Off the Carousel

Everything? THAT was Everything?

In the morning, as he drove back to Meredith's house, he offered Zola a soother, but she spat it out and continued to wail from the back seat. He pleaded and coaxed and shushed and sang the whole ride home, but Zola did not stop.

Nothing worked. He cringed when Meredith called wondering where they were. He was running late. "I'm just on Mercer," he spoke over Zola's backseat cries.

"Okay. Everything okay?" Meredith asked.

"I got it handled. She's just a little fussy is all."

"Did you-"

"Meredith, I've got this. I'll see you when I get there."

"O-okay."

He knew she didn't believe him, but he didn't care. He could handle his daughter. He was good with kids. He'd done it plenty of times before.

"Shh, it's alright Zola, you're fine. It's just me. You're ok. Really ok," he said as he drove.

She stopped crying when he pulled up to the house, and he wiped her tears and cuddled her when he took her out of the car seat. But barely a minute went by before she started up again.

"Hey," Meredith said from the step.

"Hi," he acknowledged, looking down. It was still hard for him to look at her. "She ah... just started," he said, "But she's fed and I-"

"Oh. Here." Meredith grabbed the diaper bag off his shoulder and dug around in it. A second later she produced a purple soother which she promptly popped into Zola's gaping mouth. Zola quieted, resting her head on his chest, cheeks puffing as she sucked away. "Sorry. For some reason, she hates all the other soothers except this one. I'll have to remember to pick up some more and replace the old ones," she said.

He met Meredith's gaze for an instant, saw what was written in the expanse of her eyes. The silent plea to come home. His heart constricted with hurt and anger still. He couldn't. He kissed the top of Zola's head and wiped her ruddy cheeks. "I have to go. I'm late for work." Handing over his daughter he fought a pang of jealousy as Zola reached for her mama.

Meredith took Zola. "Derek-"

"I'll pick her up tonight," he said, and left.

Back on the cliff, Derek hung his head. He thought he lost everything once or twice, but he hadn't lost a thing, had he? He'd gained everything instead.

'I gave up EVERYTHING for you!' he'd hollered once at his wife.

'Everything? THAT was everything?' she'd volleyed back.

He dropped the box. The contents clattered and spilled at his feet, and Derek choked back a sob. How could he be so stupid, so clueless?

Everything. SHE was everything. And he'd given her up.

Again.

His fingers scraped the dirt as he retrieved the items and dusted them off. Each object was a piece of himself. A piece that made or broke him. His father's fly fishing lure, his grandfather's tags. His wedding band from his first marriage. All these things meant something to him, and yet, at this moment, they didn't.

He shone the flashlight over the area again, making sure nothing was missing. A spark to the left caught his eye. Something metal. He picked it up, examining it closely.

His wife's keychain.

The last time he was here, he'd been a fool. For all the clarity of daylight, all the quiet of fishing, he had completely missed the point.