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"Hey, what's the matter?" Ray forced himself to ask as he lowered himself to join Debra on one of the benches that he was pretty sure were designated for smokers, not weeping wives. "Why didn't you want to sit in the waiting room, where it's warm, and not snowing out?" The wind whipped against his skin. "You don't even have your jacket on," he chided, presenting the forgotten garment to her. "Are you trying to get consumption?"
"No," she said ruefully, slipping on her coat. "I just couldn't sit in that room with those people any longer."
"Those people are our family," he pointed out. "What's the difference between seeing them here and seeing them at home?"
"Are you seriously asking me why I don't want to sit in the waiting room at the Queens Medical Center waiting for news on your father and his supposedly routine procedure?" Debra asked, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her coat.
"Yeah! I'd like to understand what they did to upset you in the five minutes I was using the men's room," he insisted. "All I could get out of them was that you left the room in tears for what they described as 'no reason at all'. I asked them what they said, and they all claimed that they'd said nothing that would reduce you to tears. I know they're lying, Deb, and I want to know what--"
"No, it had nothing to do with your family," she whispered softly. She reached out and clasped his hand. "It was because--"
"Because?"
"It reminded me of you. The last time we were all here at this godforsaken place was when you were having your adenoids removed," she reminded him. "That was supposed to be a routine procedure, too, you know, and they ran into complications, and made me afraid that you wouldn't wake up," she rambled. "Obviously, you're fine now, Ray, but when you went to the bathroom, it just...made me remember. I couldn't sit in there any longer, not without you."
"I didn't know that it was still affecting you," he admitted. "I mean, I'm here, Deb. I'm fine. Nothing happened."
"I know that, logically," she insisted. "That doesn't change the fact that something could have happened. It might have, and it was terrifying. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your family," she added. "I didn't mean to cause a fuss."
"You didn't embarrass me," he assured her. "Who cares what they think about you, anyways, they're morons."
"Ray!"
"What? They are. Don't pretend you haven't spent the entirety of our marriage claiming that you're better than them."
"Of course I have," she told him. "Who wouldn't? Still. I could have stayed inside. Maybe you wouldn't have worried about me."
"I'm worried about you because you're upset, not because you left the waiting room," he told her. "I could care less if we even go back inside. I just wanted to see if you were okay."
"Why wouldn't I be?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Kinda seems like it hit you hard. You know. Being here."
"For a moment," she admitted. "But you're here, and you're okay, so I'm fine. I promise. We can go see your father."
"I don't care if we go see my father or not."
"Ray..."
"Ray, what? Don't tell me that he's my father. Trust me, Deb, I'm well aware of my fate in that regard. If it's all the same to you, I'm fine with just heading home." Ray wasn't all that enamoured of quality time in the hospital he'd nearly died in either, now that Debra had pointed it out. Of course, he'd remembered that he'd had his surgery there, but the entire thing was a bit of a blur. He couldn't remember nearly dying. "Or, we don't have to head home. Let me take you out," he offered.
"Take me out? Like a murder, or are you thinking a date?"
"Deb, come on, I'm not gonna murder you. Of course I mean a date. I'm hungry. We could go grab some lunch."