July 12, 2004

It's been a year. An entire year that Abby has been another man's wife. Not any man. Him. Luka Kovac. The perfect male according to any novel, movie, or TV show. Dark, mysterious, handsome. I knew I was losing her in that classroom a couple of years ago. He was the ideal guy while I was this…rich bratty boy. And a fool too. I actually thought I had a chance. She relapsed. She was drinking again. I took a while for me to see it, but eventually I did. I tried to help her and I succeeded. Within a couple of months, she was completely in recovering mode. I thought it had brought us closer, I thought she might reciprocate my feelings for her. Unfortunately I was wrong. Dead wrong. She got pregnant. With him. That day I felt my life was over.

"John, aren't you going to eat your breakfast?" Susan's voice brings me back to reality. I looked at her smiling face. She has a beautiful smile. It's like her entire face lights up when she smiles. Seriously, she is a wonderful wife. If I can't have Abby, she's a great second prize. Not that I actually see her that way. Things are just different than my ideal life would have been. But it's not a surprise, really. Not many people lead an ideal life.

"I'm not all that hungry this morning. I'm sorry." I glance at my watch and notice the time. That's a good enough excuse. "We're going to be late if we don't leave now."

Susan just smiles some more. She knows why I'm in a bad mood and she's kind enough to let me off the hook for today. I know I'll act like a jerk today. I can't help it. I'll try to be extra nice to her tomorrow.

I lied earlier. My life isn't over. Susan's a sweetheart, she's about as perfect a wife as you can find. She's understanding and she's fun. I'm really comfortable with her. The only thing that would make my life better is if Luka, Abby, and their child never existed.

~o~

It's our wedding anniversary and I'm working. It sucks. But Luka had to stay home to watch Magda; she can't be babysat both for the day and the evening. She already has a babysitter five days a week and she barely spends any time with both her parents. That's one united family. I'm really not into this whole two working parents thing. But at the same time I don't want to give up my job. I love it.

Except for today, I got puked and peed on. Twice. And I've been avoiding Carter like the plague. For the past two years, I have tried to limit my interactions with John Carter. It's less painful. But today of all days, I don't even want to see him. If he looks fine, I'll be heart broken that he doesn't care that we're not together and that Magda isn't his, but if he looks sad, I'll feel horribly guilty. So, I avoid these intense emotions by limiting my interactions with him to none.

I spent my day helping Susan out with her patients. She's a doll. She knows how I feel about John but she never says anything, never treats me differently. She loves Magda. She came by our house a couple of times and she was great with her. Carter's seen her once when she was a baby. I brought her to the ER to show her to everybody. He smiled sweetly. I'll never forget that smile. But then, Luka arrived and his smile turned into a frown and he left. He never saw or ask about Magda after that.

Sometimes this life feels surreal, like I'm watching someone else's life through their eyes. I'm happy. It's just that this feeling is monotone. It never changes. I used to live on edge. Now I have the same kind of feelings every day. Only once in a while, I'll realize what has been slipping away and I'll be moody. Other than those rare days, I'm usually the same. I think Luka appreciates that.

"Abby, could you help me with this little girl?" Susan asks, as she tries to calm down a crying girl who looked about four or five. She's holding an impressive syringe for such a small girl. I smile at the child who seems to have all the heartaches in the world. I wonder if Magda will look like her a little when she's that age. I reach for some tissue and attempt to dry her cheeks. "There, there, sweetie. There's nothing to cry about. It will barely sting." The child flings away from me in terror. I take her arm gently and rub it. "Sshhh. Dr. Lewis has to do this so you'll feel better." I tried to give her the same smile I give Magda. "You want to feel better, don't you?" The poor girl nods and I can see in her face that she's trying to be courageous. I start singing "Twinkle, Twinkle" and she sings along. While we sing, Susan gives her the dreaded shot. The amazing girl winces slightly but keeps on singing. I wonder where her parents are. How could they leave such a young child with strange nurses and doctors? No wonder the girl was so afraid. I turn to Susan and mouth, "Where are her parents?"

"Foster child." She mouths back. "There are five more of them around." She says out loud. She points at the bed next to us where a little boy was lying down. "That's one of them there."

"Abby, Carter needs you in trauma 2." Chuny, as always bringing me the best of news. I make a conscious effort not to wince and try to take off the hint of any whine in my voice. "Can't you ask another nurse? I'm busy with Dr. Lewis here."

"I'm in trauma 1 with Dr. Weaver and there are no other nurses available. I don't have time to argue so move now!" With that, she flies back. I sigh and head over to the 'room of trauma'. And it's not just the patient's trauma now; it's mine too.

As soon as I walk in there, I get into full work mode. "Okay" I say to Carter making sure I'm not even looking at his face so I am positive I won't make any eye contact. "What's going on?"

"MVA victim." And he starts giving me the details while I assist him. He skillfully avoids my eyes as much as I try to do the same. We're getting pretty good at this, we've been practicing for two years now, and the entire operation went on without either of us really looking at one another. We're really impressive.

~o~

As I enter the lounge, I sigh with relief that no one is there. It's not that I don't like my co-workers but I just spent thirty minutes in a trauma room with Abby and it was rather hard to maintain my cool. I'm just relieved that it's over and she's far away from me. Now I need some alone time. If only for five minutes. So I can compose myself and make sure that I won't run to Abby and kiss her until she can't breathe. Breathe. That's a nice thought. I should try to do that. And I let out the air I've been holding the past couple of minutes. I'm getting way too emotional today. I should stop it. No one deserves this immaturity from me and all it does is hurt the ones I care about.

My thoughts are interrupted by someone walking in. And that someone is no other than Abigail Lockhart. So it would be just plain rude not to acknowledge her presence so I give her a meek "Hi."

She sounds as though she's smiling,, well at least I think she does because I haven't looked up at her face. "Hi. You did a great job with that man back there." She compliments me. A deaf person would hear the awkwardness in her voice. I thank her, with the same awkwardness. Abby doesn't say more as she opens her locker. "You're off already?" I ask her surprised. I glance at the clock. It was only 4 o'clock.

"It's my wed-," she starts to say but then stops, clearing her throat. "Luka and I are planning to go out tonight. I want to get home early so I can spend some time with Magda." My heart flinches twice. Once was when she mentioned Luka's name. The second time is when she mentions Magda's name. For the first time in my life, I am not particularly fond of a child. Even though I've never really met her. "How is she?" I ask as politely as I can, keeping my bitterness in check.

"Who?" She turns and looks at me. Our eyes lock for half a second and my entire being has turned into Jell-O. This is hell. There's an uncomfortable silence between us and it seems that Abby's waiting for something. "Were you asking about Magda?" she asks finally.

I am confused for a second. Magda? Oh right. I asked her how she was. "Yeah. She must be 15 months old by now, no?" Yay, I can do small talk. I am one brave and strong man. Right.

"Yeah. She's adorable. She can only say a few words though. The first word she said was Mama. I was so happy." There are tears forming in her eyes. It's magical. I've never seen Abby showing her emotions so openly. "And she can say milk but she prefers to say mik, she says dada, and Laalaa for juice."

She chuckles and I can't help but do the same myself. "Laalaa? "

Her big wonderful grin is still firmly in place as she explains, "We give her orange juice sometimes. She watches Teletubies all the time. She associates the character Laalaa with yellow things, so she calls orange juice Laalaa."

"She sounds great." Is the only thing I can think of to say, but somehow it just doesn't feel appropriate. But what is there to say really? The only other thing I want to say is 'Why isn't she mine? Why this wonderful, adorable, little girl isn't mine?' There's absolutely no point to this. We can't change the past. I'm not sure if she would really want to either. She seems happy with her life, happier than I can remember her ever being, really.

"She's amazing and she's only a baby. I can't wait until she grows up and talks to me about her little kid problems." She then stops and her face becomes extremely serious. I panic at that. Oh please, Abby. Don't stop talking. I know tonight I will feel even worse than I would have been if I hadn't see her but this moment is almost pure joy. Except she doesn't seem to think so. "What's wrong?"

She doesn't say anything write away. I can feel the seconds that go by, in silence. My veins are pulsing. I don't know what to think. "You don't think she's bipolar, do you?"

"I can't say for sure, but I doubt it. I'm positive that she is healthy." Poor Abby, I wish she didn't have to worry about things like that. She's had too many trials in her life. It just isn't fair.

Abby nods at her shoes, indicating that this conversation is over. It's nice to know that we can actually talk for two minutes every two years. She puts on her raincoat and closes her locker. She throws a "Bye" before she leaves. I don't say anything, I can't trust myself. I almost say, 'Talk to you in two years' but I don't want to ruin her day.

~o~

As I open the door of the apartment, I instantly hear a scream, then a "Mama, mama, mama!" Then I hear small footsteps and a big thump. I laugh as I put my purse on the table next to the door and my keys next to it. "Magda" I call out. "Mama!" I hear in response. I walk to the living room and watch as my 15 month-old baby attempts to run toward me. It must have taken two full minutes but she finally managed it, holding on to my leg for dear life. I scoop her up in my arms and shower her with kisses. My precious little angel. She looks more beautiful every day. "How are you sweetheart? You had a nice day with Daddy?" She nods vehemently. "I'm glad." I look around the living room.

Luka is sitting on the floor with big bright plastic blocks scattered next to him. "What were you playing with? The blocks?" I point at the blocks and she nods. I sit on the floor and sit her next to me. "Come on, sweetie, we'll play with the blocks together." She laughs happily and starts picking up blocks in her small little hands. I glance over at Luka who is smiling at the picture. "Your day was okay?" I ask as cheerfully as I can. It's our day today. I should not be thinking about the thirty minutes I spent confined in a trauma room with a certain someone, I should not be thinking about another two minutes I spent in a deserted lounge room with the same someone, I should not be thinking about the conversation we had about Luka's daughter with that someone and all the time wishing it was theirs.

"Magda's been calling everything Mama. She even calls her blocks Mama." I love my daughter, I love her, I love her, I love her. I chuckle happily as Magda proves Luka's point and waves a block in her hand saying 'mama, mama, mama'. As I look at my daughter's happy face, I know that no matter what ordeal I went through and will go through, it's worth it because I have my precious Magda.

~o~