All of Her: Chapter One (Final Edit?)

Chapter One: Heartbroken
I know I said this wasn't running away, but I find myself running. I need to find Noah. Not 'want,' need. My feet are tattooing his name into the pavement. My heart is racing my lungs; a hideous lump is forming in my esophagus. My chest is heaving and my mind is in overdrive. I just keep thinking that if I could just get to Noah everything will be okay. He'll wake me up from this nightmare. He'll be able to to comfort me. Not that I am capable of being comforted.

I think my heart is going to explode. I am in physical pain so intense I may double over before I get to him. At the beginning curve of his apartment complex's entrance, I have to stop. I've been running for an hour and I can't breathe anymore. My shirt is soaked with sweat and sticking to my back. My hair is plastered to my face and neck.

And then, because this seems like the appropriate moment, the tears come. I stand there, on the corner, bawling like a crazy person, unable to see straight or breathe between gulping sobs.

Beyond all reason, Noah is walking his dog toward the park, which is just up the block from where I am standing. I don't even have voice enough to call out to him. As if he heard my thoughts, he looks up and sees me. He doesn't even pause; he starts running, barely waiting for Bett, his doberman, to catch up. I can't even limp to close the distance. I don't have to, however, because within a moment I am completely wrapped in his arms.

"Abra, honey, what's wrong?" he looks at me and holds me tighter. He murmurs into my hair, "Honey, please, you're scaring me. What happened?"

I can't respond. I can't catch my breath between sobs. I'm trembling violently; at any moment my body may fly to pieces. That lump building in my throat floods my mouth. Feebly, I manage to push away from Noah just enough to lean over and throw up. Reflexively, he pulls my hair back and moves to prevent Bett from eating it.

I keep heaving, despite my stomach being empty. I fear that, at any moment, I'll see my broken heart land in the puddle of vitriol at my sneakered feet. Noah holds my hair, muttering in a soothing way. I can't hear him over the pounding of my heart in my head.

After what feels like an eternity, I stop heaving. Straightening up, I take the first deep breath I've had since I started running. I look at Noah, concern etched into his black eyebrows and filling up his blue eyes with shadows. Absently, I notice that his glasses are smudged from where he was holding me.

"He's in love with her." I say, after several deep breaths.

"Who is in love with whom?"

"David and Alice." I choke out, my stomach tightening in warning. He doesn't say anything, just gathers me up in his arms and holds me. We stand there for a little bit, my face streaked with tears and Bett looking at us quizzically. Without knowing how it happened, we are walking back to his apartment. Once inside, I sit, cross-legged, on his 1970's style, burgundy, shag carpet. Bett rests her head in my lap and I stroke her ears, distractedly.

In the kitchen I can hear Noah making tea. This is how he deals with a crisis. Whether its a break-up, a bad grade in a test; it doesn't matter. Tea holds all the answers. He comes out of the kitchen, two steaming mugs of, what smells like, Earl Grey and a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips hanging from his teeth.

He sets one mug on a black and white coaster in front of me before he takes the bag of chocolate chips out of his mouth.

"I'm out of any other chocolate," he says, apologetically. "I've got some left overs if you are hungry. Though I'm sure your stomach is still a mess."

He pushes my tea closer to me. I take a sip, but am not really enjoying it like I normally would. I feel so out of sorts.

"Do you want to talk?" he asks, his voice cautious.

Do I want to talk about this? Can I? Do words have any meaning in a situation like this?

"He says he is in love with her. I've been tossed to the side. What more is there to say?"

Noah says nothing, simply placing his hand on mine.

No Parade
When I was twelve I met a boy. This boy was the most gorgeous, most intelligent, most wonderful boy I had ever met. It was obvious that I would fall for him. I was an awkward girl, not what anyone would consider pretty, at least in my own opinion. He was the first boy to say I was pretty. And I loved him.

Ten years passed, finding me sitting in the rectory of the church. I was about to marry the man of my dreams. A boy I loved since I was twelve. A boy I longed for with everything I had for so long I had nothing left to give. That beautiful, intelligent, wonderful boy leaves me waiting in the rectory. He leaves me waiting before the priest and God. He leaves me in my white dress and tiny white veil, my cream-colored roses and sprigs of baby's breath wilting.

He left because he had fallen in love with Alice. My childhood best friend. And, behind my back as I planned my wedding and my beautiful life with him, he planned a beautiful life with her. The most terrible of terrible things is I should've known, I should've seen it coming. How did I not notice how often they whispered to each other. Or how they sometimes gazed at one another? But I loved two beautiful stars in orbit around my sun.

I didn't know that I was the star orbiting their sunlight.

I am a fool.

I was humiliated. The church took pity on me and gave back the money I spent to have the ceremony there. The caterer was not so generous. I did get to keep all sixteen pounds of chicken and five pounds of cake. Isn't that sad though?

All of my calls were forwarded to voicemail. I must've left a dozen messages. They ranged in tone from completely calm to barely coherent sobs. Finally he agreed to meet me on the beach. How funny is it that its the spot where he proposed three years ago?

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, his hair disheveled from the wind. He looks so perfect. I love him. I hate him.

"I want you to say you love me and you're going to marry me. I can forgive all this. I can." I tried to sound even-keeled. To sound like this is all a misunderstanding and he has never once faltered.

"I can't do that." he said.

"Why?" I don't cry. I want to.

"I told you once that I loved Alice." he said. Cut to the quick, I glared at him.

"Loving someone and being in love with someone are two different things, David. You never said you were in love with her."

"I was in love with her. I'm still in love with all of her."

That fateful sentence. Those jarring 25 letters.

As I ran to Noah's, I kept seeing his face; that face I have memorized longingly for the past ten years. I kept hearing him say those eight words, like some nightmarish lullaby.

He didn't even hesitate. Did he ever love me? Was I anything to him?

Nothing else matters
Noah clears his throat, jarring me out of my memories.

"What will you do now?" he asks. To be honest, I have no idea. Blow something up? Binge drink margaritas until I bust from alcohol poisoning? I should think a minute before I do something rash.

"Listen to a bunch of sad break-up songs and commiserate with a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream? I really don't know what else to do. I feel like I lost a limb. Something is missing."

He squeezes my hand in sympathy. I know he would fix it if he could. But we both know he can't fix this one. Not even with his dry wit, Earl Grey tea and all the ice cream in the world.

"Do you want to stay the night here?" He is searching my face for any sign that I'll fly off the handle and kill someone. Or myself. He doesn't need to worry, yet.

"No, love. Thank you. I think I'm going to go home. I want a shower and some alone time. Do you care to drive me back to my car?"

The short ride back to my car is quiet. The only sounds are air rushing through the rolled down windows and Bett's happy panting as she sticks her head out. Noah gives me one last hug, kisses my cheek and drives off. I stare at the blurred line of the horizon for what feels like eternity. Its dark, barely a sliver of moon in the sky.

I'm going to be alone, I realize. Perhaps I should've stayed with Noah. Before I can think about it too much I find myself driving back to my apartment.

When I get there, David has already been there getting some of his things. A note taped to the fridge says he'll be back to finish packing up. It says he's sorry, but he can't love me with only half of his heart.

I sigh, heavily. I am too tired to cry now. Kicking off my shoes, I trudge into the bedroom. Some of the drawers are still open and the place looks like a tornado went through. In his hurry, he has left a few t-shirts, boxers and two pairs of tennis shoes. I pad around the room picking up miscellaneous items he has tossed to the floor.

While doing this I spy the shirt he was wearing earlier. I can't help myself. I pick it up, press it to my face and find tears rolling down my already puffy face.

How can I live without him? How can I even begin to start over? I have devoted the past ten years of my life to this man. I've given him everything. My heart, my life, my virginity. How could it have all gone so wrong? I sink to the floor, still clutching his shirt to my tear soaked face. I don't care that my mascara is running and that I have snot dripping from my bright, red, nose. I don't care that he may come in and see me falling completely apart. I don't have the strength to lie to him about it.

Somehow I muster the strength to stand and put his dirty clothes in the washing machine. I go into the living room and turn on the CD player. Unfortunately, every song depresses me further. I go back to my room and stare at the queen sized bed. It seems so much bigger now that I'll be sleeping alone.

Part of me wishes David would walk in and see the mess I am. I'd tell him that I'll never be over him. I could never possibly get over him, no matter how hard I tried. I refuse to be happy for him either. Not for him and most certainly not for Alice. Even if they are happy together.

I spend my night on the couch, trying to find some semblance of sanity to cling to. I try pulling myself together. And I fail at it; miserably. I don't really sleep. I drift, but I do not dream. I just sit with my knees pulled up to my chest, my cheek resting on one knee.

Things have to get better eventually. Right?

All of Her: Prologue (Final Edit)

Prologue: He doesn't Love You.

"I'm still in love with all of her."

I say nothing. What is there to say, really? I barely hear anything else he says. Not that it matters. He keeps talking; as if this conversation were about what to have for lunch. Or something just as bland. He doesn't even notice that my heart is breaking. I think I might be sick.

His words are echoing in my head. I am stuck on repeat. All I can hear is that awful sentence and my heart, drumming erratically against my rib-cage. I've gone mad. I'm standing here, on my own two hands, going crazy. I'm shaking.

I know he is telling the truth. I don't even have to look at them to know its the truth. Being a glutton for punishment, and already drunk with pain, I look anyway. Why not? She's smiling; lit up by the sunshine of his love.

"I'm still in love with all of her."

I'm not blind; anymore. Its like the gauze has been ripped from my eyes. How did I not see it before? How could I be so completely clueless? Looking at it now, I can easily imagine them. Entangled, wrapped in pink sheets, their pink flesh fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. How did I miss this?

Am I an idiot for wishing he was looking at me?

She's standing a short distance away, barely out of ear-shot, and he is staring off and into her distance. She's still smiling at him, practically basking in the assurances of his love. I recognize that smile. Its the same one I had plastered across my, idiotic, face. Once. I can still remember that feeling; being loved and believing his sunlight would always shine on me. That smile, the one she wears now, is the same smile I was wearing just a few weeks ago. How did I not recognize that look before now?

The whole beach feels like it is trying to swallow me whole. Everything is rolling beneath my feet and he is rocking away from me and into her arms. I just stand there. I feel so pathetic. I try to smile, as if everything is okay, but it wobbles with the weight of the truth. He doesn't notice. I will never smile, like her, again.

How can I when I am watching the love of my life fall even more in love with my best friend?

"I'm still in love with all of her."

"Stop saying that!" I say, practically shrieking. David looks back at me, startled.

"I didn't say anything."

I look at him, sheepishly. Having no explanation for my odd behaviour, I bite my lip and turn away.

I need to get drunk. Is it normal for my chest to hurt this badly? Its like I've been punched. My whole body aches, like I have the flu. Its all just so ridiculous. This isn't fair. None of this is fair! Of course it isn't, but I can see that it doesn't matter what is and is not fair.

"Abra," he touches my shoulder. "Are you alright?"

The gall. The absolute gall.

"Am I 'alright'?" I ask, turning back toward him and shrugging off his hand. "Yes, David. I'm absolutely fucking peachy. Its not like the love of my life stood me up, on our wedding day, and then has the audacity to tell me that he is in love with my best friend. No, I'm not 'alright!' I feel like I'm going crazy right now! I've never been better."

Dumbfounded, he just blinks at me.

"I... I am sorry." he stammers. I wave off his apology as if it smelled bad. The thought that I should be nice flits into my head. I mean, you can't help who you love, right? As quickly as it entered, it is chased out by my anger and pain. I think I might vomit. I'm going to scream, or laugh hysterically. It is, in a sick and twisted way, quite comical.

She is looking back at us again. Her face is slightly cloudy, concern warring with the sunshine of love. I want to slap the sunlight off her cheeks.

"Go." I say, turning away. "You're going to leave with her anyway. You might as well leave now."

I turn back in time to watch him walk away and I have to resist the urge to chase after him. I want to yell at him, grab him by the shoulders and shake him. I wish I could smack some sense into them both. Or perform a relationship saving lobotomy. Well, relationship saving for me, not so much for them. There they go; their shadows seeming to swim off into the sunset, like a couple of mer-people to Atlantis. Or maybe that's my broken-hearted imagination.

I turn to leave, again, but I can't seem to make my feet move. Instead, idiot that I am, I turn back and see them kissing. Alice and David, off in their own personal wonderland, in love and laughing. They're smiling; that sweet and innocent smile of a first, and only, love. Damn. Why did I look back?

I'm feeling like I've just been turned into a pillar of salt; frozen and more than a little raw. Its like my wounds just got a vigourous scrub.

The time has come, the walrus says, to talk of many things. He's right, of course. Even talking walruses can be right. I don't feel like talking. Not to a talking walrus or anyone else. God, I hate Alice so much right now. I never thought it was possible to hate someone so much, but looking at her with David, I could almost spit acid. I could almost go up to them and wring her pretty, swan-like, neck.

Why couldn't they just disappear as soon as I looked back? Would that be too much to ask for?

Despite my desire, nothing changes the fact that Alice and David are still canoodling and I'm just standing here. Caught up in my foolish daydreams. If only I had super powers or something, I could destroy Alice and live happily ever after. With David. Like I'm supposed to. If she were my ugly step-sister, she'd cut off her nose to spite her face and I'd win him back with perfectly fitted glass slippers and my obvious charm. He would realize he is the only Prince Charming there has ever been for me and all will be right with the world.

I'm rambling.

"I'm still in love with all of her."

Those words are still echoing in the air around me. I have to get out of here. I need distance. This isn't running away.

He didn't even hesitate when I told him to go. I guess that tells me all I need to know.

Love Poem to a Cannibal

Blend me with all of
your raw fruit.

Shake me together with
your tossed salads.

Mix me into all of you
until I am dissolved.

Add a pinch of salt,
a sprinkle of sugar.

I was never flavorful
on my own.

Bake me at 375° until I
am done to your satisfaction.

I hope I am delicious.

Nursery Rhyme for Astronauts

Ring around the moon,
a pocket full of loons,
spaceships
spaceships
we all fall like shooting stars.

The Asthma Attack (WIP)

We arrive on this scene to find it in disarray. There seems to be an interesting battle taking place and the whole of the battlefield is a set of heaving lungs. The lungs seem to be in some kind of stand off with the immune system, all weapons aimed and primed for the battle.

Left Lung: Sir, I ask you to kindly holster your weapons. We are of one body, YOUR body. We are a part of this system and it is quite silly of you to be attacking us in this manner.

A Bronchial Tube: *he is clearly contracted and struggling to maintain airflow* I think I may explode, sir. I can't take much more. Where is our back up?

Immune System Sargent 1: I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid you don't have the proper clearance to be a part of this system. I'm going to have to ask you to cease and desist all operation immediately or we will have to resume our attacks.

Right Lung: *into a tiny radio* Where the fuck is our back-up?! We can't take much more and they aren't backing down! Requesting immediate back-up!

There is a loud whistling and wheezing that can be heard throughout the set of lungs, a warning siren trying to contact their back-up.

Immune System Sargent 2: Fuck this, its a trap! FIRE!

The Immune System begins an all out assault upon the lungs and bronchial tubes, which have full constricted, restricting air flow. The wheezing gets louder with every attempted intake of oxygen.

Right Lung: We are running low on O2, Commander. Where is our back-up?!

Voice Over: We're deploying as fast as possible, hold your positions!

Left Lung: Things are starting to look a little hazy, Sir. I'm beginning to feel a little blue-ish.

Voice Over: Maintain your positions! We are all apart of this same body, we can't let them destroy it!

Another Bronchial Tube: Intake valves completely blocked. O2... cannot... be... taken. *He quickly passes out*

Immune System Sargent 1: Keep firing men! Destroy the interlopers!

Immune System Sargent 2: For the love of Body, where the hell is all this haze coming from?

Left Lung: That's because we can't get to our reserves of O2, you idiots! Without it everything looks hazy. You have to hold your fire so we can reopen the conduits!

Immune System Sargent 2: NEVER! ITS A TRAP!

Right Lung: YOU WATCH TOO MUCH FUCKING STAR WARS! For the love of Body, hold your fucking fire!

Just as everything seems lost, the area above the lungs and immune system fills with a soft mist. Steroidal Paratroopers drop in and begin spraying the area. The Immune System retreats and the Bronchial tubes are revived.

Immune System Sargent 2: *clearly high* Why were we fighting again? Everything is too pretty to fight.

Immune System Sargent 1: *quickly losing to the effects of the steroids* I know right? Everything is so... red. Such a pretty red. I wanted to be red once.

Immune System Sargent 2: Dude, those lungs look like water balloons. Did you notice?

Immune System Sargent 1: I think you are drunk, Sargent. They most definitely look like heaving red petals, barely hanging on to the flower stems.

Right Lung: Man, that stuff works fast.

A Steroidal Paratrooper: That's what you wanted right? Fast back-up?

Left Lung: Not complaining. Just in awe of how fast your fast is.

A Steroidal Paratrooper: That should keep them occupied for a while. *the Paratroopers retreat further up leaving the lungs and bronchial tubes to assess and reverse any damage*

Right Lung: Its too bad that this peace can't last.

Left Lung: There is no way to convince them that we are part of them is there?

Right Lung: Unfortunately, no. This immune system is too damaged to realize the truth. We just have to continue maintaining our ground.

Left Lung: In a never-ending civil war. Sounds almost poetic, don't you think?

All of Her: Chapter Eighteen

In my first week dating Adam I discover three things. One, he is a suicide risk whilst intoxicated. Two, he is a chronic cheater. Three, he is an amazing lover. When we finally fulfill his "Star Wars" fantasy, I discover, too both my delight and utter astonishment, that he is an even better lover than Clark. I didn't think such a thing was possible, until it happened. Beside the point of course. The chronic cheating and suicidal tendencies are not something I think I can handle.

Partially because I would feel eternally guilty if he died. Partially because he is even more disturbed than I am. And partially because I don't know what I could catch if we weren't using protection. Which frightens me. I don't like being afraid of sex because of what I could catch. Every time we are supposed to meet up he is late and smells of French perfume. A dab of lipstick is always marking his shirt or his cheek. It surprises me sometimes how soon he can go for another round after finding round one elsewhere.

I suppose, as far as the cheating goes, two can play at that game. I can cheat just as easily as he can. Probably even a little easier, being a moderately attractive and sexually available female.

In my second week dating Adam, I discover a problem. The problem is he really is a sweetheart and, as aforementioned, a fantastic lover. When we just hang out, its fabulous. We are best buddies and I enjoy that so much. We go to the adult store and play "Star Wars" dildo fights, with our own sound effects, until they kick us out. He helps do the dishes after dinner, even when I insist that he doesn't have to.

He's actually rather intelligent and he almost always beats me at Scrabble. He's a great guy except for the incessant cheating and a drunken suicide risk. It always comes back to that, of course. Mostly because its a big issue. Okay, its a really big issue.

On nights that I am not with him, I go to the gay bar and flirt with the girls. I strike up a tentative relationship with Julia, one of the cute bartenders. She always wears her vibrant red hair up in a ponytail and she isn't afraid to wear neon colors. She has a distinct affinity for "girly" drinks and this knee-length, orange, pencil skirt with a vibrant white and green rose snaking up the side. She is a great conversationalist and is not afraid to touch on controversial topics. She loves talking about politics and the supernatural.

"Did you know that the 'Bell Witch' is considered to be the only ghost to actually murder someone?" she says one night, pouring me another dirty martini.

"Really?" I say, sipping. "I thought that wasn't actually proven."

"Of course not. How could you prove a ghost killed someone? There aren't any ghostly fingerprints or ghostly DNA to test or look for. But its an interesting theory."

"I suppose if you enjoy that type of thing, yes."

"You don't believe in the supernatural?" she asks, stopping mid-pour.

"I never said that," I say. "I just don't know how 'interesting' this case is because I am not overly familiar with it."

"Its very interesting!" She says and then proceeds to tell me everything there is to know about this particular legend. She insists that she is going to go to the "Bell Witch" cave someday to see it for herself.

When we hang out she is always wanting to play her collection of Estonian rock music for me. Not that I genuinely mind, but it is a bit of a turn off when I'm trying to seduce her. When we finally get down to the naughty bits I discover that she is not very good at it. She tries, valiantly, of course, but fails miserably. I "date" her for only two weeks before we call it quits. Of course we end it amicably so I don't feel awkward whenever I go back to the bar and she is working.

In the meantime, I've still been dating Adam. We go through mood swings like a young girl going through puberty. One day we are fine and the next we are screaming at each other. One day he is fine and the next he is trying to slice his throat in my kitchen. One day we are passionate and the next we can't stand to even look at each other. After three weeks of this, I've had enough.

"Adam, we need to talk." I say, after we have finished eating.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" he asks, helping me clear off the table.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

"As in dating?"

"Yes." I run the water and start sponging off the dishes. At first he doesn't say anything and just places what I have rinsed off in the dishwasher.

"If that is really what you want." He finally says.

"I think it is for the best, don't you?" I say, turning toward him. Again he doesn't say anything. He just nods in acquiescence. I pat his arm and try to smile. I'm surprised that this kind of hurts me too. He attempts a smile and we finish the dishes together before he leaves. After he is gone, I wonder if I should've tried harder. If we should've tried harder. Even though I know that it would've never worked out.

He cheats, he drinks until he is suicidal, he breaks my heart and I'm not even in love with him. Clearly it was time to let go. At least he was kind enough to let go without a fight. On to the next victim. I mean, lover. And this doesn't take me very long at all.

I am out on the town, drinking it up at another bar on the south side of town. I feel even more at home at "The Walrus and the Carpenter" than I do at "Alice's Wonderland." It is here that I meet my next boyfriend, Liam.

Liam is a Scotch-Irish CEO of a major company. His hair is so black it is almost black-blue. He has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and ethereal blue eyes. He looks almost like a young Pierce Brosnan. He even has a slight accent, making him even more irresistible. In short, he is gorgeous, in every sense of the word. We meet during an 80's throwback dance night. We end up making out on the dance floor while a song about dancing with somebody who loves you plays. It doesn't take us long to seek some solitude and we adjourn to his green Mercedes Benz.

That is our first night together. He isn't very impressive as a lover. In fact, he is rather selfish and refuses to let me achieve any satisfaction until he is completely finished. After, as he is buckling his pants back up and I am pulling my skirt back down to my knees, he smiles and gives me a saucy kiss.

"Let's do it again sometime, darling." He says, opening the door for me. I refrain from saying that I'd rather not have sex with him again. Especially not any time soon, but I smile and don't refuse his kisses. I give him my number and we agree to meet up again, this time for lunch.

We meet up at two at a little French restaurant along a man-made canal. He orders duck in a plum-whisky sauce with a Caesar salad. I order a small salad and a braised beef stew. He is very well dressed as he has just come from work on his lunch break. I am less well dressed in bell bottom jeans, a pink polo shirt and white flip-flops. He doesn't seem to mind, but I keep catching him frown at me.

"Is there a problem?" I ask, glancing down to see if I've spilled something on myself.

"No." He says, adjusting his face. "I was just wishing you'd worn that skirt you wore last time. It was easier to get access quickly."

I blush, though I inwardly scold myself for doing so.

"You only have an hour for lunch and it will take too long to eat." I say, taking a bite of my baguette.

"We could've skipped lunch." He winks and takes a bite of his duck. I smile, a little un-easily. I'd really rather not, but I suppose I have no choice.

"Would you like to meet up when you get off work, then? I could make it worth your while."

"I can't tonight. Tomorrow." He says it as though I have no choice but to say yes, without even looking at me. I frown and take another bite of my food.

"What time?" I say, nonchalantly.

"Two. Wear a skirt and no panties. Wear some better shoes too." He never looks up, just bosses me around whilst chewing on his duck. I try to grin, placidly, but find that I am grinding my teeth. It is one thing to assume I have nothing going on tomorrow, but another to tell me what to wear. I don't say a word and we finish eating in silence. This seems to suit him. As we leave the restaurant he pushes me up against his car and kisses me. I kiss him back, because he isn't bad at that, but shy away from his hands scooting down my pants.

"You don't have time." I say, trying not to sound like I'm pleading.

"Don't tell me what I do and do not have time for." he says, rather harshly. He kisses me harder and forces his hand all the way down my pants. I don't resist him, though my skin crawls as he rubs against me. He doesn't do anything except touch me, rather roughly. As I said, he doesn't have time to do more. With a hand still in my pants, he glances at his watch and then puts a hand in his own pants.

Embarrassed, I pray that he is quick with his hand. We aren't even in the car, though we are slightly blocked by it. I expect at any moment we will be caught and my stomach threatens to relieve itself of the braised beef and salad. Luckily for us, he is fast and I try not to lose my lunch. He wipes a little drool from his lips and kisses me again. He smudges some semen on my face, which I take, but do not appreciate. He doesn't even say goodbye, but gets in his car and drives off toward his office.

I don't know what to think or feel as I get into my car. I feel slightly violated. As if I had been forced to stand naked in front of a crowd that inspected me in detail. I go home feeling like I need a shower. I do so, before heading back to the book store.

The next day I don't wear a skirt, though I don't wear any panties. I wear a different pair of sandals, but they aren't that different from what I wore yesterday. I meet him in the parking garage of his office building. As he comes toward my car, I see him slipping something shiny into his pocket. I suspect it might be a wedding ring.

"We're taking my car." He says, flatly. He opens my door for me, but he quickly becomes irked when he sees that I am not wearing a skirt. He takes a little anger out on my car door, shutting it a little harder than necessary and, when we get to his car, he does not open the door for me again. He doesn't say a word as he drives us to a motel a couple blocks down the street.

"I could've met you here." I say, quietly.

"It won't hurt you to walk back, its only a couple blocks." He says, matter-of-factly. I keep quiet.

He pays for the room and takes my hand, leading me to it. Once we are inside his displeasure at my choice of clothing is made evident.

"I told you to wear a skirt." he says, pushing me back onto the bed. At least he unbuttons my pants before yanking them down. I hear a small ripping sound and begin to protest, but he covers my mouth. I think about biting him for a moment, but I am then thoroughly distracted as he enters without any kind of foreplay and I am completely unprepared. I make a small noise of disapproval, because it isn't exactly pleasant for me, but he ignores me. He takes what he wants and then, when he is done, he buttons his pants up and kisses me goodbye. He doesn't say a word before he leaves the room.

I sit up to assess the damage to my pants and to my person. There is a little blood, but not any worse than when I lost my virginity. There is a small tear just under the back pocket of my pants, but other than that they are not the worse for wear. I don't know what to do, except sit there. I think for a moment to call my mother and Brad, but I can't bring myself to. I am too ashamed to do that. I think to call Clark, but I don't want to bring him into this mess. So I call Noah.

"This is Noah." he says, brightly.

"Noah, can you come get me." I say, trying not to cry.

"Abe? What's wrong?"

"I just, I don't know what happened. Please, come get me." I give him the address to where I am and manage to pull my pants up. I keep telling myself that I wasn't actually assaulted. I came here for sex. That was the point. But I can't stop the feeling that I have been severely violated. I get up and sit in a chair provided. I sit there, frozen, until Noah shows up.

"What happened?" he says, as soon as he opens the door. He sees me, sitting in the chair, positioned as far away from the bed as possible and doesn't say another word. He helps me stand and leads me to his car. Once we are there he holds me as I sob, uncontrollably. I don't cry because it happened or even because of the pain. I cry because a part of me feels as though I deserved this. I have been whoring it up, this is what happens. I tell myself I won't see Liam again, but I know I will. I know I can't end it just yet.

Noah takes me to my car and then follows me home. When we get there he makes me something to eat and cuddles with me on the couch. I don't tell him what happened. I don't tell him anything. I just sit quietly, curled into myself, even shying away from his touch somewhat. He stays with me all day and even all night. He doesn't leave me until I ask him to go home the next day. Even then he hesitates.

"What's going on, Abra?" he asks. "You call me and ask me to come and get you from some motel on the south side of town. No explanations. Your car is a couple blocks away in a parking garage. You are practically catatonic, you shy away from my touch. What the hell happened?"

"I had a fight with a boyfriend, that's all." I say, not daring to look at him for fear he'll see through the lie. If he knows that I'm lying he doesn't say anything. He just hugs me tightly and goes home.

That night I go out to "The Walrus and the Carpenter" and I dance with a cute stranger. We make out in a corner for a little while before we take each other's hands and begin to head out of the bar. I shove all my fears down deep and act like nothing has happened. I even manage a smile until I see Liam come in. He sees me, sees me holding hands with another guy and I can practically see the anger rolling off of him in waves.

He comes up, grabs my free hand and tries to yank me toward the door. The other guy keeps hold for a moment and then I tear free of both of them.

"Whore," he says, venomously.

"What does it matter, you are married anyway." I say. "Why should you care what I do?"

He grabs me again and pulls me out the door. He shoves me toward his car and I stumble.

"How dare you?" he says. He pulls back and slaps me as hard as he can. My head jerks to the side and I taste blood in my mouth. It takes a moment for my vision to clear. I shake my head and hold a hand to my lip. He pulls back to hit me again, but a familiar hand stops him. He turns and gets punched in the mouth by Adam. Adam punches him again and shoves him to the ground. Once he is on the ground he kicks him in the ribs and grabs my hand. He pulls me away and we run to his car, before Liam even has a chance to catch his breath.

We drive off, but we don't go far. Adam pulls over and before I realize what is happening I am in his arms, crying.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asks, brushing a loose strand of hair out of my face. He lifts my chin and examines my lip. I have a cut from biting it when Liam slapped me. He kisses it gently and wipes away a stray tear.

"What were you doing there?" I ask. He already knows I'm not okay, why answer that question when I have so many myself.

"Drinking, like you." he says, smiling. "I saw you heading toward the door and then saw that asshole drag you out. I decided to follow, in case he tried to do something. I'm just sorry I didn't get there quick enough to stop him from getting the first hit off. I'm sorry, Abra, I tried."

I don't say anything, I just curl into his arms and cry some more. I am shaking.

"Don't leave me." I say. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't." He says, quietly. He kisses my hair and drives me home. When we get to my apartment, he carries me up, like a bride on her wedding night. He helps me change into pajamas, though I hate for him to see me. I have bruises from my last encounter with Liam along my sides and hips. He doesn't say anything, but I can see him getting angry.

Once I am changed, he turns on a movie and makes me a cup of cocoa. He holds me tightly, but gently. He doesn't leave, though I can tell that he'd like to go and continue beating the shit out of Liam. He stays with me all night, like Noah did the night before. He makes arrangements for a friend of his to bring my car home the next day. He stays with me the next day and the day after that. He leaves me for a short while to get a change of clothes from his place, but he returns within an hour. Total, he stays with me four days.

On the fourth day, I kiss him. I kiss him until he is as eager as I am. I can't stand it, I have to purge myself of Liam. I have to. I kiss him until he can't stand it anymore and he carries me to my bedroom. Instead of just sex, for the first time in a long time, we make love. He is tender, only too aware of the horrific bruising that patterned my body for a short time. He takes his time and kisses me, whispering sweet nothings to me. We aren't meant to be together forever, but for the moment we are perfectly imperfect and for a few moments I can be in love with him.

He leaves that night, to go home and change. I tell him that I will be fine. I never let Liam know where I lived and that was the last time I would go to "The Walrus and the Carpenter." I will just stay close to home from now on.

"I'll come check on you later, then." He kisses me goodbye. We don't say anything about what happened at the bar or what happened between us. I know he felt what I did, but we don't mention it. We don't ever speak of it, actually. It is as though it never happened, though it is a moment I will cherish for the rest of my life. When I needed him, he was there.

We decide to date again, even though we both know that it won't last. We end up being a couple for another week before Adam asks me to forget him. Even though he says that we will still be friends, that is the last time I see him. He becomes a beautiful memory, just somebody I used to know.

All of Her: Chapter Seventeen

I take a shower and throw my hair into a messy French braid. I slip into a sexy pair of underwear, but other than that I don't dress up. I skip the bra, opt for an old "Star Wars" t-shirt and a pair of my comfiest jeans. It won't take much to seduce him. I already have the perfect set-up. We've made out before. I gave him my number. I wonder who else I gave my number to that night? It doesn't matter. This will be easy.

I head to the beach and, for nostalgia's sake, I bring along the glow stick kites. I should ask Clark to come and fly kites with me again. I miss him. I miss Jahan. I miss David and Alice. I can't let myself miss them. I'm supposed to be heartless. Heartless people can't miss someone. Especially since it is their own fault that those people are gone.

When I get to the beach, I feel a delicious shiver crawl down my spine at the memories of the last time I was here. I think fondly of that first one night stand. Well, my only one night stand. As far as I know. Every time I've passed out drunk, I've woken up clothed and alone. Totally beside the point of course. I wonder if I'll ever run into that handsome fellow again.

Adam is easy to spot, besides the fact that he is the only one on the beach. He is gorgeous and trim, wearing a "SpongeBob" t-shirt and board shorts. He is also an Albino African-American man with the most beautiful eyes and long ivory dreadlocks, the tips of which are dyed a dark purple. He smiles at me and waves. He jogs up to me and I can't help but notice how fit he is. He glows in the moonlight, a shining pearl of a man. When he comes closer I can see that he is also quite tall. Standing a whole head higher than myself. How could I have forgotten him?

"Abra?" He asks, though I can tell that he knows its me.

"Adam?" I ask, winking. "Its nice to meet you when I'm not drunk."

He laughs, a deep and rich baritone laugh. He smiles again.

"To be fair, I was a little over the edge myself that night. I'm just glad you agreed to meet up with me."

"My pleasure, of course." We set up the blanket and he helps me bury the kite handles in the sand. After we are settled on the blanket, I pour us some Bailey's into a couple plastic cups. We touch them to each other and say cheers, before taking a healthy swig. I feel the alcohol warming every inch of me, until I feel like I am filled with sunshine. It makes sense in this context; I am the sun and he is the moon. I caress his arm and smile up at him.

I lean against him and we sit quietly for a little while, just watching the kites dancing. I don't really know what to say to him. I'd like to skip the awkward small talk and go directly to what we clearly both want, but I am unsure how to take that step.

"I've never done this before," I admit, looking up into his pale eyes. This isn't entirely true, but he doesn't need to know that.

"I suppose we are supposed to make small talk and call it a first date. Or we could just call it a date where we skip the small talk and go straight into the sex." He smiles at me and then kisses me on the lips. He tastes like the alcohol and something sweeter. I don't stop his hands from roaming. I don't stop him from pulling at my clothes.

He kisses me breathless. I kiss down his ivory neck and help him take off his shirt, revealing gorgeous muscles and creamy skin. I push him back, so that he is lying on the blanket, and I just look at him. He is so captivating. I don't think I've ever met someone as beautiful as he is.

I stop all together and a frustrated moan escapes his lips. I smile, wickedly.

"Don't you want to wait just a little longer?" I say. I realize that things are getting a little too repetitive for my tastes. I can't just hop from bed to bed, or in this case beach spot to beach spot. I need something to switch it up, change the feel of things.

"No," he moans, trying to pull me down on top of him. I oblige and straddle him, but refuse to move, though he tries to move my hips. I smile again and kiss him hard.

"Let's play a game." I say.

"What kind of game?" He asks. He looks aroused and intrigued.

"We don't sleep together tonight, but we do sleep together soon. If we wait until our second date, I promise it will be worth your while. Whatever fantasy you have, I promise to fulfill it on our second date, if you agree that we don't have sex tonight."

He raises one white eyebrow and looks at me quizzically.

"Any fantasy?" He asks, skeptically.

"Any." I say and kiss him again. He moans, but he doesn't try to change my mind.

"So what do you suggest we do tonight then?" He asks. He sits up so that I am in his lap and my legs are wrapped around his waist. He holds me close like this and rests his forehead against mine.

"Be my boyfriend and I'll tell you." I say, winking and kissing his nose. He smiles and kisses my eyes.

"Okay, I'm game. I haven't had a steady girlfriend in a few months."

"Well, lover, let's go back to my place and I'll fix us a late dinner." I kiss him again. And again.

"A very late dinner." he says, glancing at his watch. "What are we going to have?"

"What do you like?" I say.

"Just about anything really. I'm not picky." He has lifted up my shirt and he kisses the place between my breasts. He lightly drags his teeth across my chest and I shiver. I feel him move under me.

"Stop." I say, giggling. "Next time, I promise."

He sighs and we disentangle ourselves. We gather up the blanket, the bottle of Bailey's and the kites. He follows me back to my place in his beat up Ford.

Once we are back at my place I begin to fix us something to eat. I fry up some green tomatoes, some turkey bacon and toast several slices of thick homemade potato bread. Once these things are done I melt some provolone cheese onto the bread and add some crisp romaine lettuce. I haven't made "fancy" BLT's, as I call them, since David moved out. I put a very thin layer of honey mustard on mine and a thin layer of regular mayo on Adam's. With the sandwiches, I serve some sweet potato French fries and a small slice of store bought chocolate pie.

I pour us a couple glasses of coconut milk and set the coffee table in front of the couch. Once everything is laid out, I turn on some music and light a couple small candles. I turn out all the lights and then lead Adam to the coffee table where we sit cross-legged across from each other.

"What do you think?" I ask, after he takes a big bite of his sandwich. He smiles while he chews and nods.

"It delicious." He says, once he has swallowed. "Where did you learn this recipe?"

"I made it up." I say, munching on a sweet potato fry. "My ex was tired of the same old, same old. So I started trying to think of things he'd like."

"And he still left you, knowing you could cook like this?" He looks surprised that anyone would leave me on purpose.

"I'm sure his wife can cook just as well as I can. I don't cook very often anymore though. I usually go out to eat."

"Do you miss him?" He asks, putting his sandwich down and looking at me intently.

"Some days, yes. When I wake up alone in the mornings, or when I am doing something that we used to do. On days like that, I miss him more than I could explain."

He nods and takes another bite of his sandwich. I am glad that he doesn't say anything to comfort me. I've had my fill of empty words of sympathy. He does look at me with a sad understanding in his eyes and, every once in a while, he will reach out and stroke my cheek. We enjoy our dinner and then play a game of Scrabble. He beats me, twice. We wash the dishes together and he wipes soap suds all over my face. We laugh and then slow dance in my dining room to a sad Japanese song.

At the end of our evening together, I thank him for everything and give him a kiss goodbye.

"When can I see you again?" he asks.

"Whenever you want to." I say, smiling. For the first time, its a genuine smile. I haven't felt this good since I was with Clark.

"What about my fantasy?" He says, winking at me.

"What do you want?" I ask, leaning against the wall next to the door.

"You dressed up as Princess Leia and me as Han Solo." He looks pointedly at my t-shirt and then back up at my face.

"Leia as Jabba's slave? Or just regular cinnamon roll hair style Leia?" I say, laughing.

"Jabba's slave. Metal bikinis are so sexy, don't you think?" He winks again, kisses me again and waves as he heads down the stairs to the parking lot. I lean against the doorframe and watch him drive off. He waves out the window of his car at me.

I sigh as I close the door. I keep finding nice, understanding, guys who make me wish I could just settle down with them. Maybe I should start trying to pick up jerks? I ponder this as I slip into some fuzzy pajama bottoms and another old t-shirt. I slip into bed, Snuggles jumping up and then curling up beside me.

As I fall asleep, I try to think of where I can go to find a Princess Leia slave girl outfit.

After work I begin my quest to fulfill Adam's fantasy. The outfit turns out to be less difficult to find than I originally thought. I go to the "Theatrics and Time Trips" store downtown where I am able to find the exact outfit for relatively cheap. All the guys in the store look as though they are about to drool as they watch me go to the dressing room to try it on. I laugh, inwardly, at how many of these guys I could get to sleep with me just by stepping out of the dressing room. They all watch as I go up to purchase the outfit and the cashier can barely stammer out my total.

I don't travel far, however. I go to the "Garden of Eden" adult store, down the street, and purchase a collar and chains to complete the outfit. The only thing left to do is style my hair, which I'll wait to do until I have heard from Adam. If he is a typical man, he will wait three or four days to call me. Savoring the sweet agony of waiting. Or, if he can't stand the waiting he'll call me tonight or tomorrow.

On cue, as I am driving home, he calls me.

"Can I see you tonight?" he asks. I can hear the excitement in his voice.

"But I haven't gotten the outfit yet!" I lie, smiling at myself in the rearview mirror.

"You couldn't find one so that we could meet up later?"

"Well, I suppose I might be able to. What time do you want to meet up?" I enjoy dragging it out a little bit.

"Ten like we did last night, if that works for you."

"I suppose that will be alright." I say, sounding a little put out.

"If that doesn't work I can wait until tomorrow, I suppose. I'm just so excited to see you, girl."

I giggle at the wheedling tone in his voice. I am truly wicked. I would never have made David wait, unless I was sick and sometimes not even then. But I have entered a new world where sex can be used as a weapon and I am the one wielding the proverbial whip.

"Well, if you truly don't care, let's wait until tomorrow. I need time to perfect the hairstyle and find a costume." I can hear him suppressing a moan, but he doesn't argue.

"If you want, I can bring dinner." He says. "I'd hate to make you work too hard."

"That would be lovely. I promise to be the perfect slave girl for you."

We don't talk much longer before I arrive home. I carry in my parcels and go into the bathroom to start on my Leia hairstyle. Once I think I have it, I pop in "Return of the Jedi", my favorite out of the original trilogy, and make some popcorn. I curl up on the sofa and lust after Luke and Leia.

I realize, with excited anticipation, I've never done anything like this before. I never dressed up for David. He could never stand for me to be clothed long enough to have dressed up. Clark never expressed any desire for me to play act, either. As to Jahan, she was new to sex as it was, without adding any extra kink to it. I find that I am just as excited by the prospect as I imagine Adam is.

To ease my excited energy, I do several loads of laundry and clean the apartment. I want everything to be perfect for him. I fix some lemon pepper salmon, a small vanilla mocha tiramisu and an artichoke and spinach salad, which I pack up to be re-heated tomorrow. I download the soundtrack to "Star Wars", the original trilogy, to a CD, and make it easily accessible.

With everything prepared I take a bath in rose water and oatmeal. I give myself a manicure/pedicure and I wear an avocado mask to bed. In the morning I wash my face and fix the little spots where my hair came out of its styling during the night. I have a light breakfast of poached eggs and toast. I go to work, feeling a little silly with my hair in Leia fashion, but it can't be helped. It would take to long to fix it after work.

On my lunch hour I call Adam and we agree to meet at my place around seven. When he mentions bringing dinner I tell him that I've already taken care of it. The only thing I ask of him is to come dressed for the part.

Everything is ready when I get home, except for me. I spritz a little sweet perfume all over my body before changing into the outfit. I warm up dinner, turn on the music and complete a few finishing touches. At seven, I am ready for Adam in every sense of the word. I am so excited I feel as though I will jump out of my skin.

I look at the clock at eight and wonder where the hell he is. This is his fantasy, shouldn't he be on time? Or maybe this is part of the fantasy he didn't share?

At nine, I begin to worry, thinking maybe he has been in some sort of accident. I text him, but receive no reply. I try calling, but only get his voicemail.

At ten, I begin to get angry. He could at least have called and told me something else came up. He could've at least done that much. Unless he was in a really bad accident. My feelings switch between anger and worry for this man I've been dating for three days.

At eleven, I give up and put the food back in the fridge. I turn off the music, change out of my outfit and take down my hair. I clean everything up from when I was warming the food and I put away the chains and costume.

At midnight, I fall asleep on the couch; torn between being furious and worried.

At one, I wake up to knocking on my door. Sleepily, I rub my eyes and stumble to the door. I look through the peephole and see Adam leaning against the door with his head down. I can't tell if he is in costume or not. I almost don't open the door, but I am angry enough to want to confront him. I fling the door open so that he stumbles and almost falls into the apartment. As soon as he falls past me I can smell the alcohol on him.

"Where the hell have you been?" I demand, shutting the door.

"I've been waiting to rescue the fair princess." He says, drunkenly. He stumbles and lands face first on the couch. He is dressed in full Han Solo regalia. I stifle the urge to laugh at him. He makes such a comic picture dressed like that and drunker than Winston Churchill. However, I don't know what he is like drunk and the last thing I want is him becoming violent.

"Adam, we were supposed to meet up at seven! It's one in the morning now. Where have you been?"

"I was out with friends." he says, attempting to lift himself off the couch and failing miserably. I help him sit up. When he is upright I see lipstick all over his shirt and his face. On his neck is a mark like a hickey. I suddenly reach a new level of infuriated.

"I have been waiting for you for six hours to fulfill your fantasy and you were out with another woman?"

"Women." He corrects. The man has balls, I'll give him that. I could kill him. I'm surprised that it actually hurts my feelings that he was off cheating on me.

"And were they worth it?" I ask.

"I tried to get away, Abra, I really did." he says, pitifully. Without warning he bursts into tears and is on the floor clinging to my leg. "I'm so sorry, please forgive me. Don't leave me. I couldn't stand it."

"Get off of me." I say, shaking my leg. "You should've thought about all that before you went out with your 'friends'."

He stands up and kisses me sloppily. I pull away and he grabs my arms, pulling me closer to him. He tries to kiss me again, but I move my head so that he grazes my ear. He starts pulling at my clothes and I slap him. This seems to sober him for a moment and he collapses on the couch and begins to sob in earnest.

"Please, Abra, give me a second chance. I promise, it won't happen again. I promise to be faithful. Please, I don't think I can go on if I'm alone again."

"You made your choice, Adam. It's obvious that you weren't actually interested in pursuing a relationship with me or this so-called fantasy. Did you do this just to humiliate me?"

"No, I swear, that wasn't it at all. I promise that I really wanted it. I still do. Please, just give me a second chance."

"I can't believe you are asking me to give you a second chance when you have just shown your true colors. We've been together three days and you couldn't keep yourself from finding another source of company."

With a jarring motion, he comes to his feet and goes toward the kitchen. I follow him asking what he thinks he is doing. He grabs a knife from the drawer and jerks it across his wrist. With a stifled scream I try to grab the knife from his hands, throwing my body between him and the knife. He tries to push me out of the way and makes another stab at himself. I intercept it and receive a small slice on my hand. When the blood pools up, he drops the knife and falls to his knees. I kneel down with him and tear a strip off of my shirt to wrap around his wrist.

The cut isn't deep and quickly the wound begins to scab. Not taking any chances I cleanse it with rubbing alcohol and triple anti-biotic ointment. I then wrap it up and lead him back into the living room. I have put a band-aid on my own cut and we sit very quietly on the couch, his hands in mine.

"Don't ever do that again." I say, quietly. Even I'm not sure which incident I am talking about, but I'd prefer that none of this happen again. He doesn't say anything, just nods. He rests his head on my shoulder and I hum a lullaby to him. It is now two in the morning and I am physically and mentally exhausted. I stand up and I wince when I see him flinch as though I were going to hit him. I hold out my hand to him and pull him up when he takes it.

We go to my room where I help him out of his ruined Han Solo outfit and into a t-shirt and shorts that David left behind and I couldn't stand to get rid of. I put his clothes into the washer and when I come back he is fast asleep. I crawl into bed next to him and sigh heavily.

This is going to be an interesting relationship, though I am sure interesting isn't the right word for it.

All of Her: Chapter Sixteen

I go out to brunch with Noah, though I'd rather stay home and sleep. Even though I'd rather wallow in my own misery with no outside interruptions. Even though I'd rather do anything else in the world right now. It would be rude to ignore an invitation for brunch from my bestest best gay guy friend. Who puts up with all my bullshit. And my self-destruction.

Speaking of, maybe it is a good idea to be out and about. I could pick up another stranger; drag myself down further. There is a world of endless possibilities out there and I am stuck in first gear.

At least he seems to be much happier than we were the other night. If he remembers it, he shows no outward signs. I don't blame him for wanting to block it out, if that is what he is doing. It could just be that he was ridiculously drunk has no memory of anything other than waking up in bed with me.

"You look down this morning. What's up?" he says.

"Nothing really, just frustrated is all." I say.

He nods and orders a white chocolate mocha frappuccino and a pretzel bread sandwich. He smiles at me while I order a green tea chai and a wild strawberry and spinach salad. We sit in comfortable silence for a short time before he speaks again.

"I was thinking. You really need to start taking your own advice. And taking my advice." He takes a sip of his drink. I already know what is getting ready to come.

"Look, Noah, I appreciate what you are trying to do. But you know you aren't going to dissuade me. I'm too stubborn for that. Why can't we just enjoy a nice brunch before I have to face any consequences for my actions?" I sip my beverage and take a big bite of my salad. I already know what he wants to say. I am too tired to deal with a lecture.

"Why do you never want to face what is going on? You can't continue to live your life in the dark, pretending there is no such thing as light. You have to face the facts eventually."

"But I don't right now. Not unless you try to force me too. Which seems to be your intention. And if that is the only reason you wanted to have brunch, I'll leave now and save your breath. I guarantee that if you try now, the effort will be wasted." I take another bite of my salad and calmly signal the waitress.

"Don't be a child, Abe." he says.

"Yes, I'd like a to-go box for the rest of this please. As well as the check."

"Come on, Abra."

"Separate checks, please." I pull my wallet out of my purse and begin counting out the money for my portion of the bill. I even pull out a little extra for the tip, though our waitress didn't get to wait on us for very long.

"Abra, seriously, knock it off. You are a grown woman, act like one!" I stop and look at him. He is red in the face, trying to control a burst of temper. He has always been tempestuous. Such a lovely face, he has. I reach across the table and pat his cheek.

"Sorry, darling. I am a grown woman and I can, therefore, make my own decisions, be they wrong or right. I am going to do as I please, you know that. You can't stop me. You have tried, valiantly in fact. You have given it your best effort, now let it go. Let it drop before you have an aneurysm over it." I stand up and grab my things, making for the door. He grabs my arm and pulls me toward him. I do not face him, letting him hold my arm behind me, my back facing him.

"Abra, I can't give it up. I care about you, please. Please, just stop before its too late." I don't turn, but I can hear the sadness in his voice. There is sadness in my own as I pull my arm away.

"Its already too late." I don't look back as I walk out the door.

I walk home to my empty apartment. I lock the door behind me and sit on the couch. Snuggles comes up and meows at me. I reach down to pet him and end up pulling him up next to me. Its too early in the day to go to the bar, which I fully intend to do, so Snuggles and I watch a movie. I finish my salad and my drink from the restaurant. I unplug my phone and power off my cell. I don't feel like talking to anyone and I know Noah is going to try call eventually. He always does.

I play around on my computer and listen to music. I have changed so much, God and the saints can't help me now. All of the ropes holding me back have been undone. I wish David could see just what he's done to me. What I've done to myself because of him. He wouldn't care, I know he wouldn't. I wish he would. I wish he'd see just what a mess he's made. I wish Alice would see it and feel ashamed. I wish they would both beg for forgiveness.

It wouldn't matter if they did, though. I would deny it. I could never forgive them. I wish them all the unhappiness I have felt since that day in the church. Since I discovered the truth behind all the lies. I'm spending so much energy being angry I can't see what I'm really doing to myself and to my friends, to my family.

As the day wears on, I begin to get ready for a night out. I'm going back to "Alice's Wonderland" and maybe I'll find some other stranger to seduce. Maybe I'll find that cute Korean again and bring him home with me. Endless possibilities lie before me.

I don't dress with as much care as I did the last time. I put in a pair of sparkly earrings, a shimmering lipstick and glitter mascara. I put on my favorite pair of bright white jeans and a rhinestone encrusted blouse. I slip into a pair of bejeweled flats and decorate my arms with shiny metal bracelets. Tonight I intend to shine under those bright lights. For better or worse, I will make a lasting impression.

I pick out a sequined clutch before kissing Snuggles goodbye and heading out the door. I hail a taxi and arrive just as the club comes alive. I am filled with pleasure as I enter and see the cute Korean gentleman from last time. I am filled with even more delight as all eyes look at me, sparkling and radiant in the darkness. The girls look at me jealously and the men admiringly. Even he stops and stares at me. I wonder if he recognizes me. I feel like Cinderella as I head toward the bar.

I find myself in a bit of a pickle as I realize that I have completely forgotten the cute Korean's name. Damn. He heads my way, almost as soon as I sit down at the bar. I watch with growing anticipation and nerves. Why can't I think of his name? It was a one syllable name! How difficult can it be to remember?

He sits next to me and hands his card to the bartender.

"How are you?" he asks.

"Well, and you?" We have to practically shout as the music pumps through the speakers. I smile, my most flirty smile and take a sip of a drink. I don't even know what I'm drinking, its just a drink that the bartender handed me.

"Much better now that you are here." He winks and orders a drink for us. I laugh because I haven't even finished the freebie the bartender handed me.

We drink for a little bit before heading to the dance floor. I love the way he dances, all over me and so much more than just the arm dancing that so many other guys do. I sway against him and dip down. I don't know how long we dance, but he is the only one I dance with all night.

We take a break and I get more to drink. I drink until I know that I will forget half the night. I hope I forget everything. After my seventh Cherry Pomegranate margarita, I dance some more. Well, I think I'm dancing. In reality, however, I am falling gracefully. I give up after a little bit and head back over to the bar. I sit down and drain another glass of alcohol.

"Baby, you're lookin' fine! I'll have you open all night like you're I-HOP." says a voice behind me. I turn around to see a guy about my age trying to pick me up. I'm drunk, but I'm not quite drunk enough to be impressed with that line. Especially since he just stole it from the song that is blaring through the speakers currently.

"Excuse me?" I say, an eyebrow raised.

"Is it full of myself to want you full of me?" He tries to slip a hand up my thigh.

"I think I've had my fill, actually." With that quip, I get up to go back to the dance floor. He grabs my arm in a hard grip, turning me to look at him. If not for the bad pick up line and the current abuse to my arm I probably would be a little more interested. However, at this point I am very annoyed and getting to the point of kneeing him in the balls.

"I didn't say you could leave," He says. His face is close to mine like we are going to kiss. His breath smells like liver and onions. Speaking of liver, he has some stuck between his teeth.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that I needed your permission." I say and yank my arm out of his grip. I begin to walk away again, this time toward the door. I hear jerk-face following behind me. This isn't going to be good.

He grabs me again and shakes me a little. That's when my handsome gentleman comes up.

"Is there a problem?" He asks, very politely. He looks at me and completely ignores the brute trying to force me to go with him.

"Fuck off, asshole." says the brute.

"Where do you think you're going with my girlfriend?" asks my handsome gentleman. I am almost too drunk to catch what he just said. However, I'm not stupid and I play along.

"This bitch is your girlfriend?" laughs the bully. He seems to think that no one would want to date a gorgeous Korean guy. How could I prefer anyone but him?

"Yes. And I'd prefer that you not call her a bitch or we may have a problem." The brute loosens his grip on my arm and focuses on my defender. Out of nowhere he takes a swing at him and my hero ducks just in time. When he comes back up he decks the brute in his face and a full out brawl begins. Once the bouncers have pulled them apart the brute has a broken nose and is bawling like a baby. My hero has a busted lip, but little else. I grab a napkin, go to him and gently press it to his lip. He winces, but he smiles at me.

"Let's go," I say. He nods and we leave the brute lying on the floor howling in rage. We hail a taxi and go back to my place, where I provide him with an ice pack for his lip.

"Thanks," he says, pressing it gently to his mouth.

"No, thank you for defending me against that jerk. I really appreciate it." I go to the cabinet and bring out a bottle of Bailey's and beginning drinking again. I'm drunk, but not completely wasted yet. I need to be after that excitement.

"Why are you so hell-bent on being drunk?" he asks, trying to take the bottle from me.

"Because I can't stand who I am otherwise." I say simply. I'm rather honest when I'm drunk. "I don't want to remember any of this in the morning. I just want to be so hung-over I stay in bed all day."

"What about you can't you stand?" he asks.

"Everything now. I used to be someone I admired. Now I'm just a whore and a godforsaken drunk." I take another gulp of my drink.

"You aren't a whore." he says. However, it is no use defending me against myself. Especially since I'm drunk.

"You don't know that. You don't even know me. I could seduce you right now and prove it."

"You couldn't seduce me, unless I wanted to be seduced. And I may not know you well, but I can sense things about people."

"What are you psychic?" I say, nastily.

"No. I just know that a whore wouldn't hesitate before going into a club. I know that a whore would've taken the first guy up as soon as he showed up. A whore wouldn't have hesitated to take that asshole's bait."

"It was a horrible pick up line."

"You are too picky to be a whore, then."

"Shut up!" I say. "You still know nothing about me."

"No, I don't. But I'd like to."

"No you don't. You just want to get in my pants. Which is fine, I'd like to see what you are working with myself. So just drop the act, skip the foreplay and let's go."

"I'm serious, I'd like to get to know you. Not so I can have sex with you. Not for any fake reasoning. I truly, honestly, want to get to know you. The real you. Not the one who claims to be a 'whore and a godforsaken drunk'."

"I'm an accountant. I work at a book store. I have a best gay friend. My ex-fiancé left me waiting at the church on our wedding day for my ex-best friend. That is all there is to know."

"That's not all there is to you, but its a start." He smiles a lopsided smile, his swollen lip impeding a full smile. I don't smile. I drink some more. He tries to get me to talk some more, but I refuse and after it becomes apparent that we aren't going to do anything but sit while I drink he gets up to leave. I stand, unsteady, and wobble over to the door. He kisses my cheek and I slam the door behind him.

There is really no reason that I should be mad at him. I'm not actually mad, I suppose. My night has just gone all to hell and I still feel like I'm not drunk enough to survive it. I pass out on the couch, my bottle of Bailey's in my hand.

I wake up, sixteen hours later, to a knock on my door. My head feels like it is full of cotton and my mouth tastes like an old gym shoe. My body aches from sleeping half off the couch for so long. I have to pee, really bad. I stumble to my feet and wince. Everything screams at me and the knocking produces a pounding in my cotton ball brain.

"Abra!" says a voice on the other side of the door. It sounds more muffled than it should to my addled head.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." I murmur and slowly shuffle toward the door. I don't unhook the chain, which I don't remember putting on last night, and crack the door to see who it is.

However, it is all in my head, because there is no one at the door. I'm losing my mind, I think. I stumble towards the bathroom as fast as I can, before I make a puddle on the floor. I make it in time, but I hear a knocking on the door again.

"You've got to be kidding me." I say. I flush and wash my hands, taking my time to the door. I have no idea who it could be. I glance at the clock and see that it is a little after seven. What the hell happened last night? I vaguely remember a fight or something. I remember drinking myself to sleep.

"Abra!" says the voice on the other side of the door.

"I'm coming, keep your pants on!" I shout. I unchain the door and yank it open. "What?"

I startle Noah, mid-knock. He holds his nose as he walks by me into the apartment.

"You reek of alcohol, Abe. What the hell have you been doing? Bathing in it?"

"No, I just had a few drinks last night." I pull my shirt up to sniff it and then hold my nose too. I do reek.

"I've been trying to call you all day. You didn't go to work, your Mom didn't know where you were. I was beginning to think something horrible had happened."

"You called my mom? Why would you do that? Now she is going to worry about me." I plop back down on the sofa.

"She's already worried about you. You haven't been going to work. You haven't been going anywhere but the bar. You are going to get fired, Abe."

"I can take care of myself, Noah. I'm fine."

"I hope so, Abra. I would hate for you to lose everything you've worked so hard for because of this stupid quest you are on to ruin yourself."

"I'm fine, Noah. I'm not going to lose my job. I haven't missed a day in three years, I'm sure missing a couple days isn't going to ruin my career. Go home, so I can take a shower."

He kisses my cheek and goes to the door.

"Be careful, Abra." With that, he closes the door and I am alone again.

I go plug in my phone and power up my cell. I never turned them back on, which is why I didn't hear the phone ringing. I have twelve missed calls. Two from my mother, two from Anna, three from Kevin, one from a number I don't recognize and four from Noah.

I have a couple voice messages as well, which I listen to. One of which is from the number I didn't recognize.

"Hey, this is Adam. We met at the bar the other night and I was just calling to see if you'd like to go out to dinner sometime. Hit me up, if you're interested."

I don't remember giving out my number to anyone. But it can't hurt to call him back. After all, I am on a "stupid quest" to ruin myself. I don't listen to any of the other messages, because I know what they'll say and call the number back.

"This is Adam." says the voice from my message.

"Hey, Adam. This is Abra. You called and left me a message. Apparently we met at the bar the other night?"

"Oh hey! Yeah, we did. Don't you remember? We made out for a little while and you gave me your number."

"Oh. Of course I remember. I was just checking to see if you remembered." I am totally bluffing, I have no idea what he is talking about.

"Well, I just wanted to see if you'd like to go out sometime. I mean, if you want to that is."

"I'd love to. Would you like to meet up tonight?"

"Absolutely. Where do you want to meet up?"

"How about the beach?"

We agree to meet at ten at the beach. I will bring my blanket, a few condoms and what is left of my Bailey's. Maybe tonight, I'll get lucky.

All of Her: Chapter Fifteen

I skip out on work to go and sing "Christmas in July" karaoke at the gay bar. I, along with sixty other queens, dress up to sing "Santa Baby" while twirling around a candy cane striped pole. I've always thought of going, but never would before. Being self-destructive for stupid reasons seems to free a lot of things. Including my inner wild child, "Santa Baby" singing, stripper pole hugging slut.

I have been doing a lot of things that I wouldn't normally do. The break-up with Jahan has hit me a lot harder than I ever thought it would. Should I be surprised? Probably not. I know that I feel this way because of the guilt. The notice of her intended marriage was in the paper last week. The young man she is marrying seemed very nice looking in the picture. Though I could only see her eyes, her whole demeanor gave truth to her misery. I kept the picture and hid it away in my chest of drawers next to the poems she had written and the poem from Jahan Khatun she had borrowed. Cherished small mementos of our time together hidden away from sight.

Going to karaoke is one of the many things I have tried, including moping about the house listening to music. I still have yet to find a song for her. Of course I don't think there is a song to quite fit this situation. It probably doesn't help that I keep thinking about things from her point of view. It hurts to think about how much she hates me now. It hurts even more to acknowledge that it is my own fault that she does. I didn't have to sleep with David. I didn't have to end it the way I did. There are no time machines for me to fix my mistakes. Nothing to gain those moments again, so I will just have to move on.

I patiently wait for my turn on the pole, lounging at the bar. A couple of cute girls wink at me and make kissing expressions, but I mostly ignore them. I am waiting for Noah to show up. At the last minute I called him to come and sing with me. I was pleasantly surprised when he said yes. He has been very reclusive recently, a little down. I'm not entirely sure what is going on, but I think I have an idea. He hasn't mentioned his hunky boyfriend in a week.

When he comes in I'm a little startled by how bad he looks. Normally he is so clean cut and crisp in the way he dresses. Today he looks like he hasn't shaved, his light brown hair is bedraggled and his John Lennon glasses aren't even on straight.

"Honey, what the hell happened to you? You look like you got into a fight with your bed!" I say, attempting to not fall off of my bar stool and trip over my too tall hooker shoes.

"We broke up." He says simply. Then he orders a strong, multicolored, drink.

"What happened? I thought you guys were doing really well."

"He just doesn't want me anymore. I'm not who and what he wants me to be in, so I'm not what he wants." I rub his back as a few tears slip into his drink. He downs his drink in a couple gulps before ordering another.

"Shouldn't you take it slow, honey? Maybe you should go home. Watch a movie, eat some ice cream."

"I don't want to go home. I'll be alone when I get there and it will still smell like him. And you are one to talk about taking things slow. The once wholesome girl slutting it up over a douchebag and a bitch." He chugs his drink and orders another. He is right, but the he says it stings. He's never been so outright cruel about what I'm doing. I shouldn't talk, but it is one thing for me to be self-destructive. If he is self-destructive too, who will be my moral compass when I finally escape this hurricane's eye?

Instead of saying anything else, words are useless in these situations, I order a drink too. If he is going to be trashed, so am I. I match him, drink for drink, until we are both ridiculously drunk. We have the bartender, a sweet girl with a nice rack, call us a cab. When the cab arrives, Noah has to help me out because I can't stand up right in my hooker heels. We stumble in and without warning we are making out.

It seems so natural, as the cab takes us back toward my apartment, that we be completely engrossed in kissing and caressing. We don't stop kissing as we stumble out of the cab or stumble up the stairs. We stop for a moment so I can unlock the door and the whole time he is touching and exploring. I get the door open and we practically fall into the apartment.

He shuts the door behind us, a look of pure lust on his face and he kisses me again. We stumble towards my room. We lose our clothes as we go, lost in sensations that you only feel when you are drunk and utterly lonely.

We collapse on the bed, entangled. Everything smells like sweat and alcohol breath, kisses and the beginning of sex. We are completely naked and almost in a practical position. He has somehow managed to pull on a condom in our drunken revelry. Then he is on top of me, in-between my legs, kissing me and pressed against me. It feels so wonderful, dream-like even.

Suddenly, I feel him softening, no longer pressed to me. He actually looks a little horrified. He has just realized, through the drunken haze, that he is about to have sex with a woman. This was a bad idea. This was an awful idea. I start to cry.

"No, no. Don't cry." he whispers, pulling off the condom. He switches positions and kisses me again. I feel like I have dived headlong into a barrel of needles. All of which are stuck in my chest.

"I knew you weren't attracted to me. I knew and I still thought this would happen." I wipe away a stray tear. I am almost into a full crying jag and sobering faster than I'd like to. I don't know what we were thinking, making out in the cab. Coming up here and acting like we would actually ever have sex. We were too drunk to think.

"Don't you see," he says, wiping away another tear. "that isn't true at all. It almost happened because I am attracted to you. I am attracted to your personality, to your intellect and your pretty face. I'm attracted to your mind, when you choose to use it that is. I am friends with you because of that attraction. I have always been drawn to who you are. I can be attracted to you in a way that isn't sexual. Besides, sex scenes like this only happen in bad Madonna movies."

He kisses me again and holds me closely. I realize, in my tiny moments of reasonable sobriety, that I wouldn't have wanted to have sex with Noah. It could ruin the one friendship I would die without. And it isn't who we are at all. Not who he is, anyway. A one night stand with a gay man is not worth the loss of a friendship. And seducing said gay man isn't part of the plan.

Shyly, we look away so that we can get dressed again. We do sleep in my bed together, snuggled up. Its hard to sleep alone after you've been sleeping with another person for so long. I don't think I've quite gotten used to it yet. I barely remember what it was like to sleep alone. Knowing that tomorrow we are probably going to feel a little awkward around each other for a little bit, I snuggle closer to take advantage of the moment.

I wake up alone. A sweet note from Noah is lying on the counter as I go into the kitchen for some coffee. My head is pounding and my eyes are bleary from drinking. I read the note and smile. He says he loves me and that he is happy we didn't do anything we probably would've regretted later.

I get dressed for another day and even manage to go out for a little while. In the evening, I gather up my glow stick kites and head to the beach. I need some me time. A break from all my self-destruction to just watch the waves lapping at the shore and the kites dancing on the breeze. I drive slowly, taking in the dazzling sunset and the smell of the world around me.

As part of my drive, I pass through downtown with all its bright lights and its gypsy colors. I have always loved the smell of downtown. So many different restaurants and so many people. It is a carnival for the senses, really. And I drink it in until I feel a little woozy.

The crowds are leaving the beach as I arrive. I watch as a young couple kisses and hold hands all the way back to their car. I sigh, wistfully. I wonder what their life will be like. Will they last? Will they break up or divorce? Will they have children? Will they always love each other? I suppose only time and whatever supreme being governs the universe know.

I sit, for a short time, watching the last of the fiery sun slipping below the horizon. With a heavy heart and a few kites, I head down to the beach. Etched in the sand, just out of reach of the water, is heart with two initials. I think of the young couple holding hands as they walked to their car and smile again.

Just a little way from where I usually set up the kites is a young man, about my age, smoking a cigarette. He is seated with his knees pulled up and his arms resting across the top. It isn't cold, but he is wearing a sweatshirt with a hood. Beside him is a portable radio playing Frank Sinatra. I smile at him and tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. He smiles and raises a hand in greeting.

I turn and look at my outfit. Jeans and an old "Batman" t-shirt. Bitterly, I wish I had worn something different, something sexier. However, I have to work with what I have. Plenty of women have gotten men while wearing worse, I'm sure. Besides, he's a guy, if he doesn't like Batman I'm going to have to ask for his man-card. Wait, I'm a girl. Can I even do that? I shake my head and put on a game face of some sort.

I plant my glowing kites and spread out my blanket on the sand. I try to look as sexy as possible while I am doing this, but it is hard when I'm trying not to fling sand in my face. I glance his way and see him staring at the kites. I follow his gaze to the candy colored dancers.

This is the first time I've gone kite flying without Clark. I realize this with a little throb of loneliness. I shouldn't be trying to get a random stranger on the beach. God knows what kinds of diseases I could pick up. Or I could end up raped and dead, my kites uprooting from their places and flying away. I can't help it though. I really need to step it up. If I'm going to slut it up, I need to go all the way with it. No more dancing around it.

Besides that, I'm still a little horny from my almost encounter of the sexy kind with Noah.

Timidly, I go up to him and ask if I can bum a cigarette. He smiles and hands me one. I've never smoked in my life so I'm not sure what the hell I'm doing, but here goes nothing. I try to place it seductively between my lips and lean into him for a light. I suck a little smoke into my mouth, without pulling it into my lungs, and slowly exhale. It tastes pretty awful, actually and I have no clue what to do from here.

"That's a neat idea." He says, pointing toward the kites. "Did you think of it?"

I nod and pull a little more smoke into my mouth. I think I may get the hang of this quicker than I thought. Just have to remember not to actually breathe it or I'll choke.

We are quiet for a little bit. He takes a drag off of his cigarette and I take a pull off of mine. I want to say something, but am unsure of what to say. So I use body language to say it all. I lean into him again, brushing my hand against his leg. I do it so as to seem accidental and, when I catch his eye, I blush to add a grain of truth to it. It is awkward for a few more minutes, until I almost can't stand it.

"You're pretty cute, you know." He says, taking another drag off his cigarette.

"Thank you. You're pretty cute yourself." I smile my best sexy smile and scoot a little closer to him. Out of the blue, he puts his arm around my shoulders and leaves it there for a minute. I think he does this to see if I'll stop him. I obviously don't. In fact I scoot closer into him, with his arm around me.

"You're very forward." He whispers, nipping my earlobe. "I like that in a girl."

I don't say anything, just give him a saucy smile and a wink. I glance toward my blanket and then back at him. I press myself closer to him and use my lips to caress his cheek. I can see that my behaviour is exciting to him, so I try harder. I nibble on his ear and then kiss down his neck.

"I have a blanket, if you have the protection." I whisper, running my fingertips up the inside of his leg, stopping just before I reach anything incredibly important. With another wink I stand up and begin strutting my way back to the blanket and kites. He stands up to follow me, moving a little awkwardly. I giggle to myself and pull off my shirt, revealing my purple bra.

As he walks toward me, I have time to observe his build and other things about him. His hair is a lovely shade of blonde and he is fairly muscular. He pulls off his sweatshirt to reveal six-pack abs with a soft blonde patch leading toward bigger and better things. Emphasis on the bigger. He comes up to me, both of us shirtless, and he kisses me. We taste like cigarettes, but I don't care.

He unhooks my bra, expertly, and I let it drop to the blanket. He takes a moment to explore, before tugging at my jeans. We both step out of our bottoms and lie down on the blanket. He pulls a condom out of his shorts pocket and gives me a quirky smile. I notice his light blue eyes light up when he smiles and I smile too. He kisses me again and for a moment I feel a blind panic. I am about to have sex with a complete stranger. Someone whose name I don't even know. Can I really go through with this?

I feel him move into me and realize its too late. I am going through with it now. I have to. He is gentle and sweet, I find that I am actually enjoying myself. Just over his shoulder I can see the moon and my kites dipping and soaring. I dip and soar with them. His radio is still playing. Everything seems so strange from where I am lying. I look into his face and he smiles again. He kisses me and then nibbles at my neck, my ears and further down. He doesn't ask what I like and I don't ask what he likes. We work instinctively and are rather satisfied with the results.

We end up spending several hours on the beach. Hardly any of that time is spent watching the kites dance. After we finish, again, we have another cigarette. It is late and soon the sun will rise, we've spent almost the whole night here. We kiss goodbye, the only parting we give and I begin to pack up my blanket and kites. He grabs his radio, his clothes and our trash. Before anyone else arrives, he is gone. A one night stand faded into darkness before morning comes.

Once my kites are all packed into the car, I decide that I want to stay and watch the sunrise. I grab my blanket and make my way back down to the beach. I find a decent spot just down from where I spent my night and I set up there. I watch as the sun is born and a notice that there is tear slipping down my cheek. I pull my knees up, wrap my arms around them and rest my cheek on my knee. Its so lonely, where I am right now. I've ruined one person's life in my quest to ruin my own. I almost ruined a beautiful friendship too.

To prove to myself that I am a whore I have slept with a random stranger I ran into at the beach. I don't have to look at the blanket I am sitting on for the evidence of it. I can still feel the experience. Its really stupid, this downward spiral. From the outside I can see that. But now I can't stop. I feel so completely worthless right now.

I don't cry, though. I refuse to. I pull myself together and grab my blanket. I drive home and go straight to bed. I am too tired to do anything but undress and then I am far away from here. Snuggles comes to sleep with me and we curl up under the covers.

I don't wake up until noon when my phone rings. I answer, even though I am half asleep.

"Hello?" I murmur.

"Are you still asleep? Its noon!" says a voice I don't recognize off hand.

"Who is this?" I ask, trying to wipe the sleeping dust out of my eyes.

"Noah. Who else would be calling you right now?" He sounds like he is in a better mood than the other night.

"I don't know. I'm still asleep."

"Well, stop being asleep and come out to lunch with me. There is a new restaurant that just opened right down the street from your apartment. You won't even have to drive. They serve breakfast all day, so you can have waffles or something if you want. My treat."

"I'm sorry, I can't wake up right now. You've reached Abra's voice-mail leave a message." I hang up and fall right back to sleep. However, my friend is quite persistent. My phone rings again. I can almost hear Noah yelling at me to answer.

"Fine," I say. "I'll get up."

I answer the phone and sit up.

"You can't stay in bed all day, you know. The world is waiting outside your door." he says.

"Thank you, Mr. Guru. Anything else you want to chant at me?" Grumpily, I slip into my Kermit slippers and drunkenly careen my way to the bathroom. I don't even bother to hang up before plopping down on the toilet.

"Come on, Grumpy Gus. Its a beautiful day. I have a beautiful friend I'd like to spend it with. That friend being you."

"Okay, okay. Let me shower and I'll meet you at the restaurant." I flush the toilet and hang up.

I look in the mirror to see if I look any different after last night. Nothing seems to have changed, physically. I look like myself. I wonder if the girl in the mirror feels the cracks widening. I wonder if she realizes just how far we are falling. She looks at me blankly. I think she doesn't know. I bitterly wish I could be her. Be anyone but myself right now.

He was cute, but was he worth my soul?

All of Her: Chapter Fourteen

I don't call Noah to go out with me. I don't call Clark. I don't call anyone. I am going to go out, by myself, and I'm going to get drunk as hell. I may go home with a stranger or I may go home alone. I don't know yet.

I dress in a soft pink top with small white and gray pearls stitched along the neckline. I put on my favorite pair of white jeans and a cute pair of gray knit ballet flats. I dab a drop of perfume behind my ears, on my wrists and then take another drop to run through my hair. After this I pull my honey blonde hair into a slightly off kilter half-up style. I accent my eyes with shimmer mascara and use a touch of sparkling pink lip gloss.

Once I have finished dressing, I make sure that Snuggles has food and water. I turn off all the lights except the one above the stove and I lock the doors. Because I was unable to drive myself home yesterday I am sans one mode of transportation. I wouldn't want to tempt myself with driving anyway. The last thing I need is a wreck while I am driving drunk. Taking a deep breath, I begin my trek to the bus stop down the street.

I take the bus downtown and it drops me off just down the block from "Alice's Wonderland." I walk calmly up the street until I am standing under the glittering lights of decadence realized. I try to take a deep breath, but it hitches in my ribs somewhere. The ache of betraying Jahan, of the bitterness David has given me, reverberate through my bones. Or maybe that is the thrumming of a bass line. I won't let any of this stop me. I am going inside and I am going to forget for a time.

When I open the door the music and the smell of alcohol hit me full in the face. I try not to stagger, but trip over my own feet. I am caught by cute guy with shoulder length, wavy, black hair with one strip of blood red. He smiles as he helps me right myself and then he holds the door open so that I can walk inside.

The lights are dazzling and the dance floor is packed. The gentleman who assisted me at the door, smiles again and points toward a couple stools at the bar. I just stare for a moment, completely out of my element. Gently, he places his hand on the small of my back and guides me to the stools.

"Set the lady up with whatever she wants, on me." He smiles and hands his card to the bartender. He turns and winks at me then saunters off to the speak with the DJ. Completely bewilder, I look at the bartender.

"What'll it be miss?" He smiles as he wipes out a glass.

"I don't know. What do you recommend?"

"Do you like apples? I have a sweet new drink with a kick. It has apple liqueur in it, though."

"Sounds interesting. What kind of drink is it?" I lean forward a little with my elbows resting on the bar.

"I call it 'George Washington's Apple'. Its got whiskey, sour apple vodka, apple liqueur and a spritz of soda."

"Will it get me drunk quickly?" I ask, leaning forward a little more.

"I suppose that depends on how fast you drink it." He winks and mixes up the drink in a tall glass. He pours it over ice and hands it to me. "Cheers, girly."

I take a sip and close my eyes. It is sweet and sour, with a vague alcohol taste. I don't wait for the ice to water it down and I down it as quickly as I can. The bartender's eyes widen as I try to catch the breath that just got knocked out by the alcohol rush. I smile a flirty smile and ask for another. This one without ice. I throw it back like I've been a drunk my whole life.

After two more of those and an appletini with a sugared rim, my drink total is up to five. I feel pleasantly tipsy and the room tips with me. I decide it is time to dance and flirt, so leaving the safety of my bar stool I float to the floor. At least, it feels like I float. For all I know I could be drooling and stumbling all the way there.

I happen to catch the eye of the cutie that helped me in the door and I motion him over. I ask him to dance with me and he obliges with a quirky grin. While we are dancing I have the opportunity to really look at him.

He looks like a Korean movie star. His eyes look like they were painted on a porcelain doll. I've never seen such beautiful eyes. They are the color of a lime's insides. Of course this could be the alcohol talking. I am pretty tipsy right now. Maybe a little more than that.

His lips are kind of feminine. Perfect Cupid's bow upper lip. A perfect bow in general. One corner lifts in the cutest way, giving him that quirky grin. He's a little feminine though, but not so much as to be unattractive. Not that he would be unattractive to me anyway. I like his look. I love his hair. Its so soft and for some reason he is letting me run my fingers through it. I twist the red strip around my fingers and giggle when I let it go.

"What's your name?" I ask, noting a slight slurring to my speech.

"Jae." He smiles and puts his hands on my hips. "And your name?"

"Abra. What's a cute, nice, guy like you doing in a place like this?"

"Trying to find a piece of Wonderland, I suppose. What is a beautiful, and naive, girl like you doing in a place like this?" Our hips move in rhythm with the music and I am feeling drunk, not just from the alcohol, but from his eyes and the way he talks. His dancing isn't so bad either.

"Why do you, why do you say I'm naive?"

"Because you had no idea what to expect when you walked in here. And the tripping at the door didn't help to prove it otherwise."

I lean my cheek against his chest as a slow song comes on. He smells good and he feels so right underneath my hands and face. When the song ends and the next begins I pull away and go back to the bar stool.

I order six Buttery Nipples, a Sex on the Beach and a Cotton Candy twister before Jae comes up and stops me. At this point I can't see straight, think straight or even speak straight. He helps me off of my stool and begins to lead me outside. At first I fight back, trying to go back for another shot of something or other. After a futile effort on my part, I give up and allow myself to be practically carried out. Once we are outside, I realize just how attracted I am to this man. I notice how tall he is and how he carries himself. I find that I am burning up, not just from the alcohol.

"You are so so so so beautiful, you know." I stammer. He smiles and I want to melt a little.

"You are beautiful too. Probably more so when you aren't wasted." He places his hands on my shoulders to steady me.

"I? I drunk? Never, sir. 'Tis only a trick of the flashy lights. Truly. I have never been more sober in all my life." I pull away and try to strike a pose. I almost fall on my face before he catches me.

"And a pitiful liar too. Do you have someone who could come and pick you up?" He has doubled in my vision. Now there are three hot Koreans holding me up.

"No pick ups, only let downs. No lovers, no friends. Do you want my lover to be?" I lean into him, my head and my heart dancing a tango on a sinking ship. I feel sick. "I think I need another drink. I'm not drunk enough."

"I think you are plenty drunk." He says, preventing me from walking, or falling, back to the club. "I think I'll call you a taxi."

"No taxes on dances." I grab his hand and try a tarantella. I fail miserably. Partially because I'm drunk. Or, maybe entirely because I'm drunk. Then, without warning, I kiss him. It isn't the most amazing kiss in the world, but it isn't the worst all things considered. To my drunken surprise, he kisses me back. His arms come around me and he kisses me like David should've kissed me when we were together. With passion and meaning, with a zest for love and life.

I lose track of how long we kiss, but he does break it off and calls for a taxi. He rides with me to my apartment, even having the taxi driver pull over for bagels, which I am suddenly dying for. He helps me up the stairs to my apartment and he carries me inside. He sets me on the couch while I contentedly munch on a bagel. Snuggles meows at this dastardly intruder and then proves that he is the worst watch-cat ever by purring and wrapping himself around said intruder's leg. Jae squats to pet him and then comes over to sit by me.

Suddenly, I feel very nauseous. I stand up and stumble to the bathroom. He follows me. I crumple in front of the toilet and begin throwing up. Shockingly, he comes up and holds my hair out of my face.

"I swear to dog, I'll never eat bagels again." I sputter, in-between bouts of retching.

"I'm sure you won't." He says, a little chuckle under his breath barely audible above my vomiting.

"Its not funny." I whimper.

"No, it isn't. But maybe next time you won't have four 'George Washington's Apples', an appletini, six Buttery nipples, a cotton candy twister and a Sex on the Beach. You should be happy that I'm not having to rush you to the hospital."

"I'll try to the remember that when my stomach falls out of my mouth and into the toilet."

Once I have completely emptied my innards, he washes my face and carries me to my bedroom. He slips off my shoes and pulls the covers over me. He kisses my cheek and gently rubs my temples, which are throbbing now.

"It was nice to meet you, sleep well." He kisses me again and is gone before I pass out.

The next morning I can't remember a damn thing. I vaguely remember a beautiful Asian man and dancing. I remember drinking interestingly titled drinks. I remember throwing up. But that is it. And I have the worst hang-over in the world. There has to be an easier way to forget the past. Clearly drinking it away isn't going to work. Except in the short term.

I stumble out of my room and into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. There is a bag of half eaten bagels lying on the counter. What the hell happened last night? Seeing as how I am still fully dressed I didn't sleep with anyone. But where did I get bagels and why? How did I get home?

Instead of trying to figure it out, I lie down on the couch and let Snuggles curl up with me. My head is pounding as the coffee brews. I swear I am never doing that again. At least not until the next time I fuck something up royally.

Maybe I should try again tonight. Except this time only have one or two drinks. And take someone with me so that I don't hook my way home. Not that there is any proof that I did that last night. Or maybe I should just give up the whole goddamn scheme and call it a day. I can't, of course, but it is nice to think about. I'm already too far gone to stop now.

I spend my day sleeping off my hang-over and watching bad soap operas on TV. I decide it would be better to go out again tomorrow or the next night. I should really give my liver and kidneys time to recover from the bender we went on last night. The cat seems happy with this decision.

I dream of the cute guy from the bar and wonder if we did anything last night that I can't remember. Did we even talk? I have no idea. I remember how nice the bartender was with each drink I ordered though. Of course that was probably just because I was spending money.

Wait. I didn't spend any money last night, did I? I don't remember. How else could I have gotten all that alcohol though? I must've spent something. However, when I check my purse I discover that I am only missing five dollars. And in its place is a receipt for a bag of bagels. Well that explains the bagels. I still have no idea why I got them. All I know is that when I look at them I get queasy. I think I should avoid them for a few days.

About ten o'clock my phone rings. I don't recognize the number, but I pick up anyway. My thinking isn't exactly clear right now.

"House of pain and inconsistent memories, how may we help you?"

"Abra, its Alice." My eyes snap open and I feel a righteous indignation building up underneath the blinding pain in my head.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I want to talk to you. Now. Where can I meet you?" She sounds like she actually believes I'll meet up with her.

"Why would I want to meet with you anywhere?"

"Because we need to settle a few things."

"Look, for you things may be unsettled, but for me I'm as settled as I'm going to be and I don't care to have anything more to do with you or your asshole husband."

"Pull your head out of your ass and meet me at the park in fifteen minutes."

"I'd really like to oblige, but I can't hear you because my ears are so full of shit from my head being plugged up my ass. Thanks for playing though. Buh-bye." I hang up. As I begin to walk away from the phone it rings again.

"What do you want with me, huh? Want to humiliate me some more?"

"No. I want to talk."

"You can kiss my ass, we're done talking."

"No, we're not! We're nowhere near done talking. I know you slept with David. I know what you are trying to do and I think its pathetic." She is spits each word out as if it is poisonous.

"What am I trying to do that you haven't already done?"

"That's low, even for you."

"Really? Low, you say? Hm, you know what's low? Low is, oh I don't know, stealing your best friend's fiance away from her on her wedding day. That's pretty low, don't you think? Or encouraging your best friend's boyfriend, fiance, significant asshole to sleep with her and propose to her even though he isn't in love with her. That's pretty low too. You know what's really low though? The fact that you have the gall to be upset with me for sleeping with your husband when you've been sleeping with my boyfriend for Lucifer's dark angels only know how long. So suck it the fuck up and get over yourself." With that I hang up, again. This time she doesn't call back.

To be honest, I can't help but want her to call again so I can rant some more. It feels nice to finally say all the things I've kept bottled up since this whole mess started. When you think about it, it is truly unfair that she hasn't let me do this sooner. I wish she would call back. Of course, I have caller ID so I could technically call her, but its so much more satisfying to have her crawling back for another heaping helping of bitch.

I am so riled up that I can't sleep now. I pace around the floor wondering if she'll get up the nerve to call me again. I practice what I'd like to say to her, the sniveling coward. It is one thing for her to steal my man out from under me and claim to be my friend, but heaven forbid I utilize turnabout to do the same. How could I have been so completely blind to all of this?

Out of the blue I decide to bake a pie. I don't really care what kind of pie. I just want to make one. Something to keep my mind off Alice, off of Jahan, off of everything. At least for a little while. I scour my cupboards for pudding mixes and discover I have a pistachio pudding and a chocolate cherry. I opt for the pistachio and busily set about making a crust for it. It is so much fun that I completely forget that my ex-lover and my ex-best friend are probably having sex right now and I'm just making a pie so that I can get fat. Or not.

After my crust is done baking I fill it with pistachio pudding and put it in the fridge. I pop in a Cary Grant DVD and get a bowl of Vanilla Latte ice cream while I wait for my pie to firm up. Why can't all men be suave and sophisticated like Cary Grant? Why can't I find a sweet, funny, intelligent and handsome man who will completely sweep me off my feet?

After that movie is over I pop in "Gone with the Wind" and decide that it is already one in the morning, may as well watch a long movie. I end up falling asleep just as Miss Melanie has her baby and Rhett swoops in to save the day.

I dream of Clark Gable and Cary Grant whisking me away in a horse drawn carriage through a burning city with a Godzilla sized bitch-o-saurus named Alice chasing after us. At the last minute we are saved by a talking pistachio pie that leads us to a night club in the middle of a desert. The desert, of course, is located inside a giant beating heart and there is a handsome Asian man across the ventricles beckoning me to dance with him. He kisses me and the heart explodes into a thousand beautiful pieces and I wake up alone, and utterly bewildered, in my apartment.

That is the last time I eat Vanilla Latte ice cream and watch "Gone with the Wind" before bed.