Who: Ella What: Narrative Where: Edge of a Petal/AA When: Late last week Warnings: Alcoholics Anonymous
Ella had a headache of epic proportions, but she wasn't hungover, and she wasn't drunk. In fact, she was almost late for her AA meeting, but she couldn't very well leave the shop yet.
Her father was washing up in the back, and she wanted to leave him settled before she disappeared for the night. With the expenses of the shop and the apartment, she'd found it impossible to afford his hotel. And taking him to 905 was not an option; Ella wouldn't dream of even mentioning that to Iris. She and her roommate were akin to passing ships in the night, and it was so different than living with Leah that Ella was having trouble getting used to it. She was lonely, and she felt alone. In R1, Daniel had always been around, and now there was nothing. The apartment was empty and echoing. There was no furniture, no life, no joy. It was barren, and Ella had taken to staying at the shop most nights (having bought Home a second cage and a carrier for just that purpose).
But now her father was going to be sleeping on her chaise in the back room, and Ella was feeling headache-y and despondent.
She smiled when her father walked out, smelling of whiskey (as usual), and she kissed his cheek and smoothed down his hair. For the millionth time, she explaining that the scars on her neck were nothing to be concerned about, and she listened to him slur his disbelief at her. Ella's father was a drunk and pushover, but he wasn't an idiot.
She walked him to the back room, and she helped him onto the chaise. She smoothed a throw blanket over him, and she kissed his thinning, gray hair. He was in his 60s now, and he seemed small and frail to her. He told her he loved her, that she was his beauty, and she smiled and turned off the light to the back room. She promised to bring him coffee and a breakfast in the morning, and then she left.
She knew he'd be on his feet and drinking as soon as the door closed behind her.
The walk to AA was short, and she hurried, making it there by the time they began the pledge. The room was more crowded than it normally was, and she looked over the crowd (young and old and heartrending), and she wondered why life had to be so hard for all of them. Her thoughts strayed to Daniel, up in that locked up apartment, unwilling to reach out, unable to connect with anyone beyond a desperate grabbing need.
She'd figured something out, had Ella: A man who didn't think he was worth wanting couldn't let himself want anything else.
She considered not saying anything when it came her turn to share, but she had started coming to these because she'd stumbled, and hiding in silence wouldn't do her any good. "I had a drink yesterday. I spent hours afterward convincing myself that it was only one, that normal people can have one drink and be fine, that I could be strong, and I could be normal. And then my father drunkenly stumbled into my shop that afternoon, and he took down an entire display," she said, looking down at her hands as she spoke.
"Getting drunk isn't going to make him love me, when he doesn't know what love is," she said more quietly, obviously not talking about her father at all anymore. It was more a statement to herself, and it sounded like something that might have been repeated in the mirror over and over again.
She shrugged a little, and she motioned for the next person to go. No discussion; not now; not today. She was feeling sorry for herself; sorry that Vaughn and her mother had left her to carry the burden of taking care of a sick, old man; sorry that living with Iris made her feel more alone than living alone; sorry that Daniel couldn't love her.
And drinking wasn't going to change any of that.
When the meeting ended and a few of her peers asked if she wanted to catch a movie, she hesitated a moment before agreeing. She didn't want to go; she wanted to go home and crawl onto her mattress and wait for Daniel to maybe contact her.
It was that last fact that made her agree.
By the time she unlocked the door to the tomblike quiet of 905, it was late and she was completely exhausted, stuffed with popcorn and soda and junior mints. It was better than puking her guts out, she told herself as she climbed into bed.