him."
"He was in Doctor Hughes’ office last I knew. He’s got a patient with some problems and I think they were having a big talk, cos I tried to get in to give Doctor Hughes a message and the door was locked." Carol’s heart stopped a beat, and she swallowed slowly, taking in this information like someone was twisting a knife in her belly.
Doctor Annabel Hughes was one of the Paeds attending doctors. She had visited the ER only a couple of times, but when Carol had seen her, the first thing she recognised her as was as big a threat to her relationship with Doug as could be in one person. She was stunning. About five feet ten inches and graceful, with curves in all the right places and the kind of peaches and cream complexion that came with eating nothing but mineral water and fruit. She was a dead ringer for a slightly older Cindy Crawford, with plumpy lips that were always enhanced with the most beautiful lipstick colours, dark arched eyebrows and a head of voluminous chestnut curls courtesy of at least half an hour with the Carmen rollers.
And of course, the first time Doug had seen her, the first image that had come into Carol’s mind was of a little puppy with its tongue hanging out. He had followed her round the ER, with no discretion at all, turning on his charm until it was almost nauseating.
Carol burned for a minute, and then asked the clerk to direct her to Doctor Hughes’ office. She headed off down the corridor, feeling an anger ball growing in her stomach. She would get Doug and then take him off and this time, she was really going to kill him. After last night, she had thought that things might just have taken a turn for the better, and that perhaps what had happened between them would have changed him. She turned the corner and came to the door. With a deep breath, she knocked on the wood and a posh voice called out, "Come in!"
Carol, surprised at the rapid reaction, opened the door and walked in. A wave of Chanel Number Five hit her as she took a breath, and she looked up to see Annabel Hughes sitting at her dark wood desk, with her Miu Miu clad feet resting on the surface, a sleazy Jilly Cooper novel in her perfectly manicured hands. Her face gave a broad smile and her head flicked her curls out of her contact-lens-enhanced blue eyes. "Hello, can I help?" she asked.
Carol simply stood still, taking a quick look around the room and seeing no sign of Doug. In fact, Annabel looked as if she’d just stepped out of the beauty parlour, such was her immaculate presentation. "Er, I…" Carol stumbled, while Annabel simply stared pointedly. "I, I was looking for Doug Ross…?" she finally stuttered out. Annabel smiled, shaking her head and reached out to put her book down.
"Well, I can’t help you there. I saw him this morning, about forty minutes ago, but I’m afraid I don’t know where he is now. Are you Carol Hathaway?"
Carol’s head shot up. How on Earth did she know her name? "Yeah…"
"Oh," Annabel gave a knowing smile. "He was wondering where you were. He was telling me he was late to meet you." Her smile widened a little, and Carol noticed a strange, penetrating expression on her face. She was looking her up and down, casting her eyes with barely veiled disgust over the unflattering peach scrubs, the frizzy hair that was so unruly this morning she’d been forced to tie it up in a pony-tail and the puffy shadows under her eyes that even concealer had been unable hide. Carol suddenly felt very self-conscious. She fidgeted a minute, and then, the door opened again, and of all people who should walk in but Doug. He cast a quick, assessing glance at the scene and then grinned,
"Carol!" he exclaimed. "I’ve been looking all over for you. Where’ve you been?"
Carol looked up from her shoes and frowned. "I’ve been looking for you," she said in a quiet voice. He smiled at Annabel.
"Well, now I’ve found her," he said, directing his speech at Annabel, "I’ll catch up with you later and see if you’ve got what we were talking about sorted. Okay?" Annabel gave that same wooden, knowing smile and nodded slowly.
Doug took Carol by the arm and steered her resistant body out of the office. He took her a little way down the corridor and then turned her to face him. "So… Doc Magoo’s? Or somewhere better?"
Carol stared at him, trying to see something in his eyes, maybe some guilt, or fear… But, there was nothing. He prompted, "Where do you wanna go?"
"I, I don’t know…"
"Okay, then I’ll pick. We’ll go to the French café down the road." He made his decision as if he’d planned to go nowhere but there, and took her off down the corridor and out of the door.
When they were seated at the café, and had picked up their lunches, Carol was still more than a little stunned. It had been so blatant she could barely believe it, but at the same time, the whole peculiarity of it was making her question her own assessment of what had happened. Doug was showing no tell-tale signs of having been caught in the act, and Annabel had looked as calm and measured as if she had been interrupted in the middle of nothing more than a good book.
Carol played uninterestedly with her pain au chocolat. "You okay?" Doug said after a few minutes of silence. She looked up at him. He was completely the same.
"I’m fine," she murmured. But he kept staring at her, and so she offered a bleak explanation, "It’s just been a busy morning, and I’m hungry…" She looked back to her lunch and promptly tucked into the pain au chocolat with false gusto. He grinned at her.
"I’ve had a hard morning too," he told her in a confidential tone. "That patient I was telling you about before?" He glanced at her, to see if she remembered. "Well, it’s a little kid who was brain-damaged when he fell out of a window, and he’s completely dependent. The problem is, the hospital are saying they can’t afford to keep him in the PICU for much longer. The parents couldn’t possibly cope at home on their own, so I’ve been trying to get him into professional hospice care." He paused, drawing a breath. "But, though the parents are all for it, the hospital won’t provide the medical care. You see, he needs to have his own qualified nurse, and a doctor on call. If he’s in standard hospice care, he’ll have to share with other kids. It’s just a precaution, but the hospital can’t understand what I’m saying."
Carol shook her head, "I don’t know what you can do, Doug…"
"That’s why I was talking to Annabel," he explained casually. "I thought if I could persuade her that it was a good idea, then I might be in with a better hand." He picked up his baguette, and took a bite. "But, she’s not exactly keen."
Perhaps he was telling the truth, Carol had no idea. Quite honestly, in the last few months, she was beginning to doubt even her own judgement of him. Some days he would convince her that they were just like any other couple, but then, something would happen and she’d find herself not just doubting his commitment but her own integrity. As her mother told her ad nauseam, what was she doing with someone she didn’t trust, didn’t believe in and who had the potential to shatter even the most intense of good moods? It was so unlike her.
But then, that was the thing about him. He had made her into someone new. When she’d first set eyes on him, she’d felt something she’d never felt before hit her, and when he’d spoken to her for the first time, her stomach had somersaulted like never before. He’d made her daring, less concerned about how people thought of her, even though she still worried about how her colleagues perceived her relationship with him, but, much more important than all of that, he made her happy.
And also, depressed, sad, confused, frustrated, lost, helpless, exposed, fearful, angry and unwanted. It was an endless list in the negative, her mother told her, but she couldn’t bring herself to dwell on those parts, if only because, in her mind, the good things he’d given her were too valuable to lose again.
"Hey, Carol, you know you wanted me to come to your Mom’s dinner party on Wednesday?" He was talking, but it took her a moment to register.
"Sorry, what?"
"You wanted me to come to your Mom’s dinner party? On Wednesday?" Carol nodded,
"Yeah, what’s the matter?"
He gave a melodramatic sigh. "I can’t come. I forgot all about it, but I arranged to have a meeting with Annabel, Reinhard from Neuro, and Morgenstern. It completely flew my mind, I’m so sorry…" He gazed at her.
"Oh, Doug, you promised! You promised months ago!" She was angry now, because he’d refused so many times and when she’d put her request in two months ago, she was certain she’d managed to trap him into coming. And now, he was pulling out at the last minute.
In some ways, she could understand his unwillingness, because her mother’s dinner parties were far from plain sailing, especially for Doug. Helen spent the most of the evening making unsubtle comments about settling down, finding good, decent and worthy men and having a career that was going places. And when she wasn’t judging the entire male species as fraudulent errants, she was on her soap box about some other highly controversial subject.
"I’m sorry," he said quietly, his head hanging a little. "I just can’t back out of this now. It’s too important." He smiled at her with a pleading expression, trying to win her over. "Your Mom’ll have another one." Doug reached across the table and picked up her hand, giving it a quick squeeze. "I’ll come to that one."
She looked at him reservedly. "What if I can get my Mom to change it to Saturday?" Doug tilted his head, making a great show of mentally checking his engagement diary.
"I think I could do that…" He grinned. "And if I make that… can we have coffee at your place afterwards?" His grin became crooked, and his eyes sparkled. Carol smiled, understanding his typical shorthand.
"Maybe," she allowed. "If you don’t show me up."
"Moi!?" He murmured, his fingers massaging her hand.
"Doug… I’m serious…"
"You’re always serious, little girl," he said in a horny voice, and winked. He stood up and proffered his hand. "Shall we go…?"
****
"Ma… I’m really sorry, but something’s come up… we can’t make it on Wednesday…"
Carol replayed the telephone conversation with her mother as she sat on the sofa in her apartment, inattentively watching the television. To say Helen Hathaway had been displeased would have been putting it mildly. At one point, Carol had taken the receiver away from her ear and held it at arms length and had still been able to hear her mother squawking on the other end, like a little demented parrot on helium. When the noise had eventually ceased, Carol had brought the receiver back to her ear and they had magically agreed that Saturday would be a better date anyway. Carol surmised when she thought about it now that the only reason her mother had agreed at all was probably because she had worn herself out with screeching.
Smiling to herself at the farce of the whole situation, she got up and made her way to the refrigerator and dug around for something tasty to eat. She’d spoken briefly to Doug today, but he’d been entirely distracted with his impending meeting tonight that he’d barely been concentrating on anything, let alone her. He’d agreed to pick up a Chinese on the way back from his meeting, even though he’d told her it would probably be very late. Not really caring whether she ate or not, Carol had concurred only because she wanted to see him.
It was nine thirty now, and she was just beginning to wonder where he’d gotten to. She searched through the refrigerator and took out a carton salad she’d had made at the supermarket deli that day. Sticking a spoon into it, she took it back to the sofa and sat down, pulling her legs up underneath her and settling down to a bit more channel surfing.
As the mantel clock struck eleven, Carol stretched out her legs and got up, preparing to make herself another cup of tea. She’d finished the pasta salad, devoured a whole bag of kettle chips, had two slices of toast, a peach and most recently, a half a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. She put the kettle on to boil and while she waited, went to the window and peered around the nets, looking for Doug’s car, even though she knew that she’d have heard him pull up if he’d arrived. It was dark and the street lights were on. Most of the other buildings on her street were in darkness, and there was only a solitary pedestrian, walking an English sheepdog along the pavement.
She closed the curtains back and sighed. She didn’t want to even contemplate where he was or what he was doing. It hurt her too much.
Turning away from the window, she stared back into the empty room, seeing nothing that made her happy. The television chattered mindlessly to itself and the furnishings were so simple and throwaway that the whole place, she felt, bore a resemblance to a prison block. There were no photographs. No elegant gifts. No flowers. She wondered why she was still with him. After all, it wasn’t just her mother who warned her about Doug Ross. Her colleagues, Mark, her sisters and other friends all told her he was no good for her. But, she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t tear herself free of him. It was like contemplating ripping out her own heart.
And, in the meaninglessness of her lonely apartment, her mind told her why she could never do that and survive the action. For a brief moment, she flashed away somewhere else. The face she longed for every moment of every day appeared in her head and from somewhere, the arms she felt in her dreams enfolded her and the languorous kisses that haunted her every fantasy kissed her and peaked her desire.
Then, something shattering happened. The image dulled for a second and then, she saw a perfect, elegant, hot little hand snake around the body that pressed itself to her and pull it away from her. He turned mechanically away from her and fell straight into those long arms and left her standing there in her little reverie, naked and exposed.
The kettle whistled that it was ready and she snapped alert. Unconsciously, she went to the kitchen and refilled the teapot, waited while it brewed, and then poured herself another mug. She went back to the sofa and watched a Seinfeld episode she’d seen at least twice before, trying desperately to keep her eyes open, just so that vision could not disturb her again…
****
Can’t I go my severed way?
Some rain for my sunny day
Not even one reason to stay
Why?
I should’ve left you
Why?
I can’t forgetcha baby
Why?
Ever since I metcha it’s
Why, why, why?
****
When she woke, from a dark, dreamless sleep, it was to a hesitant knocking at the door. A glance to the clock told her it was ten past two in the morning. She jumped up, spilling the remainder of tea in the mug she still held, and cursed in a croaky voice. She dumped the mug in the sink and then went to the door.
It was Doug, and he looked like shit. There was no other way to put it. His face was tired and bruised, harbouring big dark circles, as if he’d maybe been slapped a resounding few times. He stared at her vacantly, and then sort of fell in through the door. She caught him and steadied him, and smelt the alcohol on his breath. "Doug, what happened?" she exclaimed in a quietly shocked voice. He shook his head slowly, as if he were afraid that if he shook it too strongly, it might topple from his head and smash on the floor, and shakily tried to make his way to the sofa. She took his arm and helped him, sitting him down and noticing him wince as he adjusted his legs. "Doug…" she warned in a low voice, pushing him to explain why he was in such a state.
"I," he started, but then he stopped and simply gazed at her. One of his deep brown eyes was bloodshot and the bruises on each cheekbone were turning interesting shades of blue and black.
"Hang on, let me get some ice…" Carol got up and went to the freezer. Frantically searching for some ice, she found both trays empty, and settled instead for a packet of frozen peas. She came back to him and gently laid him back and put the peas to his face. "Sorry…" she smiled, and he returned it, weakly.
"It’s okay…"
For a moment, Carol thought he was going to tell her what had happened, but he stopped himself again, and instead, he came forward and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close to him. He let out a long, tired sigh and, not really knowing what to do, Carol just rocked with him, whispering quiet words of sympathy and understanding. She tried not to notice that his neck smelt of Chanel Number Five.
They must have stayed that way for almost half an hour, for when Carol slowly moved away, the peas had begun to defrost and were dripping pea-scented water down her arm. She stood up, but he gripped her, not wanting her to move. "Carol, don’t go…" he said in a hushed voice.
She looked down at him. "I won’t. I’ve just got to get rid of these peas." She smiled, and he released her. When she returned, he was lolling on the sofa, as if he had given up the will to support his own weight. "Come on, Doug…" she said, looking at his almost pathetic stance. "Let’s get you to bed."
Carol gently tugged him to his feet and took him through to the bedroom. Once there, she took off his clothes, discarding each item haphazardly on the floor. Before she could realise what was happening, he was holding her and then, he was kissing her and undressing her too. Doug…" she cautioned, not wanting to sleep with him when she knew damn well he’d been with someone else that night. Someone who wore Chanel Number Five.
"Don’t, Carol. Not tonight…" His hands traced like liquid silk down her spine and pushed her shirt away from her shoulders. "Don’t say no tonight."
She looked at him, seeing an emptiness behind his eyes that made her heart bleed. For almost two years, she’d wondered what made him beat himself up so much, why he kept up with the one-night stands and the heavy drinking when they clearly did nothing but make him unhappy. But here, standing in front of him, feeling his hands around her waist, pressing on the base of her spine, all such thoughts fled her mind.
That night, she followed a routine she knew, oh, so well. In the quiet of the bedroom, she lost herself in his kisses, drowned under his gazes and surrendered to his touches. He was gentle with her that night, like he always was, and she was gentle in return. And so, she gave him her all, turned her every atom away to him, let herself sink completely into the moment, feeling him course through her veins like a hot rush and lap around the base of her brain in a never-ending caress. She let all thoughts of how or why or who disappear and just gave in to the pleasure, burying her hopes and dreams, hoping to God that she wouldn’t forget where they were…
****
I still light up like a candle burning when he calls me up
I still melt down like a candle burning every time we touch
Oh, say what you will
He does me wrong
And I should be gone
But I still
Be loving you baby and it’s much too much.
****
Epilogue:
Of course, he tried to get her back again, but she was having none of it. She was cold to him at work, avoiding him, speaking to him only when she had to. She even got herself someone else. He was an orthopaedic surgeon who went by his high-school football team nickname. Doug had met him a few times when he’d come down to the ER to collect patients, but they’d never spoken more than a few words and certainly never discussed anything that would have let Doug know he was anything more than a polite, somewhat reserved gentleman. He was taller than he was, with light coloured hair and a dependable look about him. In Doug’s eyes, he was dull. They didn’t look right together, but Carol seemed content.
But then, he was hardly the one to judge. Since the split, he’d free-wheeled into further chaos. He’d not had another girlfriend, but the list of one-night-stands was as long as his arm. And he’d begun to lean on the drink a lot more, finding solace in his drink now that she was not there to help him do otherwise. In some ways he scared himself, because when he saw her in the corridors, his stomach still somersaulted like it had before. But her new boyfriend wasn’t someone you crossed paths with. Carol had told Tag pretty much everything, of that he was certain, because whenever he came to pick her up and Doug was near, he’d watch him like a guard dog ready to pounce.
Carol, on the other hand, struggled for months to blank him from her mind. Tag had shown an interest, and in the hope that it would aid the process, she’d agreed to a date. They could talk at length, which was more than she and Doug had ever been able to. And they got on well, but in her heart she knew he wasn’t right for her. He wasn’t Doug, and she was reminded of that every time he touched her. She told herself that he made her happy, but the horrifying truth was that now, she didn’t know what the difference was between happiness… and misery.
The End.
****
Tomorrow, love’s no sacred cow.
- James, lyric taken from ‘Tomorrow’ -
****