What's a Girl to Do? (Season 6)

Chapter Four: To Save A Life

I found that, as the days went on and I continued to use up my vacation days from the firm to fulfill my obligation to the diner, I had no regrets whatsoever. In fact, the hustle and bustle of the restaurant was just what I needed, and I found I liked chatting with the customers and making sure that they were getting everything they wanted. Several of them had been coming for years, and so they knew Fiona, and would frequently comment on how similar the two of us were to each other. I couldn't help but laugh at that once they were out of earshot; other than our eyes, our personalities, and our temperaments, Fiona and I were nothing alike. I had red hair like Ian, I was close to Debbie in height, and I had a drinking problem like Lip and Frank.

Emphasis on the drinking problem; I'd been sneaking beer bottles into the office during the day just to cope, and would throw them out into the bins in the alleyway without anyone noticing what I was doing. I knew that I was being unprofessional, but I found that I couldn't get through the day without a buzz. Since I'd stopped breastfeeding the boys the summer before—when they had been six months, which had been a large point of contention with Nicholas—I found that I missed the freedom to drink, and, now that I had it back, I was not about to let it go. The most frightening part of this "problem" that I had—which was, of course, not a problem, because I was completely fine—was that my ability to function accordingly wasn't impaired, and I could just carry on my merry way however I saw fit.

Now that Iana was in the advanced preschool class—which I'd promptly moved her into her accumulate more hours at the diner—she was in school for six hours a day. For arguments sake, it was a pre-kindergarten class, and she was thriving in the environment, despite the fact that she was younger than the rest of the group. The instructors loved her, however, and were constantly telling me how intelligent they thought she was, and I was pleased at the words. Iana was very special to me—she had been a beacon of light in the darkness of my life, for my belief that I couldn't have children naturally had eaten away at me for years—and now that she was thriving in the educational world, I couldn't have been more pleased.

On Monday, the beginning of the final week of September, I had a text from Allie, informing me that she would be leaving early from the firm and would love to pick up Iana and the boys to have a grandmother day with them. I immediately agreed; I had to go over inventory for a couple of hours, and I would feel better at finishing it in one go before returning to it. When her second text offered to let them spend the night, and asked if she could use the spare key to go and collect some of their things, I didn't hesitate. Allie was a wonderful grandmother to my children, and even before Iana had been adopted, had treated her as a granddaughter, and so I allowed Allie to take my children for the night. I also received a text from Nicholas, who too consented to Allie taking the kids, and said that he was working late on the analysis of a deposition, so he wouldn't be home until late.

I sat back in my chair then, rolling my shoulders, and seeing the amount of beer bottles beside the desk that I'd attempted to hide were eating away at me. I got to my feet, gathering them up into a bag and walking outside the office; I needed to stretch my legs a bit. I made my way out into the alley, swinging the bag into the dumpster and leaning against the side of the restaurant. I reached into the pocket of my jeans and fumbled for the pack of cigarettes I'd been chipping away at since the second half of the week before. My lighter was in my other pocket, and I stuck the stick of tobacco between my teeth and got the lighter to flare up, and I inhaled the smoke into my lungs effortlessly.

I got out my phone again, and sent a text to Ian. How's your day going?

Fine. Just got back from a call a few minutes ago. How about you?

I scoffed then, rolling my eyes at his nonchalant attitude as I took the cigarette out from between my lips, allowing some of the smoke to escape in a plume as I wrote him back. Just standing in the alley on my smoke break.