confessions
Past and future are different from each other. Cause precedes effect. Pain comes after a wound, not before it. The glass shatters into a thousand pieces, and the pieces do not re-form into a glass. We cannot change the past; we can have regrets, remorse, memories.
-- Carlo Rovelli, The Order of Time, page 20
2,087 days
It’s not like didn’t allow himself to dream. He did dream. He dreamed of other universes with confident Stephen Stranges. Ones where he had supernatural abilities. Ones where his hands worked and he was still a world-renowned neurosurgeon. But somehow, he wasn’t truly happy in any of them. Maybe that said something about him. Maybe it didn’t. He never studied dreams, not like that. It wasn’t a science so he had had zero interest.
But lately, when he was daydreaming, he could imagine a future beyond pain and misery and the doldrums of his daily life. In that future, he had Tony Stark, he had a partner that valued his mind, even if he couldn’t do what he used to. They were happy.
Happy.
It was a ridiculous concept. Stephen Strange, happy.
But it was fueling him. It was helping him in his daily drag. Just the concept of being happy in the nebulous future his mind concocted was enough to make him smile a bit more. He was gentler in correcting students. Some were even talking to him beyond the bare minimum.
The last two months of imagined happiness were helping, though it was a bit disappointing to realize it was unrealistic. Tony Stark was married and wasn’t his. But he could dream, couldn’t he? That was the point of fantasy.
The future instead is uncertainty, desire, anxiety, open space, destiny, perhaps. We can live toward it, shape it, because it does not yet exist. Everything is still possible…. Time is not a line with two equal directions: it is an arrow with different extremities.
-- Carlo Rovelli, The Order of Time, page 20
This month on ’Spousal Support Day,’ he decided to spoil himself a little while out to get his prescriptions from the pharmacy. He stopped by the Goodwill on Eighth and managed to find a near-new pair of slacks in his size. He stopped by the pet shop and got a new stuffed toy for Bats, smiling at the owner’s cat sitting on the counter. His last stop on the way home was to order a pizza for later.
When he got home, with only a minor struggle with his keys, he tossed the new toy to an excited Bats and tossed his new slacks in the wash. With a groan he sunk into his favorite worn armchair and pulled out his phone.
Christine:
I’m on my way over - do you have what we need?
I can get dinner on the way.
Received 17:31
SS:
I got the refills, no worries about dinner.
I ordered pizza. Margherita ok?
Sent 17:32
Christine:
You’re the best, ex-work-husband!
I’ll see you in 30!
Received 17:35
He closed his eyes and smiled. It had been a good day. The kids were studying tissue types and would move on to dissections in a few weeks. With luck, his hands would allow him to demonstrate proper scalpel use. And there was an academic decathlon meeting tomorrow. Chances are Tony Stark would be in attendance and he could imagine what his fingers would feel like in his, what his lips would feel like. Listen to his voice and his laugh.
A particularly loud squeak came from the corner where Bats was happily gnawing away at his stuffed spider. Stephen closed his eyes again, allowing himself time. It was a good pain day, just the hollow ache, no sharp burning pains or cramps.
Time passed quickly and there was a scratching noise as the lock turned. Christine let herself in, dropping her bag on the floor and removing her jacket.
“Hey boo,” she teased, running her fingers through his hair. “How was your day?”
“Got my monthly upkeep today,” he smiled, eyes still closed, enjoying the massaging of his scalp. He was grateful she forgave him for how he acted immediately after his accident. She was probably the only friend he had after his divorce and he wasn’t sure he would have survived if it wasn’t for her. Even if his friendship with her was the impetus for his divorce in the first place. “Found a nice pair of slacks at the store. Bats has a new toy. My students had insightful questions today and nobody earned detention. It’s been a good day.”
She hummed and smoothed his hair back into place. He smiled up at her, eyes opening. “I’m glad, Steph. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so happy.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, shrugging. She smiled warmly and helped him to his feet, wrapping him into a tight hug. They had always been affectionate despite his off putting attitude. They’d known each other since freshman year of undergrad, 26 years ago. The two had been each other’s biggest rivals and biggest friends. In the aftermath of Donna’s death, then his parents’ and Victor’s, she had been his rock, keeping his sanity intact and making sure he was fed and not simply wasting away in the OR.
That had driven Clea to divorce him in the end. It culminated with her declaring him a cheater, though he had never even considered it. Christine was his best friend, practically his sister. But Clea didn’t believe either of them and served him with divorce papers all the same, not nine months after his accident.
The two made their way into the kitchen and she got to work sorting his various pain pills and anti-epileptic drugs into his monthly pill minder, emptying out the hard-to-open bottles for him. He went to the cupboard and grabbed two cups - plastic, every dish he had was plastic or metal - and headed to the oven, opening it to reveal his wine stash. He stuck to boxed wine now, the little spigots easier for him to manage than a corkscrew, and better within his budget.
Christine accepted her cup, only half way as he didn’t trust his trembling hands with a fully-filled beverage. He sat down and watched her sort, taking a sip.
“Today was slammed, but some of the new residents are competent this year. I have hopes.” He snorted and took another, longer sip of the red and placed his cup down on the worn wood.
“Hoping leads to disappointment with baby doctors. You of all people know that.”
“I have them in my ‘chop shop’ for another month before they rotate out. I even have one that reminds me of you at that age.”
“An asshole?” He raised a brow.
“A cocky asshole,” she countered.
They met eyes and started cackling in laughter. It was always good having Christine over. Even if he wasn’t a practicing doctor anymore, she still treated him as an equal. They were friends, after all. They had almost the same training until it came to specializations. It was only there they parted ways.
The doorbell rang and Bats howled, racing into the hall, his little nails clicking. Stephen got up and accepted the pizza from the pimpled teenager, slipping him a ten. Max, one of his juniors, grinned widely and shouted his thanks, bounding back down the stairs.
His mouth is full when Christine asks him what’s caused his good mood and he flushes, choking a little.
“Nothing,” he says after swallowing. Too quick.
“You got laid!”
“No!” he yelps, putting his pizza down. “Dear Lord, who would sleep with me?” Christine starts laughing, hand to her chest as she leans back in her chair.
“Steph, honey, you’re an attractive man. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of your fellow teachers didn’t have the hots for you.” He snorts and takes a deep swig of his wine.
“I have a thing,” he says finally, weighing his words. “There’s a parent of one of my kids - godparent? Something like that. But... yeah.” He trails off and gets up to help himself to more wine.
“Nice,” she says, nodding, adding a slice to his plate. “Are they hot?” Christine knows him best, knows of his various flings and one-night-stands from school. Knows better than to assume it’s a woman.
“He’s handsome and charming.”
“I hear a ‘but’ in there,” she prods and he sits back down, taking another drink. Maybe it’s the wine, but maybe it’s just the want - the need - to share.
“He’s married, I think. He has a ring, anyways.”
“You never know until you ask - you used to wear yours on a chain. And anyways, if even thinking about him has you in such a good mood, imagine what actually sleeping with him would be like!” They laugh together and it’s great. Because who knows? Maybe Tony Stark isn’t married anymore. He hasn’t bothered to look the man up beyond what he does for a living, though he knows the information is readily available. Stephen would rather get it from the source.
“Maybe we can get a coffee,” he finally says and that earns him a wide, delighted smile. “It can’t hurt.”
The difference between past and future, between cause and effect, between memory and hope, between regret and intention… in the elementary laws that describe the mechanisms of the world, there is no such difference.
-- Carlo Rovelli, The Order of Time, page 21