e :)

trust emery walsh to give her own service dog a stupid name.

samira’s not so keen on welcoming a dog into the house - she’s more of a cat person herself - but emery had become enamoured with the idea.

samira blames jack for that.

he’d adopted a german shepherd a couple of months after The Incident had happened and now, the dog is his entire world. wherever jack went, storm followed, and wherever jack went usually happened to be samira and emery’s house.

she doesn’t hate dogs.

she just likes cats more.

emery, unfortunately, loves storm. jack usually brings her around when emery refuses to get out of bed, using the dog as a means to get emery out of the house, if only for an hour or so.

it works, most of the time.

emery gets some fresh air. the dog gets some exercise. samira is saved from an evening of dealing with a reactive wife who’s mood is only worsened by a banging headache.

when jack mentions the veteran’s discount on service dogs, samira does what she does best. her research.

she finds out how the dogs are trained, the best breeds for which vocations, the different kinds of harnesses they wear.

finds out what sort of dog would be best for emery.

which is how they end up in an animal centre on a random tuesday two weeks after the new year.

emery, predictably, had been a little reluctant about it all. having a service dog for ptsd means putting her struggles on display, telling strangers that she’s prone to panicking in the middle of a walmart, that the sound of a car backfiring means she can’t move for hours, that she can’t stand the smell of burning rubber.

most of that worry goes away the minute they bring the puppy in.

it’s a fourteen week-old black labrador that’s all wriggles and wrinkles, big brown eyes and a tail that waggles with its entire body.

it plops itself in emery’s lap the minute emery sits on the floor and from that point on, its history. emery’s cuddling it close, breathing in that puppy smell, laughing at how wriggly it is.

samira lets her enjoy it. she hasn’t heard that laugh for a long time.

“is there anything specific you’ll need from her?” the handler asks.

he’s a kind-looking guy who can clearly suss out some of emery’s history for himself and isn’t uncomfortable about it. samira wonders how many vets he’s worked with in this sort of thing.

“she, um, she’ll need to know how to soothe out a panic attack.” she discloses quietly. “emery knows how to handle herself she just…needs a bit of support.”

she hates talking about her wife like she’s not there, but emery barely has the words to say hello these days, let alone tell anyone what she needs.

“that’s the main objective. she just needs someone she can rely on.”

and she hates that it isn’t her.

the handler nods. “okay, well, we can definitely work on that. you said your wife’s a vet?”

“mhm, medical unit.”

“okay, great. if you’ve got her paperwork I can go and grab the forms you’ll need and we can get her discount and everything sorted today.”

she nods, grateful for his help. he smiles back.

“if I go and grab that, I’ll leave you here to bond with her. it’s good if she knows you too, knows who she’s going to be working for. pick out a name for her too, yeah? it’ll help with her training.”

he hands her the leash before she can say anything and samira’s eyes widen at the prospect of being alone with a tiny puppy.

looking down, there’s not much to be worried about.

the puppy is already half-asleep in emery’s arms, contentedly cuddled up with her, eyes closed. emery’s bent over it, her lips pressed gently to the dog’s head as she strokes her.

samira smiles and crouches down too, running a finger over the puppy’s nose.

“she likes you.”

“mm.” emery murmurs quietly. “I like her too.”

“did you get all of what he said? handler says she needs to have a name.”

emery’s mouth twitches, her version of a smile these days. “I’ve already got one.”

“oh yeah?”

she strokes the dog’s nose, her finger bumping up against samira’s as she does.

“edie.”

samira smiles, tilting her head a little in confusion. “edie? where’d you come up with that?”

“got it from you.”

“huh?”

emery lifts her head, an old knowing sparkle in her eye that samira had desperately missed.

Stage one was fine. Television. Phone. Maybe a text to Lucy.

Stage two was the gym mat in the living room, twenty minutes of something physical to give the energy somewhere to go.

Stage three was the reorganising of things that didn't need reorganising. Cupboards. The DVD collection they never watched. The drawer in the kitchen that had become an everything drawer despite Alexia's repeated attempts to make it a specific things drawer.

Stage four was the fridge.

Not because she was hungry. Never because she was hungry at stage four. Because the fridge was there and it was something to do and Jay's brain, when insufficiently occupied, had the specific quality of a toddler handed a marker pen in a white room.

Alexia was at a sponsor event. Had been since half six. It was now ten fifteen.

Jay had done stages one through three twice each and was on her fourth visit to the open fridge, standing in the cold light of it in her pyjamas, looking at the contents with the focused attention of someone who needed something to happen.

She wasn't hungry.

She was so categorically not hungry that hunger was practically a foreign concept. She had made the pasta thing at seven, the good version, the one she was getting better at, and she had eaten it at the kitchen table and it had been excellent and she was absolutely completely not hungry.

She looked at the fridge anyway.

The leftovers in the labelled containers, Alexia's handwriting on the masking tape, neat and specific. The good cheese that was for eating with things not just eating, which Jay had been told twice. The yoghurts from the specific place that were the good ones and not to be eaten all in one sitting, which was a rule Jay observed about sixty percent of the time.

And then on the top shelf, pushed to the back, separate from everything else in the way that special things were kept apart from ordinary things, a small white tub.

Very clean. Very simple. A small gold logo. French writing in a font so refined and small it was essentially the typographical equivalent of a lifted eyebrow.

Jay reached in and took it out.

Cold. Heavier than it looked. The weight of something that took itself seriously.

She turned it over.

Crème de la Mer. Several other words in French she didn't know. A small gold seal that suggested the contents had been approved by someone important in France.

She opened it.

The smell hit her immediately and it was extraordinary. Rich and floral and deeply, expensively good, the kind of smell that suggested the people who made this had access to ingredients that regular people didn't know about.

Jay looked at the contents.

Smooth and white and perfectly consistent. Very luxurious looking. Very organic looking.

She thought about the word crème.

Crème was a food word. This was completely established. Crème brûlée. Crème fraîche. Crème caramel. Crème anglaise. All foods. All things you ate. Crème was French for cream and cream was a food group and therefore this tub with its gold logo and its French writing was clearly a very high end, very organic, very fancy French cream product of some kind.

The fact that it was being kept in the fridge confirmed it was fresh.

The weight confirmed it was substantial.

The gold logo confirmed it was expensive.

The smell confirmed it was good.

Jay got a spoon.

She had a spoonful.

She sat with it.

Weird.

She had another spoonful and thought about it harder.

Not bad weird. Not off weird. Just. Unusual. Very rich. Almost waxy in texture. Floral in a way that dairy products weren't normally floral. The consistency was slightly off for yoghurt, too smooth, too uniform, like something that had been made in a very controlled environment by people in white coats.

She had a third spoonful.

Definitely weird. Definitely very organic. That was the thing about very organic products, they tasted completely different from normal products because they were unprocessed and natural and contained things that your regular supermarket yoghurt didn't contain.

Alexia was always getting things from specific places that tasted unusual and when Jay said they tasted unusual Alexia said that's because they're real, bebe, that's what real food tastes like, and Jay accepted this because Alexia knew about food in a way that Jay respected.

This was clearly just a very organic very expensive very French cream product that tasted unusual because it was extremely natural and pure and probably contained actual flowers or something.

She took it to the sofa.

She ate it over the next twenty five minutes while watching television, having periodic thoughtful spoonfuls and each time thinking about the weirdness and each time concluding that this was simply the flavour profile of something very high quality that her palate wasn't sophisticated enough to fully appreciate yet.

She scraped the bottom of the tub clean because wasting things was not something Jay did.

She looked into the empty tub.

Licked the spoon.

Put the tub on the coffee table.

Went back to the television.

It was good but... Tasted well weird though.

The key in the door was ten twenty two.

Jay heard the specific coming home after a long professional evening sounds. The bag on the hook, slightly less precise than usual. The particular exhale of someone who had been La Reina for four hours and was done being La Reina and wanted to be in her flat in her dressing gown.

"Guapa?" Alexia called.

"Sofa babe," Jay called.

Footsteps down the hall, the unhurried cadence of someone who knew where everything was, and then Alexia in the doorway.

Still in the blazer. Hair still up, one or two pieces having made a bid for freedom over the course of the evening. The slightly tired version of herself, the one that existed only after long evenings out and was one of Jay's top three favourite versions because it was the most real one, the one with all the composure still present but worn slightly soft at the edges.

She crossed straight to Jay without stopping anywhere else first.

Leaned down.

Jay turned her face up and Alexia kissed her, both hands coming to Jay's face, warm and unhurried and thorough, the proper hello kiss, the one that said I've been gone for hours and this is the first thing I wanted to do when I got in, and Jay kissed back and held Alexia's wrists and it lasted a good while.

When Alexia pulled back she stayed close.

"Hi," Jay said.

"Hola bebe," Alexia said softly. "How was your evening."

"Good," Jay said. "Quiet. Made the pasta thing."

"I can smell it," Alexia said. She kissed Jay once more, quick and warm. "It smells good. How was it."

"Getting better at it," Jay said.

"You are getting better at it," Alexia said, like this was an established fact she was confirming. She ran a hand through Jay's hair, the passing affectionate gesture of someone completely at home, and straightened up. "How was the medication. Did you take the afternoon one."

"Yeah," Jay said.

"Good," Alexia said. "I'm going to shower. I smell like a room full of sponsors."

"You smell good," Jay said.

"I smell like canapés and someone's perfume that was too strong," Alexia said, already heading back to the hallway. "Twenty minutes, vale?"

"Vale," Jay said.

The shower went on.

Jay sat on the sofa.

She looked at the empty tub on the coffee table.

She thought about moving it.

She picked it up and looked at it.

Put it back down.

Picked it up again and took it to the kitchen counter.

Looked at it there.

The gold logo looked slightly more significant now than it had in the fridge. In the fridge it had said expensive yoghurt. On the kitchen counter in the light it was saying something slightly different that Jay didn't want to examine too closely.

She turned it so the logo faced the wall.

Sat back down.

The shower was still going.

She turned the tub back around because turning it away was suspicious and she hadn't done anything wrong, she'd eaten something from the fridge and it had tasted weird and that was the whole story.

She went back to the television.

Twenty two minutes later the shower turned off.

Jay turned the volume up slightly.

Then turned it back down because that was extremely suspicious.

Alexia came through in her dressing gown, hair damp, face clean, completely herself, the dressing gown version, the best version, and she kissed the top of Jay's head as she passed.

Alexia went to the kitchen.

Jay stared at the television.

She heard the fridge open.

She didn't move.

She heard things being moved on the shelf. The specific sound of items being shifted.

She didn't move.

She heard the fridge close.

Open again.

More shifting.

Close.

A pause.

A very specific quality of pause. The kind that had something in it.

"Bebe," Alexia said.

Very calm. Very level. The particular vocal quality of someone who was being careful about being calm.

"Yeah," Jay said.

"Ven aquí por favor."

The por favor was new. Alexia didn't usually add por favor.

"I'm watching something," Jay said.

"Jay." Still calm. Still level. But different underneath.

Jay got up.

She walked into the kitchen with the specific energy of someone who had already decided their position and was committed to it.

Alexia was standing at the counter.

She was in her dressing gown with her damp hair and her clean face and she was holding the empty tub and she was looking at it and then she looked up and looked at Jay and her face was doing something Jay had never seen it do before.

It was the composure, but the composure with something enormous happening underneath it, like watching the surface of a very calm lake while something prehistoric moved just below.

"This," Alexia said.

"The yoghurt," Jay said. "The fancy one from the top shelf. It tasted a bit weird actually, might have been slightly off, worth checking the others."

Alexia looked at her.

She didn't speak for a moment.

Then she said, very carefully.. "Jay. This is not yoghurt."

Jay looked at her.

"It was in the fridge," Jay said.

"This," Alexia said, holding the tub up, "is my face cream."

Jay looked at the tub.

At the gold logo.

At the French writing.

Crème de la Mer.

Something moved in Jay's brain. A small but significant recalibration.

"It was in the fridge," Jay said again, because this remained technically true.

"Some creams go in the fridge," Alexia said, still doing the careful voice. "This cream goes in the fridge because the active ingredients are better preserved at a lower temperature. This is La Mer, Jay. This is."

She paused. She set the tub down on the counter and looked at it. "This is four hundred euros."

The kitchen was very quiet.

Jay looked at the tub.

"Say the number again," Jay said.

"Four hundred euros," Alexia said.

"For a face cream," Jay said.

"For a face cream," Alexia said.

"That lives in the fridge," Jay said.

"On the top shelf," Alexia said. "On the top shelf that has never once had food on it. In the eighteen months you have lived here that shelf has never had food on it."

"That shelf has never been explained to me," Jay said. "I didn't know about the shelf system."

"There is no shelf system," Alexia said. "There is a fridge. In the fridge there is food. Except on the top shelf at the back where there is my face cream which has a gold logo and French writing and costs four hundred euros and is clearly..."

"Clearly is doing an enormous amount of work in that sentence, I just want to point that out... it was not clear at all," Jay said.

"Dios mío," Alexia said, quietly, to a point above Jay's head.

She picked up her phone.

"What are you doing," Jay said.

"Googling," Alexia said.

"Googling what," Jay said.

"What happens when you eat La Mer," Alexia said.

The kitchen was very quiet while she read.

Jay watched her face.

Alexia's face was not a face that showed things easily. Years of press conferences and big games and everything that came with being who she was had given her a composure that was essentially structural. Things happened to Alexia's face when she was feeling things but they happened subtly and you had to know what to look for.

Jay knew what to look for.

She watched Alexia's eyes move across the phone screen.

She watched something happen in them.

"Ale," Jay said.

"It has retinol in it," Alexia said.

"Okay," Jay said.

"And seaweed extract," Alexia said.

"Okay... that's fine," Jay said.

"And something called Miracle Broth," Alexia said.

"That sounds good actually," Jay said.

"Jay," Alexia said. "It says do not ingest."

"I didn't know I was ingesting it," Jay said. "I thought I was eating yoghurt."

"How much did you eat," Alexia said, looking up from the phone.

"It was a very small tub," Jay said.

"Jay," Alexia said.

"I finished it," Jay said. "But the tub was genuinely very small so the total quantity consumed was not..."

"You ate the entire tub," Alexia said.

"Over twenty five minutes," Jay said. "It wasn't a fast thing. I was sitting with the flavour. Evaluating it throughout."

"You were evaluating it," Alexia said pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I thought it tasted weird," Jay said. "I had multiple spoonfuls thinking about the weirdness."

"And your conclusion was what exactly bebe?" Alexia said.

"Organic," Jay said.

Alexia stared at her.

Not the angry stare. Not the disappointed stare. Something else. Something that was trying to process the specific information that her girlfriend had eaten an entire tub of four hundred euro face cream over twenty five minutes while sitting with the flavour and concluding it was organic.

"You thought La Mer was an organic yoghurt," Alexia said.

"I thought the word crème meant it was a food product," Jay said. "Crème is a food word. I have examples."

"Please don't give me examples... just no bebe," Alexia said.

"Crème brûlée," Jay said.

"Jay," Alexia said.

"Crème fraîche," Jay said. "Crème caramel. Crème anglaise. All foods. All things you eat. The word crème on a product in a fridge is a completely reasonable indicator of..."

"It says La Mer on it," Alexia said. "It says La Mer in large letters on the front. La Mer, Jay. The sea. It's named after the sea."

"Lots of food things are named after the sea," Jay said. "Sea salt. Seafood. Sea bass. The sea is very food adjacent."

"Dios mío," Alexia said again, louder this time, to the ceiling.

"Also," Jay said, "in my defence, and I want to be clear that I do have a defence, why is a four hundred euro face cream in the fridge next to the yoghurt. Why is that a system that exists. Why has this never been communicated."

"It has been communicated," Alexia said. "I told you when you moved in that the top shelf was for my skincare."

"You said the top shelf was for your things," Jay said. "Your things. Not skincare specifically. I thought your things meant your yoghurt. You have specific yoghurt. You've always had specific yoghurt. I thought this was the specific yoghurt shelf."

"My specific yoghurt is on the second shelf," Alexia said. "It has always been on the second shelf. The top shelf has always been skincare."

"This has never been explained with the clarity you're suggesting," Jay said.

"Jay," Alexia said.

"I'm just saying the communication breakdown here is bilateral," Jay said.

"You ate my face cream!" Alexia said exasperated now.

"In good faith," Jay said.

"In good faith... dios mio," Alexia repeated, in the tone of someone testing whether those words could possibly mean what they'd just been used to mean.

She put the phone down.

She looked at Jay.

She looked at the tub.

She seemed to be running through something internally, some kind of decision making process.

Then she said, "Get your shoes."

"Ale," Jay said.

"Get your shoes bebe," Alexia said, and she was already going down the hallway.

"I feel completely fine," Jay said, following her. "Like genuinely. There's nothing. My stomach is completely normal, there's no pain, no nausea, nothing. I feel exactly the same as I felt before I ate the..."

"The face cream," Alexia said from the bedroom.

"The organic yoghurt that turned out to be face cream," Jay said. "Yes. I feel identical to how I felt before."

Alexia came out of the bedroom.

She had got dressed in approximately ninety seconds. Jeans. Jumper. Hair in a bun. The speed and efficiency of a woman who had made a decision and was implementing it.

"You got dressed extremely fast," Jay said.

"Shoes," Alexia said, finding Jay's trainers and handing them to her.

"You knew where my shoes were," Jay said.

"I always know where your shoes are," Alexia said. "Put them on."

"Ale," Jay said, sitting on the hall bench and putting them on because when Alexia used that specific combination of calm voice and efficient movement there was genuinely no point. "We are going to sit in A&E for four hours. The doctor is going to look at me and say you're fine and give me some water and send us home at three in the morning and the whole thing is going to be..."

"A complete waste of time during which I will know for certain you're fine," Alexia said. "As opposed to staying here wondering."

"You won't wonder," Jay said. "I feel fine. Look at me. Do I look like someone who needs a hospital."

Alexia looked at her.

Full assessment. The captain look applied to Jay's face and person.

"You look fine," Alexia said. "I want a doctor to also look at you and say you look fine."

"That's not an efficient use of NHS resources," Jay said.

"We're in Spain," Alexia said.

"Spanish medical resources," Jay said.

"Get your jacket," Alexia said.

Jay got her jacket.

Alexia drove.

The Barcelona streets at ten forty were alive and warm, people outside bars, the city doing its late evening thing with complete indifference to the fact that somewhere within it a professional footballer was being driven to hospital because she'd eaten her girlfriend's face cream.

Jay sat in the passenger seat.

She felt completely fine.

She felt so completely fine that the completeness of her fineness was almost impressive.

"My face does feel quite soft actually," Jay said.

Alexia's hands tightened slightly on the wheel.

"From the inside," Jay said. "Like internally. The retinol is doing something."

"Please don't," Alexia said.

"I'm just noting," Jay said.

"I know you're noting," Alexia said. "Please stop noting."

They drove.

"How does it work," Jay said. "The La Mer. What's the Miracle Broth thing."

"Jay," Alexia said.

"I'm interested," Jay said. "I've ingested it. I feel I have a right to know what I've ingested."

"It's a fermented sea kelp compound," Alexia said, and then immediately seemed to wish she hadn't because that was information.

"Fermented sea kelp," Jay said.

"Yes," Alexia said.

"I've eaten fermented sea kelp," Jay said.

"And retinol," Alexia said. "And several other things that are designed to go on skin not in it."

"Will I be fine," Jay said.

"You'll be fine," Alexia said. "The doctor will confirm you'll be fine. And then I'll know you're fine."

"You could just believe me that I'm fine," Jay said. "I'm telling you I'm fine. I know my own body."

"You didn't know your girlfriend's face cream from a yoghurt," Alexia said.

Fair point, Jay thought. She didn't say this.

"Four hundred euros though," Jay said quietly, to the window.

"Don't," Alexia said.

"I'm not saying anything," Jay said. "I'm just. Processing."

"Process quietly amor," Alexia said.

Jay was quiet for a moment.

"Does it actually work though," Jay said.

"My skin is very good," Alexia said.

"It is very good," Jay said. "I've always thought your skin was exceptional. I've mentioned it. I didn't know there was a four hundred euro cream behind it but looking back it makes complete sense because your skin is genuinely..."

"Jay," Alexia said.

"I'm complimenting your skin," Jay said.

"You're complimenting my skin while sitting in a car on the way to hospital because you ate my skin cream," Alexia said.

"Those are two separate things happening simultaneously," Jay said.

Alexia made a sound which was nearly a laugh.

"Are you nearly laughing," Jay said.

"No," Alexia said.

"You are," Jay said. "I can hear it."

"I'm driving tonta," Alexia said.

"You can drive and nearly laugh at the same time," Jay said. "I've seen you do it."

"I'm not nearly laughing," Alexia said, and then her shoulders did the thing, the specific movement that meant the laugh was right there, right behind the composure, pressing at the door.

"There it is," Jay said, delighted.

"Stop it," Alexia said.

"I can see your shoulders," Jay said.

"My shoulders are fine," Alexia said.

"They're doing the thing," Jay said.

"They're not..." and then she laughed. Briefly, fully, the real one, surprised out of her, and Jay grinned so hard it hurt her face.

"It's funny," Jay said.

"It's four hundred euros Idiota," Alexia said, still smiling despite herself.

"It's four hundred euros and it's funny," Jay said.

"It's not funny," Alexia said, the smile still there, fighting itself. "I came home and kissed you and you tasted like La Mer and I thought oh that's nice, Jay smells nice tonight, and now I know you tasted like La Mer because you had just finished eating an entire tub of La Mer and I..."

She stopped. The smile became something else, something warmer. "That is genuinely one of the most Jay things that has ever happened. In our entire relationship. That might be the most Jay thing."

"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment," Jay said.

"It's not a compliment," Alexia said.

"It's a little bit a compliment," Jay said.

"It's really not," Alexia said.

She reached over without looking and put her hand on Jay's knee, warm and present, the easy affectionate gesture of someone very used to reaching over and finding Jay there, and Jay put her hand over it immediately.

"Lo siento about the cream," Jay said.

"It was an accident amor," Alexia said.

"A very stupid accident," Jay said.

"A very Jay accident," Alexia said.

"Same thing," Jay said.

Alexia squeezed her knee.

"Are you actually okay," Alexia said. The real version. Not the hospital version.

"I genuinely feel completely fine," Jay said. "I promise. There's nothing. It's just embarrassing."

"It's very embarrassing," Alexia said warmly.

"Do you have to tell people," Jay said.

"Mapi is going to find out," Alexia said. "I can't stop Mapi finding out. Nobody can stop Mapi finding out things."

"Maybe don't actively tell her," Jay said.

"I won't actively tell her," Alexia said.

"Thank you," Jay said.

"She'll find out within forty eight hours anyway," Alexia said.

"I know," Jay said.

The waiting room at eleven on a Wednesday night had the specific quality of all A&E waiting rooms at all times, which was fluorescent and suspended, the particular limbo of people waiting to find out something about themselves or someone they loved.

Plastic chairs in rows. A television on the wall showing a nature documentary with the sound off, a herd of something crossing a plain in complete silence. A toddler asleep across two chairs with someone's jacket over it. A teenage boy with his arm wrapped in a football shirt looking embarrassed. A very old man reading a newspaper with complete calm like he did this regularly.

Jay and Alexia sat down in two chairs near the middle.

Jay in her pyjama bottoms and her jacket.

Alexia in her jeans and jumper and her hair in a bun, the most composed person in a room full of people having bad evenings.

"We look insane," Jay said, looking around.

"We look fine," Alexia said.

"I'm in my pyjamas," Jay said.

"Three other people are in pyjamas," Alexia said, without looking.

Jay looked. Three other people were indeed in pyjamas.

"The teenager is judging us," Jay said.

"The teenager has wrapped his own arm in a football shirt," Alexia said. "He's not judging anyone."

Jay looked at the teenager.

The teenager looked at Jay.

Jay gave him a small nod.

He nodded back with the energy of someone who had a story too.

"When they call us in," Jay said, looking back at the front desk, "and the doctor asks what happened."

"I'll say it," Alexia said.

"All of it?" Jay said.

"All of it," Alexia said.

"Including the organic conclusion," Jay said.

"Especially the organic conclusion," Alexia said.

"That's the most embarrassing part," Jay said.

"That's the most accurate part," Alexia said. "The doctor needs the full picture."

"The full picture is that I ate face cream thinking it was yoghurt," Jay said. "The organic conclusion is context."

"The organic conclusion is essential context," Alexia said. "It tells the doctor about the decision making process."

"The decision making process was fine," Jay said. "Given the available information."

"The available information included a gold logo and the name of one of the most famous skincare brands in the world," Alexia said.

"I don't know skincare brands," Jay said. "I use the blue thing in the shower."

"The blue thing is my shower gel," Alexia said.

Jay looked at her.

"I thought that was communal," Jay said.

"Nothing in this flat is communal," Alexia said. "Everything has a person."

"This has never been established," Jay said.

"It has been established several times," Alexia said. "You just don't retain it."

"I retain important information," Jay said.

"You retain football information," Alexia said. "And food information. And information about people you love. Everything else goes."

"The blue shower gel should have been communicated more clearly," Jay said.

"I've told you four times," Alexia said.

"I retain the first time," Jay said. "After that it's gone."

Alexia looked at her.

Then she looked at the ceiling.

Then she looked back at Jay and took her hand and held it, their fingers linked on Jay's knee.

"After this," Alexia said, "we're going to do a full flat orientation. Everything that is mine and not communal. Every shelf. Every product. With labels if necessary."

"Labels would help," Jay said.

"Big labels," Alexia said.

"In English," Jay said.

"In English," Alexia said. "With photographs."

"And a diagram," Jay said.

"I'm not making a diagram," Alexia said.

"A simple one," Jay said. "Like a map of the fridge. Zones."

"I'm not making a fridge map," Alexia said.

"It would prevent future incidents," Jay said.

"Nothing will prevent future incidents," Alexia said, with the resigned warmth of someone who had fully accepted this about their life. "I'm managing future incidents as they arrive."

"That's very zen of you," Jay said.

"It's very necessary of me," Alexia said.

Jay looked at her sideways.

At the profile, the nose and the jaw and the specific way her hair fell even in a bun. The warm brown of her eyes when she turned and caught Jay looking.

"You're beautiful," Jay said.

"Don't try to be charming," Alexia said.

"I'm not trying," Jay said. "I'm just. It keeps being true."

Alexia looked at her for a moment.

"You ate my four hundred euro face cream," Alexia said.

"And I'd do it again," Jay said. "I mean I wouldn't. I absolutely wouldn't. But in the sense that it brought us here together at eleven at night in the A&E which is unexpectedly quite nice…”

"It's not nice," Alexia said.

"We're holding hands," Jay said. "In a waiting room. It's quite nice."

"We hold hands at home," Alexia said.

"We do," Jay said. "But there's something about a waiting room. Very cinematic."

"You're in your pyjamas," Alexia said.

"Comfortably dressed for a cinematic moment," Jay said.

Alexia looked at her for a long moment.

The warm version of her face, the private one.

"Estás bien," she said quietly, not as a question. More as a thing she was telling herself.

"Estoy bien," Jay said. "See. My Spanish is improving."

"Your Spanish is terrible," Alexia said.

"I know estoy bien," Jay said.

"You know four phrases," Alexia said.

"Five," Jay said. "I know lo siento as well."

"You learned lo siento quickly," Alexia said.

"Useful phrase," Jay said. "Given my lifestyle."

Alexia made the sound that wasn't quite a laugh but was its immediate neighbour.

Across the waiting room the toddler woke up briefly, looked at everyone, decided nothing interesting was happening, and went back to sleep. The old man turned a page of his newspaper. The teenager had found a friend who was also a teenager and they were both on their phones in the specific hunched way of teenagers on phones.

"I'm going to get some water," Alexia said, standing up. "Do you want water."

"Please," Jay said.

"Please," Alexia repeated. "See, you're very polite when you want something."

"I'm always polite," Jay said.

"You told Mapi her driving was dangerous last week," Alexia said, going toward the vending machine.

"It is dangerous," Jay called after her. "That's not rude, that's safety information."

Alexia came back with two bottles of water and sat back down and handed one to Jay and Jay opened it and drank some and Alexia watched her drink with the specific attention she sometimes gave Jay when she thought Jay wasn't looking.

"What," Jay said, catching her.

"Nothing," Alexia said.

"You're watching me drink water," Jay said.

"I'm checking you're okay," Alexia said.

"I'm drinking water," Jay said. "That's fine. That's the most normal thing I've done all evening."

"I know," Alexia said. "I know you're fine. I just…”

"Ale," Jay said.

"Sí," Alexia said.

"I'm fine," Jay said. "I ate your face cream and it tasted weird and I feel completely fine and in approximately thirty minutes a doctor is going to confirm I'm completely fine and then we're going to go home and tomorrow I'm going to tell Lucy and Lucy is going to tell everyone and Mapi is going to put it on the whiteboard and it's going to be a whole thing but right now in this moment I am absolutely completely fine."

Alexia looked at her.

"The whiteboard," Alexia said.

"I know," Jay said.

"She'll give it a title," Alexia said.

"She always gives them a title," Jay said. "It'll be something terrible."

"The Yoghurt Incident," Alexia said.

"That's what I'll call it in my head too," Jay said. "From now on this is the Yoghurt Incident."

"It's the Face Cream Incident," Alexia said.

"In my version it's the Yoghurt Incident," Jay said. "My version is kinder to me."

"Your version is factually wrong," Alexia said.

"My version is emotionally true," Jay said.

Alexia looked at her.

Then she leaned over and kissed her cheek, warm and brief, right there in the A&E waiting room at eleven at night, and Jay turned and caught the end of it properly, a real kiss, quick and present.

"You taste like La Mer," Alexia said, pulling back.

"I know," Jay said.

"You're going to taste like La Mer for days," Alexia said.

"Probably," Jay said.

"Every time I kiss you," Alexia said.

"My own private reminder of what not to eat from the fridge," Jay said.

"I'm buying a lock," Alexia said.

"For the fridge?" Jay said.

"For the top shelf," Alexia said.

"That's excessive," Jay said.

"Is it," Alexia said.

Jay thought about this.

"The fridge map might be sufficient," Jay said.

"I'm buying a lock," Alexia said.

"Jones?" a nurse called from the door.

They both stood up.

Jay put her water bottle in her jacket pocket. Alexia picked up her bag. They walked toward the nurse together.

The nurse was in her forties, efficient looking, the specific competence of someone who had done a long shift and had several more hours to go and was not going to be thrown by anything.

She looked at Jay.

Looked at Alexia.

Looked at the pyjama bottoms.

Looked at the clock on the wall which said 23:07.

"What brings you in tonight," she said.

Alexia looked at Jay.

Jay looked at Alexia.

"She ate my face cream," Alexia said.

The nurse looked at Jay.

"I thought it was yoghurt," Jay said.

A beat.

"How much," the nurse said.

"The whole tub," Alexia said.

"It was a very small tub," Jay said.

The nurse wrote something on her clipboard.

"The cream," she said. "What brand."

"La Mer," Alexia said.

The nurse's pen stopped moving.

She looked up slowly.

"La Mer," she said.

"Crème de la Mer," Alexia said. "The moisturiser."

A pause that had several things in it.

"The four hundred euro one," the nurse said.

"Yes," Alexia said.

The nurse looked at Jay.

"I thought crème was a food word," Jay said. "Crème brûlée. Crème fraîche. Crème…”

"Follow me," the nurse said.

They followed her through the doors and down the corridor and Jay could hear it with absolute clarity, the specific sound of someone containing something with enormous professional effort, and she looked at Alexia and Alexia was looking at the ceiling.

"She's nearly laughing," Jay said quietly.

"She's a medical professional," Alexia said.

"She's absolutely nearly laughing," Jay said.

"So am I," Alexia said quietly. "I'm still taking you to a doctor."

They went into the cubicle. The nurse pulled the curtain. Got her clipboard properly. Assumed the professional expression of someone who had reset.

"Right," she said. "Tell me exactly what happened. From the beginning."

Jay took a breath.

"So," Jay said. "I was bored."

The nurse's professional expression did something very small in the region of the eyes.

"My girlfriend was out," Jay said. "And I'd done the gym mat thing and the cupboard thing and I was on my fourth fridge visit of the evening and I found this tub on the top shelf and it smelled incredible and the word crème was on it so I got a spoon."

"You got a spoon," the nurse said.

"I got a spoon," Jay confirmed. "And it tasted weird. I want to be clear that I knew it tasted weird. I had multiple spoonfuls specifically because I was thinking about the weirdness."

"And your conclusion," the nurse said.

Alexia, sitting in the plastic chair beside the bed, crossed her legs and looked at the curtain with magnificent composure.

"Organic," Jay said. "I concluded it was a very organic French cream product that tasted unusual because of its natural ingredients."

A pause.

"Organic," the nurse said.

"Very organic," Jay said. "Premium organic. The gold logo suggested significant quality."

The nurse wrote something on her clipboard with a hand that was absolutely steady and a face that was absolutely professional and a pen that was shaking slightly.

"And how much did you consume," the nurse said.

"The whole tub," Jay said. "But over twenty five minutes. It was a considered consumption. I wasn't rushing."

"She was sitting with the flavour," Alexia said, from the chair, to the curtain.

"I was evaluating it throughout," Jay said.

The nurse took a breath.

"Do you feel any nausea," she said.

"None," Jay said.

"Any stomach pain," she said.

"Nothing," Jay said.

"Any unusual sensations anywhere," she said.

"My face feels quite soft actually," Jay said.

The nurse put her clipboard down on the little shelf.

She looked at the cubicle curtain for a long moment.

She looked at Jay.

She looked at Alexia who was looking at the ceiling.

"I'm going to get the doctor," the nurse said, very professionally, "who will examine you and confirm you're absolutely fine."

"Thank you," Jay said.

The nurse moved the curtain aside.

"Could I also ask," Jay said.

The nurse turned back.

"The Miracle Broth," Jay said. "The fermented sea kelp compound. Is that going to do anything."

The nurse looked at her for a very long moment.

"I'll mention it to the doctor," she said.

She left.

The curtain swished shut.

Jay and Alexia looked at each other.

Five seconds of silence.

"She's telling someone right now," Jay said.

"She told someone before she even came to get us," Alexia said.

"She wrote organic on the clipboard," Jay said.

"She underlined it," Alexia said.

"I saw that," Jay said.

"The whole department knows," Alexia said.

"Within the next ten minutes the whole hospital knows," Jay said.

"Sí," Alexia said.

Then they both started laughing at the same time. Properly. The real kind. Jay on the hospital bed in her pyjamas and Alexia in the plastic chair, laughing in the small fluorescent cubicle at eleven at night.

It took a while to stop.

When it did Jay wiped her eyes and looked at Alexia who was still smiling properly, the full real smile, the one she didn't give to many people.

"I love you," Jay said.

"I know bebe," Alexia said.

"I'm really sorry about the cream," Jay said.

"I know," Alexia said.

“I'll buy you a new one," Jay said.

"You will absolutely buy me a new one," Alexia said.

"Two," Jay said. "One for your face and one for the shelf so I know it's not food."

"The one on the shelf will also not be food," Alexia said.

"I know," Jay said. "But I'll know it's there. It'll be like a landmark. Face cream on top shelf. Do not eat."

"I'm still buying a lock," Alexia said.

"Reasonable," Jay said.

She reached out from the hospital bed and Alexia leaned forward from the plastic chair and they met in the middle and Alexia kissed her, warm and real and with the specific quality it always had, the quality that made Jay feel like the luckiest person in any room she was in.

When Alexia pulled back she stayed close.

"You taste like four hundred euros," Alexia said.

"Worth it," Jay said.

"It is absolutely not worth it," Alexia said.

"I've got incredible skin though," Jay said.

"From the inside," Alexia said.

"From the inside out," Jay said. "Revolutionary skincare. I might write to them."

"You will not write to them," Alexia said.

"A testimonial," Jay said. "Jay Jones, professional footballer. Tried your product internally. Felt fine. Skin excellent."

"Jay," Alexia said.

"They'd use it," Jay said. "That's a compelling testimonial."

"They would not use it," Alexia said.

"They'd at least read it," Jay said.

“Dios mío," Alexia said softly, and she sat back in her chair and picked up Jay's hand and held it and shook her head very slightly.

Outside the curtain the A&E went on being the A&E. Somewhere down the corridor someone was being seen to. The nature documentary on the television in the waiting room was presumably still happening in silence.

In the cubicle it was just them.

Jay in her pyjamas on the hospital bed.

Alexia in the plastic chair holding her hand.

The small white tub of La Mer, four hundred euros, fermented sea kelp, Miracle Broth, now empty, in the bin at home.

"The whiteboard title," Jay said.

"The Yoghurt Incident," Alexia said.

"That's mine," Jay said.

"I know," Alexia said. "It's the right one."

Jay looked at her.

"Yeah?" Jay said.

"Your version is kinder to you," Alexia said. "You deserve the kind version."

Jay looked at her for a moment.

"You're very good at this," Jay said.

"At what," Alexia said.

"At being the person I come home to," Jay said.

Alexia's face did the thing.

The warm private thing.

"You don't come home to me," Alexia said. "I came home to you. You were already here eating my face cream."

"Semantics," Jay said.

"Very important semantics," Alexia said.

The curtain moved and the doctor came in.

Young. Slightly amused already, which confirmed the nurse had told him on the way.

He looked at Jay.

"So," he said. "La Mer."

"I thought it was yoghurt," Jay said.

He nodded very seriously.

"Organic," he said.

"Very organic," Jay said.

He looked at his notes.

Looked at Jay.

Looked at Alexia.

Looked back at Jay.

"Right," he said. "Let's have a look at you."

He was very professional and very thorough and it took twelve minutes and at the end of it he said exactly what Jay had said he would say, which was that she was absolutely fine, the quantities involved were not dangerous, the retinol might cause some mild stomach sensitivity at most, and she should drink plenty of water.

"The Miracle Broth," Jay said.

"Also fine," he said, with enormous professionalism.

"Thank you," Jay said.

He wrote something on his form.

Looked up.

"Try to eat food from the food section of the fridge in future," he said.

"There's going to be a map," Jay said. "And possibly a lock."

"Very sensible," he said.

He left.

Jay looked at Alexia.

Alexia looked at Jay.

"Told you," Jay said.

"You told me," Alexia said. "We're still going home and you're drinking two litres of water."

"Fine," Jay said.

"And tomorrow," Alexia said, standing up and getting her bag, "you're buying me a new tub."

"Two tubs," Jay said, getting off the bed.

"Two tubs," Alexia said. "And you're coming with me to buy them so you know exactly what they look like."

"Product familiarisation," Jay said.

"Exactly," Alexia said.

She held the curtain back for Jay and Jay went through it and they walked back down the corridor past the nurse who was at the desk and who looked up when they passed with the professional expression fully applied and said hope you feel better soon and Jay said thank you and felt the nurse watching them go.

They went back through the waiting room. The toddler was still asleep. The old man had finished his newspaper and was now looking at his phone with the expression of someone recently introduced to phones. The teenager had gone.

Jay held the door open.

They went out into the Barcelona night.

Warm and alive and the city still going at half eleven, the bars with people outside, someone's music from an open window.

Alexia got her keys.

Jay stood on the pavement and breathed the warm air.

"Ale," Jay said.

"Hmm," Alexia said, finding the car.

"I really am sorry about the cream," Jay said.

Alexia stopped.

Turned around.

Looked at Jay on the pavement in her pyjamas and jacket with her hands in her pockets.

She walked back to her.

She took Jay's face in both hands and kissed her properly, right there on the pavement outside the hospital, and Jay put her arms around her and kissed back and the Barcelona night went on around them.

When Alexia pulled back she was very close.

"Two tubs," Alexia said quietly.

"Two tubs," Jay agreed.

“And a fridge map," Alexia said.

"I'll draw it myself," Jay said.

"You have terrible spatial awareness," Alexia said.

"I'll do my best," Jay said.

"That's all I ask amor," Alexia said.

She kissed her once more, quick and warm, and stepped back and unlocked the car.

"Get in," she said.

Jay got in.

And they drove home through the Barcelona night, Alexia's hand on Jay's knee, Jay with the window slightly open, the warm air coming through, and the city doing what it always did, completely indifferent and very beautiful, and in the morning Jay would buy two tubs of La Mer and draw a fridge map and Mapi would find out within forty eight hours and the whiteboard title would be The Yoghurt Incident and it would stay there for three years and every single person on the squad would know the story.

But that was tomorrow.

Tonight was just this.

She can’t complain to anyone because Garcia is also running around saying the same “I am the OR” nonsense

She can’t even go back to nights because Doctor Cowboy probably has everyone wearing cowboy boots and hats by now

Even worse, Robby goes on sabbatical and his replacement is doing slash-trachs on her first day

When Mohan came down for that consult she was super impressed and was really happy to see Al-Hashimi

The weird feeling in Emery’s chest is obviously just professional disdain for people risking their patients lives

And nothing else

Meanwhile Samira loves doing cool procedures and thinks bonding with her coworkers means telling them about cool case studies

So she doesn’t really understand why Walsh doesn’t like the cool surgery stuff they’re doing

And sure, she doesn’t do this with any of the other emergency residents but maybe she just thinks Walsh would have made a good surgeon

Or maybe she’d be interested in some kind of advanced trauma fellowship after residency

It’s probably just professional admiration

No need to examine any of these feelings further

Eventually Emery snaps when an intern tries some bonkers treatment and it goes badly, so she confronts Samira about it

Samira realises she’s the only one who’s been having fun with the case studies so pulls away

Suddenly every other surgeon is doing consults and are being strangely well behaved

That’s exactly what Emery wanted; no more bad influences on her interns and no more wasting time trying to stop Samira’s banana pants ideas

So why does she suddenly miss arguing about medicine with Samira?

Why is she suddenly so bored in trauma?

Surely there’s no reason for that, right

Unbeknownst to Emery, Samira’s having a similar spiral upstairs

She’s trying not to think about why Emery accusing her of being reckless and endangering patients hurt so much

She’s heard worse throughout residency and med school

So why is she avoiding the ER so much?

It probably means nothing

After a while they run into each other

Emery says the interns are missing the risky procedures

Samira says the R4 is probably glad she doesn’t have to argue about them anymore

Emery says there might be some educational value for the interns

So they go back to flirting over procedures while slowly realising they do have other, completely unprofessional feelings about each other

They probably end up making out in a supply closet while still arguing about interventions or something

Even when they actually get together, no one can tell because basically nothing changes while they’re at work

samira frowns because emery getting a headache is far from unheard of, but migraines are few and far between. samira’s much more likely to have one, despite the fact they are both exposed to the same hours and the same bright lighting. 

but emery is a capable adult so she refrains from immediately calling her and instead just texts back. 

samira: ok. need me to pick up anything?

emery: nah, it’s fine

and since emery is an independent person, she gives her space and doesn’t argue. 

she does however find herself getting slightly frustrated at the fact they no longer work in the same hospital. samira’s new job at westbridge is so much better than her residency. it may be due to the fact that she’s now a fellow, but her attending is so much more respectful of her ideas, and never once has a coworker called her slow. she is truly thriving, a new motivation to change things showing up for the first time since her first year of residency.

the only downside is that she no longer passes emery as they change shifts and there’s zero chance of them being on a shift together ever. if she had passed emery on her way out like she used to at ptmc, she could have noticed if something was wrong. made sure she knew which meds to take and that she was loved. 

samira is then forced to remember that her wife is a fiercely independent adult and doctor and knows what to do. (but the image of emery, alone at home and miserable still digs through her mind and sits there through the rest of her shift.)

she finally gets off work at seven forty-five—pretty good on timing. she grabs her stuff and heads home. 

when she slips in the house, the first thing she notices is the quiet and the darkness. all of the lights being off heavily implied that emery had gotten home and moved through the house in complete darkness that morning. samira’s heart sinks because when did this migraine start?

she figures she’ll get her answers soon enough though. she trudges through the apartment, mindful to be as quiet as possible, stopping as she creaks open the door of their bedroom. 

emery is exactly where she’d expected her to be. curled into a tiny ball in the center of the bed. her hair is down and the long, dark strands cover her face. her eyes are squeezed shut, but they flick open as samira quietly shuts the door. 

hi. emery murmurs, voice rough and tired. thanks for being quiet.

samira nods. no problem. is it ok if i shower?

emery nods before she returns to squeezing her eyes shut in the darkness. samira grabs what she needs for her shower and slips into the bathroom. she showers and gets ready for bed as quickly as possible, organizing her thoughts, but eager to return to emery. 

when she slips back into the bedroom, hair wet and in her pajamas, emery is in the exact same position that samira left her in. she sits gingerly on the bed beside her.

she doesn’t say anything, but emery has always been good at knowing when she wants more information. 

hearing aids died at two. forgot batteries. ergo migraine. not that bad, just figured i shouldn’t be doing thoracotomies when light hurts.

samira nods, noticing the hearing aids thrown haphazardly on the nightstand. she can at least tell that emerys showered though. 

her hand hovers uncertainly over emery’s head. emery pushes her head up into her hand, an invitation to start running fingers through her hair. proud of you for staying home.

emery scoffs. thanks.

you take meds? she clumsily signs the few words she knows where emery can see them as she speaks so that emery doesn’t have to ask her to repeat herself.

emery hums. a yes.

eat food?

emery wrinkles her nose in a no.

em. 

don’t act like you did either. besides it’s like my six in the morning right now. calm down. she then winces at the words and samira feels bad for getting her to talk. 

samira allows herself a moment to think. i’m going to go heat myself up the leftover soup we have in the fridge. i’ll bring you saltines and an applesauce pouch. 

emerys answer is short. k. 

samira heads to the kitchen, careful not to make a clatter. she heats up her own soup and (beautifully, she must say) plates emery an applesauce pouch and eight saltines. she returns to the bedroom with their meal.

emery has propped herself up by the time samira returns. thanks. she mutters, but her displeasure at eating shines through. 

she does it anyways though, and samira finds that she is more hungry that she thought as she devours her soup. emery eats the applesauce pouch and three of the crackers, which samira decides is good enough. she sets the dishes on the bedside table before emery blinks owlishly at her from where she’s slumped back into the bed. 

she reaches out, and before she knows it samira is being spooned. (samira kind of feels as if she should be the one spooning emery in this situation, but the comfort of emery’s arms is too much to give up.)

she hates that emery is in pain, but there’s something nice and almost rare about being in bed at the same time as her wife. 

the last thing she thinks before she falls asleep is something along the lines of i love my wife.