Sunday on a Saturday Afternoon - 18/20
Addison called in sick to work the next day. She told herself that she just needed one day to mourn, and that if she got that one day, she would be able to go back to the swollen bellies of expectant mothers and the tiny hands of newly-born infants. When Alex walked into their apartment at the end of his day, he saw her asleep on the couch, empty cartons of Chinese food on the floor next to her, ESPN blaring on the television. He was relieved that she hadn’t drowned her sorrows in copious amounts of alcohol, but confused by her choice of TV network, but just leaned in to lay a blanket over her. She stirred slightly and opened her reddened eyes.
“Why ESPN?” Alex asked, avoiding the question of “Are you okay?” They both knew the answer to that one, and even if Addison answered in the affirmative, it wouldn’t be the truth. He settled himself on the edge of the couch, next to her feet and squeezed them between his hands, massaging them lightly.
“Every other channel had some sort of Lifetime movie about women who couldn’t have babies. Alex, I don’t want my life to be one of those movies. “The Addison Montgomery Story” shouldn’t be a title known by women who stay at home and knit sweaters for their cats. So I watched ESPN. Because all they talked about was some home run or something at last night’s game.” She moved herself to a sitting position and bent her knees, separating herself from Alex.
He leaned back in the couch, ignoring her blatant removal of herself from his touch. Alex knew what it was like to need space. On the screen, a reporter was talking about the number of times that tackles resulted in fumbles, and how many times the ball was dropped. He grabbed for the remote and switched off the television.
”I was watching that,” Addison half-complained, encircling her knees in her arms. This small, defenseless Addison was not a woman he usually was privileged to see, and it worried him. He knew she wouldn’t bounce back immediately from the news that she wouldn’t be able to bear her own children, but seeing her like this was wrenching.
“I’ll give you ten dollars if you can tell me what sport they were just talking about.” He toyed with the remote in his hands, a challenging smile on his face. Addison unballed herself slightly, moving back towards her semi-recumbent position.
“Golf?” Her answer was really more of a question and Alex laughed. She threw a pillow at his head, but he ducked, and leaned in towards her.
“You were close,” he said. “All four of the letters you just said are in the word of the real sport.” Placing a kiss on her forehead, he stood, collected the Chinese food containers and dumped the discarded pillow on her face.
---
Everyone at the hospital knew two things about Addison and Alex. They knew that Addison had recently found out that she could not bear children and that Alex had recently accepted an offer from Cincinnati Children’s. Well, they all really knew three things, because they also knew that Alex hadn’t told Addison yet.
“She’ll think it’s because she can’t have children,” Alex told Meredith as they were sitting on their usual abandoned gurney in the empty hallway.
“Is it?” she asked, peering into her bag of potato chips to find the largest one. Finding it, she pulled it out and took a large bite, the only sound the crunching of her food.
“No. It’s that Cincinnati has more to offer. And she’s told me time and time again that she supports my decision. As a doctor, she supports my decision.” He misjudged the distance between his head and the brick wall, and rubbed the sore spot with a grimace.
“As a girlfriend, though, she’ll think you suck.” Meredith once again picked through the contents of her tiny bag, looking more concerned with the fact that the bag was mostly full of air than with Alex’s issue.
“You suck?” Cristina got off the elevator, three charts and four textbooks in hand. “I thought that was a given. Has Addison finally dumped you?” She took her place next to Meredith and immediately opened the first chart, paging through the patient history, scrutinizing it for some small detail.
“No, but she probably will. Or she’ll think I am.” He folded his arms, not bothering to argue the statement that he sucked. It was kind of a given. At least in the walls of Seattle Grace.
“Well, you kind of are.” Meredith looked over Cristina’s shoulder, trying to see what cases were so interesting that she couldn’t work on them in a public, open place. Cristina shifted her position, keeping the chart hidden from view.
“She said she would be able to support me as a girlfriend. She said.” Alex hated interpreting girl-speak into real-person-speak. It rarely made sense to him and always made him irritated.
“And she will. In about fifteen years. She’ll hate you until then.” Cristina didn’t even tear her gaze from what she was reading. Comforting Alex was not high on her list of priorities. She had come up to this hallway to do work, not make sure his poor wounded soul was still intact.
“Good. Thanks.” Alex pushed himself off the bed and headed towards the elevator, grabbing the remains of Meredith’s bag of chips as he left, dumping the crumbs into his open mouth and discarding the bag.
“If you wanted optimism, you shouldn’t have come to us,” Meredith called after him. “Izzie’s with a patient now, but she’ll probably be willing to focus on you instead. And you owe me a bag of chips.”
Alex pretended he hadn’t heard her, and pounded the elevator button until he heard the ding and saw the doors open. He leaned against the corner, his arms out to both sides, gripping the hand rail. How did he get himself into these situations?
---
Finding Izzie hadn’t been all that difficult. She had caught sight of him from the bedside of an arthritic old woman and quickly finished her spiel about medications and possible surgical options before practically sprinting to wear he stood, looking off into empty space.
“Hey, you. I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.” She dumped the chart into a slot and jostled him gently to alert him to her presence as she settled herself next to him, elbows resting on the counter.
“Yeah, it’s been a while. Look, I don’t need analysis or a shot of false hope or anything like that. I just want the flat-out truth.” He studied his fingernails instead of looking over at the woman next to him, practically bouncing with anticipation.
“Did you already look for Meredith and Cristina?” Izzie knew that pessimism and hard truths were not her strong suit, and she’d rather recommend him to the closed circle that was Meredith and Cristina than irritate him.
“They weren’t helpful. At all.” He shrugged and could feel Izzie’s excitement practically radiating off of her. “Meredith suggested I talk to you.”
“Seriously? I mean seriously, Alex? She said that?” Izzie’s face broke into a smile, and she elbowed him playfully. He rolled his eyes and turned to look at her.
“I’m moving to Cincinnati.” He could say it as plainly as that, but every time he did, all he could see was the crumpled face of Addison when she opened the envelope. It was hard to feel confident in any decision with that mental image.
“That’s so great, Alex. You were so happy to get that acceptance letter.” She moved in for what Alex guessed was going to be a hug, but he moved away from her before he could be caught such a ridiculous display of emotion.
“Yes. But I haven’t told Addison.” He didn’t deserve Izzie’s happiness for him.
“Oh, Alex. You have to tell her. The longer you wait, the harder it will be. Trust me. She’ll be fine. She’s strong and capable. Seriously.” Her eyes did get serious, and she patted his shoulder in a way which she must have thought would be reassuring. Alex shrugged his shoulders and walked away from her. “She’ll understand,” Izzie said to his back, and she saw the imperceptible nod.
---
Addison, as it turned out, needed more than one day to recover from her news. She made an attempt to come to work, but at the first sight of a woman beaming happily and caressing her stomach made Addison dash for the bathroom, not wanting to ruin anyone else’s joy. When Alex came home, she had surrounded herself with pizza boxes and Hardball was blaring from the speakers.
“Chris Matthews is better than football?” Alex was incredulous and Addison ruefully turned off the TV.
“I like his smile,” she said with embarrassment and a shrug. “And I was hoping that Tucker Carlson would be on. He was on the last episode of Hardball I watched.” She declined to mention that it had been about a year ago, and it was really just Chris Matthews’ voice that made her incapable of thinking about anything but what he was saying.
“But now that I’m home, you’ve got all the man you need,” he joked, once again taking on the job of straightening her mess, something she felt a little guilty about, but not enough to get up to help him.
“Right. But if you find a picture of Bill Maher in my drawer, it’s just because I have a thing for television personalities. Don’t take it personally.” Her laugh made Alex’s stomach twist slightly.
“Addison,” he started off cautiously, twisting the cap off of a beer fresh from the refrigerator.
“You’re going to Cincinnati,” she finished for him and he set down his bottle on the counter with a clank. “Callie called me to see how I was handling the news. I’m going to say pretty well, considering you didn’t tell me.” Her voice had hardened, and Alex had to give her credit for the fact that she had been willing to act normally until he was able to start telling her.
“I was going to. Really. I just needed to…psych myself up. Like wrestlers before a match.” He too a swig from his beer and wiped his mouth with his hand, not looking at Addison, focusing instead on the blank television behind her.
“This isn’t wrestling, Alex. You could have told me. It would have been all right.” Addison was doing her best to not let her voice shake. She was skilled at being the strong professional woman, and there had never been a better time to be that woman than right now. She stood and walked over to him.
“The worst thing about this situation?” Alex asked, hoping that she would be able to joke about this whole situation. She gave him a questioning look, as if to say, what could possibly be worse than leaving your girlfriend all alone in Seattle? “Izzie was right.”
[ Chapter Nineteen]
“Why ESPN?” Alex asked, avoiding the question of “Are you okay?” They both knew the answer to that one, and even if Addison answered in the affirmative, it wouldn’t be the truth. He settled himself on the edge of the couch, next to her feet and squeezed them between his hands, massaging them lightly.
“Every other channel had some sort of Lifetime movie about women who couldn’t have babies. Alex, I don’t want my life to be one of those movies. “The Addison Montgomery Story” shouldn’t be a title known by women who stay at home and knit sweaters for their cats. So I watched ESPN. Because all they talked about was some home run or something at last night’s game.” She moved herself to a sitting position and bent her knees, separating herself from Alex.
He leaned back in the couch, ignoring her blatant removal of herself from his touch. Alex knew what it was like to need space. On the screen, a reporter was talking about the number of times that tackles resulted in fumbles, and how many times the ball was dropped. He grabbed for the remote and switched off the television.
”I was watching that,” Addison half-complained, encircling her knees in her arms. This small, defenseless Addison was not a woman he usually was privileged to see, and it worried him. He knew she wouldn’t bounce back immediately from the news that she wouldn’t be able to bear her own children, but seeing her like this was wrenching.
“I’ll give you ten dollars if you can tell me what sport they were just talking about.” He toyed with the remote in his hands, a challenging smile on his face. Addison unballed herself slightly, moving back towards her semi-recumbent position.
“Golf?” Her answer was really more of a question and Alex laughed. She threw a pillow at his head, but he ducked, and leaned in towards her.
“You were close,” he said. “All four of the letters you just said are in the word of the real sport.” Placing a kiss on her forehead, he stood, collected the Chinese food containers and dumped the discarded pillow on her face.
---
Everyone at the hospital knew two things about Addison and Alex. They knew that Addison had recently found out that she could not bear children and that Alex had recently accepted an offer from Cincinnati Children’s. Well, they all really knew three things, because they also knew that Alex hadn’t told Addison yet.
“She’ll think it’s because she can’t have children,” Alex told Meredith as they were sitting on their usual abandoned gurney in the empty hallway.
“Is it?” she asked, peering into her bag of potato chips to find the largest one. Finding it, she pulled it out and took a large bite, the only sound the crunching of her food.
“No. It’s that Cincinnati has more to offer. And she’s told me time and time again that she supports my decision. As a doctor, she supports my decision.” He misjudged the distance between his head and the brick wall, and rubbed the sore spot with a grimace.
“As a girlfriend, though, she’ll think you suck.” Meredith once again picked through the contents of her tiny bag, looking more concerned with the fact that the bag was mostly full of air than with Alex’s issue.
“You suck?” Cristina got off the elevator, three charts and four textbooks in hand. “I thought that was a given. Has Addison finally dumped you?” She took her place next to Meredith and immediately opened the first chart, paging through the patient history, scrutinizing it for some small detail.
“No, but she probably will. Or she’ll think I am.” He folded his arms, not bothering to argue the statement that he sucked. It was kind of a given. At least in the walls of Seattle Grace.
“Well, you kind of are.” Meredith looked over Cristina’s shoulder, trying to see what cases were so interesting that she couldn’t work on them in a public, open place. Cristina shifted her position, keeping the chart hidden from view.
“She said she would be able to support me as a girlfriend. She said.” Alex hated interpreting girl-speak into real-person-speak. It rarely made sense to him and always made him irritated.
“And she will. In about fifteen years. She’ll hate you until then.” Cristina didn’t even tear her gaze from what she was reading. Comforting Alex was not high on her list of priorities. She had come up to this hallway to do work, not make sure his poor wounded soul was still intact.
“Good. Thanks.” Alex pushed himself off the bed and headed towards the elevator, grabbing the remains of Meredith’s bag of chips as he left, dumping the crumbs into his open mouth and discarding the bag.
“If you wanted optimism, you shouldn’t have come to us,” Meredith called after him. “Izzie’s with a patient now, but she’ll probably be willing to focus on you instead. And you owe me a bag of chips.”
Alex pretended he hadn’t heard her, and pounded the elevator button until he heard the ding and saw the doors open. He leaned against the corner, his arms out to both sides, gripping the hand rail. How did he get himself into these situations?
---
Finding Izzie hadn’t been all that difficult. She had caught sight of him from the bedside of an arthritic old woman and quickly finished her spiel about medications and possible surgical options before practically sprinting to wear he stood, looking off into empty space.
“Hey, you. I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.” She dumped the chart into a slot and jostled him gently to alert him to her presence as she settled herself next to him, elbows resting on the counter.
“Yeah, it’s been a while. Look, I don’t need analysis or a shot of false hope or anything like that. I just want the flat-out truth.” He studied his fingernails instead of looking over at the woman next to him, practically bouncing with anticipation.
“Did you already look for Meredith and Cristina?” Izzie knew that pessimism and hard truths were not her strong suit, and she’d rather recommend him to the closed circle that was Meredith and Cristina than irritate him.
“They weren’t helpful. At all.” He shrugged and could feel Izzie’s excitement practically radiating off of her. “Meredith suggested I talk to you.”
“Seriously? I mean seriously, Alex? She said that?” Izzie’s face broke into a smile, and she elbowed him playfully. He rolled his eyes and turned to look at her.
“I’m moving to Cincinnati.” He could say it as plainly as that, but every time he did, all he could see was the crumpled face of Addison when she opened the envelope. It was hard to feel confident in any decision with that mental image.
“That’s so great, Alex. You were so happy to get that acceptance letter.” She moved in for what Alex guessed was going to be a hug, but he moved away from her before he could be caught such a ridiculous display of emotion.
“Yes. But I haven’t told Addison.” He didn’t deserve Izzie’s happiness for him.
“Oh, Alex. You have to tell her. The longer you wait, the harder it will be. Trust me. She’ll be fine. She’s strong and capable. Seriously.” Her eyes did get serious, and she patted his shoulder in a way which she must have thought would be reassuring. Alex shrugged his shoulders and walked away from her. “She’ll understand,” Izzie said to his back, and she saw the imperceptible nod.
---
Addison, as it turned out, needed more than one day to recover from her news. She made an attempt to come to work, but at the first sight of a woman beaming happily and caressing her stomach made Addison dash for the bathroom, not wanting to ruin anyone else’s joy. When Alex came home, she had surrounded herself with pizza boxes and Hardball was blaring from the speakers.
“Chris Matthews is better than football?” Alex was incredulous and Addison ruefully turned off the TV.
“I like his smile,” she said with embarrassment and a shrug. “And I was hoping that Tucker Carlson would be on. He was on the last episode of Hardball I watched.” She declined to mention that it had been about a year ago, and it was really just Chris Matthews’ voice that made her incapable of thinking about anything but what he was saying.
“But now that I’m home, you’ve got all the man you need,” he joked, once again taking on the job of straightening her mess, something she felt a little guilty about, but not enough to get up to help him.
“Right. But if you find a picture of Bill Maher in my drawer, it’s just because I have a thing for television personalities. Don’t take it personally.” Her laugh made Alex’s stomach twist slightly.
“Addison,” he started off cautiously, twisting the cap off of a beer fresh from the refrigerator.
“You’re going to Cincinnati,” she finished for him and he set down his bottle on the counter with a clank. “Callie called me to see how I was handling the news. I’m going to say pretty well, considering you didn’t tell me.” Her voice had hardened, and Alex had to give her credit for the fact that she had been willing to act normally until he was able to start telling her.
“I was going to. Really. I just needed to…psych myself up. Like wrestlers before a match.” He too a swig from his beer and wiped his mouth with his hand, not looking at Addison, focusing instead on the blank television behind her.
“This isn’t wrestling, Alex. You could have told me. It would have been all right.” Addison was doing her best to not let her voice shake. She was skilled at being the strong professional woman, and there had never been a better time to be that woman than right now. She stood and walked over to him.
“The worst thing about this situation?” Alex asked, hoping that she would be able to joke about this whole situation. She gave him a questioning look, as if to say, what could possibly be worse than leaving your girlfriend all alone in Seattle? “Izzie was right.”
[ Chapter Nineteen]