A Dangerous Affair (Lesbian Story)

Fall Apart

Elizabeth
03 September 2016

I haven't told Abigail about the call from Kalinda. It would be pointless to discuss something that I myself haven't quiet figured out what to do with.

Work is keeping me busy - occupied.

So I've been pushing the issue away, focusing on court cases.

I know what normal people would be thinking: your father could die any minute Liz you should go and see him, say goodbye.

But I never said I was normal, especially when it comes to human emotion and behaviour.

Normal for me right now is coffee in the morning; visit the precinct; get the bad guy; file; read; prosecute; meetings; type; read; plan and go to bed exhausted.

Oh and somewhere in there is Abby, but that was my normal.

So my normal is what I chose to do. The normal that my dying father taught me to do.

24 March 1992

"Elizabeth! Why aren't you dressed for school!?" My father's angry shout echoed up the stairs as he stomped towards my room.

I sat staring out of my bedroom window as I watched the pastel pink Shantung silk curtains me and my mother had chosen last month, flutter in the breeze.

She wanted something bright to celebrate my dad's new appointment.

She was always renovating and redecorating at every chance she got. In her affectionless marriage, I think my mother sought joy in the little things she could change in her life.

"Elizabeth!" He said in his harsh voice to get my attention.

But I was gone. Lost in my thoughts. Lost in the memory of my mother making me give her an opinion on every Shantung silk we came across.

Lost in the memory of her laughter.

I was lost. Without her I was lost.

"Elizabeth," he sat beside me, adjusting the sleeve of his suit jacket.

He was annoyed with me, but his annoyance only registered vaguely to me. It was a low frequency compared to the confusion and desolation that was plaguing my head.

I couldn't believe he was going to work.

I couldn't believe he was making me go to school.

"Elizabeth, look at me." He huffed in annoyance.

My face turned to him as a stray tear fell carelessly onto my lap. I knew I shouldn't cry in front of him but I couldn't help it.

Growing up as a kid he'd always say : 'Elizabeth, you fell, it hurts. These tears that you're crying are they making the pain better?' To which I'd shake my head no.
'So what's the point of crying except to show me that you're not smart enough to deal with the consequences of your self-made pain."

I knew I shouldn't cry, I was trying not to but this tear fell of it's own accord and they just kept coming.

"Elizabeth your tears will not bring her back. All we can do is move on and make the best of the life we have. Now," he said standing up to fix his tie:

"I'll give you today to let you collect yourself and process what has happened. I know you must still be in shock. I need to go to work get my mind of things."

He then lightly touched my shoulder and gave me one of the sincerest looks I have ever seen from my father.

"You should do the same. Success numbs your pain. Achievement makes you near forget it."

He then walked out of my room without a second glance.

It was the Monday after my mother's funeral and all I got was a pat on the back and a lousy pep talk.

So I lay back on my bed and cried until I had no tears left.

***

Elizabeth

Looking back that was probably the last time I'd cried quiet so appallingly that it could be called bawling.

I bawled my eyes out that day.

When I fully healed from the loss of my mother, I couldn't quiet say?

I buried myself in extracurricular activities. I excelled in all aspects of my schooling career. I discovered, I read, I shut myself off from the world trying to numb the pain.

With each achievement, I'd find ten minutes of happiness and with each each ten minutes, I'd wish it would last longer and so I'd chase the next ten.

Most likely I didn't heal from the loss of my mother but what I do know is that my relationship with my father after that was completely irreparable.

He had no time for me, and I had none for him.

We became roommates, strangers.

I resented him for not being able to comfort me. I resented him for making me feel weak for wanting his comfort.