"Here's Looking at You, Kid."
“Last night we said a great many things. You said I was to do the thinking for both of us. Well, I've done a lot of it since then, and it all adds up to one thing: you're getting on that plane with Victor where you belong.”
The glow of the television splashed across the room and reflected the face of Humphrey Bogart in the tear-filled, chocolate brown eyes of Dr. James Wilson, Oncologist.
“But, Richard, no, I... I...”
“Now, you've got to listen to me! You have any idea what you'd have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten, we'd both wind up in a concentration camp. Isn't that true, Louie?”
But Louie’s response was lost as Wilson brought a tissue to his nose and blew. He glanced back at the half open bedroom door to make sure the noise hadn’t roused Amber from her dreams.
“You're saying this only to make me go.”
Wilson nodded in agreement - Ilsa was right and Rick was a fool to let her go! What kind of a man was Rick to send her off to live in silent agony with Victor for the rest of her life? Sure, maybe she cared about Victor, but Rick was the kind of lover you just don’t let go; the kind you never, ever forgot.
He kept his eyes glued to the screen, the tissue clenched in his fist.
“I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it.”
No!
“No.”
Wilson’s eyes filled up again.
“Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.”
Wilson smiled ruefully and thought to himself, he’s thinking of her...Putting away his selfish pride for the first time in his life and letting her take that spot in his heart normally reserved for himself - doing what’s best for her, even if it’s killing him inside.
“But what about us?”
Tears rolled freely down Wilson’s cheeks.
“We'll always have Paris. We didn't have...we'd...we'd lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.”
I’ll say you did, he thought. How tragic.
“When I said I would never leave you...”
“And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that.”
A sob escaped his lips. How many hours had he invested into this film over the years, and it never failed to have him bawling like a child in the end; but now the words meant so much more to him…So much more…
Why? What changed?
“Now, now... Here's looking at you kid.”
Shabbat Shalom.
Wilson sat bolt upright. He was no longer crying - the shock of his own thoughts had stunned him into silence. The words echoed in his head as the score escalated, and realization hit him hard, like a blow to the gut.
His best friend, Gregory House, was in love with him; but more importantly, more shockingly, more frighteningly, he was in love with House!
It made sense, but it scared the hell out of him. This would certainly put things into perspective for his therapist. It would account for the pages and pages of notes she had accumulated just on Wilson’s ranting and raving about House.
It would account for all those things House said - the idea that he could be self-sacrificing was too much to bear.
“James, do you plan on sleeping any time soon?” Amber’s sleepy voice prickled in his ears from the dark bedroom.
Mechanically, Wilson stood up …shut off the television and DVD player …padded across the room to the door, while his eyes adjusted to the sudden lack of light …crawled into bed and pulled the comforter over his face.
He felt her arm slide around his waist as she spooned up against him from behind, and it stayed there until he felt certain she was asleep again.
Carefully, he removed it…
Slowly, he closed his eyes…
BEEP…BEEP…BEEP!
He fumbled sluggishly for his pager on the bedside table and stared into the glowing words.
“Need a consult - House.”
Self-sacrificing? Wilson blew out a puff of air and smiled to himself as he shuffled out of bed. He looked around the room at the few belongings scattered here and there. It would only take an hour to gather them all up and fit them in the Volvo. There would be no need for House to sacrifice himself for the sake of Wilson’s well-being because after all, Amber was no Victor Laszlo.
Approximately forty-five minutes later, Wilson found himself seated behind the steering wheel in the fully packed car. He wondered what Amber would say when she awoke to find him and his things missing in action…More importantly, how was he going to tell his best friend the news?
It wouldn’t do for him to dwell on the future, but the way he saw it, this was going to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
The glow of the television splashed across the room and reflected the face of Humphrey Bogart in the tear-filled, chocolate brown eyes of Dr. James Wilson, Oncologist.
“But, Richard, no, I... I...”
“Now, you've got to listen to me! You have any idea what you'd have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten, we'd both wind up in a concentration camp. Isn't that true, Louie?”
But Louie’s response was lost as Wilson brought a tissue to his nose and blew. He glanced back at the half open bedroom door to make sure the noise hadn’t roused Amber from her dreams.
“You're saying this only to make me go.”
Wilson nodded in agreement - Ilsa was right and Rick was a fool to let her go! What kind of a man was Rick to send her off to live in silent agony with Victor for the rest of her life? Sure, maybe she cared about Victor, but Rick was the kind of lover you just don’t let go; the kind you never, ever forgot.
He kept his eyes glued to the screen, the tissue clenched in his fist.
“I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it.”
No!
“No.”
Wilson’s eyes filled up again.
“Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.”
Wilson smiled ruefully and thought to himself, he’s thinking of her...Putting away his selfish pride for the first time in his life and letting her take that spot in his heart normally reserved for himself - doing what’s best for her, even if it’s killing him inside.
“But what about us?”
Tears rolled freely down Wilson’s cheeks.
“We'll always have Paris. We didn't have...we'd...we'd lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.”
I’ll say you did, he thought. How tragic.
“When I said I would never leave you...”
“And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that.”
A sob escaped his lips. How many hours had he invested into this film over the years, and it never failed to have him bawling like a child in the end; but now the words meant so much more to him…So much more…
Why? What changed?
“Now, now... Here's looking at you kid.”
Shabbat Shalom.
Wilson sat bolt upright. He was no longer crying - the shock of his own thoughts had stunned him into silence. The words echoed in his head as the score escalated, and realization hit him hard, like a blow to the gut.
His best friend, Gregory House, was in love with him; but more importantly, more shockingly, more frighteningly, he was in love with House!
It made sense, but it scared the hell out of him. This would certainly put things into perspective for his therapist. It would account for the pages and pages of notes she had accumulated just on Wilson’s ranting and raving about House.
It would account for all those things House said - the idea that he could be self-sacrificing was too much to bear.
“James, do you plan on sleeping any time soon?” Amber’s sleepy voice prickled in his ears from the dark bedroom.
Mechanically, Wilson stood up …shut off the television and DVD player …padded across the room to the door, while his eyes adjusted to the sudden lack of light …crawled into bed and pulled the comforter over his face.
He felt her arm slide around his waist as she spooned up against him from behind, and it stayed there until he felt certain she was asleep again.
Carefully, he removed it…
Slowly, he closed his eyes…
BEEP…BEEP…BEEP!
He fumbled sluggishly for his pager on the bedside table and stared into the glowing words.
“Need a consult - House.”
Self-sacrificing? Wilson blew out a puff of air and smiled to himself as he shuffled out of bed. He looked around the room at the few belongings scattered here and there. It would only take an hour to gather them all up and fit them in the Volvo. There would be no need for House to sacrifice himself for the sake of Wilson’s well-being because after all, Amber was no Victor Laszlo.
Approximately forty-five minutes later, Wilson found himself seated behind the steering wheel in the fully packed car. He wondered what Amber would say when she awoke to find him and his things missing in action…More importantly, how was he going to tell his best friend the news?
It wouldn’t do for him to dwell on the future, but the way he saw it, this was going to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.