hear me out: park the shark with emma nolan as a roommate…
it was entirely unexpected. he went down to the pitt for a consult and overheard a conversation between dana and emma. emma needed a decent place to stay. she wanted to put up a flier or ask around, but dana warned her against it. she said,
“you don’t want to room with one of these idiots,” dana gestured vaguely to the entirety of the pitt. “they’ll suck you dry for all you’re worth before ever thankin’ you. just stick it out, kid. you’ll be able to afford a better place soon.” dana racked her clipboard.
park couldn’t help but stare at the young, doe-eyed girl standing at the nurses station. she was cute. clear brown skin, pretty deep brown eyes, and her hair tied into two braids.
his therapist had told him to get a roommate or emotional support animal. apparently he was too socially disconnected. he thought both ideas were bullshit, but at least a roommate could be self-sustaining, and on his salary, it wasn’t like they’d ever actually have to pay rent.
with a confident stride, park circled the nurses station and landed before emma. he looked down at the younger girl, his beady eyes boring into hers.
“you’re looking for a place to live?” his question sounded more like a statement.
emma nearly jumped at his words. if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was like a deer caught in headlights. how silly.
“uh, yes. y-yeah, yes.” she nodded, her hands visibly tightening their grip on the clipboard she held.
“live with me.” park offered, though it was more akin to a demand.
“ah, i’m sorry— who are you?” she asked shyly.
park watched as the young girl turned her head to look around, most likely for dana.
“brendon park, orthopedic surgeon.” he extended his hand, which she took tentatively. her hands were soft compared to park’s. “i need a roommate. you need a place to live. ask yolanda garcia or jack abbot about my character if you’re concerned.”
emma’s hand slipped from his. it wasn’t that park wanted to hold her hand again. he liked the way it felt. yes. that was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he wanted to touch her hand again.
park wrote down his number and gave it to emma. if she wanted a place to live, she could call him.
a solid one and a half weeks later, park received a call. that familiar, soft, tentative voice, that had been in his mind for far too long, was in his ear now, asking him to see his home.
he picked her up from the hospital immediately.
emma checked his home with a shy, yet obvious meticulousness. she checked his sink, stove, fridge, washer, and dryer, to see if they worked to her standard. she checked the water pressure of the shower in the en-suite bath to what would be her room, and she checked the furnace— which park questioned her about.
“i have two older brothers,” she began with a shy, yet adorable smile. “when they weren’t roughhousing with me, they were teaching me things i’d need to know.”
park gave a content nod, tucking that information away for himself.
emma agreed to living with park, and for the next few weeks, she was almost entirely absent in his house. it wasn’t that she was never there. quite the opposite. it was that she was so quiet, so aware of park’s space, that she always managed to evade him.
it took a solid two and a half months of her living there for park to even notice her presence.
one night in early august when park had gotten home after a particularly rough shift, emma was sat curled up on the couch in a pair of fuzzy pink and grey plaid pajama pants, a grey tank top, and a throw blanket around her shoulders. on the living room tv was a video of rain sounds, the fireplace was lit, and there was a mug of tea in one of her hands while the other held a book. her hair wasn’t tied in its usual two braids. it was loose and curly, cascading around her shoulders.
the sight of her looking so comfortable in his home made a part of him that had never been awakened, ache.
the dark oak floorboards creaked beneath his feet. emma looked up, her book snapping shut and her beautiful brown eyes going wide.
“oh, uhm— hi. i can— i’ll go back to my room.” she shifted and tried to stand, but park’s hand in the air stopped her.
“stay.” he commanded quietly.
park padded toward the couch slowly and sat beside her. his hands remained in his lap, her hands remained on her book.
they sat in a mildly comfortable silence— aside from the rain sounds— with not a word spoken between them for a lengthy period of time.
emma, after ten or so minutes, opened her book and began reading again.
park watched her slender fingers each time they turned the page. it was like music to his ears when he heard that sound and candy to his eyes when he saw her soft hands moving.
after what was maybe forty minutes of their shared silence, park stood and walked to his bedroom.
he didn’t leave for the rest of the night.
this continued any time emma was in the living room. she’d offer to vacate the space, park would tell her to stay, she’d read, and he’d sit. it was a comfortable routine that began to form for them.
it helped them open up to each other.
park would find emma in the kitchen at the same time as him, and instead of scampering off at the sight of him, she’d stay and continue whatever menial task she had been previously doing.
a magnetic calendar appeared on the fridge one day with a work schedule and other dates such as appointments or friends parties jotted down in different colors. purple for work, orange for appointments, pink for friends. there were a red and blue marker as well, but both remained untouched.
that was until park began writing his own work schedule in red and his appointments in blue. it began a quiet task to mark the calendar or leave small notes on the note section for the other person.
a grocery list written with a mix of blue and purple from the two, small notes about the a/c being broken, or something about post-shift plans that weren’t written in so the other wouldn’t wonder where their roommate was or if they were unsafe.
with this new system, park was aware of emma’s schedule. he began making her lunches or dinners to pack depending on the shift she worked.
he never said anything about it. he would simply pack whatever he had made for himself for her as well and left sticky notes on what was hers. after noticing how she left tomatoes in the container after one of her lunches, park put a note on the fridge. it said,
list of things you don’t like/are allergic to:
emma, of course, wrote down what she didn’t like on one column and things she was allergic to on the other. after that, anything she wrote was never in her meals.
their routine experienced a shift when, one night, park came home, and emma wasn’t on her usual spot in the living room. he usually didn’t seek her out, but on this particular night, he felt compelled to.
park found his way to her room and lifted his knuckles to knock, but the sound of muffled cries made him stop.
park hesitated and contemplated for a few minutes if he wanted to get involved with this. he could turn and pretend he never heard her. he could save himself the emotional distress of dealing with someone else’s feelings. then again, that was what his therapist was trying to prevent. park needed to care about other people, as his therapist would say, on a deeper level than just having them be apart of his routine.
with a deep breath, park knocked, then pushed open the door.
“emma,” he spoke her name firmly, his broad frame nearly blocking the doorway.
emma sat on the floor beside her bed, her arms wrapped around her legs, knees pressed to her chest, and her phone beside her on the floor, open to the messaging app.
how could someone so distraught look so delicate and beautiful in a moment like this?
park stepped into the room and shut the door. he walked the few steps toward emma and sat beside her. she swiped her phone and turned it off, and with a shaky hand, wiped her tears.
park didn’t say anything. his arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her against his side. emma stiffened.
park wanted to ask what was wrong. he assumed it was something involving whatever message she had received. he didn’t want to pry, though. it wasn’t his place. he wasn’t a piece in the puzzle that made up her life. he was just there, housing her, feeding her, wanting to be closer to her…
emma’s shoulders slumped and she relaxed against his side, pressing her face against the side of his chest.
park didn’t say anything. he didn’t have to. emma knew this was as far as he would go, and honestly, it was enough for her.
it was enough for her to have him there.
they didn’t speak of it for weeks. their quiet, intimate moment, in emma’s bedroom, was a topic they danced around.
emma tried to talk to him about it multiple times, but park would silence the girl and tell her there was nothing to be said.
emma accepted this for a while. it was all she could do.
the day emma was able to return the favor was one she held over park’s head. he had been rather aggressive upon returning home. something about a patient he had known for a long time dying to a surgical complication. he broke a picture frame, claimed he wasn’t good enough to call himself a surgeon, broke a coffee mug, and eventually passed out on the couch after yelling so loudly he nearly burst a blood vessel.
emma was scared, but she had grown up with brothers, and even though she knew this wasn’t the same, her knowledge of her brothers tantrums was enough to help her make a decision.
emma stayed, of course. she baked all night while park slept on the couch. she cleaned up the glass from the frame and mug. she made soup, she did the dishes, and she went to bed.
when park woke up, memories of emma’s big, lovely brown eyes, looking up at him with terror, haunted his mind. the sight of her afraid of him was burned into his retinas.
park saw the cookies in a container on the counter, the note on the fridge about there being soup for him, and the note on the calendar for the next time emma went to the store— mug, picture frame.
she was such a sweet girl. this beautiful, talented, sweet, kind girl, had come into his life, and he ruined it all. she would be scared of him forever, just as he was scared of her.
scared of her touch, of her loving eyes and downright addictive smile. of the way her voice faltered when she said his name, and not his last name, but his first, like it was a quiet, intimate thing she could only allow herself to indulge in when they were alone.
park would spend the rest of his life making it up to her.
park found himself standing beside emma in the laundry room, folding towels with her. she was quiet, as was he, which seemed to be their thing.
but park didn’t want to be quiet. he had told his therapist about his condition, his growing sense of pleasure and tranquility around emma. his therapist asked a dozen questions, all of which made park feel smaller and smaller until his nickname as “the shark” felt wrong. until he felt he should be called “the minnow” instead.
with the help of his therapist, park realized that what he was feeling for emma, as terrifying as it was, wasn’t something to hide from. it was something he needed to be honest with her about.
“emma,” her name came out like an order he’d yell in the OR, which only made the man want to cave into himself.
emma stilled momentarily. “brendon..” she began folding towels again.
park’s breathing grew shaky. he couldn’t get enough of the way she said his name.
“do you enjoy living here?” he asked.
emma let out a small, confused, yet amused huff. “i do. it’s nice, and you— you’re not a bad roommate..” she said softly.
park shook his head. “i could’ve hurt you.”
“are you still thinking about that? it was months ago. i’m— i’m fine. you didn’t even come near me anyway, so it’s okay.” she assured him for the umpteenth time.
park balled his fists around the fabric of the towel he held.
“yes, but i could have. that’s much worse.” he argued. park didn’t give her a chance to speak. “i want you to be comfortable here. i want you to be able to stay without the fear of me hurting you one day. i do not want— i don’t want you to just…” park seemed to struggle with finding the words he meant to say.
emma, vigilant as ever, understood. “you don’t want me to go. i understand.” her hand lifted to cover park’s.
the tension in his shoulders visibly dissipated. park crumbled under her touch and slumped forward against the washer.
“don’t go…” he said softly.
that was the first time park had ever admitted to wanting someone, even if it wasn’t an outright confession.
that was the first night of emma understanding why park wanted her around. that was the first night emma found herself on the couch, curled up against park’s chest, in nothing but silence and satisfaction.
