Status: Complete!
Like it Was Before
The Scientist
It was a Tuesday afternoon, four days after our disastrous dinner party when Rick
and Lori ceased being supporting characters in the play of our life and became the sun and stars of Shane's. This was about three weeks before everything went to hell in a hand basket and the thing I remember most clearly, even after all this time, is that we fought the morning of the accident and how much dread that caused me once I got the call.
I had slept over at Shane's house, something I was still getting used to doing and while
getting ready for work, left the bathroom light on after brushing my teeth.
I left the bathroom light on after brushing my teeth again.
Yes, I admit it was a bad habit, but to hear the man of the house tell it, you'd think we were running his entire property on a rusty old generator and gas was the new gold.
"Hell, Savannah, the whole damn place was lit up when I got off last night!"
Shane near-shouts indignantly waving his arms around like a lunatic and splattering the shaving cream lathered on his hands everywhere.
He neglects to mention the fact that I had dinner and love waiting for him inside the blazing house, which is located way out in the boonies and quite frankly, it gave me the creeps being there alone at night. "Shane," I sigh deciding not to bring it up, either.
"It's a two bedroom house, there aren't even that many lights-"
"Darlin'" he cuts me off mid-sentence wiping the shaving cream off of his face in a huff dooming himself to be stubbly all day. "Let me tell you somethin'-"
I know him well enough to recognize the signals-he's gearing up for a real bitch session, which I'll engage in even though at this point all I can think is that we probably wouldn't last long term (as much as I wanted us to) and we were hanging on by a bare thread.
We should skip the arguing all together and go straight for the great morning sex.
"Don't you 'Darlin'' me,"
I shoot right back, pissed at him for behaving this way so early in the day.
Then, 7 AM or not, we were off to the races. The next time I saw him, he was covered in blood.
xx
I'm almost done for the day-it's so close I can practically taste it.
I have one more report to file and then I'm out the door, free as a bird.
Maybe I'd call Shane, make up with him.
We could-my cubicle phone rings ending my musings making me sigh.
"Shit. This is Savan-" I answer striving to sound professional.
"Van." I'm interrupted by a gruff familiar voice.
"Shane! I was just thinking about you,"
This is met with silence.
Ominous silence, making me sit up and take notice, already clicking out of any open tabs on my
computer and powering the system down for the night trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. "What's wrong?"
I believe I'm doing a fair job of sounding calm, indifferent until Matty in the cubicle next to me rolls her chair out from behind her desk, settling in front of me making hand gestures that clearly signal the question "What gives?"
I wave this off impatiently noting the sirens in the background on Shane's end.
Was he still at the station? He should have been off for the day hours ago.
"Shane?"
"Rick."
My sick stomach plummets. "What hap-"
"Rick's been shot." Shane blurts, knocking the wind out of me,
Knowing they were on duty together gives me a thousand questions to ask and
no idea where to begin.
"Did he survive?" Is the one I choose to ask first.
I'm dimly aware of Matty's eyes going round and huge next to me, but most all of my attention is on the phone clutched painfully to my ear.
"He did, last I heard."
I let out the breath I hadn't known I was holding. "But they don't..."
Shane pauses making a ragged exhalation as if he's forcing the words and his breath out, making himself breathe while he practically sicks this up.
"They don't know, Savannah."
Rick might not make it.
Viciously, I shove this thought to the back of my mind, feeling traitorous to have even had it, superstitiously paranoid that thinking it would make it so.
"Are you okay?"
I ask Shane, deliberately changing the subject.
"I'm fine." He answers tersely, clearly unhappy with this outcome.
"Where are you?"
I'm grabbing my purse, shrugging into my cardigan even as I ask, ready to bolt.
"The hospital. Outside the hospital, anyway. They wouldn't let me call you from inside, something about cell phone interference-"
He's rambling, something he almost never does and I ignore him.
"Stay there, okay? Stay right where you are."
"Savvy, I need you here..."
He must, to shove away his foolish macho pride to admit this.
"I know. I'm coming."
xx
By the time Shane had the presence of mind to call me and by the time I left work to get to him,
he was starting to lose his hold on the fragile grip he'd kept on himself for Lori and Carl's sake.
They'd been admitted to the ICU ward for a twenty-minute visitation window to stand vigil for Rick who was out of surgery but comatose and unresponsive.
His chances started out as 50/50 laying in that grassy field and went down by the hour.
Shane was waiting for me just like I'd asked outside of the Emergency Room entrance, catching his breath while I parked illegally in the Hospitals reserved spot for Employee-Of-The-Month.
I could see Shane trembling from 20 yards away. Like hell I was going through the trouble of using the parking garage.
My man-and I'd never really thought of him as such until that moment-needed me.
Let them tow the damned car.
Shane stood there, unaware of my rule breaking, covered in his best friends blood, sweaty, ashen, exhausted but basically okay until he laid eyes on me.
Likewise, I was keeping a tight leash on my emotions, determined to be strong for him, until our eyes met and his face crumbled.
Then my calm broke like a wave and I began to run to him, heedless of any cross traffic or my stupid wedge heels. When I got to him, Shane was doubled over where he stood, gaspy and hyperventilating with delayed reaction while I wrapped my arms tight around him, leading his face to the crook of my neck while he trembled and cried.
For the first time in my life I wished to be bigger. Taller.
I wished for more physical girth just so I would be able to shield the man I loved-and I did love him, I saw that clearly now, just as I saw that it could have been him lying there in the grass-and let him grieve in relative privacy.
But I stayed 5'2 (discounting the heels) and so I did the best with what I had,
thanking God I still had Shane.
and Lori ceased being supporting characters in the play of our life and became the sun and stars of Shane's. This was about three weeks before everything went to hell in a hand basket and the thing I remember most clearly, even after all this time, is that we fought the morning of the accident and how much dread that caused me once I got the call.
I had slept over at Shane's house, something I was still getting used to doing and while
getting ready for work, left the bathroom light on after brushing my teeth.
I left the bathroom light on after brushing my teeth again.
Yes, I admit it was a bad habit, but to hear the man of the house tell it, you'd think we were running his entire property on a rusty old generator and gas was the new gold.
"Hell, Savannah, the whole damn place was lit up when I got off last night!"
Shane near-shouts indignantly waving his arms around like a lunatic and splattering the shaving cream lathered on his hands everywhere.
He neglects to mention the fact that I had dinner and love waiting for him inside the blazing house, which is located way out in the boonies and quite frankly, it gave me the creeps being there alone at night. "Shane," I sigh deciding not to bring it up, either.
"It's a two bedroom house, there aren't even that many lights-"
"Darlin'" he cuts me off mid-sentence wiping the shaving cream off of his face in a huff dooming himself to be stubbly all day. "Let me tell you somethin'-"
I know him well enough to recognize the signals-he's gearing up for a real bitch session, which I'll engage in even though at this point all I can think is that we probably wouldn't last long term (as much as I wanted us to) and we were hanging on by a bare thread.
We should skip the arguing all together and go straight for the great morning sex.
"Don't you 'Darlin'' me,"
I shoot right back, pissed at him for behaving this way so early in the day.
Then, 7 AM or not, we were off to the races. The next time I saw him, he was covered in blood.
xx
I'm almost done for the day-it's so close I can practically taste it.
I have one more report to file and then I'm out the door, free as a bird.
Maybe I'd call Shane, make up with him.
We could-my cubicle phone rings ending my musings making me sigh.
"Shit. This is Savan-" I answer striving to sound professional.
"Van." I'm interrupted by a gruff familiar voice.
"Shane! I was just thinking about you,"
This is met with silence.
Ominous silence, making me sit up and take notice, already clicking out of any open tabs on my
computer and powering the system down for the night trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. "What's wrong?"
I believe I'm doing a fair job of sounding calm, indifferent until Matty in the cubicle next to me rolls her chair out from behind her desk, settling in front of me making hand gestures that clearly signal the question "What gives?"
I wave this off impatiently noting the sirens in the background on Shane's end.
Was he still at the station? He should have been off for the day hours ago.
"Shane?"
"Rick."
My sick stomach plummets. "What hap-"
"Rick's been shot." Shane blurts, knocking the wind out of me,
Knowing they were on duty together gives me a thousand questions to ask and
no idea where to begin.
"Did he survive?" Is the one I choose to ask first.
I'm dimly aware of Matty's eyes going round and huge next to me, but most all of my attention is on the phone clutched painfully to my ear.
"He did, last I heard."
I let out the breath I hadn't known I was holding. "But they don't..."
Shane pauses making a ragged exhalation as if he's forcing the words and his breath out, making himself breathe while he practically sicks this up.
"They don't know, Savannah."
Rick might not make it.
Viciously, I shove this thought to the back of my mind, feeling traitorous to have even had it, superstitiously paranoid that thinking it would make it so.
"Are you okay?"
I ask Shane, deliberately changing the subject.
"I'm fine." He answers tersely, clearly unhappy with this outcome.
"Where are you?"
I'm grabbing my purse, shrugging into my cardigan even as I ask, ready to bolt.
"The hospital. Outside the hospital, anyway. They wouldn't let me call you from inside, something about cell phone interference-"
He's rambling, something he almost never does and I ignore him.
"Stay there, okay? Stay right where you are."
"Savvy, I need you here..."
He must, to shove away his foolish macho pride to admit this.
"I know. I'm coming."
xx
By the time Shane had the presence of mind to call me and by the time I left work to get to him,
he was starting to lose his hold on the fragile grip he'd kept on himself for Lori and Carl's sake.
They'd been admitted to the ICU ward for a twenty-minute visitation window to stand vigil for Rick who was out of surgery but comatose and unresponsive.
His chances started out as 50/50 laying in that grassy field and went down by the hour.
Shane was waiting for me just like I'd asked outside of the Emergency Room entrance, catching his breath while I parked illegally in the Hospitals reserved spot for Employee-Of-The-Month.
I could see Shane trembling from 20 yards away. Like hell I was going through the trouble of using the parking garage.
My man-and I'd never really thought of him as such until that moment-needed me.
Let them tow the damned car.
Shane stood there, unaware of my rule breaking, covered in his best friends blood, sweaty, ashen, exhausted but basically okay until he laid eyes on me.
Likewise, I was keeping a tight leash on my emotions, determined to be strong for him, until our eyes met and his face crumbled.
Then my calm broke like a wave and I began to run to him, heedless of any cross traffic or my stupid wedge heels. When I got to him, Shane was doubled over where he stood, gaspy and hyperventilating with delayed reaction while I wrapped my arms tight around him, leading his face to the crook of my neck while he trembled and cried.
For the first time in my life I wished to be bigger. Taller.
I wished for more physical girth just so I would be able to shield the man I loved-and I did love him, I saw that clearly now, just as I saw that it could have been him lying there in the grass-and let him grieve in relative privacy.
But I stayed 5'2 (discounting the heels) and so I did the best with what I had,
thanking God I still had Shane.