36. People

“Andy.” 

We had a good time at lunch after the movie. 

“Hey, Andy.”

At least, I thought we did. Then she dropped me off at my place. 

“Aaaaannndddyyyy.” 

And then I went to sleep. 

“Hellooooo, Earth to Andy.”

Ok, well I didn’t go to sleep immediately. I actually stayed up later than I should’ve, going over every moment of the day again and again in my head, too wired to sleep. 

“Andy. Andy. Andy. Andy.”

And then it was Monday morning, and everything was just … weird. 

“Andrea.”

“Yes?” I bolt up on the couch, and my forehead connects with something solid. “Ow! Shit!” 

When the stars clear, I realize the thing I collided with was Doug’s head. It’s kind of obvious, since we’re both clutching our foreheads and grimacing. 

“Aw man, I’m sorry,” I sheepishly rub the sore spot. I hope it doesn’t leave a bruise. “Just reflex.” 

Doug drops his hand and chuckles, leaning back on the floor. 

“No wonder Miranda can’t survive without you, with a reaction time like that.” 

I let out a half hearted chuckle while needles prick at the stupid thumping thing in my chest. For such a vital organ, my heart sure is putting me through a world of pain. 

Maybe there’s a trade in service, or something. I’m sure some entrepreneur bro has a start up for it somewhere. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” I stare off into space. “Indispensable.”

Then it hits me. I turn to Doug. “You called me Andrea. You never do that.”

Doug rolls his eyes. 

“Well, saying ‘Andy’ over and over didn’t work. I even waved my hand in front of your face, but nobody was home.”

I feel heat creep up my neck and burn my ears. “Sorry, I was … lost in thought.”

“Clearly,” Doug smirks. “You’ve been lying there like a corpse for two hours. That’s no way to spend a Saturday.” 

I fall back onto the couch with a sigh. 

“I know, I just … I don’t know.” 

Part of me wants to tell him about my cold case, about Miranda doing a total one-eighty turn on me. But I don’t know if I can bring myself to voice it. It’s as if saying it out loud will make it real. 

Permanent. 

Doug’s watching me with that weird soft look again.

I’m not sure I like it. 

“You’ve been running yourself ragged, Andy.” 

I open my mouth to object, but he holds up a hand. 

“I know, it’s the job. And you like your job. Or, you usually do. This week you’ve been … low. I don’t know how else to describe it. You come home, immediately go to your room, barely saying a word. I haven’t even seen you eat dinner.” 

I look away, unable to hold his gaze. 

“It’s just been one of those weeks,” I lie on a whisper. 

I look up when he grabs my hand. I didn’t realize how cold I was until I felt his warmth against my skin. 

“When I’m having ‘one of those weeks,’” he says, his voice gentle as if I might shatter from a too crisp consonant. “You know what helps?”

“What?” I ask, just as softly, a small smile lifting the corners of my lips. 

Oh Doug, I don’t deserve you. 

He squeezes my hand. 

“People.” 

As if summoned by Doug’s magic spell, my phone starts to vibrate on the coffee table. I sit up and reach for it, turning it over to read the display. 

Mom. 

“People,” Doug repeats before standing and meandering to the kitchen. 

I stare down at the display, letting it ring. 

People. 

Well, the person I most want to call me has decided to go with radio silence instead. 

I can’t let one person decide my entire mood.

I tell myself that. I don’t believe it. But I tell myself anyway.

I answer the call. 

“Andy, honey, hi. I’m just doing some weekend cleaning and thought I’d call to chat while I clean. Sooo how’s New York? How’s work?”

I can’t help but smile at the familiar rhythm of the call. 

“It’s fine, Mom. Busy, as always, but … fine.” 

There’s a pause on the other end. 

“You don’t sound fine, honey. What’s wrong?” 

“No, Mom, it’s nothing,” I try to wave it away. I don’t want to get into it. And she wouldn’t get it, anyway. 

“Don’t you ‘No, Mom,’ me. Andy, I’m here to listen. Well, I’ll listen as best I can over the noise of the vacuum. What’s wrong?”

She’s not gonna let it go. She never does. 

It’s what makes her a great mom. 

So I sigh and tell her my sad tale of being left at the curb and abandoned by my boss. 

“Well, honey, this sounds like a good thing. I can’t believe she was keeping you so late to begin with! You have to wait all night and deliver that book, and then she keeps you for another few hours? When are you supposed to have a life?” 

“No, Mom, you don’t get it. The late nights weren’t a bad thing.”

“Not a bad thing? Andy, you know that you need at least eight hours of sleep, it’s just physiology. These late nights and early mornings just aren’t sustainable, and she should know–”

“Imagine learning law at the feet of Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” I interrupt, desperation coating my voice. “She’s fighting this insane battle for gender equality, trying to find respect as a female lawyer, and still she finds the time to take you under her wing and teach you.”

“Well, that sounds–”

I railroad over her, unable to stop. 

“And then imagine that after months of being trusted, confided in, taught, relied on, all of a sudden you’re just … out. She’s ignoring you, doing her best to pretend you don’t even exist, and letting efficiency slip because she can’t stand to look at you!”

“Oh, honey. I’m sor–”

“And you know that something had to have happened to make her flip like a light switch. And you wrack your brain, paying attention to every little detail, every possibility, but nothing fits. The case goes cold. And after all that, after nearly a year of letting your old life crumble for this new, terrifying, all consuming opportunity, this woman, after becoming a whole brand new person, she just … abandons you.” 

I’m not sure when I started crying, but the tears sliding down my face and the saltiness on my lips are undeniable. 

I hiccup, and it all goes to hell from there. 

“Oh my sweetie,” my mom says softly on the other side of the phone. “I know. I know how hard you’ve worked, how much you’ve sacrificed. There you go, honey. Let it out. Just let it out.”

And I do. Doug comes and sits on the couch beside me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me in. With him at my side, and my mom’s voice in my ear, I let it all out. 

I'm not sure it helps. 

***

After my crying jag, Doug treats me to a comfort day. 

We wear our ugliest, coziest pajamas, Doug makes dozens of pancakes with all the best toppings, and we curl up on the couch to talk over at least a season of Grey’s Anatomy. 

“Derek is such a tool,” I announce, throwing a blueberry at the TV screen, our only source of light since the sun set hours ago. “Seriously, he’s always criticizing Meredith for something!”

“Meredith is a little fucked up,” Doug retorts. “She has a right, after that sort of childhood, but yeah. She’s a mess.”

“And Derek doesn’t want a mess,” I say, picking up the thread. “He wants Meredith the prodigy, not Meredith the disaster human.”

“Maybe it’s the age difference,” Doug muses. “She's, what, twelve years younger than him? She’s just starting to get serious, while he’s been established in his career for at least a decade.”

“No, the issue is that he expects her to meet him at his level, when she’s not there yet. And she shouldn’t be. She’s still learning, and growing. He should remember his own experiences at that age and cut her some slack. Meet her where she’s at.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot, hmm?” Doug leans back into the couch, smirking at me. “Dreaming about your own McDreamy to come and sweep you off your feet?” 

Oh if only you knew. 

The burn in my cheeks definitely doesn’t give my stammering denials any credibility. 

After a few minutes of teasing, Doug finally lets me off the hook. We clean up and say goodnight, and I’m personally ready to drift off into a world of surgeries, sex, and scandal. 

I’m wrapped up in my blankets, my pillow perfectly chilly, and my eyes are fluttering shut, relaxation overtaking me–

RING! 

I surge out of bed, slapping my nightstand for my phone. 

There’s only one contact I have set to ring at full volume, no matter the time of day. 

I swipe to answer the call. 

“Andrea?” comes the panicked, possibly sobbing voice on the other line.

My breath catches. That voice.

I’m out of bed and getting dressed before she finishes saying my name.