It's All Relative Chapter 31
It’s All Relative 31
Author: hawkbehere (hawkbehere2@yahoo.com)
Rated: PG, for language.
Disclaimer: The majority of these characters are not mine. No copyright infringement intended.
A/N: Again with a micro-burst. Still a little kid-oriented. All mistakes are mine. All my love and thanks to Rosemary for reading first, after my importuning her literally at dawn. Love to Anne, Jessica, law_nerd, xenavirgin and Martha.
***
Carlo kissed his wife on the cheek and then, leaning over, also kissed Miranda’s cheek before running his fingers through Juan Carlo’s hair, “Mijo, it’s time to smile now.”
Juan Carlo looked up at his father, who lightly picked him up out of Miranda’s lap, set him on the ground and dropped to his knees to wipe the boy’s tears with a large, callused hand.
As if daring the room or anyone in it to disagree, Carlo cast his eyes over everything and everyone before saying, “You are brave to show Miranda how much we love her, I think. You make me a proud father.”
Juan Carlo nodded and hugged his father tightly, which again immediately made everyone in the room tear up. Except for one person, who said “J.C.”
He turned toward the voice, “Yes?”
“Cut to the chase. We’re all good. Mom’s okay and you completely rock. Can we get on with the visit?”
He nodded as he replied solemnly, “Yes, Caroline.”
At this, Miranda smirked. At this, Andy and Cassidy sighed.
***
It was a good visit. They talked, laughed and generally, given the nature of person being visited, tried to completely ignore the fact they were in a hospital room.
Until there was a knock on the door. Miranda didn’t really answer, only saying, “Who actually knocks in a hospital? Truly? They barge in constantly and-“
“Come in!” Andy finished.
Susan Allen entered and immediately said, “Whoa! Family conference.”
She was dressed in a black leather jacket, Dallas Cowboys’ jersey, jeans and Doc Marten boots, all of which were conspicuously clean but had been worn nearly to death. The woman surveyed the room and did a disapproving head count. “Okay. Six visitors and now seven. Just dropping in to see how many folks fit in a hospital room with a person who had major surgery the day before.”
Not even having to glance at Miranda to know she’d be bowing up to strike at this, Andy preempted her by rushing and hugging the tall doctor. She made the few remaining introductions before lowering her head a bit as she explained, “Wanda, Carlo and I were just about to leave and let the children visit a little longer while they ran me home to take a shower.”
“That right? How long you been outta bed, Miranda?”
Miranda said in a decidedly frosty tone, “Two hours and a half? Three?”
“Yeah. Figures,” she said as she crossed to the chair, “I can see your pressure’s low just looking atcha. Back in the bed and while we’re at it? Box that attitude. I’m right and you’re wrong but when the Louboutin’s on the other foot, sister? Feel free to tell me and I’ll roll. Let’s go.”
Everyone gaped at the doctor except Wanda, whose face fell. Under the doctor’s pronouncement, she felt she’d been professionally negligent. Miranda saw this, digested it instantly, and before either woman could speak, answered quietly, “You’re right. Wanda told me many times to get back into the bed before the children came. Don’t blame her.”
Dr. Allen saw and digested this as well. She shook her head, “Are you kidding me? Damn, woman. If there’s a room with you in it, I’d never blame anybody but you for anything.” She turned and pointed a finger at the children. “Sorry for cussin’. I promise I’ll do it again but I know you’ve heard and probably said worse. And don’t worry about your mama. This is normal post-operative fatigue and she’s fine.”
They nodded as Dr. Allen waved Wanda off and helped Miranda back into the bed. And, as she tucked her in quite tenderly in a way Wanda frankly had never seen a doctor do in all her years at the hospital, Cassidy asked. “Pressure? You meant her blood pressure, Dr. Allen?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How can you tell? Don’t you need a sphygmomanometer to check it?”
“Ooh. Big word, young girl,” Dr. Allen grinned, “Cassidy, right?”
“Yeah.” She smiled at the doctor. “I guess you do pay attention, huh?”
“I sure do. Part of the job. Now that your mama’s back in the bed and she’s slightly reclining?”
“Yeah?”
“By all means, yes.” Miranda interrupted, waving her good hand. “I’ve just realized my destiny. I’m not an editor. I’m a science project.”
Dr. Allen waved a hand right back. “Miranda. Attitude? Box.” She pointed at Miranda’s face. “Look at her lips now, Cassidy. Her cheeks? Notice how she’s got more color already?”
Juan Carlo stepped forward, “She does! That’s very good, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s great and it’s normal. She had a bit of orthostatic hypotension. Fatigue and morphine. You guys like science, huh?”
The doctor included all the children with a kind smile but Caroline rolled her eyes before answering, “Thanks, doc. Big fat no for me and a yes for them. I’m only a lousy photographer but they’re geeks. Both of them want to be doctors when they get taller.”
“Really? Cool! When you get a little older, I’d be happy to show you around the hospital, okay?"
Cassidy and Juan Carlo nodded enthusiastically.
“Great. Now let me talk to your mama.”
She turned to the woman in question. “Now, despite all this not-so-heavy lifting, Miranda, I’m not your doctor, thank the Lord. I thought we’d better start scheduling some lunches or dinners or something because getting shot and bitten and shot just so you guys can see me is going a little too far, don’t you think?”
Miranda, who truly did occasionally adore spirited opposition, pursed her lips, “My guilty secret’s out, Dr. Allen?”
Dr. Allen took this for what it was, no hurt feelings, and she smiled, “Only to me. Don’t worry. No Page Six. I like you too much.” Her expression changed slightly, something only Miranda could see. It was kinder, much softer. “I’ve read your chart and know all the medical stuff and all the pain stuff but how’s that wing really treating you from your side of the fence? Let’s hear it. ”
No one in the room, even Andy, had asked this question.
“Let me see.” Miranda thought about it for a few moments. None of the doctors she’d seen yet had asked her this either. They’d inspected, prodded and asked about pain but that wasn’t asking about how she really felt. Pain was one thing but this was another.
“My arm hurts but I hate this confinement of it more. I think that hurts more than the injury, to be honest. I can’t sleep without the morphine and-”
Dr. Allen interrupted her by placing her hand on Miranda’s arm. “You’re right. Our limbs don’t like being held in place-because the position is…really listen to me, alright?”
Miranda nodded.
“You’re going to have a lot of pain because this was a damned bad injury and really hard surgery. The insult to your body this time was a hell of a lot worse than before. That said, this position is what’s best for your arm right now but part of your brain-the part that governs your instincts?”
Miranda nodded again.
“It’s telling you to move it. It’s telling you what’s true instinctually, that a limb left dormant will die. Which is not the truth here, okay?”
She patted Miranda’s good hand, “Neuropsychologically and physically, you’re having a perfectly normal reaction to an abnormal situation. You can’t really help but have a reaction to the imprisonment of a limb. Not a lot of science about it but I happen to know it’s true. Bottom line? It’s not much fun but it might help if you know it’s normal and don’t worry about it too much, okay?”
“Yes. Thank you for explaining that. The other doctors might have saved you the trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am, they could. But other doctors aren’t me. I’m one of a kind.” She gestured at her clothing and said, “As you may have noticed. Sorry I’m not dressed for you.”
“So I see.” Miranda sniffed, “Exactly what are you dressed for? Cleaning your garage?”
“Close but no cigar. My husband’s taking me to dinner in a couple of hours if his surgery goes well.”
Miranda blinked, “His surgery?”
“Oh sorry. Not on him. He’s doing it. He’s a cardiac surgeon. Emergency bypass graft. He’s in the theater and I hear it’s looking good so I thought I’d go watch for a bit. Nothing like watching your man use his hands.”
Andy coughed; Dr. Allen winked at her and laughed. “Where a girl’s mind goes. He’s a surgeon, Andy. His hands are his livelihood. He doesn’t do anything around the house. Ever.”
Wanda elbowed her husband in the ribs, “What’s your excuse?”
Carlo extended his work-worn hands, “My hands? See them? They are so delicate.”
Dr. Allen eyed them and said, “Wow, Wanda. He may be right.”
“No, Dr. Allen. Do not say so. He does not need help to think it is right to watch the TV when I cook.”
“I help.”
“No, Carlo. To say ‘it needs more salt’ is not help.”
Dr. Allen laughed and said, “It may taste better with but nothing needs more salt. Ask my husband. And on that note, I'm making an executive medical decision. Let’s get out of here. All of you including me. Miranda needs rest.”
Because it was a forced exodus, everyone swarmed to kiss Miranda goodbye, a process, once started, that seemed to take forever. Caroline hung back a little and the doctor gravitated toward her but didn’t speak.
Caroline stared at her mother, but felt the doctor by her and said very quietly something that was equal parts question and statement. “My mother is brave, isn’t she?”
The doctor’s voice was just as quiet, “She is. And I run into seriously brave people in my job. Police, firefighters. But they’re pros. She’s only a civ but she really is. I’m honored to know her-and only for that. I couldn’t care less about the fashion stuff.”
“No shit. It shows.”
“Perfect. Mama’s daughter. No need for the DNA test.”
Caroline snorted but whispered, “You know what? Andy told me Mom was brave once but I didn’t believe it.”
Dr. Allen looked down at the child, assessed her attitude and decided she didn’t like it. “Why not? Andy’s brave too.”
Caroline’s tone was as dismissive as her reply. “Because she fought a rat?”
“Sure, if that’s how you wanna look at it. But your mama fought a rat too, Caroline. A rat with a gun. Look at me.”
Caroline looked up into Dr. Allen’s eyes and saw something she hadn’t seen yet in this jovial tough-talking stranger. She realized it looked something like anger.
The woman leaned down and whispered, “I live emergency medicine. Unless you go into my field or off to war, you will never, ever see a fraction of the brutality or horror or sadness or bravery or goodness or sheer fucking grace of God that I do every day. That’s great for you but you know what?”
Caroline’s eyes began to sting but she jerked her chin so the doctor continued, “Sometimes? Sometimes God is really damned kind and a 30-ton truck doesn’t hit you or you don’t fall off the 10th story of a building. Sometimes, He sends exactly the right size enemy-something or someone you can beat if you’re willing and brave. He gives you a choice and a chance. When God’s feeling real generous? He sends someone like Andy a rat but sends someone like your mama that piece of shit who shot her.”
She lowered her voice another notch, “They both stood up and bled for the people they loved, you hear me girl? I have seen way too many people die who met something too big for them. Don’t you dare disrespect them. Not if you love them. You should thank God, Caroline. If they had to bleed and suffer, and evidently they did, you should thank God they met something they survived.”
Dr. Allen immediately felt like a bully as she looked down into watery blue eyes and watched the girl’s lower lip quiver as she whispered, “You’re wrong.”
Before the woman could reply, Caroline continued, “I mean, I know you’re right. But you’re wrong. I do thank God. All the time.” She took a breath and said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
Caroline waved at the room, at her mother, at her family as they smiled and lingered, not really wanting to leave. “Isn’t dodging a bullet supposed to make you feel lucky?”
She watched the others, feeling one thousand miles away from them emotionally. “It’s like they don’t even know. It’s just a matter of time, isn’t it? More bullets.”
“Sure. Of one sort or other. Without fail. Even so, Caroline. Knowing that? I never lose faith.”
The girl nodded, “I don’t ever say shit like this, okay? I mean, not even to Cass.” She wiped her eyes, “I don’t either. Lose faith, I mean. So thanks. And that’s confidential?”
“To the grave and that’s as grave as I get.” The doctor gave the girl a knuckle-bump rather than a handshake and then said in a voice no one could ignore, “Alright people. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”
Caroline crossed the room to be the last one to say goodbye. She was going to kiss her mother’s cheek but was, instead, pulled into a one-armed hug.
Miranda whispered in her ear, “You’re an artist, Caroline. You will never, ever be only a lousy photographer to me.”
The girl abruptly stood up, shocked by this immediate second helping of random, quiet blistering kindness. She stared into eyes so much like her own and her sister’s, yet still so unfathomable to her and said, “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”
Miranda’s only reaction was a slight tilt of her head, “Then that makes two of us, does it not?”
Caroline thought about that for a moment then laughed softly before she took her mother’s good hand in hers and kissed it before replying, “Yes. It does.”
NEXT CHAPTER
Author: hawkbehere (hawkbehere2@yahoo.com)
Rated: PG, for language.
Disclaimer: The majority of these characters are not mine. No copyright infringement intended.
A/N: Again with a micro-burst. Still a little kid-oriented. All mistakes are mine. All my love and thanks to Rosemary for reading first, after my importuning her literally at dawn. Love to Anne, Jessica, law_nerd, xenavirgin and Martha.
***
Carlo kissed his wife on the cheek and then, leaning over, also kissed Miranda’s cheek before running his fingers through Juan Carlo’s hair, “Mijo, it’s time to smile now.”
Juan Carlo looked up at his father, who lightly picked him up out of Miranda’s lap, set him on the ground and dropped to his knees to wipe the boy’s tears with a large, callused hand.
As if daring the room or anyone in it to disagree, Carlo cast his eyes over everything and everyone before saying, “You are brave to show Miranda how much we love her, I think. You make me a proud father.”
Juan Carlo nodded and hugged his father tightly, which again immediately made everyone in the room tear up. Except for one person, who said “J.C.”
He turned toward the voice, “Yes?”
“Cut to the chase. We’re all good. Mom’s okay and you completely rock. Can we get on with the visit?”
He nodded as he replied solemnly, “Yes, Caroline.”
At this, Miranda smirked. At this, Andy and Cassidy sighed.
***
It was a good visit. They talked, laughed and generally, given the nature of person being visited, tried to completely ignore the fact they were in a hospital room.
Until there was a knock on the door. Miranda didn’t really answer, only saying, “Who actually knocks in a hospital? Truly? They barge in constantly and-“
“Come in!” Andy finished.
Susan Allen entered and immediately said, “Whoa! Family conference.”
She was dressed in a black leather jacket, Dallas Cowboys’ jersey, jeans and Doc Marten boots, all of which were conspicuously clean but had been worn nearly to death. The woman surveyed the room and did a disapproving head count. “Okay. Six visitors and now seven. Just dropping in to see how many folks fit in a hospital room with a person who had major surgery the day before.”
Not even having to glance at Miranda to know she’d be bowing up to strike at this, Andy preempted her by rushing and hugging the tall doctor. She made the few remaining introductions before lowering her head a bit as she explained, “Wanda, Carlo and I were just about to leave and let the children visit a little longer while they ran me home to take a shower.”
“That right? How long you been outta bed, Miranda?”
Miranda said in a decidedly frosty tone, “Two hours and a half? Three?”
“Yeah. Figures,” she said as she crossed to the chair, “I can see your pressure’s low just looking atcha. Back in the bed and while we’re at it? Box that attitude. I’m right and you’re wrong but when the Louboutin’s on the other foot, sister? Feel free to tell me and I’ll roll. Let’s go.”
Everyone gaped at the doctor except Wanda, whose face fell. Under the doctor’s pronouncement, she felt she’d been professionally negligent. Miranda saw this, digested it instantly, and before either woman could speak, answered quietly, “You’re right. Wanda told me many times to get back into the bed before the children came. Don’t blame her.”
Dr. Allen saw and digested this as well. She shook her head, “Are you kidding me? Damn, woman. If there’s a room with you in it, I’d never blame anybody but you for anything.” She turned and pointed a finger at the children. “Sorry for cussin’. I promise I’ll do it again but I know you’ve heard and probably said worse. And don’t worry about your mama. This is normal post-operative fatigue and she’s fine.”
They nodded as Dr. Allen waved Wanda off and helped Miranda back into the bed. And, as she tucked her in quite tenderly in a way Wanda frankly had never seen a doctor do in all her years at the hospital, Cassidy asked. “Pressure? You meant her blood pressure, Dr. Allen?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How can you tell? Don’t you need a sphygmomanometer to check it?”
“Ooh. Big word, young girl,” Dr. Allen grinned, “Cassidy, right?”
“Yeah.” She smiled at the doctor. “I guess you do pay attention, huh?”
“I sure do. Part of the job. Now that your mama’s back in the bed and she’s slightly reclining?”
“Yeah?”
“By all means, yes.” Miranda interrupted, waving her good hand. “I’ve just realized my destiny. I’m not an editor. I’m a science project.”
Dr. Allen waved a hand right back. “Miranda. Attitude? Box.” She pointed at Miranda’s face. “Look at her lips now, Cassidy. Her cheeks? Notice how she’s got more color already?”
Juan Carlo stepped forward, “She does! That’s very good, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s great and it’s normal. She had a bit of orthostatic hypotension. Fatigue and morphine. You guys like science, huh?”
The doctor included all the children with a kind smile but Caroline rolled her eyes before answering, “Thanks, doc. Big fat no for me and a yes for them. I’m only a lousy photographer but they’re geeks. Both of them want to be doctors when they get taller.”
“Really? Cool! When you get a little older, I’d be happy to show you around the hospital, okay?"
Cassidy and Juan Carlo nodded enthusiastically.
“Great. Now let me talk to your mama.”
She turned to the woman in question. “Now, despite all this not-so-heavy lifting, Miranda, I’m not your doctor, thank the Lord. I thought we’d better start scheduling some lunches or dinners or something because getting shot and bitten and shot just so you guys can see me is going a little too far, don’t you think?”
Miranda, who truly did occasionally adore spirited opposition, pursed her lips, “My guilty secret’s out, Dr. Allen?”
Dr. Allen took this for what it was, no hurt feelings, and she smiled, “Only to me. Don’t worry. No Page Six. I like you too much.” Her expression changed slightly, something only Miranda could see. It was kinder, much softer. “I’ve read your chart and know all the medical stuff and all the pain stuff but how’s that wing really treating you from your side of the fence? Let’s hear it. ”
No one in the room, even Andy, had asked this question.
“Let me see.” Miranda thought about it for a few moments. None of the doctors she’d seen yet had asked her this either. They’d inspected, prodded and asked about pain but that wasn’t asking about how she really felt. Pain was one thing but this was another.
“My arm hurts but I hate this confinement of it more. I think that hurts more than the injury, to be honest. I can’t sleep without the morphine and-”
Dr. Allen interrupted her by placing her hand on Miranda’s arm. “You’re right. Our limbs don’t like being held in place-because the position is…really listen to me, alright?”
Miranda nodded.
“You’re going to have a lot of pain because this was a damned bad injury and really hard surgery. The insult to your body this time was a hell of a lot worse than before. That said, this position is what’s best for your arm right now but part of your brain-the part that governs your instincts?”
Miranda nodded again.
“It’s telling you to move it. It’s telling you what’s true instinctually, that a limb left dormant will die. Which is not the truth here, okay?”
She patted Miranda’s good hand, “Neuropsychologically and physically, you’re having a perfectly normal reaction to an abnormal situation. You can’t really help but have a reaction to the imprisonment of a limb. Not a lot of science about it but I happen to know it’s true. Bottom line? It’s not much fun but it might help if you know it’s normal and don’t worry about it too much, okay?”
“Yes. Thank you for explaining that. The other doctors might have saved you the trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am, they could. But other doctors aren’t me. I’m one of a kind.” She gestured at her clothing and said, “As you may have noticed. Sorry I’m not dressed for you.”
“So I see.” Miranda sniffed, “Exactly what are you dressed for? Cleaning your garage?”
“Close but no cigar. My husband’s taking me to dinner in a couple of hours if his surgery goes well.”
Miranda blinked, “His surgery?”
“Oh sorry. Not on him. He’s doing it. He’s a cardiac surgeon. Emergency bypass graft. He’s in the theater and I hear it’s looking good so I thought I’d go watch for a bit. Nothing like watching your man use his hands.”
Andy coughed; Dr. Allen winked at her and laughed. “Where a girl’s mind goes. He’s a surgeon, Andy. His hands are his livelihood. He doesn’t do anything around the house. Ever.”
Wanda elbowed her husband in the ribs, “What’s your excuse?”
Carlo extended his work-worn hands, “My hands? See them? They are so delicate.”
Dr. Allen eyed them and said, “Wow, Wanda. He may be right.”
“No, Dr. Allen. Do not say so. He does not need help to think it is right to watch the TV when I cook.”
“I help.”
“No, Carlo. To say ‘it needs more salt’ is not help.”
Dr. Allen laughed and said, “It may taste better with but nothing needs more salt. Ask my husband. And on that note, I'm making an executive medical decision. Let’s get out of here. All of you including me. Miranda needs rest.”
Because it was a forced exodus, everyone swarmed to kiss Miranda goodbye, a process, once started, that seemed to take forever. Caroline hung back a little and the doctor gravitated toward her but didn’t speak.
Caroline stared at her mother, but felt the doctor by her and said very quietly something that was equal parts question and statement. “My mother is brave, isn’t she?”
The doctor’s voice was just as quiet, “She is. And I run into seriously brave people in my job. Police, firefighters. But they’re pros. She’s only a civ but she really is. I’m honored to know her-and only for that. I couldn’t care less about the fashion stuff.”
“No shit. It shows.”
“Perfect. Mama’s daughter. No need for the DNA test.”
Caroline snorted but whispered, “You know what? Andy told me Mom was brave once but I didn’t believe it.”
Dr. Allen looked down at the child, assessed her attitude and decided she didn’t like it. “Why not? Andy’s brave too.”
Caroline’s tone was as dismissive as her reply. “Because she fought a rat?”
“Sure, if that’s how you wanna look at it. But your mama fought a rat too, Caroline. A rat with a gun. Look at me.”
Caroline looked up into Dr. Allen’s eyes and saw something she hadn’t seen yet in this jovial tough-talking stranger. She realized it looked something like anger.
The woman leaned down and whispered, “I live emergency medicine. Unless you go into my field or off to war, you will never, ever see a fraction of the brutality or horror or sadness or bravery or goodness or sheer fucking grace of God that I do every day. That’s great for you but you know what?”
Caroline’s eyes began to sting but she jerked her chin so the doctor continued, “Sometimes? Sometimes God is really damned kind and a 30-ton truck doesn’t hit you or you don’t fall off the 10th story of a building. Sometimes, He sends exactly the right size enemy-something or someone you can beat if you’re willing and brave. He gives you a choice and a chance. When God’s feeling real generous? He sends someone like Andy a rat but sends someone like your mama that piece of shit who shot her.”
She lowered her voice another notch, “They both stood up and bled for the people they loved, you hear me girl? I have seen way too many people die who met something too big for them. Don’t you dare disrespect them. Not if you love them. You should thank God, Caroline. If they had to bleed and suffer, and evidently they did, you should thank God they met something they survived.”
Dr. Allen immediately felt like a bully as she looked down into watery blue eyes and watched the girl’s lower lip quiver as she whispered, “You’re wrong.”
Before the woman could reply, Caroline continued, “I mean, I know you’re right. But you’re wrong. I do thank God. All the time.” She took a breath and said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
Caroline waved at the room, at her mother, at her family as they smiled and lingered, not really wanting to leave. “Isn’t dodging a bullet supposed to make you feel lucky?”
She watched the others, feeling one thousand miles away from them emotionally. “It’s like they don’t even know. It’s just a matter of time, isn’t it? More bullets.”
“Sure. Of one sort or other. Without fail. Even so, Caroline. Knowing that? I never lose faith.”
The girl nodded, “I don’t ever say shit like this, okay? I mean, not even to Cass.” She wiped her eyes, “I don’t either. Lose faith, I mean. So thanks. And that’s confidential?”
“To the grave and that’s as grave as I get.” The doctor gave the girl a knuckle-bump rather than a handshake and then said in a voice no one could ignore, “Alright people. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”
Caroline crossed the room to be the last one to say goodbye. She was going to kiss her mother’s cheek but was, instead, pulled into a one-armed hug.
Miranda whispered in her ear, “You’re an artist, Caroline. You will never, ever be only a lousy photographer to me.”
The girl abruptly stood up, shocked by this immediate second helping of random, quiet blistering kindness. She stared into eyes so much like her own and her sister’s, yet still so unfathomable to her and said, “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”
Miranda’s only reaction was a slight tilt of her head, “Then that makes two of us, does it not?”
Caroline thought about that for a moment then laughed softly before she took her mother’s good hand in hers and kissed it before replying, “Yes. It does.”
NEXT CHAPTER