Chapter Text
Yes.
That voice again. A distant whisper. A dreadful echo.
Yes.
Jake Griffin is not a believer, he's not a man of superstition. He embodies the old saying: “If I can see it and touch it, it exists”. He could explain things. He is excellent at being skeptical.
Yes.
But he cannot explain that voice. How could he? How could he possibly explain it, late at night, tossing restlessly inside his bed, his sweaty body curling around the sheets? How could he explain that single word that has been keeping him awake so many nights before? Is that voice an answer?, or a sign?... a question? Why that voice is always accompanied by that slight pain in his chest, that feels like a void that extends to his arm and the rest of his body?
Yes.
When he finally opens his eyes, he looks at the clock by the night stand marking “2 am” in big red numbers. Another sleepless night. He turns around, stretching his arm trying to reach for someone who isn't there. Trying to hold someone who hasn't been there for quite a while. On nights like this one, it's a little more hard to accept that she's gone. Nights like that one, remind him of how much he misses her. Her touch. How comforting her presence was, the single fact that she loved him and he loved her back.
Jake sighs deeply. He tosses the blankets and the sheets aside and walks to the bathroom, where he splashes a handful of cold water in his face. He leans his hands on the borders of the sink and he remains there for a while, rubbing his left arm until he finally returns to bed knowing that sleep is gone but determined to try and find it anyway.
Yes...
******
The morning begins with another commotion. Something about the flowers. For Clarke it isn't a surprise anymore. The same kind of commotion has been happening over the past two weeks. Plenty of party preparations for her sister Allison to stress about. If she only knew that their father would be truly happy with just a small chocolate cake and an escape to the ball park. But he'll never tell her that. He's too good to ruin the dreams of the big fancy pretentious party his daughter had been organizing since the big fancy pretentious party of last year.
Clarke wishes she had her father's patience concerning her older sister. She wishes she had that same patience when she comes down the stairs and heads to the terrace in search for food, finding her father and her sister discussing about truffles and ignorant chefs. She never truly had it. Maybe that's something ingrained about being the little sister. Having a very short patience with most things regarding your older sibling.
"Good morning," she greets them before reaching for some grapes and a blueberry pancake.
"Good morning, sweetie," her father says, kissing her cheek and pouring some coffee in a cup for her.
"How is that you're “sweetie” and I'm just “Allison”?" Allison asks with annoyance, kissing her other cheek.
"Well, that's your name, isn't it?" Clarke replies.
"You're so funny... Goodness no!, don't move the sculptures, please!"
"Finn called, he's on his way," Clarke informs her father. "Big day today?"
"Apparently so," Jake says absently, with one hand on his waist and the other holding his cup. Clarke watches him staring at the events developing in the garden while sipping his coffee: Allison scolding ever so gently the workers whom apparently are tearing apart her idea of the perfect dance floor; the other workers running from here to there carrying tools and chairs; the big structure where the dinner tables would be. He always looked so regal in her eyes, so elegant and proud, with his dark blue eyes that somehow seem to be brighter in sunny days like that one and his sandy hair with a bunch of white hairs on his temples ruffled by the light wind. "I hate parties."
"No, you don't," Clarke laughs, patting his belly. "You're only 55 once in a lifetime."
"I'm glad."
"Mr. Griffin, the papers for you to sign," Alice, his home secretary, appears carrying a bunch of documents.
"Yes, of course."
"Finn's here," Clarke says.
She recognizes the silhouette of the black town car parking at the end of the gravel path. Finn, his father's right hand, and Quince, Allison's fiancé, appear when the door opens. Finn with his wavy hair and his perfectly tailored suit and Quince with his big goofy smile. Clarke is sure that she's supposed to feel something when Finn approaches her, smiling widely, with his arms opened for her, ready to hold her for just one second. She's supposed to feel excited, isn't it? She's supposed to feel her stomach turning and flipping. After all, they have been dating for the last four months. They agreed to take things slow. She likes him. She knows she is supposed to feel something. Something more.
"Hey, gorgeous," he kisses her, just a peck on the lips and then he goes straight to her father.
"Hello, my darling sister in law, where's the party planner?" Quince asks her, giving her one of his trademark bear hugs.
"Yelling at the workers, can you believe it?" Clarke says pointing at Allison, who is running towards them the moment she notices her fiancé's arrival. "Go greet your girl, Quince."
For Clarke, there's always this ache inside her whenever she sees her sister and Quince together. It's been there for quite a while. When she sees the way her sister smiles after Quince squeezes her in his arms, the way they kiss so lightly but so fully at the same time. It's something very close to envy and it always leaves her feeling so bleak, so envious... so empty. She had never felt that kind of affection, their kind of affection. With Finn isn't like that. It had never been, perhaps it never will.
"Today's the day, Jake," Finn says, clapping his hands.
"I know," Jake keeps signing the papers without looking at him.
"Any doubts?"
"Well, I heard a voice in my head."
"Really?, and what did it say?"
"Yes."
"Yes to the merger?"
"Perhaps, who knows?"
"Come on, Jake, you know this merger will benefit th..."
"Let's talk about this at the office," Jake offers. "Let's go."
"Remember, we'll have dinner at daddy's place in the city," Allison reminds them, "there's lots of party details to discuss yet!"
"What is she talking about?" Jake asks Clarke, opening the door of one of the town cars for her. Finn and Quince board the other one.
"Party stuff."
"Jesus..."
Inside the car, Clarke and her father share a comforting silence. She's looking through the window while he double checks some documents. It's a beautiful day, sunny and warm. The road to the city is clear, the traffic nowhere to be seen... yet.
"Do you love Finn?" Jake asks all of the sudden, cutting the silence between them, looking at her through his glasses.
Clarke is taken aback by his question, but tries to play it cool, so she smiles like he's joking about it. He's not, actually. She frowns a little when he repeats the same question, using a very serious tone. She twists her hands in her lap, suddenly nervous.
"You mean like you loved mom?" she evades, thinking about a proper answer.
"Forget about me and mom, are you gonna marry him?"
"Dad, I..." he gives her a look. "Probably...?, I don't know, I mean... it's too early for that, come on."
Her tone is far from certain and surely her father got that. He removes his glasses and puts them inside his suit's pocket.
"Look, I'm crazy about the guy, he's aggressive and smart, he could carry the company towards new horizons and me along with it."
"So what's wrong with that?"
"That's for me, I'm talking about you. You know?, it's not what you say about Finn, it's what you don't say."
"Maybe you're not listening."
"Oh, yes I am," Jake replies, almost offended. "There's not an ounce of excitement when you talk about him. I want you to get swept away, I want you to levitate, I want you to... to sing and dance with rapture, be deliriously happy... well, at least be open to be."
"Okay," Clarke sighs. "Be deliriously happy?, well, I shall do my utmost."
Jake chuckles, "I know you're mocking me right now and I know it's a cornball thing. But... love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. I say, fall head over heels, find someone you can love like crazy and who will love you the same way back. How do you find them?, well, you forget your head and you listen to your heart. I'm not hearing any heart."
"Bravo!"
"Stop mocking your father."
Clarke sighs again and takes his hand, squeezing it gently, "I'm sorry, okay... give it to me again but the short version this time."
"Just... stay open, who knows?, lighting could strike, okay?"
"Okay."
Lightning could strike. Maybe. Her father was always that optimistic. Clarke not so much. She always considered herself a pragmatic, a realist. Some people, like her parents, Allison maybe, her best friend Raven, were lucky to have been struck by that lighting. She was not that lucky. Perhaps some people are blessed with it and some other people are not. Love... the kind of love her father speaks about, making beautiful sentences, is something she hasn't found and she is not sure she ever will. Instead, she found a guy like Finn, whom she likes and likes her back, with whom she has an agreement and that's it. No passion. No obsession. No rapture. Nothing. No singing or dancing.
Clarke holds her father's hand the rest of the way. Maybe that way, something of his words could come true. She hates the fact that she wishes they could. There's a little traffic jam after they cross the city bridge but when they leave her in the corner of the hospital, it's still early for her shift. Her father kisses her on the cheek and Finn blows her a kiss from inside the other car while Quince waves an excited goodbye. She watches the cars disappear in the distance, after they turn around a crowded block and decides to grab another cup of coffee from the little but colorful diner located in the building next to the hospital. That day would be tiresome. She has a long shift.... besides the famous dinner with her family. A ridiculous amount of coffee is necessary if she wants to get through that just barely conscious.
When Clarke enters the diner she's greeted with the same scene that welcomes her everyday: the little counter with the coffee pots lined and the glass cabinets filled with sugar donuts; the tables, half of them occupied by fellow doctors and nurses, and the other half by lawyers from the firm across the street; the smell of coffee and pancakes with bacon, and a little bit of orange juice; the smile of one of the waitresses while she takes her order and... well, that isn't part of the everyday. A loud voice. The loud voice of a young woman talking by the public phone besides the entrance door.
"Haven't heard that one before. Oh, okay, I'm sorry... you know what?, I'm not, I had to say it, you know it's the truth..."
Clarke sits down and takes out her notepad, pretending not to notice the conversation but the voice of the woman is too loud and she's clumsy. Suddenly she drops all the ketchup and mustard bottles beside the window and Clarke hears the characteristic noise of a foot hitting a table.
"Shoot, I'm sorry... no, I'm okay, I just kicked a table but that's not the point. Honey, listen to me: you have to go on..." the young woman says. Clarke tries to get a look of her but the only thing she sees is a long brunette mane of hair combed in a messy bun. "Well, I don't like her anymore, 'cus you're my sweetheart, and whoever messes with you, messes with me, that's it. Don't let her dictate your future, keep studying, keep reading your books and your cases, get the degree, one day we'll get our firm going just like we always dreamed of, how's that sound?" she laughs and surprisingly, Clarke chuckles along with her. She feels intrusive somehow. "Yeah, I know, I love you, okay?, don't forget that. See you."
Clarke thinks the young woman would sit in a table at the back of the establishment but she sits down right beside her in the counter, with a fresh breakfast and a glass of juice already served for her. She pretends, again, to be more interested in the empty page of her notepad that in the clumsiness of that girl, who just kicks her heavy bags below her seat and almost spills the juice over the counter. She waves her hand apologizing and then turns around to see Clarke quietly examining her. She's dressed in a wrinkled white button up shirt, an over sized gray cardigan and black jeans. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, pouty lips and pointy nose. Her eyes are green, incredibly green, an impossible shade of green. They're beautiful and Clarke's own linger only a little too much. Yes... only a little.
"Morning," the young woman greets her, taking a large drink of her juice. Clarke fiddles stupidly with the sugar container. She just quirks a smile at her. "Sorry I was talking kinda loud there."
"Oh, that's okay... it was rather fascinating," Clarke says, pouring more sugar to her cup. Her coffee was already ruined but she pretends to drink it anyway.
"Really?, how's so?"
"Well, you and your... “honey”?"
The woman smiles, bright and widely. Clarke notices that she's not the only one pouring too much sugar in her coffee.
"It's my little brother," she explains, grabbing a slice of breath and cutting her eggs with the fork before stuffing her mouth with both of them. She chews slowly and continues, "he just broke up with his girlfriend and was thinking about dropping law school."
"Sorry." Clarke offers.
"Nah, it's okay, I guess that's what happens with couples, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Nothing lasts."
"Oh... I agree."
"Really?, why?" the womans asks and Clarke glances at her surprised. "I'm interested."
"I was just trying to be agreeable."
The woman smiles again. Her eyes bore into Clarke's, who quickly returns the smile before avoiding her glance. She wishes she has anything else to look at.
"It's just that nothing lasts though," the woman goes on, "that's the problem with my brother's girl, you see, doesn't know what she wants so she's fooling around and he finds her with some other guy."
"So you're a one person girl?"
"Yes, I am," she answers proudly, even puffs her chest a little, still chewing... still smiling. "Looking for someone now, actually. Hey, who knows?, you might be the one." Clarke almost spits her coffee but she laughs incredulously. "Oh, don't laugh, I'm new in town, I just got a new apartment, new job... Anyway, so you're a doctor?"
"Observant."
"Well, it's just that everyone's a doctor around here. In my building everyone's in green pajamas, gray slippers, there's this constant beeper sound, you know..."
"Yeah, I know," Clarke agrees, remembering her own, silent and still inside the pocket of her blue trousers.
"So, what kind of doctor?"
"Internal medicine, I'm a resident."
"So, If I need a doctor, you could be it."
"Well, yeah, technically, I could... I'm working at the hospital so..." Clarke instantly scolds herself, shaking her head. That sounded so stupid. She blames the woman sitting besides her and her smile, her stupid, distracting smile.
"Well, it's my lucky day, just getting in the big city and I found myself not only doctor but a beautiful one as well." Clarke tilts her head, blushing. She knows she's blushing. She could feel the redness of her own embarrassment creeping from her ears to her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I made you uncomfortable."
"No, not at all."
Silence.
"Listen, can I buy you a cup of coffee?"
"I-I have some patients coming, I should probably..."
"Yeah, I have to take the subway, get off to work but I still would like another cup of coffee." Clarke checks her watch, hesitating. This woman is truly insistent. She's still deciding whether that's charming or annoying.
"Yeah... okay, why not?"
"Great!"
The woman suddenly leans forward, taking one of the coffee pots from the counter and asking one of the waitresses for permission to pour it herself. She's so close to Clarke. She smells nice. She pours a generous amount of coffee in Clarke's cup and then on hers. Clarke looks at her all the time and she misses her closeness when the woman sits down and extends her hand towards the sugar container. Their hands met halfway and Clarke feels something tug inside her, in her chest, something that only grows bigger when the woman smiles at her once again. Because everytime she smiles at Clarke, it seems that it's wider and wider, almost as if her face couldn't contain that kind of smile any longer... and Clarke is almost lost in its clarity.
And they talk and talk, for about an hour and maybe, just maybe, Clarke stays a little more than she should have. But the woman is so alluring, so cheerful in her way of speaking about the most mundane things. She's hypnotic. Clarke likes the way her mouth moves when she speaks, likes the way her green eyes shine when she tells her about her most bizarre experience in the city yet, likes the way she speaks with her hands, so vivaciously... likes the way she suddenly drops her arm in the counter, leaning against it, propping her elbow, leaning her face in her hand like she has no other concern in her life but to have a better look at Clarke when she tells her about a patient's strange type of PAH.
"So, you're working on...?" Clarke wonders.
"A firm, not the one across the street, though, nothing big. We have cases of domestic violence, kids in legal troubles, that kind of stuff..."
"You like making a change?, being doing it all your life?"
"Yes I do," the woman agrees, proudly. "I know it doesn't pay so well but I like it, although eventually it'll depend on the woman I'll marry. Maybe she'll want a bigger house, raising a bunch of kids, a nice car... college fees are over the clouds, I don't know."
"Wow," Clarke sighs, picking up her notepad, her backpack, her coat after she realizing how late she is, "giving everything for the woman you marry?"
"Yeah, you know what?, I would, gladly," the woman firmly says, standing up, picking up her stuff as well, taking a few bucks out of her jeans' back pocket. She's a few inches taller than Clarke. "You make your choices. Imagine you and I, if we were married..."
"Woah!" Clarke exclaims, pretty amused.
"Come on, it's an example, if you and I were married I would want to help you get what you need to be comfortable and happy, that's all. I'm talking about taking care of each other the best we can. What's wrong taking care of someone you love?, they take care of you."
"Well, you'll have a hard time finding someone like that these days," Clarke's almost mocking her. She can't help it. She know it's a defense mechanism.
"Damn, you think so?"
"Yep."
"I don't know... lighting could strike," the woman says, hopeful and even more firmly than before.
Clarke's eyes widen at those words and her instant reaction is getting out, followed closely behind by a visibly confused and worried woman. Clarke looks over her shoulder before facing her. "I have to go."
"Yeah, me too..." the woman agrees. "Hey, did I say something wrong?"
"No!" Clarke rushes to answer, "no... no, I mean, no."
"Sure?"
"Sure, it's just that..." Clarke stutters, avoiding eye contact, "it's just that, well, it was... the things you said, they were so right that... it scared me, that's all."
"You know?" the woman asks, trying to find Clarke's eyes, "I was thinking over there and I don't want you to be my doctor, I don't want you... examining me."
"Why?"
"Because I kinda like you," the woman tells her after a long second of silence and there's so much sincerity behind her blatant flirting that Clarke's amazed by it.
Clarke smiles, tilting her head to her side. "Don't worry, I don't want to examine you."
"You don't?, and why is that?"
"Because I kinda like you too," they both laugh loudly at that. "And now I really have to go."
"Yeah."
"Alright."
"Fair enough, guess I'll see you around."
"Bye."
"Bye bye."
"Bye."
Clarke starts to walk backwards, just a couple of steps before turning around completely and hurrying her pace. She stops and turns again towards the woman only to see her walking away as well, with her heavy bags and her messy bun. Her graceful figure stands out in the middle of the sidewalk. Clarke sighs and keeps walking before turning her head again a little bit over her shoulder, wishing for the other woman to do so as well. Wishing for their eyes to meet one last time just before she has to turn around the corner of the street towards the hospital but she's only met with the woman's back, walking away from her for good. And it's almost sad. That little tragedy. Clarke had always found sad the way some people just enter into your life and then exit just like it was nothing. She thinks about the fact that she never asked her name. What's the point, really? She'll never see her again... perhaps it's for the better. What just happened was just a cute tale to tell Raven when she meets her for lunch. Her beeper sounds in her pocket. She walks away for good at last, fast and not turning her head again, not feeling very relieved when she enters the hospital, then the woman's locker room and finally, her first patient's room.
Little she knew of the commotion caused by a car crash and the woman with messy hair, in a messy bun and the bright green eyes caught in the middle of it.