Call Me in the Morning

He'd been up a day; maybe more. Yesterday was the grand opening of the Joshua Carter Center. Though he doubted she would come, she did. That was a good sign. He was happy to see her. She was a beautiful sight he hadn't seen for way too long. He had hoped that she would join him for some conversation over drinks with his friends, his old mentors, people whom he regarded almost like family. But the long flight from Paris left her tired and the painful memory of losing their son just weeks before he was due, had left her unable to bear the thought.

He was glad to see her at the opening though. He knew it would be extremely difficult for her. He knew it would highlight the painful memories she carried with her daily, but he hoped it would also help heal her hurt. The center would give hope and life to many that had little of either. The loss of their son was tragic, but in his name, countless others would live longer, healthier lives.

But even this didn't seem to ease the burden of loss she continued to feel nearly six years later. He wondered if she would ever heal, ever be free to be happy again. Or was she doomed to live her life forlornly mourning? Would she ever accept the loss for what it was, a tragic chapter in her life? Would she ever realize it was possible to turn the page and begin a new chapter, one where she could have another child and be happy?

"Call me in the morning" was her response when asked her if he could take her to lunch. A few hours ago, the morning seemed forever away. But the plethora of incoming trauma patients at County helped pass the time quickly. He missed this. It felt so natural to be in that rhythm again. It was like being part of an orchestra, each member of the trauma team having their part to play, each working in harmony with the others to produce a successful outcome.

Now morning, he called her. Could she do lunch? Of course not. But she did agree to meet him for coffee. At least she didn't shut him down completely as was her usual practice.

They met at the café in her hotel. "Are you sure you don't want to go someplace else" he asked.

"There holding my bags at bell services. I managed to get an earlier flight. I'm leaving for the airport in an hour."

Carter bit his lip. "An hour?"

"John you know how difficult this is for me" she replied.

"Catch your original flight. Give me a few hours." Carter pleaded.

"I can't."

"Kem, I can't go back to the Congo anymore. My health…"

"I can't stay here" she maintained her stance.

"I can live in Paris" he offered as tears welled up in his eyes.

She shook her head.

"It'll work Kem. I love you!"

Again she shook her head. "You've got the center to take care of now. You have to keep it going for Joshua. You need to stay here."

"Kem, please" he pleaded with her.

"I can't" she said painfully. This was hard on her too.

Making no attempt to hold back his tears, "I love you".

Kem, now crying as well, continued to shake her head. "I can't".

"You can't what?" Carter implored her for more disclosure. "You can't love me? You can't live with me? You can't what?"

"I just can't; any of it. I can't." she cried.

There it was; the truth. And it hurt. He hung his head low. As she rose from her seat, she kissed him on the top of the head. "I'm sorry" she said and then she quickly left.

Unable to move, Carter sat alone in the café, her cup of coffee still steaming across the small table. He had to find a way to get her over her grief. He had to find a way to make her see that he still loved her. He had to make her realize that she still loved him and that they should be together and that they could have another baby. He just didn't know how to do that.