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| Scene Title | Confessional |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Admitting the truth is often much harder than telling the lie. Espescially to yourself. |
| Date | October 19, 2008 |
St. Luke's Hospital is known for its high-quality care and its contributions to medical research. Its staff place an emphasis on compassion for and sensitivity to the needs of their patients and the communities they serve. In addition to nearby Columbia University, the hospital collaborates with several community groups, churches, and programs at local high schools. The associated Roosevelt Hospital offers a special wing of rooms and suites with more amenities than the standard hospital environment; they wouldn't seem out of place in a top-rated hotel. That said, a hospital is a hospital — every corridor and room still smells faintly of antiseptic.
The muscle relaxers and pain killers running through the body of detective Judah Demsky have ensured that more often than not, he is neither awake enough nor aware enough to feel the injuries he suffered from his long fall at the crumbling Sea View Hospital. For the second day in a row since learning of Judah's injuries, his younger ward Colette Nichols has seen fit to spend the majority of her day in silence by the bedside of a perfect stranger who was willing to take so many risks to help her out. The kidn of person she didn't think existed, and someone she never truly appreciated the presence of, until it was too late.
With her legs tucked beneath herself, Colette sits at the side of Judah's bed, her shoulders curled forward and hands tucked through the space in the bed's side rail, holding gently onto Judah's left hand with both of hers. She's been here since early this morning, since Felix left for work, the first time she hasn't taken the day ti spend volunteering at the Cathedral's soup kitchen in over a month. For now, her personal time belongs entirely to Judah, even if he won't remember much of how she's been by his side.
On the table by the window behind Colatte's chair is a colorful arrangement of flowers set in a narrow glass vase. It's not that Judah particularly likes flowers of any kind, espescially ones as cheap as these, but they — like the visits — are all a part of how Colette, in her own way, intends to make up for her selfishness and attitude towards someone who just wanted to help her. Even if he most certainly didn't have to.
Colette's entertained the idea of visiting Kaydence, but she's still in that awkward phase around her, and as far as she knows Detective Damaris is doing well and is awake. There's something soothing about being beside Judah when he's laid up as he is, something liberating about being able to be at his side, but not having to explain herself to anyone. The explanations always come hard, about everything she does, and about everything she is.
"Judah…" Her voice isn't something she usually utilizes during a visit, she's not prone to talking to herself. "I… wish I'd gotten more of a chance to know you." The words are softly spoken, tiny things that barely come out from her lips, even as she holds fast to the motionless hand. "You… You wanted to help me, take care of me, and… and I never appreciated it." Her eyes wrench shut at that, choking herself up with her own admission.
The silence that comes afterwards is punctuated by the rythmic beeping of the heart-rate monitor Judah is hooked up to. A metered and even series of slow, soft beeps. In her time volunteering at the Cathedral of St. John she's come to pick up bits and pieces about religion and faith, but there's a stubborn and youthful resistance to Colette, something that keeps her from really believing in anything, and part of that comes from her unsavory childhood. She can't have faith after her innocence was taken from her the way it was.
But there is something about that Cathedral that this hospital room reminds her of — a confessional. There's an impartial witness to her words, someone who is going to be able to hear her, if not entirely respond, but someone she can seek forgiveness from. And from Colette's perspective, there's so much to seek forgiveness for.
"I… All I ever wanted was to be with Tamara." She finally puts two and two together, realizing the similarities herself, between the place the faithful go to tell their darkest secrets, and the place she has come for the last two days to beg for forgiveness for being a selfish teenager. "The only reason I… the only reason I stayed with you, was because she did." It's that small, sad voice that is so judgemental, so disappointed with herself. "I'm so stuck on her… it… it's not fair."
There's a part of Colette that simply doesn't understand who and what she is, a part of her that doesn't understand the feelings she has and the things she thinks, that doesn't put together all of the pieces of a sign into one cohesive picture. It's that part of her that's making a cry for help, to ears that likely aren't listening. "I used you," Maybe she did, maybe she didn't, but right now to Colette, it's how she feels, and it's an hoenst — if not self-hating — thing to say.
"There's so much about me," Her eyes are kept shut, hands tightly clutched around one of Judah's, brow resting on the edge of the side-rail to the detective's bed. "So much I didn't want to tell you, to tell anyone." Her head rocks from side to side in a makeshift shaking. "I always wanted to tell Nicole, about…" Her words hitch in her throat as she thinks about her sister, "About who I am. About what I feel, but… I… I never did."
Breathing a deep breath out of her nose, she raises her head to look at the hand she's holding, with the IV stuck into the back of his palm, with the medical tape over that. "I didn't tell you either, be — because I thought you wouldn't understand. I can't tell Tamara, because I'd be so afraid she'd leave…" A soft thump accompanies her head hitting the side rail and remaining still. "I can't ever find the words."
In the years since she lived in New York, Colette's searched for the words to define herself, to define who she is and what she is to both herself and others. But, both fear of coming to terms with her own personality and her choices in life have been holding her back, and still hold her back here, in a moment where she wants to be honest. "I'm sorry, for being cruel to you. To being mean to you. For not trusting you…" Her hands shakily stay clutched to Judah's, "For not appreciating you."
He may be fine, and given time Judah may even walk again, but to Colette in the surroundings she's in, there's a certain fear of abandonment that can't simply be shaken. "Please, don't leave me Judah…" She curls up against the side of the bed, head laid down on the side bar, and her narrow shoulders shaking as she quietly cries to herself at the bedside.
"I miss you."
 October 19th: Mind the Gap |
 October 19th: Honey And Vinegar |