Meredith is more happy to see him than the presents, sitting up a little bit. She's lost weight, and she's weak, and she's not wearing makeup and she's in a hospital gown--not normally how she'd want Neal to see her.
But he came, and that means everything.
"And I haven't had the chance to buy yours yet. Or my boys', either."
"That's very sweet of you. But you realize the thing about chronic illness is that 'getting well' kinda never actually happens, right?" It's the very mildest of snark.
She pats the edge of the hospital bed. "Sit down instead of looming over me?"
As she begins to go through everything, the books catch her attention most. It's been pretty boring here.
"They're perfect. Though if you visit again, stop at B1 and have one of my boys grab some red liquid lipstick out of my bathroom. I feel more naked without it than without a bra."
She reaches out to gently touch his arm. "I'm always holding myself together with safety pins and duct tape. This kind of thing, it's always around the corner. But I'll be functional again soon, so you don't need to worry. That's what matters, right?"
She almost seems to deflate a little at his words. "That's never been what matters, Neil. What I want comes last, it has to. There's a lot more important things like that. Work to pay off student loans, to have health insurance. Serve ADI in this world so I have access to medical. I need to be practical about the state of things."
She's stating all of this like they're the Facts Of The Matter, like this is what life has been for her. This is what's made her sharp and observant, always feeling like she's on a treadmill, constantly trying to keep pace with the world, with the work.
Her hand moves away from his arm, and she closes her eyes for a moment. She's considering whether she tells him about Belcora. But instead, she shakes her head slightly. "It's fine, I'll be okay. I'm used to it."
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But he came, and that means everything.
"And I haven't had the chance to buy yours yet. Or my boys', either."
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He's already making a mental note to cook up something very easy on the stomach and heavy on the calories. Neal doesn't like how thin she is.
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She pats the edge of the hospital bed. "Sit down instead of looming over me?"
As she begins to go through everything, the books catch her attention most. It's been pretty boring here.
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Neal tilts his head. "The definition no, maybe, but the parameters in which people operate, yes."
He gestures to the books. "I took a guess as to what you might like."
It was an accurate guess. I'm just not as good at guessing as he is.
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She reaches out to gently touch his arm. "I'm always holding myself together with safety pins and duct tape. This kind of thing, it's always around the corner. But I'll be functional again soon, so you don't need to worry. That's what matters, right?"
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She's stating all of this like they're the Facts Of The Matter, like this is what life has been for her. This is what's made her sharp and observant, always feeling like she's on a treadmill, constantly trying to keep pace with the world, with the work.
Her hand moves away from his arm, and she closes her eyes for a moment. She's considering whether she tells him about Belcora. But instead, she shakes her head slightly. "It's fine, I'll be okay. I'm used to it."
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"There's always another way," Neal says quietly. Even here, even now, he still believes that.
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