Chapter Text
Samira
“Tomorrow Never Came,” Lana Del Rey
1:45-3:12
It didn’t hit Samira that living with Jack Abbot would come with any kind of complications. She was never known to be a comedian. Her dry, sometimes twisted humor wasn’t something she prided herself on. With the way this month was going, it just seemed like the right time to switch gears into a different problem needing to be solved by the end of the month–the list of endless problems that will most likely need a therapist visit or two to be healed. Isn’t there something drastically contrasting from the jump of her mommy issues to housing? Maybe this was an acquired sense of humor that Abbot clearly doesn’t possess. At least she thought it would be some kind of comedic relief in the moment of their conversation a couple of weeks ago.
She never took Abbot’s offer any differently than something out of the kindness of his heart. Dr. Abbot had always offered to take their co-workers home during a snowstorm, pick up shifts no one wanted, or be the first to take action against rude/aggressive patients. He had this way about him that was naturally protective and receptive to others' needs. Samira is someone who needed help, and while it wouldn’t have been her first choice to room with her co-worker, let alone her boss, she didn’t really bat an eye at accepting his generosity. At the end of the day, they’re friends who care for each other.
It’s the middle of her shift; the August heat has found its way into the ER with a buzzy adrenaline as they’re incredibly backed up and understaffed at the moment. Dr. Robby is still cruising on his sabbatical with Dr. Al-Hasimi returning slowly as the second Attendant of the day shift. Dr. Abbot finds himself pulling a double from a night shift, energetically trying to provide satisfactory patient care on quick feet. The rest of the group moves along at his pace, Abbot setting the working tone of the day. Luckily for them, despite the backup of people in the ER waiting room, most cases haven’t been too extreme and are mostly due to overheating, sunburn, or a mix of the two. Samira finds a second to begin charting before getting back into the heat of things, no pun intended. She sits at an empty computer by Trinity, who is disturbingly bubbly today.
“What has you in a good mood?” Samira asks as she’s logging in to the computer.
Trinity grins, “If you must know, I’m currently winning the betting pool,” she replies, continuing her typing simultaneously.
Samira chuckles. She refuses to enable the gambling addiction uniquely infecting the day shift. “It’s been so long since we’ve been able to catch up; you’ve turned into a complete Pitt Gambler,” Samira says jokingly disappointed.
“Oh, well, there is not much to update if it makes you feel better,” Trinity pauses on her charting, looking around the surrounding area before lowering her voice, “Garcia and I are still on the rocks.”
“Aw yes, the love quarrel of surgery x emergency medicine. I still don’t understand why you don’t just talk it out with her,” she replies, shooting a comforting smile to Trinity as she continues to chart.
“Why thank you, all-knowing Eros,” Trinity teases, “this is a topic to be discussed over drinks and appetizers. When are you free? Let me bring some goodies to yours, and we can finally get back to our regularly scheduled therapy sessions.”
“Soon, soon…?” Samira responds with a slightly questioning tone. “I’m in the process of moving, and I have a roommate now, so I need to figure out how all of that is gonna work out.”
“Oh? Since when and who? Are they a guy? Oo, if so, is he hot?”
Samira stops typing, looking over at Trinity with a slightly awkward facial expression, “If you think Dr. Abbot is hot, then-”
“You’re moving in with Dr. Abbot?!” Trinity exclaims, cutting her off.
Getting surprised by her sudden static, Samira jolts, “...yes?”
“Samira. You are living with our Dr. Abbot?”
Genuinely confused, “Yeah? What’s so surprising?”
“Hello? Dr. Abbot has been hovering over you since the mass casualty. I honestly thought you two had been dating with the little mentions of him you always bring up,” She pours out, speaking at a faster rate than usual without a stump in her speech, “Until I realized neither of you would allow that chaos with HR to ensue. Plus, we tell each other everything; there’s no way I wouldn’t have gotten a confirmation. But seriously, Mohan, you’re moving into his home?!”
“I didn’t think anything of it. I mean it just kinda happened,” Samira begins. Neither one of them has touched a key since she brought up her new living situation.
“Kinda happened?! No, you need to tell me everything-”
“Dr. Santos!” Called Dana, coming over to the noise of yap happening in the lively emergency room, “Patient in South 12’s parents have been waiting for you.”
Trinity gives a signaling look at their unfinished business before rushing to her calling. Dana lingers in the unsteady air left between them, noticing Samira’s puzzled look. “Do I even want to know?”
“I don’t even know what’s happening right now.”
–
The rest of the shift goes swiftly with only minor looks from Trinity. It wasn’t until the end of their shift that she caught up with Samira waiting by the parking lot. Samira was leaning against one of the lamp poles, scrolling through her phone as her tote bag weighed on her shoulder, legs crossed, hair falling from a loose claw clip. She hadn’t paid much mind to the unfinished conversation between them, nor to what Trinity was trying to imply. If anything, she was extremely confused at Trinity’s reaction. Was there something she misread between Abbot and her?
“Two hundred and sixty-seven dollars,” praises Trinity walking up behind her. “Man, I love my job.”
Samira turns, shaking her head, and laughing softly at the sight of Trinity money spreading her gambling earnings.
“How does a drink tonight sound? I’m paying and I know we both aren’t working tomorrow so?” Trinity offers with a smug look on her face. “We have a lot more to discuss.”
“Discuss what?” Abbot appears behind them.
Trinity turns to face him, a twinkle in her eye as she looks back and forth at the two individuals. “I was just asking Dr Mohan here if she’d like to grab a drink tonight with me.”
“Oh, sounds nice, do you want to come over then later tomorrow?” Abbot asks, unknowingly contributing fuel to Trinity’s burning curiosity.
With a slight twitch in Samira’s eye, she sends a concerned smile to Trinity, noticing the sudden wave of buzz appearing in her, “As nice as a free drink could be tonight, I made prior commitments with Dr Abbot already.”
“It’s no problem, Mohan. We have all day tomorrow anyway,” he adds, Samira noticing the glimmer in Trinity's sparkle with every word he spoke.
“No, no, it’s alright Dr Abbot. If anything we should probably get going,” She proposes, choosing to stay naive towards whatever Trinity could possibly be jumping to. Abbot tilts his head unknowingly as he looks over to Trinity.
“She’s right,” Trinity grins ear to ear, “I couldn’t impose on whatever you both have planned. This free drink can be claimed at a later date.”
Samira sends an annoyed glare at her which Trinity responds to with a wink. “I’ll see you all whenever then,” she glows before winking again to Samira as she walks away.
It’s not that Samira is uncomfortable with Trinity’s nosiness or whatever she was trying to imply in their conversation earlier today. She simply was trying to avoid an already complicated situation becoming even more complex with shenanigans planted by her friend. Samira only thinks of Dr Abbot as a friend if not a co-worker. Their relationship may have gone beyond professional mentor-mentee, but that doesn’t mean their friendship as a whole is unprofessional. There is nothing unusual about living with your boss when your boss is strictly platonic. At least that is what she tells herself hence the unknowing attitude to Trinity’s shock. There has been nothing she could think of that would impose some sort of siren between her endeavors with Dr Abbot, or even actions between them to signal some kind of alert.
Samira figures all Trinity was accomplishing was stirring up a gossip train of pure delusion and misinformation. Better yet to leave that kind of conversation for a much later time.
Soon enough Abbot walks her towards his truck. She goes toward the passenger’s seat to be met by him holding the door already open for her with a hand out. She smiles softly, using his hand as leverage to get in and finding a comfortable position with her seat belt buckle and hands intertwined neatly on her lap, uncomfortably aware of herself and her surroundings.
In the haze of the sunset mid-summer, with Abbot’s AC on blast, and a faint song by Bon Jovi playing in the background, Samira couldn’t help but ponder into what her conversation with Trinity would have led to. The rough thing about Samira is her inability to let something go. There was a reason she didn’t want to meet with Trinity tonight for drinks. Once an inkling that Samira may be an inconvenience to someone, or present some moral impurity in her actions, Samira would overthink without security or closure of the truth, and unfortunately, this seed of her potential inconvenience began to sprout in her mind.
The ride was short to Abbot’s home. She hadn’t noticed, by the time she regained consciousness out of her thoughts, that he was parked about a third up his driveway and already taking off his seatbelt.
“Alright, here I am,” Abbot starts. “This driveway is big enough for two cars, there’s only really one space inside the garage though. But I wouldn’t mind giving up that space for you, the other half is my at-home gym.”
His voice is softer than it was during their shift. His energy has mellowed down but not to the point where his exhaustion is noticeable. “But we can discuss that later, for now let me show you around.”
Samira’s quick no in her mind glitches her acknowledgment to him; straight lips forming into a quick curve and nod. No way will she allow him to give up his garage parking space for her 2016 Camry as reliable as it is. Samira gets out of her seat, shutting the door behind her as she stands and admires the front exterior of the house. His house seems to be a one-floor model, mainly black exterior with wood like ascents, lawn perfectly green with neat bushes lining his porch.
“Dr Abbot, your house is beautiful,” Samira tells him, stunned by the beauty of the sun against the modern yet cozy feel of his home from the outside alone.
Abbot gives a couple shakes to his legs while locking his car. “You know, I think we’ve reached a first-name basis by now, Samira. Please, call me Jack, and thank you,” he responds, a faint grin naturally on his lips.
“Right. Lead the way, Jack,” Samira practices, his name rolling unnaturally off her tongue. “I’ll get used to that soon enough.”
The porch of his home has a rocking swing set built in it, a bush of hydrangeas sitting in front of the adjacent fence, and light fixtures around the perimeter of the pathway leading up to his front door. He unlocks it, turns on the light, and takes off his shoes while placing his bag down on the floor against the wall. Samira follows his lead, taking off her shoes, and looking around the neatly kept home. Soon a black cat comes strutting towards him.
“Sweet girl, hello,” he says, picking her up. “This is my cat, Eurydice.”
“No way,” Samira gleams, walking closer to him and she goes to pet her. “My cat’s name is Orpheus.”
“You hear that Eurydice, what a small world,” whispers Abbot, his neck perched down to meet his cat lying in his arms, eyes up looking towards Samira.
She watches him. His arms cradled her, slightly flexed and tightly fit against his black t-shirt. His eyes are looking directly at hers, eyebags forming under though his eyes remain intentful. Eurydice is purring gently. He continues to pet her belly in the position she lies in his arms.
Samira snaps out of the sudden trance she fell into as Abbot starts to talk, “There are three bedrooms and two bathrooms total.” He signals her to follow him as he begins to walk slowly. “Bought this house the year Dahlia passed away. We weren’t able to move in as her chemo progressed but we spent a lot of time designing what would have been our home.”
Samira feels an ache in her heart, her eyebrows furrowing in with a slight frown to her lip.
“She wrote me a letter to read knowing she wouldn't live long enough to step foot in the fully decorated version of it,” Abbot has slight downwards to his mouth, “she told me she’d haunt me if I backed out of the house. She left a digital model of how she would have wanted the open floor plan to look. You can take the girl outta interior design but you can’t take interior design outta the girl. So I follow it to the best of my abilities.”
Samira looks around as they stay put nearing the kitchen. When you first walk in, you’re greeted by the living space. Full couches with two armchairs creating a U shape in front of the flatscreen at the opposing wall. A few lamps and potted plants are scattered where the flow gets disrupted to unify the space. The large windows facing the porch of the house let in copious amounts of sunlight. The wall above the TV is covered with a collage of frames. Most of them are empty, a few scattered around filled with Abbot's family or friends—Robby appearing quite a few times, the night crew, Walsh, and even Dana. The single photo of Abbot and Dahlia is a black and white photo from their wedding day; the only black and white photo.
Next to the living space is a spacious kitchen with a marble countertop, roasted wooden shelves/cabinets, and a dull blue-grey wall. The appliances are all this dark metallic and the island is complete with four stools of similar design to the rest of the kitchen. Yet again it’s quite clean, giving off a Modern style of Tuscan. The dining area leads to where the backyard can be accessed, a door to the master bedroom, and a hallway where the second bathroom and two other bedrooms are.
“Dahlia gave me free rein in the dining room and bedrooms. I honored her style so far but simplified it. She wrote something in her letter about how she wants this home to feel as welcoming as possible and it was too hard a job for me to deal with without her,” Abbot shares.
He then points to where his room is before heading towards the unoccupied rooms. The closest door to the right of the hallway is the bedroom closest to the second bathroom. Inside was a deflated air mattress that Abbot kept out for guests. The room farther away was empty.
Before Samira could say anything about the echoes in these rooms, Abbot told her to sit at the island while he made up some coffee for them. Samira can’t help but feel like she is intruding on his life; this unfinished life he began with his wife. The everlasting feeling of guilt in her stomach grows larger at the thought of her inflicting on his deeply personal home. For the first time, Samira feels unsure of this living situation. Nothing had been confirmed between them about her move. Although it was somewhat implied when she accepted coming over to his place today.
She sits in her thoughts, the sound of Abbot’s coffee machine brewing, the air fills with the rich scent, small sounds of clutter and metals banging on each other. He comes over to her shortly after, streaming mugs in his hands reaching one over to her. Samira’s face must have shown the crowdedness in her mind as Abbot watches over her.
“What’s on your mind?” He asks, taking a sip from his mug.
Samira looks at him, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” She begins, playing with the rim of the mug against her finger. “This home is yours, Jack. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me how deeper this is than simply as if we were dorming together.”
She can sense this step back from Abbot although it wasn’t physically happening. “Don’t get me wrong. It was so kind of you. And your home is absolutely breathtaking. I just, I don’t know if this is fair to you.”
“Fair?” He musters.
“Yeah, like…” Samira thinks before speaking further. What if she draws a line in the words she wishes to inquire about?
“Like if she were still alive? Or if I choose to move on?” He says for her.
All she could do was nod.
Abbot shares a sympathetic smile, “I have put thought into my offer since it left my mouth last week. I wouldn’t have replied to your message or followed up after if I hadn’t thought this all out. Truthfully, Samira, I’m unsure if there is a chance for me to ‘move on.’ The least I could do was open a space up for a friend, a friend of whom is already far from home, and in a stage of life that is full of mystery and uncertainty.”
Her sunken eyebrows slowly relax at his words.
“It’s not like you’d stay here forever. You have such a bright future ahead, I feel this duty to support the future of medicine one way or another,” Abbot adds. “So if you still want one of my spare rooms, we can talk about all the worries in your mind as well as this rent you’re so intent on sharing.”
Samira knew she and Abbot were friends. She knew their friendship went past the typical mentor-mentee model. She’s gotten to know his kindness. But she never expected it to this extent. She couldn’t help but feel lighter from his reassuring words. Jack Abbot was truly one of a kind, a selfless individual, PTMC is so lucky to have him.