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Most people wrongly assume that Dr Jacob Fineman is against all forms of modern technology. He might be seventy-two and live in a house without a TV or the internet, but he's not completely cut off from the world.
He has a smartphone.
Alright, he only really gave in and bought one to answer video calls from his grandchildren, and the only applications are those that came pre-installed on it, but still, he owns one.
His daughter once tried to show him how to access the store to download the 'apps', but after a long, overwhelming browse through the thousands available, he decided all he needed was the ability to make calls, read the odd email, and access photos, and that was it. She hadn't tried again.
Still, it's there, usually left on his kitchen table until the battery runs low enough that it needs charging once again. More often than not, he forgets to take it with him when he leaves the house, and when he does get home, it's to thirty panicked messages and calls because his children think he's dropped dead somewhere.
He's still fairly fit for his age, thank you very much.
His patients all know to call his landline if there are any issues with their appointment time, leaving a message if he doesn't pick up.
The only reason Caleb has his cell number is because he dropped by the day Jacob bought the damn thing and was kind enough to help him set it all up for him.
He's known Dr Caleb Jefferson for over fifteen years, first meeting when Jacob took the odd psych shift at PTMC, happy to fill in gaps when the flu was going around or there was no one else to cover. Caleb was just a resident then, young and eager to learn. Jacob had seen himself in the younger man and had felt compelled to take him under his wing, teaching him everything he knew. Over the years, Caleb had become more than a mentee; he'd become a good friend, often popping over on his days off, always arriving with sandwiches from Jacob's favourite deli.
Caleb is a good doctor. Calm, level-headed, with the ability to see right through the nonsense. Jacob likes to think some of that came from him, though he's not arrogant enough to admit out loud.
Whilst Caleb has Jacob's number, he can count the number of times he's actually called it on one hand. Caleb only calls if it's very important.
It's why Jacob answers the phone when he sees his friend's number on the screen.
Instead of getting right to the point, Jacob notices the time passing with pleasantries. Caleb updates Jacob on family life, his husband's promotion and how things are going at work, mentioning a few names Jacob still remembers. As much as he enjoys catching up, he knows Caleb has called for a reason.
"Out with it then," Jacob says when there's a lull in the conversation.
"Hmm?"
"The real reason for this call, I know you far too well, remember?"
"Alright…I've got someone I want you to meet with."
Jacob can hear the hesitancy in Caleb's voice. It's not the first time Caleb has asked him to take on a patient, but it's been a while, and this one seems different somehow. Caleb's not usually so hesitant to refer someone to him. He's determined to get to the bottom of it before he agrees to anything.
"What do I need to know?"
"He's stubborn, avoidant, resistant, in denial, angry, burnt out, too fucking smart for his own good," Caleb lists off, pauses, then adds, somewhat reluctantly, "You would be the fourth."
There it is.
"Ah."
There's nothing wrong with shopping around when it comes to therapists. You don't always gel with the first one you meet with, or the second. But combined with the characteristics Caleb listed off, you get someone who would rather have any number of painful things done to them than sit through therapy. You get someone who hasn't yet admitted to themselves that there's a problem.
"Why me?"
"I thought you liked the tricky cases; you're good at the tricky cases."
Jacob huffs, seeing right through Caleb's attempt at flattery.
"I'm too old for tricky cases now."
"C'mon," Caleb implores down the phone. "This is my last chance, I barely got him to agree to this."
"Why me?" Jacob asks again.
"Because I should have thought of you first, Jacob. That's my fucking mistake. You might be the only one who can get through to him before it's too late."
That makes Jacob pause. Just how close to the edge is this man?
"He needs someone who's going to see through all the bullshit, someone who has seen it all before isn't going to be impressed with his smart mouth and easy deflections, someone who's going to dig deep and not give up, not for a second…that's you."
Jacob is starting to get a picture of the man Caleb is referring him to. Caleb is right that he's seen it all before, but if he's sending Jacob a patient, it's not going to be easy.
"What's his name?"
"Michael, Michael Robinavitch."
Jacob is not surprised when Michael Robinavitch postpones his appointment three times, claiming work as the primary reason for the need to push it back.
Then he cancels altogether and doesn't seem to make any effort to rebook.
Jacob knows a little, not a lot, about Michael, thanks to Caleb. He knows Michael is a doctor at PTMC, the chief emergency physician, no less. With that job, Jacob understands both the need for intense therapy and the unpredictable schedule that requires postponing appointments. However, Caleb also informed him that Michael has been on sabbatical since the beginning of July and isn't currently working.
Jacob is too old for games. His time is just as valuable.
He leaves a couple of messages with Michael to see if he plans on rebooking, and leaves it at that. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. If Michael wants to avoid therapy, there's nothing that'll make him change his mind.
Or so Jacob thinks.
In the end, it's not Michael who finally makes the appointment, but someone by the name of Jack.
"He'll be there," Jack promises gruffly once the new appointment date has been confirmed. "Even if I have to drive him there and frog-march him to the door."
Most people retire before they hit seventy, but Jacob's an outlier. He likes what he does, still thinks he has something to offer. When he was younger, not long after he'd decided psychotherapy was more his speed than psychiatry, he had his own practice in the centre of town with a receptionist and colleagues. Now he sees his small roster of patients in the front room of his house overlooking Riverview Park.
The house is filled with memories of a long life lived with another person by his side. Books piled up, photo frames on every flat surface of the kids and grandkids. Art on the walls collected over the decades, trinkets from vacations, gifts from birthdays and holidays that each have their own place on the shelves, proudly displayed like trophies.
Most of the furniture is as old as he is, sturdy, hand-made pieces built to last. Over the back of his favourite green velvet armchair, the one he sits in for every session, is a folded hand-stitched quilt. Beside it is a small round walnut table where he leaves his notes, his glasses, and a handy box of tissues.
There's a chair opposite, of course, something comfortable that patients sink right into and feel at home, but he always offers a few other options for those who don't enjoy the direct eye contact. There's a bench by the wall of bookshelves that one patient in particular likes to curl up on, tucking her feet under and scanning the titles on the spines for something to distract her. Another patient of his prefers to stand by the window, fitting in next to the grand piano, always looking like he wants to reach out and press the keys, but something always stops him.
If anyone were to look closely enough, they'd notice that nothing has been touched in six years. That his house is frozen in time. No one ever does. He doesn't blame his patients for not looking at him as deeply as he looks at them.
One point two million people died of Covid in the country, and his Ruth just happened to be one of them.
He can't bear to change a single thing now, not when every item holds a memory of her.
The house was far too quiet after she passed. With his kids and grandkids on the other side of the state, he realised long stretches of time passed with no one to talk to. He missed the sound of laughter coming from the other room when Ruth reached a particularly humorous chapter in her book. The way she would giggle like she was a teenager when Jacob would bring her breakfast in bed, a single flower picked from the garden in a vase by her tea and toast.
After she died, the only sounds were the grandfather clock ticking away in the hallway and the hum of the washing machine once a week.
That's why he chose to continue seeing his patients in his front room. It was the easiest decision in the world. Now they fill the space with their words and emotions, ensuring for a little while each day, his house feels lived in again.
They aren't the only ones who bring noise and activity to his home, though.
Almost a month after Ruth died, a stray cat started hanging around his yard, digging through his trash for scraps of food. It was a large tabby with a portion of its right ear and the tip of its tail missing. Jacob spent weeks feeding him tins of tuna on the steps of his back door until he trusted Jacob enough to step inside.
He never left after that.
Mazel, as Jacob named him once he realised the cat was happier on his couch or on top of the fridge than out on the streets, isn't the most affectionate of cats. He prefers a cushion or a windowsill to a lap and screeches if Jacob ever tries to pick him up, but he still follows Jacob from room to room, finding a spot to curl up and sleep close to wherever Jacob has settled.
Jacob often leaves the door to his treatment room slightly ajar so Mazel can come and go as he pleases. Mazel can often be found fast asleep in the window during appointments, and he's even had some of his patients ask after him, like the words won't come out without Mazel there for support.
Without an office with a receptionist or a waiting room, Jacob has a very simple system for arrivals that seems to work relatively smoothly. His enclosed front porch, more of a sunroom than a porch, really, is where patients wait for him to appear. He leaves the front door unlocked and taped up level with his Mezuzah is a little note inviting people to take a seat inside the porch to wait for him.
There are a few seating options available to his patients, accumulated over the years. An old bamboo loveseat with a garish Hawaiian print cover, a couple of plastic folding chairs, a simple wooden stool, a soft tub chair that's seen better days and a red leather Chesterfield that has only stiffened, not softened with age.
With every new patient Jacob takes on, he's always curious to learn which seat they pick to wait in. He learns a lot about them from the chair they pick. Whether it's the hard, unforgiving Chesterfield because they don't believe they deserve comfort or the tub chair that they plunge into in an attempt to sink so deep they almost disappear completely, like they're hiding from the world.
Michael chooses none of the above, Jacob finds, when he enters the porch.
The physician is standing by one of the large windows, looking out the front towards the park, his back completely to Jacob. He's tall, Jacob notes, though there's a curve to his shoulders that makes him look like years in an emergency department have worn down not just his mind but his entire body.
Michael doesn't notice him straight away, and Jacob stands there watching him for a moment, wondering what he's thinking about. Finally, Jacob announces his presence with a clear of his throat and Michael's head whips round shockingly fast, like he'd heard a gun go off, not an old man expectorating.
Always on high alert, Jacob notes to himself.
Even when Michael sees who is standing in front of him, his shoulders stay tense, and Jacob wonders to himself how long it takes Michael to decompress after work. He wonders when the last time this man took a proper break from work was.
As he steps towards his newest patient, he takes in the dark circles under his hard, distant eyes and the tension in his jaw that's probably keeping everyone in his life at arm's length. There are walls built up inside the man in front of him, tall, strong walls that were once protecting him from pain and now just drive away any human connection.
He sees it all in the second it takes to hold out his hand.
"Michael, I'm Doctor Fineman, but you can call me Jacob."
Michael looks down at the hand offered towards him for a split second, like he's trying to decide if he wants to return the gesture, but he unfolds his arms and slips his hand into Jacob's. The handshake is short and sharp before Michael pulls away.
He doesn't miss the slight wince in the man's face as Jacob called out his name. There's something he can do about that.
"Is there a name you prefer to be called?"
He shrugs, his eyes darting around the porch. Anywhere but in Jacob's direction.
"Everyone calls me Robby."
"That's not what I asked."
Michael's whole body stills, like he's not used to people pushing back like this with him. Like he was hoping this would be easy. As long as he responds, whatever he says won't be questioned.
Hopefully, Michael has discovered quickly that Jacob isn't that kind of therapist.
"Robby," he finally answers, meeting Jacob's eyes briefly, "I like to be called Robby."
"Okay, Robby," Jacob nods at him.
He leads Robby into his house to his front room, stepping to one side to let Robby enter first.
"Do you mind if I leave the door ajar? I have a cat that'll scream up the place if he's refused entry."
Robby just shrugs at him, and Jacob takes that as a no. He closes the door almost all the way, leaving a small gap for Mazel to slip through. When he turns round, Robby has lowered himself down into the empty chair, his hands gripping the arms so tightly that his hands turn white. To Jacob, it looks like Robby is expecting the chair to eject him through the roof.
"You look like I'm about to perform dental surgery without an anaesthetic."
"No offence, but I think I would prefer that."
Jacob chuckles, "None taken."
He lowers himself down into his own chair, and while Robby sits there watching, he slowly retrieves his notepad from the side table, opens it up onto his lap, unclips the pen from the sheets of paper it's hooked onto and writes the date in the top corner.
He adds likes to be called Robby as the first line.
"So Robby," he begins, looking back up at the doctor. "I like to keep things simple at the beginning, use the first session to get to know one another, no tricky questions, I promise."
"Yeah, fine, whatever."
"Good…let's start this: How long have you worked at PTMC?"
"I uh, joined as an attending, twenty years ago."
"Wow," Jacob is impressed, "Twenty years in the same job, where did you do your residency?"
Robby clears his throat, his eyes looking just slightly to the left of Jacob, "Uh, New Orleans, Big Charity."
"Were you there when-"
"No," Robby cuts Jacob off sharply, "I wasn't there when Katrina hit."
"No?" Jacob frowns, doing the math in his head.
Even if he wasn't there, he probably knew a lot of people caught up in the disaster. That's a lot of guilt to carry.
"I did a stint with MSF before I started at the Pitt."
The Pitt. That's a new one, Jacob's surprised he's never heard that nickname before.
"Africa?" He guesses.
Robby gives him half a nod, but doesn't expand on where exactly.
He writes MSF? in his notebook.
"Why'd you choose Pittsburgh?"
"I grew up here, my grandmother raised me, came back to take care of her in her last years."
As Robby answers, his eyes drift over to the bookshelf, his head tilting to one side to read the spines. Jacob wonders briefly what Robby thinks of his collection.
"Noble," Jacob comments as he adds Parents? to his notes.
Robby shifts uncomfortably in his seat, "It is what it is."
"You got siblings?"
Robby shakes his head.
"Married? Kids?"
Robby shakes his head again, a flicker of something painful in his eyes as he answers Jacob.
Interesting.
His parents are nowhere to be found, he has no siblings, he assumes the person who did raise him must have died quite a few years ago, and there's no new family to speak of. Jacob wonders if Robby has any family at all. He wants to dig, to learn how Robby feels about being the last of his line. To be the sole Robinavitch.
But he can't. Not yet.
Jacob keeps asking questions, and each time Robby gives him the shortest answer possible. Jacob isn't expecting much, but he understands what Caleb meant when he described the man in front of him.
Stubborn, avoidant, resistant, in denial, angry, burnt out, too fucking smart for his own good.
Throughout the session, Jacob sees it all. Sees every detached shrug of his shoulders, sees the way his eyebrows furrow at particular questions, sees the flashes of frustration and confusion when Jacob focuses down too much on a particular topic. He sees the way every answer Robby gives is considered and specific. He's too smart to reveal anything he doesn't want to reveal.
Jacob will have to work hard to break through his defences.
At least, he finds, that Robby always answers him truthfully. He might be being economical with the truth, but Jacob's always had a pretty good bullshit detector, and so far, everything Robby has told him has been accurate.
Right up until he asks Robby how well he sleeps.
Robby clears his throat and looks away, "Well enough."
Hmm.
"How many hours would you say? On average."
"It varies."
"Ballpark it for me," Jacob pushes.
"I don't know, six or seven, I guess."
Robby's lying.
Why, Jacob doesn't know. He adds isn't sleeping into his notebook and moves on. He continues through his usual set of questions until the clock in the hallway chimes three times, letting Jacob know an hour has passed and their session has reached its end.
Still, he doesn't feel ready to end the conversation just yet.
"Before we wrap up," he begins, "Would you feel up to telling me why your other therapists weren't a good fit for you?"
"Why?" Robby asks, far too defensively.
"If we are going to work together, Robby, it's useful to know what hasn't worked. What it was about them that you didn't like, I can then adjust accordingly."
"You want me to badmouth your peers?" Robby arches an eyebrow.
Jacob ignores the way Robby twists his words.
"I want to understand what you need out of a therapist."
"I don't think I need anything."
"Well, we both know that's not true."
Robby's eyes widen. He clearly wasn't expected to be challenged so directly.
"You can pretend all you want, but I had you figured out from the first five minutes, Robby. You want to carry on like you're fine, like you're getting that six, seven hours a night, you go right ahead, but I'm not going to play into whatever avoidance game you're playing."
The clock ticks as Robby sits there silently for thirty seconds, a minute, then finally he speaks.
"The first one just kept asking me how I felt about everything; it got annoying quickly. The second was disorganised, late for the appointment, forgot my name. The third, she just wrote in her notebook the whole time, barely even looked at me."
"Interesting you say that."
"Why's that?"
"You've barely looked at me the entire hour you've been sitting there…what is it about eye-contact that you find so …overwhelming?"
Robby's eyes snap to his, like now that Jacob has called him out, he needs to prove something.
"Something to discuss next week," Jacob snaps his own notebook shut sharply and uses the arms of his chair to lift himself to his feet. "Unless I am also unsuitable?"
Robby's eyes narrow at him. "I'll let you know."
"You do that," Jacob agrees easily.
He walks Robby back through the house to the porch. He stands there in the doorway watching as Robby slowly ambles down the path. He pauses at the gate, then finally steps onto the sidewalk.
There's a car idling outside his house, and Robby opens the passenger side door, leaning in to talk to the driver. It's too far away to hear their conversation, and Jacob's eyesight isn't good enough these days over long distances, so all he can see is a slightly blurry man in the driver's seat.
He wonders if this is Jack, the man who made Robby's appointment for him. He had threatened to march Robby straight to the door; it wouldn't surprise Jacob if he decided to wait around and drive him home afterwards.
Finally, Robby lowers himself into the passenger seat and shuts the door, moments before the car pulls away from the kerb.
A few hours after Robby leaves, long enough to digest how the first session went, he calls Caleb back up.
"Well, I see what you mean now," he says as soon as Caleb picks up.
"I'm glad to hear he finally knuckled down and booked an appointment."
Jacob doesn't bother explaining that it was someone called Jack Abbot who made it all happen.
"I'm going to need more."
"More?"
"Anything you can tell me about him that he won't tell me himself."
Caleb sighs. "Not exactly sure where to start."
"Anywhere, help me understand what I'm dealing with here."
"Well, you should know that he blames himself for his mentor's death. A guy called Monty Adamson was the ED chief for a long time, you might have even met him when you worked the odd shift here."
The name does sound familiar, but Jacob can't picture the man Caleb speaks of.
"Robby looked up to him like a father figure; meanwhile, Adamson was grooming Robby to be his successor."
Caleb pauses and lets out a long sigh.
"And then the pandemic happened, and Monty got sick. Robby fought like hell to keep him alive, put him on ECMO, did everything he possibly could, then a young girl came in, and they needed the ECMO for her. Robby had to make the impossible choice to keep Amdamson on it or give it to her instead. Adamson died in his ED, under his care…the responsibility of running the place was put on his shoulders almost immediately, without letting him take a second to breathe or even grieve. He's been working nonstop, barely a break since. The pandemic was tough for a lot of us, but Robby took the brunt of it for sure."
Jacob's chest hurts for Robby. He's worked with a few medical staff and first responders post COVID. There's a deep trauma there that no one can fully comprehend, not even him. That alone would be enough for one person, but there's more; somehow, he knows there's more.
He swallows hard, "What else?"
"He was on shift when the Pittfest shooting happened."
Oy gevalt.
"I know that took a lot out of him, took a lot out of all on shift that day, but…there are rumours."
"What kind of rumours?"
"The kind that most people in the building don't believe because they respect him too much…the kind I take seriously, doing what I do."
"Caleb."
"He broke down…not for long, but long enough."
Jacob isn't surprised. That kind of incident would break anyone.
"He's been good about getting all his staff to see trauma counsellors since it happened, but I can safely say he never spoke to one himself."
"And since then?"
"Not good…lashing out at staff, not taking breaks, there have been concerns about his empathy levels too. I overheard him remark that a patient who'd fallen from a height hadn't picked a high enough spot to jump from. It was…concerning. To be honest with you, a number of things he's said recently have been concerning."
Jacob remembers Caleb's words from their first call. That Robby needed help before it's too late.
"Is he suicidal?"
"In my expert opinion? There might have been some ideation at some point. This sabbatical of his, was supposed to be a three-month motorcycle road trip. I was worried about it, and I know a few other people were too. Whether he was going for the right reasons, whether he'd handle all that time alone on the road, whether he planned on coming back…He did leave on his trip as planned, but gossip spreads like wildfire in that hospital and from what I hear, Robby was back in the city within the month. Doing what, God only knows, I'm half expecting him to try and turn back up to work early."
"What's keeping him going?"
Caleb huffs, "That's for you to figure out, Jacob."
Jacob is slightly surprised when it's Robby, not Jack, who confirms a second appointment. His voice sounds begrudging on the phone, and maybe Jack's standing right there with him, forcing him to make the call, but Jacob isn't going to complain.
Robby arrives on time for his appointment, still looking apprehensive, but looking a little more comfortable than the first time.
There's no easy, comfortable line of questioning to relax Robby this time. Jacob gets straight to the point. He opens his notepad and narrows his eyes at Robby.
"How did you sleep last night?"
"Fine, why?" Robby is immediately on the defensive.
Jacob resists the urge to roll his eyes.
"Just a question I like to ask, helps me understand your frame of mind," he explains, "You eating well? exercising?"
"Are you my therapist or my doctor?"
"You and I both know that the body isn't separate from the mind."
"I survive mostly on protein bars, leftover birthday cake, and pizza at work. I gave up smoking, but can't quit the gum. I don't run, don't have time to go to the gym, but I'm not exactly sitting idle in the middle of an ED, you know?" Robby lists out, his words laced with resentment.
He still doesn't want to be here.
"And how is work going?" Jacob wants to see if Robby is going to lie to him again.
"Fine."
Robby seems to like that word.
"Busy?"
"The usual."
"Hmm," Jacob glances down at his notepad and adds doesn't want to talk about work.
It's time to change tack, he realises. If Robby isn't interested in giving him a straight answer, he's going to have to provoke one out of him.
"You mentioned in our previous session that your grandmother raised you."
"And?" Robby's back instantly goes straight in his chair.
"From that reaction alone, I'm guessing you haven't really talked about it all, with anyone."
"What does it matter that my mom walked out when I was eight?"
"Seems to matter to you."
"It doesn't."
Robby looks more than done with this conversation, but Jacob ignores him.
"Where was your father growing up?"
Robby lets out a bitter laugh, "Who the fuck knows?"
"So it was just you and your mom? And then your grandmother? What was she like?"
"About what you'd expect," Robby huffs, "Tough but fair, wanted the best for me, about as overbearing as a grandmother can be, it was what it was."
"Why did your mom leave?"
Robby looks away, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He doesn't answer the question, but Jacob's pretty sure he knows the answer anyway. Robby doesn't know, he's never known, and maybe that open question has been bothering him more than he realises.
"Did you ever look for her? Hire a private investigator?"
"I thought about it," Robby admits quietly, begrudgingly.
"Why didn't you go through with it?"
"I'm sure you have your theories," Robby turns it back on him.
"I think you were scared of what her answer might be, that maybe the reason she left you with your grandmother wasn't anything to do with her ability to look after you and everything to do with her not wanting you."
"Seems like you've got me all figured out," Robby growls, his eyes darkening.
"I think so," Jacob replies lightly, "You know, people who feel abandoned often push people away, keep people at arm's length. They do it so it hurts less when someone walks out of their life again. Problem is, if you continue to hold people at arm's length, there's no one in your life to hold you close, you're always alone,"
"You get that out of a fortune cookie?" Robby rolls his eyes.
"There's a reason why you're fifty-something years old, no partner, no kids. You can't blame it on work, plenty of doctors have families, you can't blame it on being chief, you've had plenty of time."
"Fuck you," Robby snarls.
Here's the anger Caleb warned him about.
He'd expected Robby to lash out. He's not the first patient of Jacob's to use anger to distance themselves, and he won't be the last. It takes a lot more than a raised voice and some sharp words to cut Jacob Fineman.
"You're hurting Robby, you have been hurting since you were eight years old."
"Stop."
"No matter what you did, people left you. Your mom abandoned you, your grandmother died, your mentor died, no one stuck around long enough, did they?"
"I'm not doing this."
Jacob knows he's pushing, possibly too far, but he suspects this raw wound he's digging at can only heal if Robby confronts what he's been ignoring for most of his life.
"Or maybe they stuck around long enough to decide you weren't worth it, and so you decided they were right, maybe you aren't worth it."
Robby doesn't speak. Jacob watches him lift up out of the chair sharply and head for the door, not looking back.
He doesn't follow; he's too old to be chasing down long-legged patients who've been running their entire lives.
He listens to the footsteps down the hallway, followed by the loud clunk of the door slamming shut.
Jacob waits, sitting in his chair, listening to the ticking of the Grandfather clock in the hallway before finally transferring his notepad to the side table, using the arms of the chair to push himself up out of the seat and walk over to the window.
He's somewhat surprised to find Robby standing in his front yard still, just inside the gate, like stepping over the boundary line means accepting defeat. He's stuck between living with the hurt inside him forever and the temporary pain of confronting his demons head-on.
He hasn't moved when Jacob pushes the front door open and walks down the path. As he gets closer, he notices the moisture in Robby's eyes, watches him rub at his wet cheeks until they turn red.
"Robby," Jacob begins softly. "Your brain is telling you you're all alone in this world, but there are a lot of people in your life who love you….I don't need to know who they are to know it's true, you're just going to have to trust me on this."
Robby sniffs, his eyes refusing to meet Jacob's still.
"It's going to take time…weekly sessions for starters, I'm going to say things that'll be hard to hear, I'm going to ask you to do homework that you'll hate with every fibre of your being, none of it is going to be easy, but I'll help you see what they see in you, if you let me."
"You're an asshole," Robby croaks.
"Yeah, I know," Jacob smiles at him, "Gonna come back inside now?"
Robby looks at him, truly looks at him.
"Yeah, okay."
A weekly session goes into the diary. Every Tuesday morning at eleven for one hour. Robby turns up every week without question. Robby also finally admits to still being on sabbatical and that his schedule will be more unpredictable when he finally returns to work sometime in October.
Over the next few weeks, he starts to delve deeper into Michael Robinavitch. With Mazel purring at his feet, Robby reveals what life growing up without his parents was really like. How there always felt like something huge was missing on his birthday and high holidays, how he prayed in temple for his mom to return almost weekly and thought his unanswered prayers were some kind of punishment. He talks about growing up and becoming far too aware of how different his upbringing was from his school friends, and being ashamed when anyone asked about his parents.
They talk about growing up in Pittsburgh, about growing up Jewish and feeling more and more disconnected from it as he gets older, whilst finding himself drawn to the prayers his Grandmother taught him as a child when feeling at his lowest, the words bubbling up from within him even though he thought they were long forgotten.
Jacob listens as Robby talks about finding comfort in the structure of going to temple and lighting Shabbat candles as a young child, whilst also feeling overwhelmed sometimes by being part of a big Jewish community that always knew the grades on his report cards and who he was hanging out with.
Robby looks guilty when he recounts going to university and feeling the distance grow between him and his Jewishness until it was a chasm. He blamed it on long hours studying, followed by longer hours on shift. Week after week, he promised himself that he would attend temple, and he let the guilt inside him grow every time something else came up until it was easier to push it all to one side and pretend it wasn't important.
Jacob's heart breaks when Robby admits to feeling like he let his grandmother down, and no matter how hard he tries now, the high holiday services he attends, he's worried he'll never feel truly connected to Judaism again, that it's just not the same without her. That everything he's seen over the last twenty years in the ED has made it even harder to believe in a higher being.
"I'm no Rabbi," Jacob begins when Robby admits to feeling like a fraud, "But I don't think there's a strict rulebook here. Take and accept the parts of being Jewish you draw strength from, don't get caught up in the guilt of what you're not."
In one session, Robby talks about the moment he realised he wanted to be a doctor, a moment so crystallised in his memory that Jacob feels like he can picture it exactly in his mind, just from the way Robby describes it. It feels like it's been a long time since Robby last thought about that moment, and he lights up as he's reminded of why he does what he does.
In another session, Robby talks to him about a seventeen-year-old boy named Jake, whom he helped raise when he and the boy's mother were together. He talked about weekly basketball games and being there in Jake's life when his own father abandoned him, just like Robby's mother. Jacob had listened as Robby revealed how hard he'd tried to save the life of Jake's girlfriend after the Pittfest shooting and how Jake had thrown their relationship back in his face, reminding Robby that he wasn't his father and never would be.
Slowly, inch by inch, Jacob feels the progress they're making, feels Robby learn to trust him with his biggest fears and deepest anxieties. Sometimes, though, it feels like they've only just scratched the surface and Jacob is starting to get a better sense of the topics Robby is skating around, like they're still too painful to address head-on.
Jacob isn't going to let him avoid them forever.
There's also one particular topic he's been eager to ask about.
Jack Abbot.
The name keeps popping up in sessions, more than any other name, and he's desperate to get to the bottom of their relationship. He finally gets his chance during a session.
"Tell me about Jack Abbot? Who is he?"
Robby frowns at the question, like this wasn't something he was prepared to be asked questions about.
"Jack? He's uh, another doctor at PTMC, night shift attending."
Jacob shakes his head, "Who is he to you?"
Robby's confusion only grows, "He's a friend, a good friend."
"A best friend?"
"I don't have a best friend," he says far too quickly. It sounds rehearsed, something he's said more than once.
"No? I thought everyone had a best friend."
"It's not that simple…he's not-" Robby's eyebrows furrow deeply as he tries to figure out how to finish his sentence.
Jacob tries to help.
"Do you trust him?"
"Of course."
"Do you confide in him?"
Robby nods.
"Do you spend time with each other outside of work?"
"I guess so, yeah."
"Sounds like a best friend to me."
Robby shrugs, "I guess it doesn't sound…enough, sounds too modest. He's more than that to me."
"Go on," Jacob urges softly.
"We're alike in so many ways and so vastly different in others," Robby starts, "He seems to know what I'm thinking by just looking at me, seems to know exactly what to say to get me to…."
Robby trails off, like he's been pulled into a memory. Jacob waits, and finally Robby clears his throat and continues.
"We've been through a lot together."
Oh, Jacob realises. He's in love. And Jacob's pretty sure Robby has no clue.
"Are you proud?"
"Of what?"
The bitterness of Robby's response surprises Jacob.
It's been a tough session. Robby entered his house with a dark cloud over his head that Jacob's been working hard to clear. There are still so many cards held close to Robby's chest, and sometimes the only way to peel back the layers and get to the heart of things is to force your way in.
"Of everything you've achieved in your life."
Robby doesn't respond, but the way his shoulders pull in, and his eyes look away, Jacob realises Robby doesn't feel like he's achieved much at all.
How can he still not know?
How many doctors has he trained? How many lives has he saved? How many people's lives has he impacted in a million little, meaningful ways?
"Robby….you have given everything to that place, everything….More than any one person should be asked to give…it's a Sisyphean task that only the very bravest, the most selfless individuals take on."
From his chair, Jacob sees the tears fall.
"-And you have saved a lot of lives in the process…"
He watches Robby raise his sleeve to wipe the moisture away.
"There are hundreds, possibly thousands of doctors out there right now with skills you've taught them, with confidence you instilled in them, skills they're passing on to their own students."
"That's my job."
Robby dismisses his words so easily. Jacob's chest bursts with sadness for him. This is what it comes down to, ultimately. Robby truly believes everything he's done was just part of his job, has minimised it all into a paycheck, an ID badge, and hours clocked in.
"It's your calling," he pushes back firmly.
Robby still can't look at him. Jacob is used to it by now, but he needs Robby to listen to him
"If you never step into that hospital ever again, I need you to know that you should be proud of the legacy you have built…Adamson might have been the one to light the kindling, but you built a fucking bonfire, Michael Robinavitch."
Finally, Robby's eyes snap to his.
"Yeah? You wanna remind me of all the lives I've saved?" Robby growls at him, his eyes dark with an anger that surprises Jacob. "Of my legacy?" He spits the word out like it's poison.
"My legacy is death…it's everyone I couldn't save…it's my staff burning out faster than me, it's my failure to know that my resident was self-medicating, stealing drugs under my nose, it's being responsible for turning off my mentor's life support, it's standing there powerless as my friends get attacked for doing their jobs, it's working tirelessly day after day after day with nothing to show for it but fucking doctor Google know-it-alls, people jumping off of roofs because that's easier to face than medical debt, and bosses who care more about satisfaction scores than actual patient care," Robby sucks in a deep breath before continuing, "every where I go there's just pain and misery and it really doesn't matter what I do, it never gets any better."
Oh Robby.
"You do what you do in extraordinary circumstances," Jacob begins softly. "I get it, I really do…The world is hard on all of us these days, not helped by his government and the decaying trust in science and greedy insurance companies and more being asked of you every day…but in a world where you never existed, never became a doctor, never stepped foot inside PTMC, the truth is that a lot more people would be dead right now. Yes, there are other good doctors, good teachers out there, but that does not diminish the impact you have had, even if you never save another life or teach another med student in your life. You see pain and misery everywhere you go because that's all you've allowed yourself to see in far too long…you've stopped seeing the humanity in what you do, the hopefulness, the joy, the people."
"And what if I can't anymore? What if pain and misery are all I'll ever see?"
"You will," Jacob truly believes it. He hopes Robby can hear the belief in his voice, "It's still there inside you….it's not going to be like this forever, Robby. There will be a day in the future when the good days will start to outnumber the bad days. It's not going to happen overnight; it might not happen without the support of an SSRI; it's certainly not going to happen if you isolate yourself from everyone who cares about you. But it will happen, because I'm not going to give up on you, and I'm not going to let you give up either."
Robby's eyes meet his again, red rimmed, the agony so clear it breaks Jacob's heart.
"You have been Doctor Robby for a really long time. I think even before the pandemic happened, you got lost in that title. It has been your whole identity for so long that you've forgotten how to just be Michael. You've forgotten how to leave the hospital behind at the end of your shift. You've forgotten who you are without a stethoscope around your neck. But don't worry, we'll find him together…okay?"
Robby's head jerks up and down, his lips pressed together to hold back the sobs.
"Okay," he finally responds, and Jacob knows that Robby finally believes him.
"So," Jacob begins as soon as Robby lowers down into the chair opposite, "You're back at work soon, right?"
There's no point in dancing around it; sometimes you just have to get right to the point. Robby's paying by the hour; he's not going to waste it on pleasantries.
"Five days, nineteen hours."
Interesting. The people who count down like that tend not to look forward to whatever they're counting down to.
"Do you feel like you need more time? I'm sure you could extend."
"If I do that, I'm not sure I'd ever return, gotta bite the bullet sometime."
"Do you?"
"I can't exactly practice emergency medicine from my front room like you."
Jacob smiles, "I just meant, you've done your time, no one's forcing you to return….so why are you going back?" As Robby considers the question, Jacob continues, "Do you feel obligated?"
Robby shrugs, "That's a part of it I guess. People are expecting me to return; I have unfinished business…" he sighs, "This isn't how I want my time at PTMC to end. I have more to give…I think I do…I have to find out at least."
"That's understandable."
"And it's not just about leaving people in the lurch; the people I work with are important to me, I miss them."
"Talk to me about them."
"Well, there's Dana, of course, my charge nurse, my right-hand woman," His eyebrows furrow, "Or maybe I'm her right-hand man."
Jacob chuckles. "Who else?"
"I've got a good team of nurses, Perlah and Princess, they're a duo, always gossiping about something, but some of the most solid-working nurses in that entire building, Jesse, Donnie, Emma, she's still new, Kim, Mateo, Vivi, Olive, they're all good."
"Nurses are the backbone of any hospital," Jacob agrees. "What about the other doctors?"
Robby shrugs, "Most of them come and go, you don't really get to make long-lasting friendships with them, certainly not when I'm responsible for making sure they complete their residency."
"Tell me about them anyway, the ones you're working with right now."
Jacob listens as Robby tells him about the roster of doctors in the Pitt. He hears about a young bright doctor with overbearing parents who just needs to learn how to be her own person without them, a doctor who cares for her sister and takes on so much and hasn't yet learnt how to ask for things for herself, an intern named Whittaker who doesn't seem to have a whole lot of luck and yet keeps trying and learning anyway, and his housemate Santos, sharp-tongued, quick to rush to judgement maybe, ruled by her emotions more than she realises. Then there's a third-year resident who's had a long, hard life already and is raising a kid while rising above the stigma of her past to become a confident and empathetic doctor, and a fourth-year resident, struggling to figure out what's next for her, while battling the fears that hold her back.
It's interesting to hear all about Robby's team of doctors through his eyes. He can see each of their strengths and see the areas they need to grow. He can hear the fondness in Robby's voice for all of them. Robby seems to be a perceptive leader, too, able to see what they try to hide, even when he can't see it in himself.
"And then there's Langdon."
Jacob knows the name. Robby has already mentioned the senior resident who stole benzos, went to rehab, and has since returned.
"How was it working with him again?"
"He made me angry every time I saw him… made me feel like I'm always fucking angry, I don't like feeling this way," Robby admits.
"Angry because he betrayed your trust?" Jacob asks, "Or angry because you feel like you failed him?"
"Both, maybe," Robby sighs, his eyes falling to his hands clasped together tightly on his lap.
"It's okay to be angry at him and yourself; it's natural to feel that way."
"But?"
"But you're letting the anger take over, letting it linger; it's not healthy for either of you. You need to find a way to-"
"Move on?" Robby cuts in.
"I'm not saying you need to forgive and forget, or even return to the relationship you once had, but letting go of some of the negative emotions will help…have you spoken to him about how you feel about it all?"
Robby shakes his head.
"Might help clear the air, part of his recovery is making amends, he can't do that until he knows what amends he's making up for."
Robby winces, "I'm not really good at those kinds of conversations."
"You mean actually admitting your feelings out loud and appearing vulnerable? I've noticed."
Robby raises an eyebrow, "Where did you go to school, again?
Jacob points to a certificate on the wall near the door, "Harvard Medical School?"
"Looks fake," Robby returns quickly, and Jacob chuckles. "How'd you end up treating burnt-out doctors in the front room of your house?"
It's not unusual for a patient to ask a personal question; Jacob's got very good at deflecting them over the years, turning things back on the patient and distracting them with a question of his own. He doesn't know why he answers Robby's question.
"I guess I liked talking to my patients more than diagnosing them."
"Hmm," Robby nods, "I have a resident like that….I've been hard on her, too tough maybe."
"I can't imagine there's much time in the emergency department for in-depth conversation."
"Not really."
"Is she a good doctor?"
"Better than I think she realises….Sometimes I wonder if I'm just not the mentor she deserves."
"But you're the one she got, and we don't always get to pick who teaches us or who we teach," Jacob reminds him.
Robby doesn't look like he agrees.
"I haven't been patient…or kind."
Robby looks guilty.
"Tell me," Jacob urges gently.
Robby clears his throat, pulls at the back of his neck, looks away, "The day I left for my sabbatical, I shouted at her for letting her personal issues affect her job…it was hypocritical of me…I was cruel."
He's worked with many patients over the years who refuse to recognise their own faults. It's good to know Robby isn't one of them.
"Hit too close to home?" He guesses.
Robby sighs heavily, "It was her mom, the personal issue she was distracted by, kept calling her on shift."
"Ah," Jacob sounds out knowingly. "Makes sense that it triggered you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're not that complicated, Robby. It hurt when your mom left you. Being absent from your life doesn't mean she hasn't had a profound impact on you, even after all this time. Meanwhile, her mom is deeply involved in her life, enough to completely throw her, a part of you felt that hurt all over again. You're mirrors of each other, Robby, and sometimes you don't like what you see in that mirror."
"Fuck," Robby croaks out.
"Knowing why you behaved a certain way is important," Jacob continues, "But so is making sure you change your behaviour, stop yourself from reacting in the same way going forward."
"I don't want to act that way, I don't want my anger to get the better of me…I used to be patient, I used to feel in control of every situation."
"I know," Jacob empathises, "We can work on that, find ways to help you channel your emotions in the right direction, figure out how to make sure your relationship with your resident is more productive in the future, and allow you to be the mentor they all deserve."
"Can you help me figure out how to apologise without immediately being a dick about it?"
Jacob chuckles, "Of course."
He walks Robby through the tools, ways to visualise himself in a more relaxed state, how to regulate his nervous system, how to recognise the signs that he needs to take a step back and start afresh. Robby doesn't look completely convinced by them all, but he listens, which is all Jacob can ask for.
"If it's helpful, I can stay by the phone on your first day back? Just in case."
"You don't need to do that."
"I know, but I'm going to do it anyway," he promises.
He doesn't expect Robby to call six days later, but he hangs around the house just in case. He tries and fails to fix a squeaking floorboard in the hallway, even though his son-in-law promised to come over and fix it next time they were visiting. He cooks a big pot of stew that he tends to all afternoon. The phone stays silent.
He doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. That's something he'll only find out when Robby visits next. All he can do is hope and pray for good things.
Jacob is aware, as he crosses the threshold into the main reception of PTMC, that as he makes his way up to the fifth floor to visit an old friend post-surgery, Michael Robinavitch is probably on shift down on the ground floor.
It's a thought that lingers in the back of his mind as he repositions the paper bag of grapes tucked against his chest and navigates through the labyrinth of identical white hallways to find the room Ezra is recovering in.
The last few sessions with Robby have been tough as he delved into the deepest, rawest parts of the doctor. He's cracked open parts of Robby that he suspects no one's been allowed to see in years.
He's seen Robby pace back and forth because sitting down feels far too much like stopping, and stopping is something Robby's brain can't quite handle right now.
He's offered tissues when the emotions have overwhelmed Robby, a flood of them pouring out of him after years of bottling it all up.
He's sat, hands clasped together on his lap as Robby lashed out at him, trying to force Jacob to push him away because he can't quite believe anyone would stay for him.
It doesn't work. Jacob is in it for the long haul.
Robby is a tough case; Caleb was right about that, but despite what Robby thinks about himself, he will heal. He can get better.
Jacob can see the impact the sessions are having. He celebrates when Robby accepts what Jacob is telling him, when the tools he gives Robby start to work. Robby no longer walks into his front room looking like it's a punishment. He looks like he knows that for sixty minutes, he can let go and not be judged or have demands placed upon him.
Ezra is fairly cheerful considering the gallbladder surgery he underwent. There's some colour back in his face, and he pops a few of the grapes Jacob brought as he recounts a funny interaction he had with a nurse the night before. Jacob glances out of the window at the Pittsburgh skyline. The weather's getting colder, and it's turned the sky grey. He's not looking forward to the trek home once Ezra kicks him out. Going home to a dark, empty house never stops feeling grim.
When Ezra yawns dramatically, Jacob takes the hint and promises to visit again when he's discharged. When he steps back into the elevator, his finger presses the button for the first floor, taking him back the way he came, but as the elevator descends, he can't help but think about Robby.
It's a risk.
And a somewhat ethically grey area.
Robby might spot him, might not be happy to see him while he's working. But it's just research, he tells himself to justify the poor decision. It'll be useful to see Robby in his usual environment, watch his behaviour in the place where things make the most sense to him.
The doors slide open on the first floor, and he steps out. His eyes flick up to the sign above his head directing visitors to the stairs, and he finds himself following the sign and pushing through the double doors into the stairwell, full of marble and polished wood. He takes the stairs slowly, his knees protesting a little with each step.
When he reaches the bottom step, he stops. The double doors stop him from going any further. There's a lock that'll only release with a badge, and it's been quite a few years since he had one. The windows in the doors give him a good view of the main area, including the nurses' hub where the charge nurse can usually be spotted.
He doesn't see Robby at first, and for a brief moment, he considers giving up and going back upstairs, but then he sees him, pushing open one of the doors to the trauma room and stepping back out, yanking off a pair of bright blue latex gloves as he goes.
He looks good, Jacob decides. All that worrying he did about Robby's return to work seems to be unfounded. He watches as Robby steps up to the desk and looks up at the screens above him. As he stands there, he gets approached by someone in the same black scrubs, a young scrawny-looking man who looks up at Robby with a nervous expression.
The man passes Robby a tablet and waits for him to read what's on the screen before it's passed back. Robby speaks to him briefly, then watches him leave. Someone else comes up almost immediately afterwards, also looking for help.
In all the craziness of an emergency department, Robby is in the middle of it. He's the person everyone goes to, the person with all the answers. Seeing this side of him, in his element, hasn't changed who he thought Robby was, but it's certainly given him a new perspective.
As he watches, a figure appears from the left, a backpack slung over his shoulder. As he strolls up to Robby, Robby spots him and smiles. He wonders if this is the infamous Jack Abbot he's heard so much about. He was too far away to get a good look at him when he picked Robby up after their first session.
He's so focused on the pair that he doesn't realise he's been spotted. Not until Caleb wheels over to the doors, holds his card to the reader, and slips into the stairwell.
"Jacob."
"Caleb."
"Spying on your patient?" Caleb tuts.
"Going to snitch?"
"That wouldn't be a very productive use of my time."
Jacob's shoulders relax.
"So, how are things going with Robby?"
Jacob holds back a smile, "Oh Caleb, you know better than to ask me that."
"He's still seeing you, though, right?" Caleb pushes.
Jacob mimes zipping his lips shut.
Caleb sighs, "Alright, alright, I get the idea."
"So uh, what's the deal with these two?" Jacob nods his head towards the main hub, where Jack and Robby are still standing shoulder to shoulder. They watch as Jack leans in closer to say something, and Robby lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head.
"Jacob, the minute I figure those two out, you'll be the first to know."
Their usual Tuesday appointment gets shifted as soon as Robby is back at work. Robby doesn't always know what his schedule will be like, so there's a lot of back and forth every week to find a time to speak. Though Jacob isn't fond of telephone sessions, he makes an exception for Robby when he doesn't have the time to make it across town.
Staring at an empty chair opposite him, he dials Robby's number and waits for him to pick up.
"Robby, it's Jacob," He answers as soon as the call connects.
"Thanks for letting us do this over the phone."
"Once in a while is okay," Jacob smiles, even though Robby can't see it. "How's things been since you've been back?"
"Getting straight to the point, huh?"
"I get paid by the hour, I'm not gonna putz around."
Robby lets out a soft chuckle.
"You're avoiding my question."
Robby sighs heavily before speaking, "It's been…weird."
"Weird how?"
"Like…a part of it feels like I never left, the other feels like I've walked into a completely different ED."
"Go on."
"I don't know, the people are the same, nothing's changed there, the medicine hasn't changed either."
"Maybe you have."
Robby goes silent on him. This is why he's not a fan of phone calls; he can't see the other person's face, can't tell what they're thinking.
"You've made a lot of progress, Robby. It's not always easy to see from the inside of things, but you have."
"So what, I'm healed?"
"You're not the man who reluctantly walked through my door three months ago, that's true, but when I said it would take time, that you were on a long road, I meant it."
"I think you just like drawing this out for the paycheck."
"You got me," Jacob huffs.
Robby goes silent again, and Jacob waits once more for him to speak.
"It's only been a few weeks….what happens when I have a bad day? What happens when the pressure gets too much again? I got away from this place because I felt like it was slowly killing me…"
"And you think that those same feelings will start to build again?"
"Yeah."
"Well, all those tools and exercises I've given you should help, and you've still got me, for as long as it takes…there's Jack too, ready to listen after a tough shift, right?"
"Right, yeah, I guess."
"When things get tough, when it feels like everything is weighing down on you, you ask for help, Robby, that's what you do."
Jacob has already locked up downstairs and turned off all the lights when the phone rings, a loud drone breaking the silence. He wraps his dressing gown tighter around his body and shuffles back towards the ringing.
A phone call at half eleven at night can only mean bad things, and his pulse ticks up as his mind races with all possible scenarios.
"Hello?"
The last person he expects to be ringing at this time of night answers him.
"Doctor Fineman? This is Jack, Jack Abbot, Robby's friend."
This can't be good. He can hear the tension in Jack's voice.
"What's wrong?"
Mazel seems to sense something is wrong, too. He comes padding down the stairs looking for Jacob, pushes his face through the balustrades and meows loudly.
"I know it's late, but if I send an Uber, can you come now? I think…No, I know Robby needs your help."
More than what Jack can offer, clearly.
Jacob doesn't hesitate. "Of course."
By the time he's dressed, there's a car waiting for him outside, and he climbs into the back seat. As the driver navigates through the quieter streets of Pittsburgh to Robby's address, Jacob tries to prepare himself for what he's walking into. His last session with Robby just a few days ago had been fine; there had been no warning signs that he wasn't doing well, so something had to have happened in the meantime.
As the car pulls up to the townhouse, he spies a figure standing in the open doorway, waiting for him. It's not Robby. The closer Jacob gets to the door, the more visible the worry on Jack's face is.
"I'm glad you came."
"What am I walking into?"
Jack takes a step back, lets Jacob into Robby's hallway. His eyes drift away briefly, glancing down the hallway and up the stairs, before turning back to Jacob.
"Something happened at work yesterday, something bad."
"Tell me."
"I don't know if he's mentioned someone called Duke before?"
Jacob frowns and thinks back through all his sessions with Robby. He remembers Robby mentioning Duke, some motorcycle friend of his, they rebuilt his bike together. He's not about to divulge anything from Robby's sessions, though.
"Maybe, why?"
Jack folds his arms across his chest tightly, "Did Robby happen to mention the major heart surgery Duke needed before his sabbatical that he pushed Duke to get?"
"Did something go wrong with the operation?" He's sure he would have remembered that.
Jack shakes his head, "Everything went fine, from what Robby told me, Duke was doing better."
"And then?" Jacob can sense the other shoe dropping.
"Yesterday, Duke was brought into the ED after a bad crash…he uh, he didn't make it out of the trauma room."
Oh. Oh no. Jacob puts the pieces together. "And Robby was on shift."
Jack presses his lips together and nods. "Working on people we know, people we care about, isn't against the rules, just not recommended. There was no one who was going to be able to stop Robby from trying to save his friend's life."
Jacob can't imagine what that must have been like.
"Robby is the doctor I would want saving my life…he's the best there is, but even he's not a miracle worker…there was nothing he could have done, nothing anyone could have done."
"He's taken it harder than expected?" Jacob guesses.
"Walked out of the hospital at the end of his shift without saying a word to anyone, and kind of went AWOL. Soon as I heard about what happened, I tried to call him, but he wasn't picking up. Thought he might have just come home, but the house was dark, searched everywhere I thought he might go, couldn't find him anywhere."
Jack's expressive eyes meet his. Jacob can see the fear in them. No, the terror.
His breath hitches, "I thought…I drove to every single fucking bridge in this Godforsaken city, just in case he-" He stops. "I had one of his interns stay here in case he turned up, and I guess he did…just walked through his front door a few hours ago like nothing was wrong….except something is still wrong with him."
Jacob doesn't speak, just lets Jack say what he needs to say.
"Duke meant a lot to Robby; he was one of the few people Robby actually listened to. Duke played a big part in Robby not riding his motorcycle off a cliff a few months ago…I'm worried now that he's gone-" Jack doesn't finish the sentence.
He doesn't need to.
"I see," Jacob sighs.
"He's not talking to me," Jack reveals quietly. "He always talks to me…I didn't know what else to do, who else to call."
"He might be angry you called me." He knows Robby well enough now to be aware of that.
Jack shrugs, "I'd rather he be angry at me than dead," Jack replies bluntly. "He's upstairs, first door on the left."
"You'll be here?"
"I'm not going anywhere," Jack promises.
Jacob finds himself reaching out, curling his hand around Jack's bicep, "You're a good friend."
"He would do the same for me."
Jacob hears the depth of Jack's emotions in his voice, how much he means it. He's known about Robby's feelings towards Jack for a while now, while having his own suspicions about Jack's feelings. While it isn't the right time to be distracted by the confirmation that it's reciprocated, Jacob files the information away.
Jacob just nods in agreement.
As he heads deeper into Robby's house, towards the staircase, Jacob gives in to temptation and has a good glance around. It's rare he finds himself in his patients' homes, and you can learn a lot about a person by their personal space. He learns, just from the open plan living area he walks through, that Robby is a hoarder. There are books piled up everywhere, a hodgepodge collection of furniture, far too many houseplants and a feeling like Robby spends very little time in any of it.
Robby's home fully reflects who he is as a person. Slightly neglected, too much going on, and hiding under a mountain of bullshit.
He puts his findings to one side once more and makes his way up the staircase. The first door on the left is slightly ajar, and as he pushes it open, it creaks loudly.
"Robby?" He calls out, looking around the empty bedroom for any sign of the man
"Of course, he called you," he hears Robby mutter. It takes Jacob a moment to realise his voice is coming from another room, his eyes locking in an open door on the far wall.
He crosses the room and steps into an en-suite, his eyes quickly landing on Robby sitting on the bathroom floor, knees pulled up to his chest, back against the unforgiving tiles.
"It was a good thing he did," Jacob answers him, "….you could have called me, you know."
"I'm fine."
"People who go missing for over a day aren't usually fine," Jacob argues. "You'll forgive me for not joining you down there. I'm an old man, I haven't had the knees for sitting on the floor for a good decade."
Instead, he perches on the edge of the bath. It's not particularly comfortable, but he's hoping it won't be for long.
"So, where have you been? You worried Jack when you left the hospital like that, when you weren't picking up your phone."
Robby shrugs, "Just out walking, I guess."
Which means, Jaocb realises, that Robby probably hasn't slept in forty hours. He must be exhausted.
"Jack told me what happened to your friend. I'm very sorry."
"He was so fucking excited…he'd finally been cleared to ride again, he was out on his bike for the first time in weeks, and he gets hit by a semi."
Robby doesn't look at him as he speaks, though Jacob doesn't expect it. All eye contact disappears when the barrier holding back his emotions is thin and brittle. Because Robby knows one look is enough to break the wall holding back a tsunami of tears.
"He called me yesterday morning, before his ride…told me he was grateful, thanked me for pushing him to have the surgery. Said he felt like he'd been given a second chance and he didn't want to waste it."
Robby lets out a hollow, bitter laugh, like the whole thing is just a sick joke.
"If he didn't get the surgery, he would have died. He got the surgery and died anyway. Doesn't really matter what I do, does it? People are going to die anyway."
Jacon waits, listens.
"I stood in that same trauma room not that long ago, told Jack that every time one of my patients dies, a part of my soul dies with them, that I've been doing this too fucking long and I'm not sure how much I have left…then Duke-" Robby's throat gets caught midsentence, "-Duke dies and takes a huge fucking chunk of me with him."
Robby's eyes flick up to meet Jacob's briefly, and Jacob is struck by the utter devastation in them.
"That…that hospital is the only place I feel needed, the only place in the world that makes sense to me, but it's also the place that's been slowly killing me, and I don't know how I'm supposed to carry on when I'm caught between the thing I was put on this earth to do and the thing that's eroding everything I am."
"First step is recognising you have a problem," Jacob says gently.
"You say that like I'm addicted to the job."
"In some ways, you are," Jacob responds bluntly and shrugs. "You spend all day feeling needed, feeling the high of each life saved, but the job comes with a terrible cost. Most people find some balance in their lives…something outside of the walls of the hospital to help heal their soul. A family, a hobby, a creative outlet. For you, there's nothing but work, nothing but that hospital. It's no wonder you ended up here."
Robby wipes away at another tear that escapes his eye and trails down his cheek.
"I have to ask Robby….do you want to end things?"
"You going to three-oh-two me if I say yes?"
"No," Jacob answers honestly, "But if the answer is yes, I need to know."
"I…I just don't want to feel like this anymore. I need it to stop."
"Okay," Jacob says softly.
It's not a no, but it's not a yes either. Jacob can work with that.
"Let's start with a good night's sleep, hey?"
Robby nods, not in agreement, but in defeat. "Duke was a good man…made some mistakes, did his time, was making up for it, didn't deserve to die like that."
"I don't think he'd want you to be feeling this way right now."
Robby shakes his head, "No, I guess not…he was uh, better with words than he would ever give himself credit for…crude sense of humour, saw right through my bullshit."
"I wish I had better answers for you, Robby, about why he's gone. There's no rhyme or reason for it. It's not bad luck or karma. Bad things happen in the world. You see more bad things in a twelve-hour shift than most people experience in a lifetime. I'm not going to give you platitudes, tell you it was his time, or that it happened for a reason. His death hurts, and when I say I understand that feeling, know that I mean it," Jacob sighs. "I'm going to speak to Jack, get you something to help you sleep tonight, and in the morning we'll talk some more, okay?
"Jack's still here?" Robby asks quietly.
How is he surprised that Jack would stay?
"Oh Robby, wild horses couldn't drag that man away from you."
"So," Jacob begins, "How are you feeling after last week?"
"Fine," Robby answers a little too quickly.
Jacob suspects Robby's reflex to lie about how he feels will take longer to break than just a few months. He can see the dark circles under Robby's eyes, watches him wring his hands together on his lap.
He gives Robby a pointed look and waits.
"Like shit," Robby finally reveals.
"That's not surprising."
"I sold my bike," Robby admits.
"Oh," Jacob's bushy eyebrows shoot up. "I don't normally recommend making big decisions like that when you're grieving."
"Couldn't fucking look at the thing anymore, not after-"
Jaocb knows, Robby doesn't need to finish.
"At least Jack is happy, he hated that bike from the minute I bought it," Robby huffs. "I uh, took the week off like you suggested, well, Jack forced me, practically emailed Gloria on my behalf."
"That's good, I'm glad to hear it…It must be nice having someone like him in your corner, ready to step up when things are tough."
Robby nods, and Jacob watches his Adam's apple bob, like he's swallowing hard.
"He must see a lot," Jacob continues, guiding Robby carefully to the topic of conversation he was hoping to have today, "Working so close together."
"Don't know how he does it, but he always seems to be right where I need him."
These two.
"And if he isn't, do you call and ask for help?"
"Sometimes…he told me to call if things got dark," Robby admits quietly. "The day I left for my road trip."
"And did you?…call him?"
Robby looks at the carpet for a long time before answering, "Yeah," he croaks out.
"Did it help?"
"He uh, got in his car, drove all night to get to me."
Of course he did.
Jacob has been aware of Robby's feelings for Jack for a while now. Since meeting Jack, seeing how scared he was for Robby, he sees the way the feelings are reciprocated. He wonders if either of them truly realises what they've become to each other.
"That's above and beyond."
Robby shrugs, "That's just who Jack is."
"Would he have done that for any of your colleagues?"
"Maybe, I don't know."
"Seems like he really cares about you…why else would he have called me the other week?"
Robby frowns. "I know he cares."
"Do you think he cares about you the same way you care about him?"
"Where are you going with this?" Robby asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at Jacob.
"I have eyes, Robby. I see how you are with each other. I've heard the way you talk about him, the way he talks about you."
Robby tilts his head, confused.
"The way he cares about you, it's more than just as a friend," Jacob finally yanks the band-aid off.
"What?" Robby seems surprised by Jacob's suggestion. "No, there's-…-it's not like that," he tries to argue.
"Do you love him?"
Robby's eyes snap to his.
"I-" He starts and stops just as quickly. After a beat, he sags back into the chair. "What does it matter if I do?"
Jacob immediately clocks how Robby doesn't deny it.
"Because I'm here to help you find some peace, find happiness again, and I don't think you realise how happy you are when you're talking about him."
Robby surprises Jacob when he lifts out of the chair and walks to the window.
"What's stopping you from telling him how you feel?"
"What if things all fall apart? Some days he's the only thing that keeps me going. What if we only work as friends?"
"What if being together is better?" Jacob counters.
Robby turns around sharply. "What if it all gets too much again and I'm not strong enough this time? I couldn't do that to him; he's already lost his wife."
That's new information for Jacob. Jacob's thoughts turn to Ruth. He's far too old to ever find someone new, and even if he were younger, he's not sure if there is anyone in the world who could hold a candle to her.
"When did your wife die?"
Jacob's startled by the question.
"How did you know?"
"Figuring out dynamics is kind of what I do; you have the same look in your eyes that he does sometimes, something you said in my bathroom… I took a guess."
"Twenty twenty one," Jacob admits softly, his right hand going to his left to twist the gold band still on his finger. He never takes it off. "COVID."
"I'm sorry."
2022 would have been their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Ruth had already started planning a big family get-together with balloons and cake and all the grandkids running around the backyard. She spent their forty-ninth wedding anniversary in the ICU while he sat on a bench outside the hospital. There was no way they were going to let him inside, but he still wanted to be close to her, as close as they would let him. She died five days later, no one by her bedside but a nurse holding an iPad up so Jacob could say his final goodbyes. To tell her he loved her so much.
"You both deserve to be happy, Robby. I truly believe that…and I think you could be happy together."
Robby lets out a long exhale and returns to the chair. As he sits down, Jacob is amazed as Mazel immediately leaps up onto Robby's lap, circling once before settling across his thighs. Robby strokes his hand down Mazel's back, then scratches softly at the base of his tail. In response, Mazel's tail rises up happily, and he purrs loud enough for Jacob to hear from his seat.
Robby hasn't rejected Jacob's words, but he feels like he hasn't embraced them either. He doesn't know if it's because Robby still doesn't believe he deserves happiness or because he thinks Jack deserves someone better than him. Either way, there's not much else Jacob can say that he hasn't already said. The rest is up to Robby.
"Big dinner plans?" The market stall owner asks cheerfully as she packages up all the vegetables and herbs he's purchased.
"Something like that," Jacob replies with a polite smile, instead of telling her that it's his late wife's birthday and he wants to make her favourite meal to feel close to her.
Yes, he'll end up with more portions of food than one man on his own can eat, but that's what his freezer is for. Maybe he can make a little plate for Mazel.
He holds open a simple canvas bag, and she lowers the items into it one by one.
"That'll be fifteen, twenty-five."
He hands over the correct bills and a quarter, placing both directly into her open palm. Once the transaction is completed, he scans the farmers' market for his next purchase. He needs a jar of honey, and he swears there's normally a stand that sells it here.
As he searches down the rows of stalls selling freshly baked sourdough, big wheels of potent cheeses, and the most delicious-looking cakes to tempt Jacob, something else catches his eye.
It's Robby.
He doesn't approach. He knows it can be awkward to run into your therapist out and about. Not everyone wants to have a polite conversation with the person who knows your deepest and darkest secrets on a public street.
He is surprised to find Robby strolling through a farmer's market. Though he's pleased too, to find the doctor outside the hospital, looking relaxed, enjoying his free time.
Healing his soul.
Jacob watches from the shade as Robby glances around for a moment, seems to spot what he was looking for and changes direction. He weaves through the crowd to the opposite side of the stalls and presses up against someone investigating a display of fresh fruit, his chin hooking over the person's shoulder. Robby's hand slides around the figure's waist, tugging them back against Robby's chest. Jacob watches as he presses a soft, chaste kiss against the figure's bare neck.
Finally, the figure turns, and Jacob sees who Robby is with.
Of course, it's Jack.
Jack smiles at Robby like they're the only two people on the street. Robby smiles back just as softly. It makes Jacob hug the bag of ingredients tighter to his chest, wishing he could feel like that, just once more.
He'd hoped, really hoped, and as he watches them step away from the stall, their hands reaching out and slotting together easily, he's glad he gave Robby that push to not just be happy, but to be happier.
He smiles, his chest filled with pride for his patient. They've come so far over the months they've been working together. He's seen the light return to Robby's eyes, seen him laugh, seen him walk up his front path with an actual spring in his step. When Robby tells him he's sleeping six or seven hours a night now, Jacob believes him. Robby isn't fully there yet, healing isn't linear, and there are still more tough conversations to be had, but seeing Robby and Jack together is making all the hard work he's put in so far worth it.
As much as he wants to bring it up in their next session, he decides this is something that Robby needs to reveal in his own time.
That's alright. Jacob turns and leaves in the opposite direction.
He can wait.