The Difference

Chapter 11

Lisa threw her purse into a corner and headed straight for the liquor cabinet, pouring herself a double - or possibly triple- shot of Absolute Vodka. As the burning liquid soothed the flames consuming her on the inside, she closed her eyes. Any second now she would be nice and numb. Her eyes fell on the answering machine which showed several new messages. Well, she was ready to bet her ass that none of them contained an apology from the bastard who was responsible for her almost being drunk at 11 am. Not her fault there was this stupid time change from New York to LA, so her internal clock was on 2pm, which was only 3 hours away from the magical hour of 5pm which somehow made drinking socially acceptable. Whoever came up with that rule anyway? Either way, the only remedy for drowning out the persistent memories of Michael and what had happened was inside the clear contents of the magical bottle. The genie of temporary amnesia. But why did his eyes follow her still, even as everything else became a haze? Damn their magical pull to hell!

The phone rang and she almost dropped the glass. Good thing she no longer needed crystal erasers to vanquish pain. No, the liquid kind of poison would have to suffice today. She would not grant him the power to send her into a full tailspin. The current set-back was bad enough as it was. Lisa did not notice she had bitten her lip until she tasted blood. Should she answer the phone? Who called her house phone, after all? The kids and Danny would call her cell, and she just had checked in with them on her way from the airport anyway. Lockwood was not speaking to her, so it was not him. And Priscilla...well, she really did not want to risk her mother getting any hint of her current frazzled state of mind. Best plan of action: ignore the damn ringinng it until it goes away.

The machine kicked on. She listened to her own voice, asking the caller to speak now or hold their peace, then the peep.

"Lisa? I thought you might have landed- where they hell are you? I have tried to..."

Alecia! Yes!

Lisa leaped across the room, suddenly longing to talk to her friend, who possibly was the only person on this planet you would not judge her.

"Hey, I'm here...just got in."

"Are you screening your calls?"

Was she?

"No, I just walked in. I almost broke my leg jumping over the couch to get to this."

"You sound funny."

"I don't feel funny."

"Ok...you sound fucked up, then."

'I missed you, too. But yeah, you have no idea."

"What the hell happened? I have been trying to reach you for days."

"Yeah...I was busy."

"Doing what?"

Processing a return trip to heaven and hell. And feeling like a used piece of ass. While loving the man who caused it all so much it should qualify as a sure cause of death.

"Hiding."

"Lisa? What the hell?"

"Hold on: I need a refill."

"Of what? Soda?"

"No- Swedish water." She added more vodka to the glass.

"Ok, you are fucked up. What happened?"

Oh, nothing much. She had made the second or third most stupid mistake of her life. Right after ever getting involved with Michael in the first place. Right after forgiving him for trying to browbeat her into having kids and then impregnating his nurse. Right after ever having felt any regret for her words to Michael earlier this year. What in the world had possessed her to attend Bret's party? And why had she not just left with Lockwood? Why had she not hauled ass out of that room when she had the chance? And, why, for the love of everything that was holy, had she put up absolutely no resistance when he had fucked her like a cheap whore?