"Omelette a la Luka? Carol sighed looking at Kerry who sat at the kitchen table, eating her eggs and back at him. "What's wrong with your hand?" She said worriedly as the man fumbled with the plate.
"My hand?" Luka stared at the bandaged fingers hidden in the oven mitt.. Away from prying and curious eyes. "Nothing.. I'm just a little tired.. Making breakfast all by myself is tiring work."
"Oh.. I'm sure it is.. Here.. Let me help." Carol said, taking the plates and pan of eggs from the doctor.
***
"Luka's worried about you and me? What about Carol and Luka? Aren't you at least a little worried?" Carter said as they shuffled back to the farm.
"I suppose so.. But not really.. I love him.. He loves me.. That's all I need to know." Abby sighed, biting her lip thoughtfully. "Have you ever wondered?"
"Wondered what?? What's wrong?" He replied worriedly, his dirt filled sneakers stopping on the lonely road as he turned. "What's wrong, Abby?"
"If Miss Piggy married Kermit the Frog.. Is she Mrs. the Frog?" She shrugged, shaking her head, her short dark bob, bouncing on her shoulders. "Never mind."
"Oh.. Umm.. Maybe she'd keep her maiden name.. Hey.. what about why they sterilize needles for lethal injections... Or.. If a tree falls in a forest... and crushes a mime.. Does anyone give a shit?" Carter grinned as Abby gave him a swat.
"My third cousin was a mime.." She snorted with laughter, her sides aching as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and lead her down the road.
"WAS a mime? Did he meet an untimely end with a Douglas Fir?" He quipped laughing.
"St-stoppp... J-john.." Abby giggled breathlessly and bent over gasping as she caught her breath.
"Speaking of Douglas Fir??? Think Cleo Finch is related to Doug?" The attending grinned, a twinkle in his eye.
"Doug Ross??" Her brow arched. "I don't get it.."
"Doug Fir.. The big wooden tree.. I think they'd be close relatives.." Carter ducked the swat and ran half-heartedly down the road as Abby stooped, picking up a handful of pebbles and threw them in Carter's direction.
"Y-you.. You're bad. John Truman Carter.." She laughed, catching up to him and pushing him into the ditch. His hand flailed as he grabbed her, pulling her in to the long grasses.
"My middle name's not John Truman Carter the 3rd.." Carter muttered good naturedly, as he grabbed a handful of grass and stuffed it down her shirt.
"Augh!!" Abby laughed pulling it out the bottom and throwing it at his head. "What is it then? Herman Alfred Peabody the Eighth?" She giggled.
"No.." Carter sighed. "I meant.. My middle name.. It's not Truman.. Anna.. I mean.. Dr.Del Amico.. She was making fun.. Uh.. It's not Truman.."
"What is it then?"
"Mmmdfmmers.." He muttered, turning away into the underbrush.
"What?" Abby teased, pushing him.
"My first name is Chauncey.. Chauncey John Grover Fergus Carter.." The doctor reddened.
"Pardon me?" Her brows raised and she snickered. "Chauncey? You're kidding me."
"N-no... I'm.. no.." Carter reddened, throwing a handful of grass at her.
"Cut it out Chauncey.." Abby squealed, jumping on him and wrestling the grass from his clenched fingers.
"Stop." He gasped, laughing. "S-stop it.."
***
"Stop it Brendan.. No.. You can't have cookies before dinner." Pam grumbled as she picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Pamela?" Doug stared at the grime and vomit that had worked its way into the cracks and grooves of the receiver. "Pam? It's me.. Doug.. Doug Ross.." He fell silent, slipping against the cold metal and Plexiglas of the booth. His shirt riding up allowing the smooth tanned skin of his back meet and conjoin with the filth of the glass. The cord strained as he slipped further down, sitting on his heels and his neck craned back so the earpiece was still somewhat near his ear. "Pam?!" Doug said worriedly. They hadn't lost the connection had they? He didn't think he had the nerve to dial the number again.
"I'm here Doug. I just don't know what you want me to say." She replied slightly stunned, watching her son, climb up onto the counter and grab the large clay jar from ontop of the refrigerator. "I said no Brendan!"
The lithe boy with dark eyes and charcoal hair, jumped in fright, allowing the cookie jar to smash to the floor. Oatmeal raisin cookies rolled out of the debris and under the kitchen counters into oblivion. Pam sighed. Nice little clean up later.. Ross men were such pigs. "Mom! I'm sorry Mom!" Brendan yelped, tears welling up causing Pam to shake her head in defeat.
"Go to your room kid.. I'm on the phone." She replied tiredly, sighing and holding in a breath till her son had retreated. "Doug.. What do you want? Money? The house? It's not mine.. It's Ray's... Take it up with him."
"I'm not.. I don't want.." Doug sighed. "No.. I don't want anything.. Ray.. He saw me on the tv.. He told me about.. The kid.. I want to help." He stammered, banging his head against the small cubicle. Stupid idiot.
"HELP!? HELP ME!? Doug... Your son is nine... NINE! He doesn't know who you are.. I don't plan to ever tell him. If he wants to know.. If wants to know and he's older.. Then.. It's up to him. You haven't offered to help in ten years.. Why should now be any different?" She spat angrily into the phone.
"I've been sending you cheques.." Doug mumbled feebly in response.
"Which the court ordered you to... But have you ever seen your son?! NO. You'd rather be off getting stoned and drunk and fucking your nursey callgirls!" She spat tearfully.
"Carol is not a call girl." Doug replied, trying to keep his voice even. "Carol is special."
"You haven't knocked her up yet then, I gather.. Her being special and all.." Pam snorted.
"I didn't even know your name.. We used a condom.. How in the fuck was I supposed to know you'd end up pregnant!? What did you do!? Poke holes in the fucking thing?!" Doug screamed into the phone. He listened to the rapid heavy breathing on the other end and sighed. "You poked goddamned holes in the condom!? You're a fucking whore.." He whispered hoarsely.
"So you said repeatedly during the trial, Doug.. But I got what I wanted.. A million dollar house.. Secure future for me.. For my son.. I got what I wanted.." Pam replied, her voice shaking as she replaced the receiver.
"Mom?" Brendan stood in the doorway, an oatmeal cookie clutched in his bleeding hand. "I tried to clean up the mess.. I cut myself.. It's okay... Who was that on the phone?"
"Nobody.. Nobody honey.. Let's get your hand cleaned up."
*****