Commissions

Spencer/Ava #1

(Commission for @/flowerhound on Tumblr) 

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The noise of the front door slamming was the first hint that something was wrong. 

You looked up from the stove in surprise, nearly dropping the wooden ladle in your hand. You'd been working for hours, mixing meat and traditional South African vegetables into a cast-iron pot. Potjiekos, a favourite dish from Ava's childhood, was something you'd been wanting to try for a long time, but had never quite found the nerve to attempt. But for some reason, today had seemed like the day to finally take the leap. The aroma of spices and cooking meats was calming, but it did nothing to soothe your trepidation at the sound of angry footsteps echoing throughout the entryway. 

Setting the ladle on the ceramic spoon rest, you peeked your head out of the kitchen. "Ava?" you called, apprehensive. "You're home early." You were almost disappointed--dinner wasn't ready yet, and you'd been looking forward to the surprise. 

The voice that floated back to you was clipped. "Yes, I left early. Bit of a bad day." Your girlfriend's musical accent sounded darker than usual, and you didn't miss the catch in her voice, as if she'd been crying. Oh no. 

Turning the stove down to a simmer, you made the sure the half-finished stew wasn't in danger of burning before leaving the kitchen. Ava was still standing in the entryway, fiddling with her keys as if she didn't know quite what to do with them. She stared into space, her gaze focused at a spot on the wall. She seemed to be trying to catch her breath, attempting to gather her thoughts before coming to say hello to you. This was worrisome; usually, she flew into your arms immediately upon coming home, radiating a brightness and joy to rival the sun. But today she was like a raincloud, forlorn and dark, and the feeling unnerved you. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," you said carefully, approaching slowly and placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad to see you, though." 

At your touch, she seemed to come out of her reverie, jumping slightly before placing her keys on the hook next to the door. When she turned to look at you, her smile didn't reach her eyes, which were red-rimmed. "I'm glad to see you, too, Spence," she said, her voice a stiff mask hiding an undercurrent of upset. Before you could ask her what had happened, she kissed you on the cheek, as if to dismiss your worry, and said quickly, "What smells so good?" 

You watched her walk further into the house, noticing the stiffness of her stride. "Are you okay?" you asked, ignoring her question in favor of your much more important inquiry. 

"Fine. Are you going to tell me what's for dinner, or do I have to taste it myself?" 

Following her, you caught her arm just before she entered the kitchen, fingers rubbing the stiff fabric of her scrubs. "Avie." You made your voice stern. "What's wrong?" 

She turned back to face you, eyes downcast. Before she could stutter out another excuse, you pushed her long hair out of her eyes with your hand. It was enough to break the dam, and the tears started to fall. 

"I can't..." she began to gasp. "I can't do this. I can't do anything!" 

Immediately, you gathered her into your arms, holding her close and rubbing her back. She hid her face in your shirt, her tears staining the bright blue fabric. "Tell me, love. Tell me what happened." 

It was just as you had feared: she'd lost a patient on the operating table. As always, it hadn't been her fault; these things were never anyone's fault. The poor man had been half-dead already. But this wasn't the first time this had happened, and it wouldn't be the last. It was always difficult. And Ava was feeling more vulnerable than usual lately. This was the last thing she needed. 

"They should just get rid of me. I wasn't fast enough," she stuttered, sniffling. "I wasn't good enough. I could have--" 

"Shh, Avie." You held her tighter, running your fingers through her hair. "This wasn't your fault. It's no one's fault. Sometimes..." You fumbled for the words; this conversation never got any easier. "Sometimes it just happens." 

"But it shouldn't," she whimpered. "You shouldn't be with someone who..." Her voice trailed off, and she collapsed into tears again. 

You nuzzled her hair, breathing in the scent of sharp disinfectant and hospital waiting rooms. You kissed the top of her head gently. "I shouldn't be with someone who what, Avie? Helps people? Saves lives? You are a miracle worker. You're my miracle." You tilted her chin up to kiss her tears away. "You give people hope. You give me hope. You are truly amazing. It isn't your fault that it's someone else's time. You honor them by helping others. You do the best you can, and that's enough." 

She didn't reply, but her sobs seemed to subside as you held her closer. After several minutes, she finally looked up from your shoulder, her face a mess of dried tears. "Thank you, Spence," she said softly. "I love you." 

"I love you too, Avie." You kissed her nose, and saw the faintest ghost of a smile. "Now I think you should eat something. You'll feel better." Smiling at her, you continued, "And besides, I think you're going to especially enjoy dinner tonight." 

"Oh?" She wiped away a lingering tear with the back of her sleeve. "And why is that?" 

You grinned, tilting your head towards the kitchen. "I made Potjiekos. One of your favorites. Or," you said, "I was making it. Wasn't quite finished. You so rudely interrupted me before I could add the final few spices." 

Ava smiled fully, the sun breaking through the clouds. "Well," she grinned, "let's go add those spices, then." You could tell she was making an effort, and that made you feel more hopeful. 

Suddenly a thought occurred to you. "What was your patient's name?" 

She looked at you in surprise. "Um. I believe it was...Santos...why?" 

You opened the drawer where the matches were kept and took out a box. "Tell you what. Let's set an extra place for dinner, and light a candle for Mr. Santos." You handed her the box, and saw that her smile had returned, complete and sincere. 

"That's a beautiful idea. You're so thoughtful, Spence." 

You gave her a quick kiss, squeezing her hand. "Let's not keep Mr. Santos waiting, then." 

Returning to the stove, you watched as Ava set an extra place at the table, lighting a candle in place of a drinking glass, the soft firelight reflecting in her eyes, and thought how incredibly lucky the world was to have her. You decided you'd spend all day, every day telling her, until she believed you. 

But first, the Potjiekos awaited.