Stay With Me Chapter 3
Chapter 3
As morning seeped through the curtains, the fresh light piercing his room, she was startled by the touch of his hand on her knee. Still lying in bed, he had reached out to her. As she raised her head from sleep, she realized how uncomfortable sleeping in a chair was. Every joint in her body revolted as she caressed the back of her neck. He had removed his hand, and attempted to stand, taking his cane from beside the nightstand.
“Lie down, Cameron. It’s still early. I’ll put some coffee on,” as he motioned to the bed with his cane. She crawled into the same spot where he had been without argument. Her body telling her she wasn’t as young as she used to be.
His bed, still warm from his body, still held traces of him. Coffee began to emanate from the kitchen. She was exhausted with worry, from that damn chair, and from the whole ordeal from the past few days. Sleep came after a few minutes of drifting in and out. A couple of hours went by when she opened her eyes, the sun clearly now telling her it was into midmorning, as she squinted her eyes against the intrusion. She stretched, when the reality hit her where she was. She crawled out of bed, the floor cold and unforgiving. She had forgotten her socks. She made her way down the hall, and saw that he wasn’t in the living room, but in the kitchen. He stood by the sink, nursing a cup of coffee. Perfectly content to stare out the window into nothingness. Thinking. Grieving…. He pushed a cup of coffee across the counter to her, steaming, with creamer in it already. As if he had anticipated the very time she would awaken. She took it in her hands, relishing the taste. She needed it to be fully awake. The lack of sleep showed in her eyes, swollen, dark, tired. Her body language also told on her. It would take several cups this morning to shake the fatigue from her. She had thought long and hard over the hours of solitude in his room last night. Solitude, it was what he wanted, right? She knew it was the one thing he didn’t need if he was to survive this ordeal.
“House, if you don’t change, you will die. There won’t be a next time.”
He turned to her sharply, with anger in his eyes, “Who asked you to care? Clearly it was my fault, it happened to my best friend, and it was my body to do with what I pleased….You don’t understand…”He spoke those words softly, looked downward at her, as if to warn her that she had gone far enough.
With that, he brushed past her in a sign of finality, as he retreated to the living room. He pretended to be busy at his desk by the door, with his back to her. He put his head into his hands for a moment. Wilson, what had he done to deserve losing his girlfriend over a stupid mistake. His mistake.
Wounded by his remarks, knowing he said them out of tremendous pain, she walked carefully over to the piano and picked up the sheet music that lie there. She took it to him, and laid it on the desk.
“You’re so much more to me than my boss. Forgive me if I care, but I’ll do anything to try to save you. Look at this.. this music is just one tiny part of why I do care for you. Go back to it, House. You need it to survive….I… need you….”
He touched the papers, pencil erasures, scribbled notes on the edges, curled corners, telling her the many hours he spent working on the piece. A droplet of coffee there. It spoke volumes to her.
She retreated to his bedroom, her overnight bag in tow. She hastily unzipped it, and pulled out a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Her pajamas were shed, down to underwear and a camisole. She was angry, hurt, all at the same time. He startled her in the doorway by his voice. She drew up her tee shirt to cover the front of her in embarrassment as she turned to face him.
“You don’t need me, Cameron. You’re angry because you’ve confused want with need. I’m the last thing you need… Go home… Go find Chase.”
“You idiot! If I wanted Chase, don’t you think that’s where I’d be? How do you know what I need? I…” she threw her tee shirt on the bed, and walked over to face him.
“But if being alone to sulk over what happened is what you want, then you win. You win, House. Happy now? I didn’t think so.”
He took her by the shoulders with such intent, sincerity, it scared her. “I can’t make you happy. That‘s why you have to leave.”
“You don’t know that,” she said, fighting back with every ounce of strength she had left in her. She gasped in effort not to cry in his grip. He had evoked feelings within her that had long since been buried with her husband. She broke from his hands, and started to dress herself. It took everything from her not to fall to the floor in a heap, but she knew she must leave him. He remained in that one spot in the doorway, looking at the floor, in total desperation.
Several hours passed in her apartment. It was twilight, and the day could not have crept by any slower. Her head felt as if it were being compressed in one tight little spot. A migraine like she had not felt in years. All day she felt the brevity of his situation. Of hers, alone. But then, as if she had willed it with her grief, the answering machine picked up. Her chipper, fluffy voice was heard, “Hi, I’m not here to take your call, you know what to do at the beep….”
She walked closer to the machine, not to pick up, but listen. She was in no state of mind to pick up the phone, much less carry on a fake conversation, pretending that her life was roses and candy. When it could not be further from the truth. She had run from the one thing in life that mattered the most. She left him to stew in his own misery. To overdose on alcohol and pills if it’s what he so desired.
There was no voice, only music. A piano…..