Some nights were no good for anybody. He's thirty years younger, when he sleeps.
It was like living in a nightmare, helpless; she'd turn on every appliance at once, the kettle and the radio. Anything for noise. And in the middle of it, little Billy, hair mussed and eyes open. Looking at nothing at all.
He didn't care if Francis raised his voice; he loved Francis when he shouted, and he loved him when he was cold, and quiet. And over in the corner, turning up the radio: That utterly useless woman, who could have saved him.
Bill: "She'll name him Nicholas. After her father."
Nobody can see the bleed he suddenly notices, as they're about to close her up. First one, then another on the other side. Nobody's going to question the foremost obstetrician in the country, are they? Not in an emergency. He's the best. So he shuts them down and he finds the problem, and he solves it.
The surgery was a success, and she'll have a brand new son when she wakes up, but she'll never have children again.
And one day when Nicholas is old enough, she won't have to turn the radio up anymore. She can take Daniel by the hand, and lead him out, into the light.
Vivian: "I thought you could use some aspirin due to being so super drunk last night."
Ethan: "Thanks! Yeah, I'm pretty much the worst."
Vivian: "Did you kill that patient?"
Ethan: "Somehow, no."
Ethan: "Listen, last night I... I was punishing someone. It ended up being you..."
Vivian: "You were good to me..."
Ethan: "Gross, Vivian. I was straight up awful to you."
Vivian: "No, I mean, when I was a kid. Bangs and pimples and a Mister Ed overbite, and I asked you to dance because... I knew you'd say no. I would be right, about myself. And instead you said yes."
"It'd be my pleasure, you said. You, in your tux. You looked so handsome in black and white."
She smiles like Kansas. In black and white, he's a catch. In black and white, he doesn't have to think about what it means, that he loves Virginia and she doesn't love him back: How that confirms about him what he's learning to be true.
In black and white, he was a good man. It would be his pleasure.
Her husband Stan, exactly the piece of work you could assume, starts out bitching about how long the surgery took. He barely spares a glance to yell at Daniel for some imagined slight, and Bill reacts instinctively.