Shattered on the Ground

Sometimes reality has a way of sneaking up and biting us in the ass. And when the dam bursts, all you can do is swim.

“Reese.” He had been repeating her name every five seconds, on the dot, since they’d entered the examining room. Reese was trying to block him out, she really was, but there is only so much you can do to block out Kenneth Nixon. He’s like a ringing phone that you don’t want to answer when you’re lying on the couch; you know you should answer it but you really don’t want to move.

“It says here you were involved in a bar fight?” Reese was trying really really hard to burry herself in work and stay professional. But how do you stay buried in work and stay professional when Kenneth Nixon is your work and it’s personal?

“Reese.” He stated again. His gaze was making her skin crawl in all the right ways as he continuously looked her over and his accent was giving her involuntary goose bumps.
Reese didn’t need his response; Dr. Simon had already confirmed the bar fights. Reese sighed and grabbed the blood pressure wrap from the hook on the wall and, much to Reese’s despair, approached her patient.

“Hold out your arm.” She mumbled. Whether it was shock or confusion, Nixon obeyed and Reese wrapped the Velcro material around his tattooed bicep. She began pumping the small little pump causing the material to clutch Nixon’s arm like a vise.

“Reese.”

“Oh for the love god.” Reese grumbled scribbling down the number and setting her blue bic pen down purposely. “What-t?” She snapped, her voice stuttering on the end as she met his gaze. Nixon’s eyes were still brown pools that she got lost in, they still made her loose her train of thought, and they still paralyzed her mind into forgetting how to breathe.

“Reese,” It wasn’t a shocked statement anymore, it was a low murmur filled with care that made a new wave of goose bumps shoot down Reese’s back. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist softly, her breath sucked in between her lips as she averted her gaze. “Reese, what are you doing here? You’re a doctor?” the pride that filled Nixon’s voice struck cords in Reese’s heart. “I’m so proud of you, I knew you could always reach your dreams.” Something in his words snapped Reese back into her body and she jerked her arm away and took several steps back. It was only from half way across the room that Reese could look Nixon in the eye and speak to him coherently.

The world of pretend is a cage, not a cocoon.

“I told you where I was going.” Her voice was cold and it struck Nixon like a whip. “I told you I was going to Maryland.” Her breathing was coming in ragged gasps but she was pleased to find that her voice was still strong. She grabbed her pen from the table and reached for the clipboard. “Being a doctor wasn’t my dream.” She grunted in an after thought. Reese didn’t know why but she felt Nixon needed to know that. “I never wanted this.”

“Then why are you doing it?” He questioned struggling to keep his voice even. This was not the girl he expected to find in place of Ashley Hanley’s little sister.

“It’s none of your business really.” Reese remarked off handedly as she regained her confidence to take the steps back to the examination table. She forced her emerald eyes to stay focused on the large gash on Nixon’s forehead.

Oh for the love of god, Reese thought bitterly, how many times am I going to have to stitch up a musician’s forehead? “You’re going to need stitches.” She said decidedly as she scribbled something down into her folder. “I’ll be right back.” She rushed quickly from the room, ignoring Nixon’s calls after her.

Reese had never been good at confrontations. She liked to think that she could be smart and witty but that was a lie. Reese wasn’t witty and she wasn’t funny and she was only smart if she was telling you how to correctly perform a surgical operation. Reese managed confrontations but she had never been good at confronting Framing Hanley; not that she had much experience in the area.

Reese made a beeline for the supply closet, part of her entertaining the idea of staying there until Nixon left. But Reese wouldn’t be bullied by her own emotions or her insecurities any longer. Nixon was in her territory and she wasn’t going to let him drive her out like last time.

“Jesus Christ, Reese are you alright?”

We can only lie to ourselves for so long

Regan looked slightly startled when Reese reached the supply closet and Regan could fully see the state of her best friend. Regan handed her a suture kit wordlessly, it was the medical supply of choice tonight. “You look like you saw a ghost.” She took a step toward Reese before taking a quick one back. “Or like you’re going to be sick.”

“Sure, sure, I’m fine. Great. Dandy in fact.”

Regan crossed her arms, her face clearly read ‘I see you through your façade now tell me what the hell is wrong.’

“You’re a horrible liar.” Regan noted. “I mean I always knew you sucked at it I just never realize how badly until just now.”

“Gee thanks.” She scuffed as the two friends began walking toward their respective examining rooms.

“I asked you if you were okay after you downed seven martinis in college. You’re head was in the toilet and you had vomit coming out of every orifice in your body-“

“That’s physically impossible.” Regan threw her a look in response but her eyes never lost their concerned gleam.
“You told me you were fine when obviously you weren’t. At the time it was just a hangover and it was okay because I knew the cause behind your head being in the toilet in the first place and I knew how to cure it.” Regan continued. “Anyway my point is I’ve always known what you were lying about.” She turned to her best friend with worry filled eyes. “You’re lying to me now and you’re freaking out. You are lying to me and I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

We are tired, we are scared, denying it doesn't change the truth.

“I’m telling you Regan, I’m fine. No one I can’t handle.” But they were approaching her room and she was slipping; Regan caught the words.

“No one,” Regan echoed shocked. “Who the hell put you in this state?”

“No one. Forget it.” Reese begged but Regan already had her hand on the silver knob.

“No I’m not going to-“ Regan pulled open the door and peered into the room. “Oh fuck.” The knob slipped from her hand and the patient within the room disappeared from sight as the spring loaded door closed in Regan’s face. She whirled around on Reese. “That’s Kenneth Nixon, isn’t it?” It was less like a question and more like a statement and it surprised Reese. Regan had never seen any pictures of Nixon, she’d been careful to keep those off her wall, but she had once described Nixon to her…unfortunately Nixon never changed.

“No it’s not.”

Sooner or later we have to put aside our denial and face the world.

“That’s Kenneth Nixon.” Regan stated decidedly. “And you are a cruddy liar.” The two stood in silence for what seemed like hours. It didn’t matter how many times Reese tried to sweep the dirt, better known as Kenneth Nixon, under the rug because Regan would just keep picking up the rug and revealing the dirt. But Reese was extremely leery of actually confirming the truth Regan already knew. Confirming it would make it realer and truer in both their minds. So instead Reese did the only thing she could think of; she stepped around Regan and opened the examination room door wordlessly. It closed behind her and temporarily shielded her from Regan.

Head on, guns blazing.

The only problem was, it left her all too vulnerable to Nixon. He wasn’t sitting patiently on the table any longer, he was on his feet and his eyes were hard.

“We have to talk.”

De Nile. It's not just a river in Egypt, it's a freakin' ocean. So how do you keep from drowning in it?