| |
A Single Light
by Mer
He sat alone in his apartment. Time dragged, each minute seeming emptier than the last as they ticked relentlessly into the night.
He wished House were there, but his best friend was out of town, visiting his parents. Lousy timing as always, he thought. His heart had sunk when he'd seen the court date on the papers, seen that it was the same day as Blythe House's 70th birthday party. It had taken him days to convince House to attend, but House had actually been looking forward to seeing his mother and reconciled to dealing with his father. So he'd said nothing, pretending he hadn't heard from the lawyers, pretending everything was all right.
Seventy years. It was a milestone, something to celebrate. His parents would be celebrating their 45th anniversary in March. Right now he didn't think he could bear to congratulate them. It reminded him too much of his own failure. All three of his marriages together hadn't lasted ten years.
Now we will feel no rain, for each of us will be shelter for the other.
He finished his beer and ambled to the fridge to get a new one. The last one. If he'd been thinking he would have stocked up. But he hadn't been thinking, not of the future at least.
Three marriages, three divorces. An unholy trinity.
Joni, who had followed him to Montreal, married him in Boston, and filed for divorce three months after he accepted a position in Princeton. It was a Massachusetts divorce - she had never given up their apartment, which should have been a sign. Two years, nine months, 17 days.
Jennifer, whom he had married and divorced in less than two years. Adultery - on his part - though she had cited extreme cruelty to speed up the process. The final decree had come just a month before the infarction, the beginning and the end of everything. One year, eleven months, 29 days.
And Julie, who had been his refuge from the storm of House's recovery, who had filled the hole in his life left by House's relative re-emergence into the world. He had asked her to marry him the day after House had returned to work. He had filed on the grounds of adultery, but only after Julie had made it clear that she wanted him out of her life. Five years, two months, 13 days.
Now we will feel no cold, for each of us will be warmth to the other.
He wanted to talk to House and wondered if it were too late to call. He squinted at his watch. Nine o'clock. The party would probably still be going on. It wouldn't be fair to interrupt.
What had happened, he wondered, as his eyes rested on the divorce decree left lying on the coffee table like a reproach. How had he let the love slip away? There had been love, in the beginning, love enough to disguise the differences, to smother the doubts. She had hated how much time he spent at the hospital, hated even more how much time he spent with House, but she had understood. At least at first.
Maybe if he had loved her enough he would have let her possess him. He had thought he'd wanted nothing more than to make her happy, but he couldn't quite bring himself to give her what she'd wanted most - his undivided fealty. He hadn't cheated - not this time - but he hadn't been faithful either. He knew New Jersey divorce law all too well. Adultery existed when you abandoned your spouse for another intimate relationship. The grounds for the divorce had been laid before the marriage.
Now there will be no loneliness, for each of us will be companion to the other.
He could blame the job, blame the hours, even blame House.
If he had chosen a different specialty, one that didn't drain him so completely of hope and compassion, he might have had the strength to navigate the rougher waters of their marriage. If he'd carved a space in his life solely for her, one that didn't compete with meetings and consults and late-night pages, she wouldn't have needed anyone else.
Maybe if he'd had a different best friend, one that understood boundaries and didn't expect him to drop everything whenever he called, she would have been more accepting. He had never misled Julie about House's importance in his life, but he had never been willing to change it. That was when it had really ended - when Julie realized that he would always put House's needs above hers, when she asked him to choose between them and he refused. Which was a choice in itself.
No, he couldn't blame House. Because House was House, as immutable as the laws of physics, and the only constant in his life that he welcomed. When the last of the love had drained away, when all that remained were the differences and the doubts, House had still been there. It was House who taken him in the day Julie told him she was having an affair, House who poked and prodded at him until he faced up to the reality of his marriage ending.
Now we are two persons, but there is only one life before us.
House would be pissed, he knew, when he found out the divorce had gone through and he hadn't said anything. House would never admit it, but he would have wanted to be there, would have claimed it was the perfect excuse to avoid his father. But the only thing that had gotten him through the day was imagining House with the mother who loved him unconditionally. So he had made the choice for him. It was selfish, and House would probably never forgive him, but it was the only choice he could live with.
The phone rang and he snatched at it like a lifeline. "Hello?"
"It's Friday night and you're not on a date?"
He almost wept at the familiar voice. "House. How'd your mom? Did she have a good birthday?"
"Not bad for an old lady."
He heard Blythe House chide her son in the background, heard the happiness in her voice, and it warmed him, confirmed that he had made the right choice.
"Good. I'm glad." He felt pathetically grateful for the contact. House picked up on it. He always did.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing," he replied, pretending to take the question literally. "It's pretty boring without you around."
"No doubt," House replied, amusement in his voice.
There was a pause and he was tempted to tell House about the divorce, to explain how alone he felt, to try and describe the despair that seemed to paralyse him.
But he waited too long and House was speaking again. "Hold on, my mother wants to talk to you."
He could hear a muffled conversation, then Blythe House was speaking in his ear. "James, sweetheart, thank you for the present, it's beautiful."
He could feel the smile reach his lips, stretching the muscles in his face. "Do you like the frame? I found it in an antique store in Soho."
"The frame is lovely, but not as lovely as what's in it. Greg says you took it yourself. I didn't know you were a photographer."
He could feel the blood rising to his face as heard House in the background. "Wilson is a man of many talents. Most of which I can't repeat in polite society." It was the equivalent of high praise from House. He felt compelled to undercut it.
"I was just fooling around. It was a lucky shot."
"I don't think so. A professional couldn't have taken that picture with so much love. Thank you, James, I'll cherish it."
He thought of the photo he had taken of House. His camera had been in a box of miscellaneous items Julie had sent to his office when she was industriously ridding their home of every trace of him. He hadn't used it for months; he couldn't remember the last occasion he'd shared with Julie that he would have wanted to document. There was still half a roll of film in the camera and on impulse he had taken it to House's office. House had called him old school for owning a non-digital camera - and cheap for not wanting to waste film.
But when he'd camped it up, pretending to be a fashion photographer, House had played along, striking outrageous poses. The final photo he'd taken was a candid shot of House, not quite smiling, but clearly relaxed and amused. Somehow, through a fluke of lighting or timing, he had managed to capture everything he loved about House: his playfulness, his curiosity, and his tenacity. He had kept a copy for himself and framed a print as a birthday present for Blythe.
"I thought since I get to see him so much more than you do at least I could share what I see with you," he said shyly.
"Oh, sweetheart, that's beautiful. It's the best present I could ever have."
He cleared his throat softly. "Well, don't tell your son I said this, but since you gave me the best friend I could ever have, I think we're even."
He could hear tears in her voice as she whispered goodbye and felt his chest tighten as the smile faded away. Then House was back on the line, feigning outrage. "What are you doing making my mother cry on her birthday? I'm going to have to smack you one when I get home."
"Must be my winning way with women," he replied bitterly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
"Wilson? Are you okay?"
He curled deeper into the couch, pressing the receiver against his cheek, and closed his eyes. "Sure. Long day. Cuddy stuck me with your clinic hours." That at least was true.
House chuckled on the other end of the line. "Yeah, well, better you than me. I appreciate you taking one for the team, though."
The team. He felt his lips, unbidden, curve upwards again. Julie was gone, but he was still part of a team.
"You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. Really." And this time there was no prevarication; just a sense of belonging that swept away despair and filled the emptiness. "I'll see you in a couple of days. Give your mom a birthday hug for me."
James Wilson cradled the receiver gently, the sound of his friend's wry laugh echoing in his ears. He picked up the decree and looked at it one last time, paying a silent farewell to that part of his life forever. Then he folded the papers neatly and slipped them into a desk drawer.
He looked around the apartment. He was still alone, but somehow it didn't seem lonely any more. In a couple of days House would be back. He'd invite him over for beer and Chinese, maybe watch a game on television, play some video games. It wasn't a marriage, but it was a life.
end
"From every human being there rises a light that reaches straight to heaven. And when two souls that are destined to be together find each other, their streams of light flow together and a single, brighter light goes forth from their united single being." Baal Shem Tov
Please post a comment on this story.
Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
|
|
|