24 Steps
Part Nine
By Carolina
super_carolina1@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: None of the ER characters belong to me.

Author's Notes: Someone let me know the other day how much the 8th part resembled the movie "28 Days", which I hadn't seen until a few days after I wrote it. So I just wanted to make it clear that I'm not stealing their ideas or copying the movie, I have probably hit every single AA site on the Internet, just doing research. So, any similarities between the movie and this story are purely coincidential. This center Abby is in really does exist, and I am trying to follow their programs, along with AA steps, prayers, and slogans. I might borrow one idea from the movie, but I'll let you know which one.



The walls were literally stripping down. There were small pouches of water forming at the top and the bottom but Abby assumed they didn't coat the place because of the soothing smell paint produced. She wouldn't mind going on a paint trip at the moment.

She walked into the room where her share group was reunited and they all went quiet as soon as she did so. Everyone's favorite chair, the one they all fought for everyday, was available just for her. She looked at them suspiciously and then sat down. "So what's this? Am I under some kind of intervention inside an intervention thing? Just like some sort of 20 question game or a last reunion before I get transferred to another group?" she said sarcastically, with a dry smile.

"My vote goes for that last one," Eddie said callously.

"Eddie," Beth scolded.

"I can leave, if you'd like," Abby said to Beth.

"Yeah, that seems to be your trademark," Ben said, getting a death stare from Abby.

"Now everyone," Beth said and looked at Abby. "Abby, running away from your problems is not how we do things around here. If you want to scream at us, that's fine, we can take it, but another repetition of what happened Thursday night and you're out of here ."

"I'm sorry," Abby muttered, playing with her nails.

"Right," a woman two chairs away mumbled under her breath.

"Excuse me?" Abby asked with a little attitude.

"Am I the only one who thinks this whole 'I don't deserve anything, I'm sorry' droopy-faced shit is the reason why she keeps drinking?" the same woman said.

"I don't keep drinking, ok? This is the first time I've slipped," Abby snapped, looking at Beth.

"Don't tell me, Abby, tell Wanda," Beth said.

Abby looked form Beth to the woman and then around the room, "You know what? Just forget about it, ok?"

"There it is," Eddie said.

Abby sat forward, "What is this? Let's fuck with Abby night? I don't see any of you doing Bible readings at church, tending to the leper, or saving the whales. You're all just as fucked up as I am, so can you all just do me a favor and kiss my ass?!"

"See? Somehow that right there is pretentious, that sounds pretentious to me," Wanda said. "You're saying that it's not ok for us to point fingers at you but it's ok for you to walk out of here whenever you please."

"Fuck you, Wanda," Abby muttered.

"There it is again," Wanda preached.

"Abby, let go and let God," Judy said sweetly.

"And what? You're some fucking expert on this because you've done this program 5 times?" Abby ignored Judy and went straight for Wanda. "You know shit, ok? All you know is how to go home to your kids and promise them you'll never shoot again, only to break that promise and come right back in. You don't know what it's like growing up with a mother like you and a father who lived thousands of miles away. You don't know what it's like to find a fucking cockroach in your stale cereal at breakfast. You know shit about having to get on your bike at three in the morning when you're nine years old because they found your mom in her underwear at a liquor store, alright? You don't know what it's like being your kids, ok? So fuck her!" she yelled every single word, crying the last sentence. She suddenly felt her throat sore and curled in the chair, crying more openly.

Wanda walked over, knelt in front of Abby and embraced her, letting her cry on her shoulder.

"Ok, great, great. We found a root, that's progress. Good work. Thanks, Wanda," Beth said, applauding some of the words.

Wanda stroked Abby's hair. "Shh, that's ok. I'll let that one about my kids pass, but never again."

Abby, who was sobbing like there was no tomorrow, just held on tighter, smelling Wanda's shampoo and hearing some people applaud, some hands patting her back.



Carter walked into the admit desk, where Dave sat in front of the computer, playing Frogger.

"Dave, there's some people waiting in chairs," Carter complained.

"That's why it's called the waiting area," Dave mumbled without taking his eyes off the screen. He saw that Carter went to the chart rack, so he stood all of a sudden to try and beat him to it. "Anything challenging in there?"

Carter pretended to read a chart, "There's a 5 year old who can't spell Dog, sounds like a job for Dave Malucci," he said and gave Dave the chart.

"Ha, ha," Dave said sarcastically and read the chart. "A sore foot, no thanks." He gave Carter the chart back and resumed his game on the computer.

Carter was about to begin a game of hot potato with the chart, but then decided not to get down to Dave's level, so he walked to the chair area. "Georgia Water?" he read.

"That's Waters," a young brunette stood in front of him with a crutch under each pit.

"Oh," Carter said and extended his hand. "I'm Dr. Carter. Need any help with those?"

"No, I'm ok," she said and began to follow him towards exam 2, staring at him rather intensely. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

Carter, with his hand on his pocket, looked back at her, "No, I think I'd remember that." They walked into exam 2 and he turned on the light. "So, something wrong with your foot?" he asked.

Georgia hopped up on the bed and put the crutches to her side. "I broke my foot 5 weeks ago, and my doctor thought it was time to remove the cast, that was yesterday morning."

Carter sat in front of her and took her foot in his hands to take a closer look. "And did it feel tender?"

"Not really," she said. "It wasn't until I walked on it for a couple of hours when it started hurting. When I woke up this morning it was swollen and now I can't even stand on it."

Carter put her foot down gently and stood up. "Well, why don't you lay back and, um, we'll take an x-ray."

"You think it's still broken?" she asked as she laid back.

Carter wrinkled his forehead, staring at her Kermit the Frog t-shirt and black sweatpants, "It's probably just not healed all the way. He didn't take an x-ray yesterday?"

Georgia smiled, "No. I guess that'll teach me to go to a doctor who has his office at a shopping mall, huh?" she joked.

Carter chuckled, "You get what you pays for." He removed his gloves and opened the door. "I'll be right back, ok?" was the last thing he said before he saw her nod and walked off.



Abby sniffed and pinned her hands with her thighs, looking at the floor. "I don't drink because of my mother, or because of my childhood or my divorce. Um, I guess my first drink was when I was around 8 or something. My mom is bipolar, and, um, she actually didn't drink that much, I'm the only alcoholic in my family. But when she did drink, it was just, you know, she went all out." She cleared her throat, feeling her bloated eyes stinging. "Um, I used to wonder what it was like to pass out, you know? Just sort of, stop time for a couple of hours, or fast forward some of the worst parts. This one time I came back from school and Maggie was sleeping, and she had this bottle of Vodka next to her. I stared at her for the longest time, and I was starving, so I poked her, I turned on the television all the way up, I pulled and pushed her, but she was just out of it. So, I don't know why, I just took the bottle and, um, I just wanted to know what it tasted like. She used to say alcohol was the best thing created by men, that alcohol was a problem solver, and kids, when you have a few problems, a little hair of the dog that bit you solves everything!" she imitated Maggie.

"Anyway, it burned my throat as soon as I swallowed it, and I didn't drink again until I was a teenager, it only became a problem when I was out of school." She let out a sigh, "I met my ex- husband some time later, and, um, he helped me sober up, but, um, at one point he got tired of me and my bad moods and depressions, so he just went out and found someone better. I didn't, I mean, it didn't hurt that much. I guess it hurts to know that you're not enough for your husband, but, um, I guess I could see that coming, so, when it came, we both knew what to do. I was sober, when we divorced, and, um, things were going great, just the usual milestones." She cleared her throat, "Truthfully, I really don't know why I started drinking again. I, I always solved my own problems, and I have had worse experiences, I don't know why I started drinking again," she said and looked up to see everyone's faces, all of the eyes in the room focused on her and her story.

Beth took a deep breath and hunched forward, "Sometimes slips happen for no reason at all, or for the most insignificant things. You said that you always solved your own problems, but drinking is a temporary fix. When you wake up, the problems are still there."

Ben raised his hand and sat forward on his chair, and looked around all the faces in the room. "Is it? I mean, um, it just seems that there's always an outside factor, which triggers that... need or desire to drink or use drugs. I mean, is it possible that people drink... just because? I mean, no genetics or no life changing experiences? Just... you know?" he stammered.

"Absolutely," Beth said. "Some people drink because they like it, they like being drunk, because I guess, it's fun being high. We, rarely get any of those people. They have a problem, but they don't realize it." She turned to Abby, "Abby, we're not trying to attack you here, or fuck with you. We, want you to find the source of your problems, and as Judy said, let go and let God." She smiled, "Everyone has problems, bad problems, sometimes not so bad. I understand that your whole life you have taken care of yourself, so now, when you need help, you refuse it. That's ok, it's ok to be independent, but honey, sometimes we do need help. It's ok to take it. I'm not trying to make you feel bad, or belittle you, I just want you to realize that sometimes dealing with our own problems is not as effective as you might think it is. Some people grow up too fast, yes. And they know a lot about life, but every experience is new and different. I think we've all realized tonight, that you have too much baggage, honey. You need to get rid of it. Just, forgive and forget."

Abby nodded, looking down and feeling like crying, but she didn't.

"We made a lot of progress tonight. Your mother might not be the reason why you drink, but I think we all agree there's a lot of unresolved feelings there. I don't know if you noticed, but you were not screaming at Wanda earlier, you were screaming at your mother. I know it's hard, but you have to forgive her, accept that she is a big part of your problem, let it go and move on. And then after that, forgive your ex-husband, and keep going and going. Every time you remember something that once upset you, focus on it, find a target, and deal with it. Don't ignore your problems, don't put on a brave font and keep walking. Just deal with it. It is hard sometimes, but in the long run, it's worth it." She smiled, "We'll help you as much as we can. We all care about you here."

Abby half smiled, "Thanks," she mumbled, still looking at her hands.

"Ok," Beth smiled. "Why don't we call it a night with a prayer, this one for Abby."

Abby held hands with the two people next to her, as everyone around the room did the same. "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change... Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference," they all said in unison.

"Great." Beth smiled, "We did this meeting earlier than usual today because it's phone night. So make your phone calls, it's still 6 o'clock, and go to bed. I'll see you all tomorrow night. Good work."

Abby watched as everyone stood up, some patting her back as they walked away, and she smiled at them as they did so. She finally sat up, her legs weak from seating for so long, and her muscles tired of the eventful night. She approached Beth, who was getting her things together. "Beth, um, I'm really sorry I walked out like that, it's, it's just..." she let out a sigh.

"I know, honey. I've been doing this for a while." She smiled, "We usually don't do these surprise interventions, but we all agreed it was necessary in your case."

Abby chuckled weakly.

"Go to bed. It'll be a hell of a ride from now on," Beth said.

"Thank you," Abby smiled, and walked out, taking small steps.



Carter walked back into exam 2, where he found his patient making a bunny rabbit out of sticks and cotton balls. "I got your x-ray back," he said and put it against the board.

"Is it broken?" Georgia asked once she put her art project away.

"Nope, but it wasn't ready to come out of the cast yet."

Georgia let out a sigh and leaned back. "I don't have to wear a cast again, do I?"

Carter turned off the board and put the x-rays back on the envelope. "No, what I'm going to do is bandage it, and then put it on an ankle brace. You can use your crutches for around a week, and then if it stops hurting you can walk on it, but I'd recommend using the crutches for as long as you can," he said and sat in front of her again.

"How long?" she asked, her light green eyes following his every move.

"Oh, two weeks, maybe three," Carter said, taking out some bandages from the cabinets while seated on a stool.

"Oh, great," Georgia said sarcastically.

"Well, maybe you can get your money back for malpractice," Carter suggested.

"I'm not too worried about that, it's the limping which cramps my style," Georgia quipped.

Carter smiled, "How did you break it in the first place?" he asked as he began to bandage her foot carefully.

"I, fell down while trying to take a picture. As it turns out, you shouldn't really climb a tree if you're a spaz."

"You're a photographer?" Carter looked back at her.

"Yeah, um, I work for the Chicago Tribune," Georgia said, watching him work.

"Really?" Carter said, impressed. "Should I be worried about any exposes on health code violations?"

"Ha, I'm off the clock right now," Georgia quipped. "Actually, we have more than enough stories on this hospital. To tell you the truth, I didn't want to come here. In this ER there's always some explosion, or a shooting, or a nuclear holocaust."

Carter chuckled, "Yeah, we like keeping things interesting down here."

Georgia snapped and clapped her hands together once. "That's where I've seen you before! A couple of years ago, there was some kind of chemical spill and you saved the day. I took your picture," she exclaimed.

"That's right," Carter laughed as he nodded. "Yeah, there was a Benzene spill, that seemed like it was centuries ago." He smiled, remembering the memorable night.

"Yeah, you were in every newspaper. I'm surprised they didn't give you the keys to the city," Georgia joked.

"No, they did that later when I rescued a kitten from a burning house," he quipped back and covered her leg with the ankle brace.

Georgia let out a chuckle and sat back on the bed, looking at her foot. "Is that all?"

Carter took his gloves off, but remained seated. "Yup, just come back in a couple of weeks to have it removed, or go to another doctor, a good one."

Georgia smiled and grabbed her crutches. "Well, thanks Dr. Carter. Stay away from the explosions, ok?"

Carter smiled and saw her reach the door, and he shook his head, "Ms. Waters?"

Georgia turned around and gave him a questioning look.

"Actually, um," he stammered. "I was kinda wondering if, um, maybe you'd let me buy you a drink sometime?" he asked bashfully.

Georgia smiled and looked down at her foot. "Well, I'm not sure my insurance covers that," she joked.

"Well, I can call them," Carter quipped back.

Georgia shook her head and gave him another smile, "My phone number is in the chart."

"Ok," Carter said a little too quickly.

"I'll see you later then," Georgia said and limped away.

Carter saw her leave form his seat. "Bye," he said but only when she was already gone. He stood up, stretched his glove into the bin and walked out.

"Hey!"

He heard someone call out and turned around.

Dave walked up to him, "Who was that?"

Carter raised his eyebrows, "That, was the case you turned down," he rubbed it in.

"The five year old dog speller?" Dave asked in ignorance.

Carter shook his head as he walked towards the admit desk, "The sore leg, you idiot."

"Huh," Dave said casually, "So, did she leave a phone number or something?"

Carter smiled and held a small piece of paper up, "It so happens that she did. And it so happens that we are having drinks later," he said slyly.

Dave dropped his mouth open, "You whore."

Carter's grin became bigger, "There are no small cases, Dave." He grinned once more, enjoying the moment, and then walked into the lounge, and clapped his hands once, making Luka jump up from the couch. "Guess what I just did," he teased.

Luka looked up, dusting his shirt off, "You just scared the shit out of me," he hissed.

"Sorry about that," Carter smiled and walked over to pour himself a cup of coffee. "I just treated this incredibly beautiful and smart woman, I mean, apart from a broken leg, she is... perfect."

Luka didn't even look up, but kept writing on his chart. "Did you ask her out?"

"I asked her out!" Carter exclaimed.

Luka looked up, smiled, and then looked down again. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Carter said and sat on a chair by the table. "Aren't you off?"

"Yeah," Luka sighed, "After I finish this."

Carter nodded, somehow feeling bad for the man, there never seemed to be any happiness in his life. "Did Abby say when she was getting out?"

Luka looked up again, put the cap over the pen and put it in his pocket, leaning back on the couch. "No, um, maybe around two weeks."

"Um," Carter nodded. "She doing ok?"

 Luka rubbed his eyes, letting out a yawn, "Uhh, I really don't know, Carter. She, looks terrible, so so skinny, and her eyes looked like they were about to explode."

"That's... normal," Carter said.

"It's scary," Luka added.

Carter watched him for a while, "How are you doing?"

Luka raised his eyebrows, thinking for a while, "Ok, I think. Just, tired."

"You should take a couple of days off," Carter suggested.

Luka shook his head, "I just can't get any sleep."

"Want a prescription?" Carter asked.

"No, no," Luka said.

Carter stood up, "Look, I know how you feel, it's, I think it's worse being here because there's just no way to know what's going on, so your mind keeps wondering."

Luka nodded, knowing exactly what Carter was talking about. What made this feeling worst was the great state of confusion he was in. Sometimes he felt like this was all too much too take. Mostly he was scared. Scared of Abby coming home.

He knew she would be different, and maybe not in a good way, from his point. He kept wondering where they would stand, if Abby would still insist on breaking up, taking a break, or keep going. The problem was that all the three options were excruciatingly scary. He wanted to be with her. He really did think that they could work their differences and problems and maybe grow into something better together. How long would that take, though? People at the meetings keep saying that recovering alcoholics shouldn't date for a long time. But then it's ok when you are married, or seriously committed. Their problem was that they were none. He couldn't deny that he cared about her, a lot. And he missed her. God, he missed her. But, they weren't exactly set to be together forever. Sometimes you can look into the future and see yourself in a situation or with someone. Sometimes you see a stranger walking down the street and you can see yourself married and with children, and living together with this someone you don't even know. He couldn't do that. This wasn't one of those times. Right now, he couldn't see farther than two weeks. And it scared him. It made his head spin, and it made him lose sleep every night.

"Here, I can finish that."

He came back when Carter grabbed the chart from his hands, and Luka looked up and smiled, "Thanks." He watched Carter leave, and stood up to get his things from his locker. He was out of Tylenol, so he would have to stop somewhere on his way home to put an end to this relentless headache.



Abby made sure everyone made their phone calls before her so she could cuddle on the chair next to the phones. She hesitated for a moment, ruling out phone numbers on her head. She finally just took a deep breath and pressed a few buttons, and waited.

"Charles Wyczenski?"

Abby paused for a moment, and then finally moved on her seat. "Dad?" she trembled out, her legs pressed against her chest.

"Yes?" he asked and paused. "Abby?" he asked, not recognizing her voice.

"Yeah," Abby smiled.

"Honey? Is everything ok? Where are you?" he asked when he noticed her voice was craking a little.

Abby played with the chord of the telephone and sniffed. "I'm, I'm at rehab, dad," she choked out, some tears falling down.

There was an awkward pause on the line. "Oh, Abby," Charles said in disappointment. "What happened?"

Abby curled the chord on her index finger, and let it go to do the same over and over again. "I don't know."

Charles let out a sigh. "Are you in Chicago?"

"Upstate," Abby said.

"Honey, I could go see you, but this month, I'm really busy with work right now," he breathed with guilt.

Abby bit her lip. "Dad," she didn't have anything to say but that. She wanted to see him, to curl up with him in a rocking chair as his arms engulfed her and he read her a story. A nice story. A story about a princess and a prince and a happy ending. And then she wanted him to tuck her in and kiss her forehead, and she wanted to be 5 again.

"Abby?" Charles repeated.

"Dad?" Abby asked. She sniffed, "How come we didn't get to be with you?"

Charles let out another sigh to let her know that wasn't a topic he enjoyed talking about. "Honey, you know how hard I tried to get custody, but it wasn't as easy as it is today. I tried my best to at least keep you close, but you know how obsessed your mom was about going to Florida."

"I just, I just wanted to be with you," Abby whimpered.

"I know, honey, I wanted to have you here. You know it hurt me a lot when I had to see you leave. You and Eric are the two most important things in my life, ok? And even though I couldn't take care of you, I love you more than anything in this world," he cooed.

Abby cleared her face and took a breath, "I love you too, daddy."

"And, can you please promise me that you won't drink again? Abby, you are so beautiful, and so smart, and you have so much to give. You deserve better than this. Please promise me that you'll forget about your mom, and please try to be happy?" Charles asked. Him and Abby had had phone calls like this before, in which she called him completely destroyed and he had to glue her back together only to have her mother break her down again. Eric was stronger, but Abby always let everything get to her, too much. It always came when he wasn't able to do anything more than coo her a few words over the phone.

"Um, hm," Abby nodded.

"Abby, if I could turn back time and give you a happy childhood, I would. But honey, I can't," he added.

"I know, dad," Abby cried.

"Just, please be strong, for me?"

Abby nodded, even though he couldn't see that.

"And honey, I'll be down there as soon as I can, ok? I might have a couple of days off in a few weeks."

"Ok," Abby said.

"Ok," Charles repeated, a little more eased. "Can you give me a smile now?"

Abby smiled, even though she didn't have to, but she had made him yet another promise.

"Thank you. I have to go now, honey. Are you gonna be ok?" he asked.

"Yeah," Abby said, wiping the last tear.

"Do you need some money?"

"No," Abby said.

"Ok. I love you, baby."

"I love you too, dad," Abby said and heard him breathe for a second before he hung up and the line went quiet. She sat there for a moment, looking straight forward and feeling the most tired she had ever felt in her entire life. She stood up and walked out, but then walked back in again and sat on the same chair, and picked up the same phone.

"Marriott Hotel, can I help you?" a man answered politely.

Abby blinked back to life. "Yeah, can I get, um, room 1214?"

The receptionist scrambledthrough some papers for a second, and then the line went quiet as he transferred Abby to the room. She waited for a while, watching a clock in the wall, they would be asking her to leave soon.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Kovac is not in his room at the moment, but he left a forwarding number," the same man said.

Abby closed her eyes and locked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was about to tell him that is was ok, but before she could object, he gave her a number which made her frown in recognition.

"Thanks," she mumbled and hung up. Another man walked into he room and smiled at Abby, and went straight to the other phone.

She was tired, physically and emotionally. They had broken her down to pieces at the group session, her probably punishment for walking out on them the previous week, and they didn't even bother to put her back together again. Yet again, she had found another rock bottom, one which was deeper than the ones she had carved before. She felt a big void inside, like the ones you feel when there's a big battle coming ahead, one you know you will lose. Probably how Custard felt the whole time at the Alamo.

Despite her emotional collapse, she wouldn't budge. Her hand reached tentatively for the phone again, and she dialed her own number. After a few rings, he answered.

"Luka?" she asked as if she didn't know he was there in the first place.

"Abby?" Luka replied.

Abby smiled, "What are you doing in my apartment?"

"Watering your plants," Luka said simply.

"I don't have any plants," Abby frowned.

"You will now," Luka said, thinking he was the worst liar ever. "How are you?"

Abby let out a sigh and smiled, "Ok. What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making some dinner," Luka said. "I bought you all new plates and silver wear. I hope you don't mind," he said, some of his words interrupted by small chuckles.

Abby smiled, "You didn't have to do that."

"Well, I made you break your other ones, so," Luka said a little bashfully. The sound of silver wear clicking together filled the background as Luka made his way from the kitchen to the living room, with a plate in one hand, a glass in the other and the phone pinned between his ear and his shoulder. Then the television. "Are you ok?" he asked, noticing her silence. "You are a little quiet."

Abby smiled, "Yeah, long day," she sighed.

"Why?" Luka asked and drank a little of his white wine.

"They got all psychological on me tonight, you know, tough love. I yelled at my group and told them to kiss my ass," Abby said, a little ashamed but chuckling at her actions at the same time.

Luka laughed, "Taking the Kerry Weaver approach to recovery, huh?"

Abby chuckled, but she did little to smile, glancing at the man not far from her, who was blowing kisses and promising eternal love to some lucky lady on the other line, or lucky guy. She had been here all night, and every single phone call ended the same way, all but this one.

A light came on and a woman walked in. "Phone time is over," she scolded and walked back out.

Abby put her legs down and hunched forward. "Um, Luka, I have to go."

"Oh, ok. Um, can you give me a call before I pick you up?" he asked.

"I'll try," Abby nodded. "Um, I'll see you later, then."

"I love you more..."

Abby looked to the side, where the man cooed into the phone, still blowing kisses.

"Ok. Please take care, Abby."

Abby turned back to her phone call. "Yeah, ok. Um, bye." She hung up.

"No, I love you more... well, I love you infinity plus one..."

Abby shook her head and rolled her eyes as she walked out. The light to her new room was on, and as she walked in, and smiled to her new roommate.

"Wow, how many phone calls did you make?" Marissa, a young woman much like Abby, said.

Abby smiled, "Just two." She grabbed her towel and walked into the bathroom, and as she let the water run, she stared at herself in the mirror, the only mirror probably in the entire floor, one the staff had probably forgotten to get rid of. She was scared, because she could rarely recognize the person who was looking back at her. It was a new face, a pale one at that. Mostly just an insecure and vulnerable face, one Abby had never met before, had never seen or had never had to deal with for more than a couple of minutes. She couldn't wait to get rid of it, but at the same time felt that these two weeks would be somehow worse than the previous ones.

She wanted to go home, and sleep on her own bed until the world ended. There are times when you feel like the world is at your feet, and no matter how many bad things come your way, you will welcome them with a smile and a fist, and move on. There are other times when that smile won't come out, and the fist is just a hand and five fingers. This was one of those times. Times when you feel like there's nothing waiting for you, that you are doing this merely because your heart is still beating, and your lungs are contracting.

A happy place.

She did that as a kid a lot. She used to imagine herself in Oz, walking down the yellow brick road while singing merrily as her mother screamed and threw plates against the walls of their small Florida house. Oz was her happy place back then, but now that she thought about it, all those characters, the scarecrow, the tin man, and the lion, they were all strangers. They were just as lost as she was, and they did little to offer comfort.

A happy place.

Maybe Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. Get lost in all that candy, and swim in a river of chocolate all day long. But those little people were scary as well.

A happy place.

Her grandmother's house, and how it always smelled of something old, very old. His grandfather's hands, and how they were so wrinkled, and little Abby would sit in his lap for hours, trying to push his green percolating veins down, and watching them resurface again against his skin as he slept. So big and strong, with blisters and scars, and yet familiar and safe.

A happy place.

Her apartment. Her lonely apartment and her comfortable bed. It had once been a scary place, and so very lonely. Happy times were when his bed was occupied with someone else next to her, watching him breathe as he slept, his stomach rising, his nostrils expanding. He looked so peaceful when he slept, his face so different than how it was during the day. Sometimes his hair would fall on his forehead, and she would remove it, and just watch him for hours, wondering if in a year, this man would still be sleeping in her bed, breathing quietly, and his hair falling on his forehead. There's nothing quite like the feeling of knowing there's someone next to you, that maybe he's lonely as well, and that maybe you are a source of comfort as he is to you.

Happy places usually don't last very long. Dorothy came home, Willy Wonka's factory was shut down, her grandparents were dead, and an alarm clock would always wake her and Luka up. On moments like these, the best thing was to go to sleep, and pray to God that tomorrow the day would bring something better, something she could hold on to, a new happy place.



Luka put his plate on the sink, and after washing it carefully, put it back on the cabinet with the other new plates. He turned off the lights of the kitchen, and then the television, but as he was about to go to bed, there was a loud knock at the door.

He frowned.

He could ignore it and go to bed, and pretend there was no one home who was interested in buying encyclopedias. But it was late, and once the knocking came again, he walked over and opened the door, his mouth a little open in surprise, and his eyebrows thicker than usual.

"Maggie?"



To be continued...


Carolina


Sent via Deja.com
http://www.deja.com/