New Original Fic: Leaving Scars

[Kieli]

You have just made the crappiest night better. I swear I laughed so hard, I snorted my Coke. Your chapters are getting better and better....your narrative style is improving, too, the more you get into the story. I feel that you've gotten a flow now. Excellent work. Damn, you've got me wondering about Amber. Go for the REAL woman, Lizzie!

[tcurti3]

Hi, kittens! Kieli, I'm so glad you're getting a kick out of my little story. I've had a lot of fun writing it. I do want to clarify one thing, though: the character of Amber is in no way meant to represent Amber Benson as a person. I am a very visual writer and simply needed a concrete physical representation of my character. Lizzie is a concrete physical representation of a friend of mine.
I was writing the outline for the story one day last year while flipping between FX and the History Channel. On FX, the Buffy 'Family' episode was airing at the same time as a documentary on the History Channel about Russia's Amber Room, so I took it as a sign from God that the character's name should be Amber.
Just don't want to seem like creepy stalker-y girl. Anyway, on to the story. Same rules apply: Mine, all mine.

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Batman and Amber


“Lizzie, hurry up! Ronnie’s already here!" Granny stood at the doorway to Lizzie’s bedroom.

“Is this the only clean shirt I have?" Lizzie asked, pulling on her Batman T-shirt. Lizzie grimaced, noticing that her sweatpants were about two inches too short. God, did I wear these in high school?

“Granny ain’t felt like doin’ no laundry!" Granny snapped. “Besides, you got plenty a’ clean stuff." Granny yanked the door to Lizzie’s closet.

“Granny, I haven’t worn any of that since 1990." Lizzie peered into the dark closet, spying some of her favorite college outfits. Lizzie smiled, remembering how she used to freak out the sorority girls at Centre by wearing outfits carefully engineered to evoke horror. “Oh man, I had completely forgotten I had this," she said, pulling out a Batman costume. “This is just like the one Adam West wore in the series." She laid the outfit on the bed, admiring it. “Now, this is cool." Lizzie grinned, remembering the day she wore the costume for her sophomore year photo. I almost wish I hadn’t burned all my college yearbooks.


Lizzie fell asleep in the car, listening to her grandmother and stepfather discussing candidates in the upcoming local election. She awoke when they pulled into the parking lot then made her way to the physical therapy room. No Amber. She frowned as she mounted the bike. Ten minutes later, Lizzie lay on the bench, preparing to start the pointing exercises. She smiled as the blonde walked through the door and moved to the side of the bench.

“How’s my favorite vandal?” Amber smiled down at her.

Miserable until now. “Okay,” Lizzie replied.

“Did you hurt your leg?" Amber asked, touching Lizzie’s left pants leg with the tip of her pen. “That looks like a nasty bruise.”

Lizzie jerked involuntarily. “It’s a tattoo," she said, embarrassed.

Amber stared down at her. “Really?" She looked closer at Lizzie’s leg. “What is it?"

Lizzie, stretched supine, moved her left ankle up to rest on her bent right knee. Lizzie pulled up her pants leg, exposing the tattoo. “You think I’m a big freak, don’t you?”

Amber laughed. “Why do you say that?”

Lizzie gestured to her shirt, then to the retro Batman logo tattooed on her left calf. “That’s why.”

Amber shrugged her shoulders. “I think you must be a big fan.”

Oh God, she thinks I’m a comics geek. “It’s not what you think!" Lizzie settled back on the bench to perform her exercises. Amber walked to the end of the bench. “It’s just that, well, I’ve always had this weird thing about superheroes," Lizzie started, rolling to the left. “Especially Batman.”

“Uh huh," Amber said noncommittally.

“See, Batman was a self-made superhero," Lizzie said, rolling back to the right. “He wasn’t blessed with some extraterrestrial powers or born of a Nordic god or any of that crap." Lizzie rolled back to the left. “He was also kind of a villain, in a sense. Ow!" Lizzie grabbed her neck and sat up, flinching from the shooting pain.

Amber was at her side in an instant. “Let me see." She brushed Lizzie’s hand away and gingerly touched Lizzie’s neck. “Spasm."

Lizzie closed her eyes as Amber massaged the twitching muscle. “He, um, he had all these gadgets." She felt the muscles in her neck and upper back begin to relax. “And then there’s Batgirl and Catwoman." I would fucking kill to see her in a Catwoman costume.

“How’s that?" Amber’s words startled Lizzie back to reality. Lizzie smiled at the warmth of Amber’s hands on her neck.

“Oh, uh, that was great," she said, blushing at the thought of Amber in a form-fitting leather catsuit. “Do you like comics?” she asked. Amber gave her a puzzled look. “I mean, did you…when you were young?”

“I never really read many comics,” Amber said flatly.

“Oh, come on,” Lizzie said. “Not even Archie?” She grinned at the blonde. “Everybody read Archie.”

“It was, um, a little before my time,” Amber said, moving her hands from Lizzie’s neck. “I think that’s enough for today," said Amber. She walked with Lizzie to the door of the therapy room. “Be sure to put some heat on that if it starts hurting again.”

“Thanks," Lizzie said softly, looking at the floor. “See you next time," Lizzie said as she twisted the door handle.

“Strawberry Shortcake,” Amber said suddenly. Lizzie looked at her, confused. “I remember reading Strawberry Shortcake comics when I was a little girl.”

“Really?” Lizzie chuckled. “I would’ve pegged you as a Smurf girl.”

“Too many boys,” Amber replied, smirking.

Lizzie pushed open the door to the waiting room. Well, wasn’t that interesting?


Lizzie walked back to the waiting room. “Lizzie, you all right?" Granny asked, standing to meet her granddaughter. “Did that therapuss girl hurtcha?”

Despite the lingering pain in her neck, Lizzie laughed. “I’m fine, just having a spasm."

Ron held the door for them and they walked down the hallway. “Wait!" Lizzie turned to see Amber running towards them with a towel in her hand. “Here, it's just some ice wrapped in a towel, but it should help." She handed the towel to Lizzie. “Sorry, but we're all out of heat packs.”

Lizzie took the damp towel and wrapped it around her neck. There is no way I could ever have a chance with you. “Um, thanks," she mumbled. Lizzie gestured behind her. “This is my stepdad and Granny.”

“Nice to meet you," Amber smiled and shook Ron’s hand.

“You that therapuss?" Granny asked.

“She means therapist," Lizzie stage-whispered.

Amber smiled at the old woman. “Yep, I’m Lizzie’s physical therapist." She turned to face Lizzie. “I want you to go straight home and get in bed," she said as she wagged her finger at Lizzie. “No vandalism. No Batman. Just rest.”

“Okay," Lizzie smiled, feeling the blush rise in her ears. I wish you were there to tuck me in.

“See you in a couple of days," Amber said as she turned to walk back into the office. Was she blushing, too?

“She’s got your number,” Ron said quietly as they walked to the parking lot.


Lizzie fell asleep later that night with the towel still wrapped around her neck. She awoke on Friday feeling better than she had in months. She watched TV with Granny until dusk, then showered and dressed for her first night out since the operation. She refrained from leaping out the door when she saw Keith’s car pull into the driveway. “You needn’t stay out all night, Lizzie Gossage!" Granny yelled from the porch.

“Granny, I already told you that I wasn’t," Lizzie lied, sliding into the passenger seat of Keith’s Mustang.

“Hi, Granny!" Keith called out. Granny threw up her hand in an abbreviated wave then stormed back into the house. “God, why is she such a bitch to me?"

“I wonder," mused Lizzie. “Maybe those little pranks we used to play on her?”

Keith laughed. “Oh, right. Like the time we called her and pretended to be in the Newport jail?"

Lizzie laughed. “God, we were such assholes. Dragging an old woman out of bed at 3:00AM to drive 35 minutes to the police station, then we’re not even there.”

“May have to do a repeat of that one tonight," Keith chuckled as he pulled out of the driveway. “So…let me see the damage.”

Lizzie pulled down the collar of her shirt, exposing the red gash to her friend.

“Cool," he said. “Looks kind of…medieval." He revved the Mustang at the foot of the hill. “What are you going to tell people?”

“Hadn’t even thought about that," Lizzie said. “When I go back to Concordia, I’m going to tell my co-workers that I slit my own throat to get out of there.”

Keith laughed. “Getting bad?”

“You have no idea," she took a drink from her bottled water. “I’m amazed they haven’t filed chapter 11 yet.”

“Sucks. How’s Sam?”

“He actually has a job." Lizzie looked over to judge Keith’s reaction. Sam and Keith had not spoken since the year after they graduated high school. Lizzie frowned, remembering Keith’s unreciprocated affection for Sam. “He’s working at WGN-TV.”

“Is that where Oprah’s filmed?"

“Only you would ask that, Keith. And no," Lizzie laughed. “No, it’s not where Oprah is filmed.”

“Is he seeing anyone?" Keith asked bitterly.

“Yeah," said Lizzie uncomfortably. Please don’t do this. “Some guy who works at the station.”

Keith nodded. “Well, good for him."

“What about you?" asked Lizzie, desperate to change the topic.

“Eh," said Keith. “I do okay."

“Oh, come on. I know you better than that," Lizzie reached over and slapped him lightly on the arm. “Who’s your new obsession?”

Keith grinned. “Well, there is this bartender at the Dock…”

“I knew it. What’s he like?”

“Oh, you’ll see tonight." Keith revved the car and they flew up the interstate on-ramp. “He works every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday from 8:00 til close."

Know his schedule, huh? “God, I haven’t been to the Dock in years." Lizzie fiddled with the automatic door lock. “Remember who we saw there last time?”

“Oh, now how could I forget that?" Keith laughed. “Burt Snelling, homophobic seventh-grade gym teacher.”

What is it with me and the gym teachers? “Fucking asshole," Lizzie spat. “I wonder how many of us he made cry?”

“Three that I know of." Keith kicked the car into fifth gear and headed North.


“Isn’t he just fucking adorable?" Keith indicated the brunette bartender in the green mesh shirt.

“Yeah, he’s pretty cute," said Lizzie. She took a sip of her Stoli lemonade then coughed. “And he makes a really fuckin’ strong drink.”

Keith giggled. “I know, but not for everybody.”

“Did you really just giggle?" Lizzie laughed at her friend. “My God, it’s like we’re in 11th grade and Billy Calvert asked you for help in Trig. And you were all," Lizzie raised her voice an octave. “‘Oh, Billy asked me for help and he’s soooo cute.’”

“Shut up already. I never liked him." Keith pulled the straw from his Stoli lemonade and flicked the end of it at Lizzie. “But I do think he’s queer as a football bat.”

Lizzie laughed. “Liar. You so liked him."

Keith dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Do you really want to talk about high school? How about you in 9th grade? You and that, what was her name?" Keith stabbed the air with his straw. “Oh yeah, Mickey.”

Lizzie felt as though her heart had stopped. God damn, what have I done?

“Are you okay?" Keith returned his straw to the drink and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Is it your neck?”

God, I wish that’s what it was. Lizzie took a deep breath. “I’ve got something to tell you." She related the story to Keith. He sat silent, looking from Lizzie to his drink to the bartender.

“So, let me get this straight," he smiled at his use of the word. “You fucked her and she fucked you, willingly I might add, and yet she’s straight?" Lizzie nodded. “Now, how does that work exactly? 'Cause if I can figure it out, I’m guessing that you and I are both straight as fucking arrows.” He took a drink. “Hell, we might even be Republicans.”

Lizzie shook her head and took a deep drink. “Fuck if I know," she sighed. “And then there’s this whole Amber thing.”

Keith hailed the bartender, indicating two refills. “Who the fuck is Amber?" Lizzie related the story of the preferentially ambiguous physical therapist. Keith looked appreciatively at the bartender as he placed two drinks on the bar in front of them. He turned to Lizzie as the bartender retreated. “When the Hell did you become such a pussy magnet?”

Lizzie shrugged. “What’s his name?" she asked, indicating the bartender.
“Steve," he said.

“So, have you two, uh, done anything?" Lizzie probed.

“Oh God, no." Keith pulled out a cigarette. “Well, not yet.”

“What’s the plan?" Lizzie asked. Keith looked confused. “For the seduction. I know you’ve got one. You always do.”

“Oh. Not sure yet." Keith lit his cigarette and took a deep drag. “What’s your plan?”

“I’m not expanding my horizons to include gay male bartenders," Lizzie joked.

“You know damned good and well what I mean," he leaned toward her. “What are you going to do about Jimbo?”


Lizzie and Keith stayed at the Dock until closing time. Keith insisted on driving her home. She walked in to a still house at 2:30AM and went directly to bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.

“Lizzie, come here for a minute," Granny called.

Lizzie groaned and pulled herself out of bed. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. 6:25AM? What the Hell? She stumbled into the hallway. “What is it?"

Granny stood at the end of the hall facing Lizzie. She stared down at one of the dogs. The dog was eating a weiner. “Look at Coochee.”

“Okay, who in the Hell named that dog?" Lizzie squatted to peer at the dog. “And where did he get that hot dog?”

“Well, I gave him that, Lizzie." Granny pointed at the dog’s head. “But look what he’s doin’ with his mouth.”

Lizzie stared at the dog. Coochee alternated biting a chunk of hot dog and licking the left side of his mouth. “What? You mean the licking?”

Granny nodded. “He was doin’ that before I fed him." She paused. “I’m afraid he’s gonna make a place on his mouth.”

Lizzie looked up at her. “You got me out of bed for this?"

“I don’t want him worryin’ that spot!" Granny said emphatically. “He’s gonna make a place and then I’m gonna have to have him put down.”

“Isn’t that a bit premature?" Lizzie asked sarcastically.

“Where is he? Where’s my Coochee?" Virgie cried as she opened the front door. The other two dogs ran toward the front door.

Lizzie stifled a laugh at her aunt’s unintentional double entendre. I guess that ground hornet didn’t have a problem finding it. “He’s in the hallway eating a hot dog." Lizzie shook her head at the allegedly injured dog.

“He’s havin’ a fit!" Granny cried. “I’m gonna have to have him put down!"

Virgie reached to pick up the dog. “Well, I don’t doubt it. You just feed him all that shit.”

“We were all out of pheasant," Lizzie said as she padded back toward the bedroom.

“I meant that she just buys the cheapest hot dogs she can find. Doesn’t even get them all-beef hot dogs," Virgie complained.

“Why are you buying hot dogs for them at all?" Lizzie turned and threw up her hands in disgust. “They are dogs. That’s why they make dog food…for dogs.”

“Well, how would you like it if all you had to eat was dog food?" Virgie snapped.

“It’s probably better for you than hot dogs." Lizzie shut the door to the bedroom then tumbled back into bed.


As soon as Lizzie awoke, she called Sam to relay the story. “So then they called the vet and made him come into the office two hours early for this alleged emergency," Lizzie related to Sam.

“And? Let me guess—there was nothing wrong with the dog," he said.

“Well, that’s the weird thing," Lizzie said. “The vet didn’t say there was anything wrong with the dog, but he gave them a shitload of phenylbarbitol."

“Was that for the dog or for Granny?”

“That is exactly what I said," Lizzie laughed. “So far, they’re giving them to the dog, but I’m considering grinding them up and slipping some in Granny’s coffee.”

Sam laughed, his voice jumping a bit higher at the end. “I’ll give you $10 if you get it on film.”

“It’s not as exciting as you think," Lizzie said. “The dog just lies around on the couch, drooling. Every once in a while he eats. I’ve taken to calling him Elvis.”

“Any more close encounters of the therapeutic kind?”

“Oh, she is da bomb," Lizzie made a purring noise in the phone. “I just wish I could figure out how to, you know, meet up with her outside the office.”

“Why don’t you just give her that Xerox’ed picture of your twat?" Sam suggested.

“Now, what a great idea. Why didn’t I think of that?" Lizzie said sarcastically. “Besides, I think we used all of those on the ‘George get out of my Bush’ flyers in 2000, didn’t we?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that." Sam paused. “The tampon string is what made them really stand out." He paused. “So, guess who I got to meet today.”

“Svengoolie?" Lizzie joked. “Oh, wait. He’s on that other network.”

“Berwyn?" Sam squawked. “No, I got to meet the queen herself.”

“Elton John?”

“Oprah!" Sam squealed.

Oh, for Christ’s sake. “Seriously? You just squealed for Oprah?”

“What the fuck ever, whore!" Sam said. “You’re just jealous.”

“So, did you meet her through your WGN connections or did you finally get on her show as a male prostitute with a fetish for cling wrap?" Lizzie closed her eyes, picturing the Chicago skyline.

“If only," he said. “Do you think I’d have a day job if I could get by as a prostitute?"

“Specialization is the key," Lizzie said, twirling the phone cord around her finger. “Find a fetish that no one else caters to and somebody will pay for it.”

“Yes, I know." Sam sighed. “How many times have we had this conversation?”

“Too many," Lizzie said. “So, how did you meet her?”

“She was at the station to film a public service announcement,” Sam said. “Stay off drugs or some such shit.”

“Huh,” Lizzie grunted. She toyed with a pill bottle on Granny’s nightstand. “Hey, what’s chlorothiazide?"

“What am I…a fucking pharmacist, cunty?" Lizzie could sense the irritation in Sam’s voice.

“No, seriously. Granny has these pills by her bedside and I’m not sure what they are," Lizzie frowned. “Can you look it up online for me real quick? It’s c-h-l-o-r-o-t-h-I-a-z-i-d-e.”

“Fine," Sam snapped. Lizzie heard him typing. “Oh, I’ll be at the marathon this weekend if you try to call me.”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?" Lizzie snickered. “You couldn’t run ten yards without passing out.”

“I’m not running, dumbass. Joel is," Sam said. “Aha, here it is. WebMD says ‘it’s a diuretic commonly prescribed in conjunction with other medications to control high blood pressure.’"

“That’s weird," Lizzie mused. “Granny never mentioned that she’s got hypertension." Lizzie bit her lip. “Wait a minute…I thought Joel was burly. Burly men don’t run by choice.”

“Well, this man does,” Sam snapped. “And I never said he was burly.”

[Kieli]

ROTFLMAO! What is with the bitchy queens in your fic? LOL I guess it's sort of sweet revenge for all of the lesbian stereotypes I've had to sit through in some stories by gay men I really didn't have Amber Benson in mind when you introduced your character so I was a little surprised with your comment. Sort of hit me out in left field. She just sounded like some hottie I used to sit next to in Botany lab at the uni (don't ask). You must, no, NEED, to give us more Lizzie/Amber interaction, if only to get the bitter taste of Mickey out our mouths (ok that sounded less lesbian in my head ).

I love Granny. She rocks my world, she's so damned funny. But less gay boy talk, more witty repartee with L/A. Lizzie needs some happiness as her world is still looking a tad grey at the moment. Excellent stuff!

Cheers!
K.

[tcurti3]

Hey, Kieli. You know, I meant to start a new paragraph when I made that Amber disclaimer. It was totally not directed at you. Considering the site, I felt I had to point out to some readers that the character wasn't meant to represent the actress portraying Our Favorite Wiccan in any way but a physical resemblance (at least, in my mind--I hope I succeeded in making it generic enough that everyone envisions her differently).
Working on a new update. Hope to have it posted tonight.
Thanks for the feedback--it keeps me going.

[vix84]

I love the bitchy queens! They're just like the ones I know in r/l.

I have to say, I did pick up on the blonde, angelic woman named Amber. I regarded it as paying hommage to the lovely actress. I'm also hoping that the therapeutic positions they're getting into lead to other, more enjoyable therapeutic actions.

I'm enjoying the humour and character development, and can't wait to find out if Mickey will be karmically rewarded for her deeds.

Lmao at Coochie and the hotdog.

More! Please!

[tcurti3]

Thanks for all the support, Kieli & Vix. You guys rock!
Here's the next chapter. It's kind of short, but I hope to have another chapter up by the end of the week.
Same rules as above: Mine, all mine.

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This, That, and the Other

“What’s the musical selection gonna be today?" Lizzie asked, sliding into the front seat of Ron’s car.

“Picked out somethin’ special just for you," Ron asked. “Hannah not feeling well?”

Lizzie shook her head. “Said she had a bad headache." Ron eased the car out of the drive. “Oh, no way! I completely forgot Jan and Dean sang this!" Lizzie sang along to the group’s rendition of “Batman.”

“I loved this song when I was little," Lizzie said softly. “I used to beg my Dad to play this before I went to bed.”

“I’d just joined the Navy the first time I heard this," said Ron.
Lizzie looked over at him. He never talks about that. “What was that, 66?”

Ron nodded. “Just signed up at the recruiters’ office in Newport. Signed up with Billy Hennert." He paused. “Got in his ’61 Impala and turned the radio on and there it was." Hennert? I’ve never heard that name before. Lizzie swallowed hard, realizing why. “1968. Fire on the hangar deck.”

“Year I was born," she said quietly.

“Yep," Ron replied.


Ron dropped Lizzie off at the physical therapy office and pulled into the parking lot. Lizzie walked to the office and signed in. She walked directly to the therapy room and started performing her bench exercises. “You’re looking pretty good, Batman," Amber said. Lizzie looked up at her from the bench. “I, uh, mean that you’re getting pretty good at the exercises." Amber blushed.

Lizzie grinned. “Uh…thanks." Yes!

“Maybe we should cut down on the number of times you’re coming in," Amber said, opening Lizzie’s chart.

No! “But, um, I’m still having some pain when I, uh, sit," Lizzie stumbled over her words.

“Really?" Amber frowned. “You’ve never mentioned that before."

“I, uh, forgot," Lizzie mumbled, feeling the blood rise to her ears.

“You forgot you were having pain?"

“I try to focus on positive things," Lizzie said. There is no way I can look at her right now.

“Okay," Amber said. “Well, I guess we’ll leave it at three times a week now and look at changing the schedule later next week." A smile played at the edge of Lizzie’s mouth. “That is, if the pain isn’t too bad by then." Lizzie scanned Amber’s face for sarcasm, but found only deep blue eyes staring down at her. Lizzie rose from the bench and moved to the wall. “So, did those spasms get any worse after you left?”

Lizzie leaned forward, almost touching her nose to the wall. “Yeah. I pretty much went home and fell into bed.”

“Well, that’s the best place for you,” Amber said. Lizzie pushed off from the wall, twisting her neck as far as possible to look at the therapist. “I mean, if you’re in pain…” she trailed off.

Lizzie finished the vertical pushups then moved to the chair to begin her neck exercises. “So, not a Smurf fan, huh?”

“The whole premise just seemed a little odd to me,” Amber replied. “All those little blue men that looked exactly alike and then the one girl and that old guy.”

“Don’t forget Azrael and Gargamel,” Lizzie turned her neck to the right and chuckled. “My buddy Sam and I used to make up nasty Smurfs.” She turned her neck to the other side, catching a glimpse of the blonde scribbling on her chart. “You know, like Genital Herpes Smurf or Incontinent Smurf.” Lizzie turned to face forward, satisfied with the grin spreading across Amber’s face. “Did you ever go on that freaky SmurfWorld ride at King’s Island?”

Amber closed her chart with a snap. “I think that’s good for today.”


Lizzie finished her exercises and walked back to the waiting room. “Where you want to go for lunch?" Ron asked, rising to meet Lizzie.

“Huh?" Lizzie glanced behind her. “Oh, uh, anywhere. What sounds good to you?”

“I thought we’d pick up a dead coon and make some stew," Ron said, eyeing his stepdaughter.

“Oh, okay," Lizzie mumbled. God, she’s just so… She’s sweet and funny and she wasn’t weirded out by the Batman thing. But then what was up with SmurfWorld? I mean, I think if she were going to be offended, it would be at Genital Herpes Smurf. Oh God, what if she was offended by Genital Herpes Smurf? What if she has genital herpes? Maybe she thinks I have genital herpes…“Wait a minute, did you say something about wanting raccoon?” Lizzie asked, Ron’s words finally registering.

“Just checking to see if you were listening," Ron said. He opened the door for her. “Seemed like you were a million miles away.”

“Kind of," she said. “Well, really just a few yards away.”

“Did you ask her out?" Ron opened the car door for Lizzie.

“No," she sighed. “Just can’t find the right time."

“You’re only here for a few more weeks," he chided.

“I know, I know." Lizzie frowned. “So, where are we eating?”

“Well, we could go anyplace. What are you in the mood for?"

Anywhere but the Pepper Mill. “How about a steak?" Lizzie asked.
Ron nodded. “Now, that sounds good."

“Didn’t this used to be a Pizza Hut?" Lizzie asked, pushing the rubbery, blood-drenched steak around her plate.

“Yeah, used to," said Ron. With considerable effort, he cut his well-done steak into even strips, then sliced the opposite way across the grain. “Reminds me of the Navy.”

“What? They served you dog?" Lizzie laughed, abandoning the effort to eat the steak.

“You can send it back," Ron suggested.

Lizzie shrugged. “Not that hungry, anyway."

“What’s goin’ on with you?" Ron placed his knife and fork on the table.

“What?" Lizzie gulped. “Just, um, you know, recovering.”

Ron shook his head. “There’s that. And there’s the physical therapist." He tried to catch her gaze. “But there’s something else." He paused. “Something bad.”

How does he know this shit? “It’s the, uh, the bankruptcy thing with Concordia." God, I can’t tell him what’s really wrong.

“Is that all?”

“And, um, Granny," Lizzie said. Ron looked up at her. “She’s taking some kind of high blood pressure medication and she didn’t tell me about it." Ron nodded. “You knew?”

“She told me about it a few months ago," he said.

“Why in the Hell wouldn’t she tell me?" Lizzie asked. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“She asked me not to," he said, retrieving his knife and fork. “She doesn’t want you to worry.”

“Too late for that," said Lizzie.


Ron dropped Lizzie off at Granny’s. She walked to the bedroom and called Keith. He picked up on the third ring. “So, what are we doing for Halloween?" Lizzie said.

“Well, I don’t know what you are doing, but I will be attending the big to-do at the Dock," Keith replied. “I’m guessin’ your bitch ass needs a ride.”

Lizzie smiled. “You read my mind.”

“Don’t tell me you need a costume, too." Lizzie heard Keith click off the TV set in the background. “I think I might have my old Boy Scout uniform around here.”

“Oh God!" Lizzie cried. “There is no way I would wear that thing. I know what you did on those camping trips.”

“Honey, you’d whack each other off too if you were stuck in the wilderness with nothing to do but try to earn a fuckin’ fishing badge."

“But I like fish," Lizzie laughed. “All kinds."

“Ewww," Keith drew out the syllable.

“So, what’s the plan? When are you coming to get me?" Lizzie asked, glancing toward her bedroom. “I’ve already got a costume.”


“Come on, Lizzie!" Granny called. “We got to get goin’!”

“Let me call a taxi or something," Lizzie said, her eyes wide with terror.

“Don’t be stupid!" Granny snapped. “Granny’s got a driver’s license.
Granny knows how to get there!”

“I think maybe I could drive," Lizzie offered. “I mean, you’ll have to help me with the whole peripheral vision thing, but I could definitely drive.”

“Get your ass in that car, Lizzie!"

Lizzie closed her eyes, briefly meditating while leaning against the kitchen table. There’s a slim chance we won’t die today. She steeled herself and walked to her grandmother’s Concord. A very, very slim chance.

“Jesus Christ, Granny!" Lizzie cried as Granny pulled the Concord out of the driveway, narrowly missing a gravel truck.

“Oh," Granny dismissed Lizzie with a single syllable. “That’s old Bobby Nutter. He’s just stupid.”

Well, he was smart enough to get out of your way. Lizzie clutched the dash as Granny failed to stop at the end of the hill.

“What the Hell?" Lizzie gasped. “You just ran that stop sign!" Granny sat oblivious to Lizzie’s protests. At least we’re only going 25 miles per hour. Lizzie’s solace was shattered when she realized that they would be merging onto a major highway in less than a mile. “Granny, let me drive." Granny slumped further forward in the seat, her mouth set in grim determination.

“Granny can do it!" She barely glanced to her right as she made a sharp left onto the highway.

Lizzie felt her heart pounding in her chest. Having actually looked at the oncoming traffic, Lizzie had seen the Ford F-150 barreling down on them. “Fuck!" Lizzie cried as the truck swerved into oncoming traffic to avoid the Concord. Lizzie clutched her chest as she saw the man flip Granny off through his open window.

“You go straight to Hell, you son of a bitch!" Granny cried, shaking her fist at the truck. “Don’t know why everybody’s in such a hurry all the time," Granny sighed.

My God, she really is insane. Lizzie shuddered. That was nothing compared to the interstate on-ramp. “Granny, isn’t there a back way to the doctor’s office?"

Granny frowned. “Well, Lizzie, I haven’t gone that way in years. Last time we went that way, your granddad was still alive.”

“Well, I think it might be time to explore that route again.”


Lizzie was amazed to arrive at the physical therapy office intact. She made her way in a daze to the therapy room and started her exercises. “Are you feeling okay today?" Amber placed her hand on Lizzie’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “You look a little pale.”

“Granny drove," she said simply. “Let’s just say that she’s a strong argument for yearly driving tests for everyone over the age of 60."

Amber laughed. “Had a near-death experience?”

Lizzie nodded. “Several." Ask her. You may well die on the way home. Lizzie stretched out on the bench. “What are you doing for Halloween?”

“Huh?" Amber looked down at her. “Oh, I, uh, hadn’t even thought about it. Handing out candy?"

“Oh," Lizzie said quietly. She felt the blood rising in her neck. “I, um, my friend Keith and I were thinking about going to the Dock for a Halloween party."

“The Dock,” Amber said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I haven’t been there in years.” She paused. “When are you going?”

She’s been there? Oh my God, yes! “It’s on Thursday night. We’re gonna be there around 8:30." Lizzie resisted the urge to dance on the bench. “Oh, you’re supposed to wear a costume.”

“Really?" Amber returned her gaze to Lizzie. “What would you like me to be?”

Lizzie’s mind reeled with the possibilities. Batgirl. Catwoman. Poison Ivy. Nude. “I, um, well, what do you want to be?" I'll be coming as chickenshit.

“Hmmmm," Amber crossed her arms. “What are you going to be?”

“Do you even need to ask?”


“Come on, Granny," Lizzie offered Granny her arm. Granny batted her away, rising from the waiting room chair unassisted. “I can drive back home.”

“Are you sure, Lizzie?" Granny said.

“Um, yeah, I’m sure. The therapist said I could," she lied. Better that I endure some pain than we both end up in the morgue.

“Okay, Lizzie." Granny handed the keys to her. “But you drive careful." Granny shook her index finger in Lizzie’s face.

“Oh, okay." Lizzie shook her head and guided the old woman out of the doctor’s office. Lizzie opened the car door for Granny then closed it once she was safely in her seat. Lizzie opened the driver’s side door and attempted to slide in. “Jesus, Granny!" She felt under the seat for the slide bar. “When did you become a midget?"

“Granny ain’t no midget!" she snapped. “Granny’s arthuritis gets in her knees."

Lizzie grumbled. She placed the key in the ignition and attempted to start the car. “Have you been having trouble with the starter?" she asked over the groaning of the engine. She tried once more, smiling when she heard the engine catch. “There we go.”

She revved the engine as they rolled out on the street. “Oh, we’re in business now." Lizzie glanced in the rearview mirror. “Granny, what the Hell? How many of those are there?" she asked, indicating the stack of Beanie Babies on the rear ledge.

“Twenty two," Granny stated.

“And why would you need 22 stuffed animals in the back of your car?" Lizzie asked.

“Ain’t got no room for ‘em in the house. Where else am I gonna keep ‘em?"

[Kieli]

*laughing so hard that she can barely breathe* I think you do this just to kill me. Granny is so freakin' hilarious. Goddamn that was funny! I have that problem with my dad now. He won't admit that he can't see for crap anymore and that he needs a hearing aid. So I have to suffer with the man's driving. I swear that's why I have so many grey hairs. And I won't even tell you about the elderly couple who were arrested recently for driving recklessly in VA. The woman was blind, the husband was half-deaf and they were each helping the other. She was behind the wheel because the husband lost his legs, and he was in the passenger seat yelling out directions to her. I couldn't even believe it. Neither could the cop when he pulled them over for running a red light.

[tcurti3]

Kieli, you've done the impossible--you've found a worse driver (actually, 2) than my grandmother. The prospects are terrifying. I think that the kamikaze drivers up here in the frozen North reduce the need for yearly driving exams. If I allowed my grandmother, who bears a striking resemblance (gasp!) to Granny in this story, to get behind the wheel during one of her visits, she couldn't make it out of the driveway without having an accident.
Incidentally, updates will be smut-free until further notice. Profanity will be plentiful, though. I wouldn't want to deprive anyone of their US RDA of foul language.
Same rules apply as above: Mine, all mine.

------------------------------------

Halloween

“Well, am I hot or not?" Lizzie asked Keith as she spun around in Granny’s living room.

“Lizzie, you know I am not the one to ask," Keith said flatly. “But I do like that it’s air-conditioned." He indicated several small holes in the fabric.

“Shit," spat Lizzie. “Granny, why didn’t you tell me you had moths?”

“Granny ain’t got no moths!" Granny examined the fabric closely. “Aw, that ain’t gonna hurt ya." Granny walked towards the kitchen. “Can’t even tell there’s a hole there less you’re right up on it.”

“So, I’m guessing that some lucky little dyke is going to see the ventilation up close and personal," Keith giggled.

“God, I hope so." Lizzie bit her lip in anticipation. “I asked her out. Kind of.”

“Who?" Keith leaned forward. “Not Mickey…”

“Oh Christ, no!" Lizzie said, gesturing for Keith to be quiet. “Amber. The therapist.”

“Oh," Keith said. “Well, that’s a relief. I didn’t want to be in the middle of some bizarre, bisexual, incestuous triangle thing.”

“Well, when you put it that way," Lizzie said, pulling on her mask. “It kind of sounds exciting.”


Lizzie and Keith reminisced about high school misadventures and Keith’s job as an executive assistant at Procter & Gamble during the drive to the Dock. Lizzie immediately scanned the room as they entered the bar.

Where is she? “I don’t see her," Lizzie said to Keith. She pouted. “I guess she’s not coming.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake," he said, hailing the bartender. “Have a drink and shut the Hell up. What’s your poison tonight?”

“Hmmmm," mused Lizzie. “I am wearing a retro Batman suit, so I’m guessing I’m going to be drinking something with Bacardi in it." She tapped a gloved finger against her chin. “Maybe Bacardi and Coke.”

“You are such a freak," murmured Keith. “Stoli lemonade and a Bacardi and Coke." Keith smiled at the bartender. “Where’s Steve tonight?”

“Called in sick," said the bartender. Keith frowned. He quickly made their drinks and placed them on the bar.

“First round’s on me," said Lizzie, slapping down a twenty.

“Every round’s on you for as long as I have to suffer your grandmother.”
Lizzie smiled and turned to peruse the bar. “Holy shit," she said softly.
Keith followed her gaze to the door. “Is that her?"

A grin spread across Lizzie’s face. “Oh, yes it is." Lizzie found it impossible to move. She watched wordlessly as Amber stood just inside the door, scanning the bar. God, could she look any hotter? Amber wore a form-fitting long-sleeved black shirt and a matching black mini-skirt. On her head were perched a pair of tiger ears. Amber turned to look the length of the bar. Lizzie smiled as she glimpsed the striped tail that graced Amber’s backside. Lizzie’s face fell as Amber waved in recognition and walked toward a tall blonde man in a pirate suit. She felt her chest tighten as Amber embraced the man.

“Oh, bad kitty," hissed Keith. “Looks like this one isn’t so big on the pussy.”

“Shit," Lizzie shook her head. She fell back on the barstool. “Another Bacardi and Coke," she called to the bartender.

“You haven’t even…" Keith started as Lizzie swallowed the entire drink in a single swallow. “Well, never mind." Keith took a cigarette from its pack and lit it. “Aren’t you even going to say ‘hi’?"

“What’s the point?" Lizzie whined. She squeezed the lime wedge into her drink.

“WWBD," said Keith. Lizzie looked at him quizzically. “What would Batman do?” Lizzie frowned. "Come on. You did invite her, after all."

Lizzie sighed. “All right," she stood up from the barstool. “I’ll go get shot down. Order me another one." Lizzie made her way through the crowd. She took note of the Cleopatra with five o’clock shadow, the smartass with vines and condoms stapled to a brown shirt (“rubber tree," Lizzie heard him say as she walked by), and the very elaborate recreation of the Queen of Hearts from the Disney version of “Alice in Wonderland.”

“Hey," Lizzie said, tapping Amber on the shoulder.

“There you are!" Amber said enthusiastically. She hugged Lizzie to her quickly and lightly. Damn, minimal contact. “I should have known this would be your costume," she said, a slow smile dancing across her lips.

God, why me? Oh wait, I know why me--it's payback for Mickey. “Yeah, I, um, I came with my high school buddy." Lizzie pointed vaguely in Keith’s direction.

“Huh," Amber squinted in his direction. “Oh, where are my manners? This is James.”

Lizzie extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, James." Bastard.

“Nice to meet you, Batman." James laughed.

“Oh, sorry. This is one of my patients, Lizzie." Amber said.

Well, that clears up any question of what I am. “Can I get either of you a drink?" Lizzie asked dejectedly. James raised his Corona in her direction. “How about you?" she asked Amber.

“Sure," Amber said. “What are you having?”

“Bacardi and Coke," Lizzie raised her glass.

“Can I have a sip?" Amber wrapped her hand around the glass, squeezing Lizzie’s fingers, and brought the straw to her lips. “Mmmm. I’ll have one of those, too.”

I hope these shorts are waterproof. “Coming right up," Lizzie said after a moment’s hesitation. With considerable effort, Lizzie tore her eyes away from Amber and headed to the bar. She ordered a Bacardi and Coke then motioned wildly for Keith to join them.

Lizzie turned to find Amber at her elbow. “Oh, uh, here’s your drink.”

“Thanks," Amber said as she took the drink from Lizzie. “I hope I didn’t mess anything up by revealing your secret identity.” She smiled. “Have you been here long?"

“Oh, not too long," Lizzie said, looking down at her drink. “Keith thought that this bartender he likes was going to be here, so we got here a bit earlier than I’d planned." God, please don’t be straight.

“Oh," Amber shook her head. She glanced around the bar. “Some pretty elaborate costumes tonight.”

“Yeah. Gay bars are always the place to be on Halloween. I like the rubber tree. Pretty funny," Lizzie said flatly. I have to ask. I have to know. Now. Lizzie rolled the Batman mask up, propping it behind her ears. “So, uh, how long have you and James been, uh, together?"

“What?" Amber said. “Oh, we’re not…" She shook her head. “We’re not together. We work together. He has a boyfriend."

Lizzie felt the muscles in her back relax. “And you?”

“I thought I already told you," Amber leaned close to Lizzie’s ear. “No boyfriend." Lizzie pulled back and looked into her eyes. Lizzie raised her eyebrows. Amber leaned in again. “No girlfriend, either.”

Lizzie smiled. At fucking last. “Cool!" Lizzie said in a slightly more enthusiastic voice than she had intended. “I mean, uh, not cool." Amber frowned. “I mean, uh, it’s…oh shit, I don’t know what I mean." Lizzie looked down at her drink. “I mean, I know what I mean, but I’m just not expressing it well."

“It’s okay," Amber leaned forward and whispered in Lizzie’s ear. Lizzie blushed as she felt Amber’s cheek brush against her own. I owe you big time, God. She pulled back her head to see Amber smiling at her. Really, really big time.

“So, who’s this?" Keith interrupted.

You’re killing me, man. “Keith, this is Amber," Lizzie gestured towards her. “And this," she gestured to James, “is James." Lizzie leaned in to Keith. “He has a boyfriend," she whispered.

“For now," Keith said quietly. “Hi, Amber," Keith said, glancing at her. “And HELLO James.”

Lizzie laughed then turned to Amber. “I guess we’re on our own.”

Amber looked back at the two men, already deep in conversation. “It would appear so.”

Lizzie felt herself blush. Maybe she won’t notice with the costume. She stole a glance at Amber, who was smirking at her. Or maybe she will. Lizzie and Amber placed their empty drinks on the bar. Lizzie pulled down her mask when she recognized the song that had just started playing. “We have to dance to this!" she yelled, grabbing Amber’s wrist and pulling her to the dance floor. “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” by Bauhaus blared from the club’s speakers.

Lizzie turned to face Amber when they reached the center of the dance floor. She made a ‘V’ with her right index and middle fingers, drawing her hand across her face horizontally. She bounced excitedly up and down, shifting slowly side to side. Amber stared at her open-mouthed.

Lizzie leaned close to Amber. “It’s the Batusi!" Lizzie exclaimed. “The dance that Adam West did on the series. You know…" she trailed off, slowing her gyrations.

“Okay," Amber said. Lizzie couldn’t quite read her expression. “I can't decide if you really think you are Batman or if you're just a really big fan.”

“It’s kind of a spiritual thing," Lizzie said, suddenly ashamed. She slowed her dance to a slight sway. “I’ll, um, I’ll explain it to you some day." If you ever speak to me again.

Lizzie bit her lip and looked into Amber’s eyes. The Bauhaus song ended and “The Scientist” by Coldplay started. Lizzie smiled shyly, pushed up her mask, and moved closer to her. Amber gave Lizzie a shy smile and placed her hands gingerly on Lizzie’s shoulders. Lizzie placed her hands on Amber’s hips and pulled her close. Lizzie rested her head on Amber’s shoulder, her nose nuzzled in Amber’s shoulder-length hair.

Lizzie glanced up, trailing her eyes along Amber’s jaw line. Lizzie smiled. God, please don’t let me fuck this up. They moved slowly in time to the music. Lizzie drank in Amber’s scent. Like oranges.
Lizzie licked her lips. Should I chance it? She looked at Amber’s elegant neck, noticing a slight vibration where her carotid artery pulsed.
Lizzie frowned. She did touch me earlier. Yeah, but that was just cheek on cheek action. But she’s got to know what this is doing to me. What she is doing to me. I just had to be a big freak earlier with the Batman thing. But she seems to be okay with me now. Lizzie sighed. What the fuck. Lizzie leaned forward and kissed Amber gently on the neck. Please let it be okay. Lizzie glanced warily to Amber’s face. Lizzie beamed when she saw that Amber’s eyes were closed and a smile played across her lips. Yes!

The song ended. The strains of Britney Spears’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” pulsed through the club. Lizzie lifted her head from Amber’s shoulder then grabbed Amber’s hand. “Time for another drink." Lizzie led Amber through the bar to a secluded table. “Another one?" Lizzie asked. Amber nodded. “Be right back," Lizzie smiled. She walked to the bar and held up a twenty, covertly glancing behind her. Is she looking at me? Come on, look at me.

She walked back with their drinks. “Having fun?”

Amber nodded her head and took a sip of her drink. “Did you buy that costume today?"

“No, I’ve had this since college," Lizzie explained. “I used to wear costumes to class when I was an undergrad.”

Amber frowned. “Really?”

“Well, I went to Centre," Lizzie swallowed hard. “And it was this really tiny school with all these conservative asshole students." God, please let her understand it was just a joke. “And it was just always so much fun to get a reaction out of them by doing stuff like, well, like wearing this costume.”

Amber took another drink. “You’re a little odd, Lizzie.”

“Yeah, I know," she replied. “But I’m always entertaining.”

“I don’t doubt that," Amber said, fixing Lizzie with a bright blue stare. She glanced at her watch. “Is it 11:00 already?"

Lizzie shrugged. “Watch didn’t go with the costume.”

“I’m gonna have to leave soon," Amber apologized. “Work tomorrow.”

“Stay,” Lizzie said quietly, placing her hand over the blonde’s. “Just for a little while.”

Amber looked down to their joined hands then back up to Lizzie. “How could I resist a request from the Man of Steel? Or, I guess, Woman of Steel.”

“Actually,” Lizzie said. “That’s Superman. Batman was the Caped Crusader.”

“Oh,” Amber said, looking down at her drink. “Like I said, I never really read comics.” An uncomfortable silence followed.

“So,” Lizzie started. “You’ve been to the Dock before?”

Amber nodded. “Once or twice.”

Lizzie frowned. Like pulling teeth. “How long have you been, um, out?”

“Junior year of college,” Amber said, taking a sip of her drink, still refusing to look at Lizzie.

Okay, let’s try something new. “What’s your favorite color?”

Amber looked at her, a puzzled expression on her face. “Why?”

“My other line of questioning wasn’t working so well,” Lizzie said sarcastically then took a drink.

“Maybe I’ve got something to hide,” Amber said.

“Ax murderer?” Lizzie asked. Amber shook her head. “Republican?” Amber grimaced and shook her head. “Celine Dion fan?” Amber groaned and took another drink. “Oh, thank God it’s not that.” Lizzie shifted on the barstool. “What do you do for fun?”

“Read,” Amber sighed. “Watch TV. Sometimes watch a movie.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Lizzie inched forward on her seat. “What kind of movies do you like?”

“Old movies,” she said. “Bette Davis, Grace Kelly, Doris Day.”

“I like old movies,” Lizzie said. “Well, I like Hitchcock. And Frankenheimer. ‘Manchurian Candidate’ is my favorite movie.”

“I think I’ve seen that. It has Angela Lansbury--right?” Amber asked.

“Yeah, she’s great in that,” Lizzie said. “What else?”

“Huh?”

“What else do you do?” Lizzie asked.

“I work a lot,” Amber said quietly then looked at her watch. “11:15. Now I really do have to go.”

“Oh," Lizzie said, disappointed. “Can I, um, can I get your number before you go?”

“Don’t you see me enough?" Amber smiled.

Not nearly. “Um, no, I guess I don’t." Lizzie felt the blush rise to her ears. She decided to take the gamble. “At least, not in the way I’d like to.”

“Do you have a pen?"

Lizzie looked up, feeling her pulse race. “I’ll get one!" She sprinted to the bar and begged the bartender for use of his pen. He reluctantly loaned it to her. “Here," Lizzie shoved a napkin in front of Amber. Amber finished her drink then scribbled a phone number on the napkin. She stood to leave. What if this is the only time I see her outside of the doctor's office? Lizzie’s mind ached. “Are you sure you can’t stay out a little longer?”

Amber cupped Lizzie’s chin in her palm and lifted her head slightly. Amber leaned down, lightly pressing her lips against Lizzie’s. She moved to whisper in Lizzie’s ear. “Maybe I have a secret identity." She straightened and smiled at Lizzie. “See you tomorrow!" Lizzie tried desperately to force her mouth to close.


Lizzie fell asleep with a smile on her face. She awoke early, excited to realize that she had a therapy appointment that afternoon. She called Ron and verified that he would be picking her up at 2:30. She slid into the passenger seat and relayed the previous night’s events to her stepfather. “Best. Night. Ever." Lizzie giggled.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you giggle in twenty years," said Ron.

Lizzie smiled at him from the passenger seat. “God, she is just so…" Beautiful. Sexy. Everything. “Perfect.”

“You’ve got it bad," he surmised. Lizzie shook her head. “Maybe you and Jimbo can have a double ceremony.”

“What?" Lizzie glared at him.

“I don’t know anything for sure," he said. “But I think Jimbo and Mickey are gonna set the date real soon.”

Oh Christ. “Are you sure?" Lizzie suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

“Pretty sure," he said. “Are you feeling okay?"

“Yeah, I’m, uh, yeah." Lizzie raised a finger to check the pulse in her neck. Like a rabbit being chased by a dog.

“What happened between you two?" Ron looked over at her.

“What? Who?" Lizzie feigned ignorance. Please don’t ask me that.

“You and Mickey," Ron looked back to the highway. “Ever since you found out Jimbo and Mickey were dating, you’ve been kind of weird. Did something happen in high school? Was she mean to you?”

Oh thank you, God. “Well, it wasn’t her," she started. “It was her boyfriend. He was a real jackass to Sam.”

“Oh," Ron said. Lizzie noticed him glance at her. “Well, she can’t help that."

“No, I, uh, guess not." Lizzie settled back in her seat, feeling her heart rate decline.

[Kieli]

Ugh, I hate you. You do these short updates and you make me stop breathing the whole time I'm reading and....and.....damn...now I have to mop myself off the floor.

[tcurti3]

Kieli, I just couldn't sleep thinking that you might hate me . Sooo, without further ado, here's another brief update. I will try to post at least once more before Sunday.
We're roughly halfway through the story (for those who care to know).
There are a few references to Cincinnati kids' TV shows from the 70s/80s in this update. Johnny Depp said that Al of 'Uncle Al' fame was one of his inspirations for the Willy Wonka character. It's disconcerting to know that Mr. Depp & I have some of the same characters kicking around our psyches. If you really want to see a picture, check out http://www.tvparty.com/lostcincinnati.html . I am not responsible for any resulting psychological damage.

Same rules as above: Mine, all mine.
Some profanity, nothing too Godawful.
----------------------------------------

Aftermath

“Hey!" Lizzie bounded up to Amber, who was sitting behind her desk flipping through a chart.

“Oh, uh, hi." Amber looked up from her chart. “Feel up to riding the bike?”

“Okay," Lizzie said. I thought it was okay. Was it not? Lizzie walked to the bike and mounted it. What did I do? Did I do something I don't remember? Oh God, how would I know if I didn't remember? Ten agonizing minutes later, she stood, her legs tingling from the exertion.

She walked to the bench and lay down. What is she doing? She hasn’t even looked up from that chart. Lizzie rolled to her right.

“Is something wrong?" Lizzie asked as she sat up.

“Hmmm? Oh, no, just trying to catch up on some stuff." Amber said. She closed the chart she had been looking at.

Lizzie stood then walked over to the desk. “Is it about last night?”

Amber dropped her gaze to the desk. “Yes.”

No. “I don’t want there to be any weirdness between us," Lizzie said softly. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it if you don’t want to…”

“That’s not it," Amber said quickly. “It’s just…I’m just a little tired today. I’m not used to staying out late."

“Oh," Lizzie searched Amber’s face. “I know how to fix that." Amber arched an eyebrow. “Have coffee with me.”

“I have to work." Amber opened another chart. “You know that.”

Lizzie placed her hands on either side of the chart and leaned down. “I know that you probably don’t have to work all night." She smiled at Amber. “At least, I hope they don’t make you work all night. There are laws to prevent that kind of thing.”

Amber smiled. “What were you thinking?”

Yes! “I was thinking the Newport Starbucks—the one over by St. Luke. You tell me when.”

“How about 7:00?" Amber frowned. “Wanna meet there or…?”

“Oh, no. I have got quite the pimpin’ ride," Lizzie smiled. “What’s your address?”


Lizzie walked out to the parking lot and spotted Ron’s car. He sat in the driver’s seat reading a worn paperback. He smiled when he saw her and started the car. Lizzie told him about the coffee date. “So, she’s going out with you tonight?" Ron asked incredulously. “Isn’t that…is that allowed?”

“I guess so," Lizzie said. “I didn’t think to ask her." I was just so fucking thrilled that she said ‘yes.’

“I knew I should have asked out my cardiologist," Ron laughed.

Lizzie winced. She tried to forget about Ron’s congenital heart condition. “You mean that old guy. What was his name? Peterman or Peterbilt or something…”

“Not Dr. Peterson," Ron shook his head, clearly trying to rid himself of the mental image. “That lady doctor I go to now. Dr. Fielding.”

“Oh, thank God." Lizzie laughed. “I just really couldn’t imagine you with someone who resembles Roy Orbison.”

“For God’s sake, don’t tell your grandmother," Ron joked. “She’ll tell the entire county that I’m gay before dinner." The car rolled to a stop at the red light. “So, do you think she likes you?”

“God, I hope so," she said honestly. “I really do.” I could really use a normal relationship.


Ron dropped off Lizzie at Granny’s. I wonder what’s up with the Concordia saga? She dialed Janet’s number. “I thought you were going to call me back last week," Janet snapped.

“Yeah, I was going to but, I…uh…I’ve been having a lot of pain," Lizzie lied. “So, what’s been going on?”

“Nothing so far," Janet sighed. “That meeting I was telling you about was just about contract negotiations with the flight attendants and the mechanics."

“How are those going?"

“Don’t ask," Janet said quickly. “Just be glad you’re not here.”

“Oh, I am glad of that every single day," Lizzie said. “I, uh, I think my Granny’s calling me."

“Okay. Call me at home later and I’ll tell you more," Janet said quietly.


Lizzie hung up the phone. She walked to the kitchen and grabbed Granny’s keys from the counter. ”See you later tonight!" she called to her grandmother, virtually sprinting out of the house. She smiled as she gunned the motor in her grandmother’s car. She drove as quickly as the car would go (45MPH on a straight stretch, 32MPH on a hill) to Amber’s house.

“So, how do you like my ride?" Lizzie grinned.

“I was halfway expecting the Batmobile," Amber smiled at Lizzie then turned to stare at the powder blue 1980 AMC Concord. “But this is quite, uh, something. Is it yours?”

“Unfortunately, no. It’s my Granny’s." Lizzie opened the door for her. “Don’t get too accustomed to this luxury," she said as Amber slid into the passenger seat.

“I don’t think I’ve even seen a car with bench seats in fifteen years." Amber said, searching for the seat belt latch.

“Believe it or not, Granny only bought this thing five years ago." With considerable effort, Lizzie jerked the car into drive. “My cousin Erma was getting rid of it and Granny’s Plymouth Scamp had just died.”

“Bet she got quite a deal on it," Amber smiled.

“I think she paid in cornmeal," Lizzie joked. “Maybe threw in a bushel of corn for the floor mats.”

Amber laughed. “So, do you have a car in Chicago?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a Jeep I share with my buddy Sam," Lizzie revved the engine at a stop sign, grimacing at the high idle rate. “Not much need for a car in the city.”

“He’s your, um, roommate?"

“And my best friend," Lizzie looked over at her. “We met when we were 12 and, well, we’ve had pretty much the same teenage boy relationship ever since." Lizzie smiled. “He’s as close to a brother as I’ve ever had." Lizzie winced at the thought of Jimbo. And Sam never has to worry about me fucking his fiancé.

“I always wanted a brother," sighed Amber. “Or a sister.”

“Was it just you and your parents?"

“It was just me and my Mom," Amber said flatly. “My father was never in the picture.”

“I’m sorry," Lizzie said. “My father died when I was a kid, but my mother remarried when I was 14. Hence the stepdad and stepbrother." Lizzie revved the engine again, praying that the car wouldn’t die in the intersection.

“Are you trying to impress me?" Amber smiled over at Lizzie.

“Muscle car," said Lizzie sarcastically as they pulled in to the Starbucks parking lot. Lizzie slid out of the car and walked to the passenger side. Amber had already opened the door. Lizzie stood awkwardly. She couldn’t suppress a sharp intake of breath as Amber stood and their eyes met. God, this can’t even be real.

Amber met Lizzie’s gaze, then looked down at the ground. “Want to, um, split a dessert or muffin or something?"

“Whatever you want," Lizzie walked toward the store. And there are absolutely no restrictions on that.

They sat at a small table near the window. Amber cut the strawberry muffin in half, placing Lizzie’s portion on a napkin and sliding it to her.
“Strawberry, huh?” Lizzie said. “I'm beginning to think you’re as obsessed with Strawberry Shortcake as I am with Batman.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Amber said. “Since I barely remember reading the comic.” She took a bite of the muffin. “So are you…is there…" Amber frowned at her half of the muffin. “Are you seeing anyone in Chicago?" Amber blushed.

“Not in a while." Lizzie shook her head then took a bite of her muffin. “I was going out with this girl for a while, but it just didn’t work out.”

“How long is a while?”

“About thirteen months," Lizzie swallowed. “I found out she was cheating on me."

“Ouch." Amber placed her hand over Lizzie’s. “I’m sorry.”

“Eh," Lizzie shrugged. “I’m not. Better to find out sooner than later." She looked into Amber’s eyes. “What about you? Any really good bad relationship stories?"

“Unfortunately, yes." Amber sighed and sat back in her chair. Lizzie frowned, missing the pressure of Amber’s fingers on her own. “The last woman I dated decided one day, after we’d been together for three years, that we were both going to Hell." Lizzie arched an eyebrow. “Last I knew, she was married and living in Mt. Adams." Amber whispered, “She’s a Republican.”

“Oh God, no!" Lizzie gasped. “I hate to see that happen to any of us." She toyed with the plastic lid on her cup. “How long ago?"

“About a year," Amber said. “I haven’t really felt like…I don’t know…like getting out there since.”

“Religious nuts’ll do that to you," Lizzie said knowingly. “I dated this girl in college. Real hillbilly from Murfreesboro." Lizzie chuckled at the memory. “Her grandmother tried to baptize her on the floor of her kitchen to drive out the demons when she found out she was dating a girl." She laughed. “Maybe it worked. She was dating some half-wit frat boy last I knew.”

Amber nodded, sipping her latte. “She really tried to baptize her?”

“That’s what she told me," Lizzie shook her head. “My Granny may be crazy, but at least she’s never tried to pull that religious shit with me.”

“I’m a Catholic." Amber looked out the window.

“Practicing?" Lizzie asked, her heart racing. Devout?

“No, not for a while," Amber replied.

“I, um, I didn’t mean to offend you," Lizzie started. “I can be a real ass sometimes.”

“No, it’s okay." Amber gathered up her napkin and empty cup. “Ready to go?”

“Um, yeah," Lizzie felt her ears turn red as she gathered up her garbage. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Hell. Damn. They walked in silence to the Concord. Lizzie unlocked Amber’s door and opened it for her. She gently gripped Amber’s elbow as she started to slide into the seat. “I’m really sorry. I just don’t think sometimes." I hope I didn’t screw this up.

Amber reversed her movement, standing beside Lizzie. She placed her hand on the back of Lizzie’s head and drew her gently closer. Lizzie felt the blood rushing through her ears as their lips met. Home. Lizzie leaned in to Amber’s soft body, sliding her arms around Amber’s waist and holding her tight. Amber broke the kiss. “It’s okay," she whispered. “I’m just a little tired.”

Lizzie smiled, releasing her. She skipped to the driver’s side and slid in the front seat. “Want to take a little drive?"

“Wait a minute, should you even be driving?" Amber asked.

Uh oh. “Um, the surgeon said I could start doing more stuff as I felt stronger," she lied. “And it’s just a short drive.”

Amber eyed her suspiciously. “Well, that’s…unusual. But I guess since we’re already out a few more minutes can’t hurt."

Lizzie smiled and gunned the engine. “Here we go." They pulled out of the parking lot. “Where’d you go to high school?"

“Covington Catholic," she replied. Oh my God, a CovCath girl! “What about you?”

“Pendleton County," Lizzie said. “Out in the boondocks." She revved the engine as they prepared to turn on Monmouth Street. “But my grandmother lived in Newport, so we’d come visit every weekend when my Dad was alive." She smiled. “The best memories of my life are in this town." Lizzie beamed when she felt Amber’s fingers entwine with hers.

She raised their joined hands and pointed to the strip club on their right. “They had a bright pink Hearse for sale when I was 16. My mother and I had the biggest fight over it. I was convinced that I would look sooo cool tooling around Butler in a fluorescent pink Hearse." Amber laughed. “And that used to be the Five and Dime. I’d go there with my parents and my grandmother every weekend." Lizzie felt the tears sting her eyes. “Grandma would let me pick out one present every week. Then, I’d leave it at her house in my toy chest in the closet. It made it more…special, I guess, only being able to play with it at her house." She squeezed Amber’s hand. “I miss her so much. She’s been gone so long and I still miss her so much."

“You were close with her?" Amber asked.

“Not that close. I guess it’s just, my memories of her are all from this time when my Dad was still alive and I was so young. It all seemed," Lizzie grasped for the word. “Idyllic." Lizzie made a right and they wound through poorly paved streets to the rougher end of the East Row. “Did your Mom ever take you to the Five and Dime?”

“She wasn’t…” Amber started. “We didn’t really go a lot of places outside Covington.”

Lizzie pulled to a stop in front of a dilapidated Victorian. “This was her house." She raised their joined hands and pointed to the dilapidated house.

“It’s big,” Amber said. She cupped Lizzie’s cheek with her free hand. “Are you okay?”

“Saturdays,” Lizzie mumbled, looking out the window. “Saturday mornings we’d get up real early and come visit her.” She turned toward Amber. “She’d put down a sheet and I’d lay in the floor watching Channel 19 and eating Fritos.”

“A sheet?”

“She was weird about carpeting,” Lizzie replied. “Did you watch Channel 19?”

“I remember Channel 19,” Amber looked past Lizzie to the old house. “I remember staying up late to watch old horror movies and there was some guy with orange hair.”

“Cool Ghoul!” Lizzie said excitedly. “I loved that show! It was called ‘The Scream-In’ when I was little but then they changed the name in the 80s.”

“Can’t remember,” Amber said sadly.

“My friend Sam was on ‘The Uncle Al Show,’” Lizzie said. “He said Captain Windy was a real bitch.”

“Now, that doesn’t surprise me at all,” Amber replied, smiling. “I did always like how she’d fly in.”

“Remember how they’d cut for commercial breaks?” Lizzie bounced excitedly, gripping the steering wheel. “Alakazam one…Alakazam two…”

“Alakazam three and poof!” Amber finished. They both laughed. Amber bit her lip. “I can’t believe I remember that.” She shook her head then turned to Lizzie. “How do you remember this stuff?”

Lizzie shrugged. “If it happened before I was 20, it’s like it happened yesterday.” She paused. “Ask me what I had for breakfast two days ago and there’s no way in Hell I could tell you.” She looked back to the house. “Show me where you grew up," Lizzie said quietly. “I want to see.”

Amber leaned across the bench seat. Lizzie met her halfway. Her heart raced at the feeling of Amber’s full lips against hers. As Amber pulled away, Lizzie reached out and caught Amber’s bottom lip, suckling gently. Lizzie deepened the kiss then pulled away abruptly. “Bench seats are so underrated,” Lizzie said quietly. Amber laughed. Lizzie turned to her. “Tell me how to get there. Where you grew up. I really want to see.”

“Not today." Amber sighed. “Maybe next time.”


“She actually went out on a date with you?" Keith said incredulously.

“Why is that so hard to believe?" Lizzie asked. “What am I, a leper?”

“It’s not that," Keith said. “It’s just that you, well, you just don’t seem like her type.”

“So I am a leper," Lizzie twirled the phone cord around her wrist. “What does that even mean? Maybe she doesn’t just have one type.”

“I’m just telling you what I think," Keith snapped. “You won’t listen to me, anyway.”

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?"

“Well, I wish it was James." Keith sighed. “Or Steve. Oh Hell, any guy at this point.”

“Oh, Amber’s friend?" Lizzie frowned. “I thought he had a boyfriend.”

“Apparently, he does. A serious one."

“Lizzie, you need to call Jimbo," Granny called from the kitchen.

“Hang on a minute." Lizzie put her palm over the receiver’s mouthpiece. “What?”

“Jimbo called here for you three times while you was out," Granny walked into the bedroom, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Said you need to call him tonight.”

Lizzie’s eyes flew wide. “Oh, um, okay." She shook out two pain pills from the bottle on the nightstand and swallowed them. “I’ve gotta call you back later.”

“Oh, you need to call me back." Keith exhaled deeply. “I have got to hear this.”


Lizzie took several deep breaths before dialing Jimbo’s number. He picked up on the second ring. “Where in the Hell have you been?" Jimbo snapped. “I’ve been callin’ you for three days!”

“Well, I just got the message today." Lizzie said. “The Granny answering service isn’t always the most reliable. Incidentally," she said quietly, “I was on dates for the past two nights.”

“Well hot damn," Jimbo said. “The therapist?”

“Oh yeah," Lizzie smiled. “So, what’s the emergency?”

“You’re gonna be a best man." Jimbo said proudly. “Well, I guess a best woman. Not sure what it would be…”

Lizzie felt her mouth open but she could make no sound. She took a deep breath. “Congratulations." Congratulations, I fucked your wife! Twice! “When?”

“We’re thinkin’ it’s gonna be at the end of January," Jimbo replied. “But we’re gonna go celebrate at the Frosted Mug tonight." Please don’t ask me to go. “We want you to be there.”

“I…uh…Granny," Lizzie said. “I don’t want to leave Granny alone."

“Well, bring her along!" Jimbo said excitedly. “It’s not a party without Granny.”

“I’ll see if she’s up to it," Lizzie replied. I know I’m not.

“You tell her I’m gonna call her every ten minutes until you show up.”

Shit. “Okay, we’ll be there." Lizzie rubbed her eyes. Oh God, it’s gonna be a long night.

[Kieli]

[tcurti3]

Hey, Kittens. I'm trying to be timely with the updates, as I'll be gone for a few days next week.

I don't know how many of you watch FX, but 'New Moon Rising' was on this morning. I even dragged myself out of bed at 6:00AM CST to see it (even though I have it on DVD--it's just more exciting to see a broadcast). The broadcast inspired me to get up & finish editing another chapter.

Feedback foamy. Don't worry about hurting my feelings--criticism only makes me stronger. And maybe a little hungry.
Same rules apply as above: Mine, all mine.

------------------------------

Revelations

God, what a shithole. Lizzie glanced around at the darkened interior of the bar, frowning at the moth-eaten moose head hanging above the cash register. Lizzie’s stomach churned at the smell of cheap beer, cheaper perfume, cigarettes, and urine. The building looked as though it was once a farmhouse, but it had been converted to a bar long before Lizzie was born. “Isn’t this where Grandpa used to hang out after the War?”

“Your granddaddy never came here," Granny snapped. “Your great-granddaddy did. He’d haul all us kids up here on the hay wagon to get his bottles filled up with beer." Granny shook her head. “Every Saturday. Always made us hold them big jugs a’ beer on the way back.”

“There they are," Lizzie said, cutting off what she knew to be a much longer story. She led Granny around the bar to the back room. Lizzie shuddered at the message scrawled on a small blackboard hanging on the wall. The message read: ‘Karaoke Sunday 7:00’.

“Is that Lizzie Gossage?" Lizzie turned when she heard the voice. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Lizzie looked closely at the woman. I have absolutely no idea who you are. “Um, no. Sorry."

The woman slapped her hand against her thigh. “We went to school together." She looked closer at Lizzie. “We were in Biology sophomore year." Lizzie shook her head. “You and that guy Sam put a fetal pig’s head in my locker.”

“Teresa Dingle," Lizzie laughed nervously. “How did you know that was us?”

“Everybody knew," Teresa said flatly.

“Hey, I’m sorry, but it was a long time ago." Lizzie apologized. “Can I buy you a beer to make up for it?"

“It ruined my English paper.”

“Two beers, then." Lizzie said. “What’s your poison?”

“PBR.”

Why do I keep forgetting I’m in the South? “I’ll be back with one in just a few minutes.”

“Who was that, Lizzie?" Granny asked.

“Just some girl I went to high school with." And who Sam and I harassed mercilessly for absolutely no reason other than her amusing last name.

“There you are," Jimbo stood to hug Lizzie. “I was just getting ready to call you." He hugged Granny. “Are you feelin’ better?”

“Huh?" Granny looked at him, puzzled. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with Granny!”

“Yeah, she’s doing much better," Lizzie mumbled. “So, where’s Mickey?”

“She’s in the bathroom," Jimbo said loudly. “Oh shit, I guess I shouldn’t have just announced that to the bar."

“Is it just us tonight?" Lizzie swallowed hard.

“No, I called a couple of my work buddies." Lizzie nodded. “I called Dad, but he was already in bed.”

“Long time no see." Lizzie jumped at the familiar voice. She turned around to see Mickey wearing a pink miniskirt with a matching pink low-cut blouse and a forced smile.

“Yeah. Hi." Lizzie said coldly. Seriously? A pink miniskirt? In November? ”Congratulations."

“Thanks," she said dismissively. “Hi Granny!" Mickey hugged the old woman ferociously.

Don’t touch her! “Granny’s not feeling too well tonight," Lizzie said, glaring at Mickey.

“Now, Lizzie, why do you keep sayin’ that?" Granny pulled away from Mickey’s embrace. “Granny’s fine!”

“What does everybody want to drink?" Lizzie asked.

“I’ll have a PBR," Jimbo said. “One for you, hon?"

“Sure, sweetheart," Mickey cooed.

Cunt. “Do you want a beer, Granny?"

“Get me one in a glass, Lizzie." Granny sat down at the table next to Jimbo. “Granny don’t like them bottles.”

Lizzie made her way up to the bar and ordered five PBRs. When in Rome…She left a $5 tip, picked up the serving tray, and headed back to Teresa’s table. “Hey, you forgot your money!" the bartender yelled.

“That’s your tip," said Lizzie. The bartender shrugged and put the bill in his shirt pocket. “Here’s your first beer," she said as she placed a bottle in front of Teresa. Teresa mumbled in response. Was that a thank you or a fuck you? Lizzie leaned down to Teresa and said quietly, “Tell me when you’re ready for the next one." Lizzie stood and walked to the table, taking the chair between Granny and Mickey. She doled out the beers and started picking at the label on her bottle. “Did I miss anything?”

“Not a God damned thing," Granny said. “Just them bein’ all lovey dovey."

Jimbo leaned in to kiss Mickey. “I’m sorry, Granny. Am I embarrassin’ you?" he asked. Granny shrugged and took a drink of her beer. “You’re sure goin’ to town on that label." He indicated Lizzie’s bottle. With a flourish Lizzie pulled the remaining portion of the label off and stuck it to her forehead.

“Lizzie Gossage, what the Hell you doin’?" Granny pulled the label off Lizzie’s forehead.

“Used to do it in college," Lizzie looked pointedly at Mickey. “Guess maybe I’m getting a little too old to keep reliving my college days.”

“Um, honey, will you go get you, me, and Lizzie some Maker’s shots?" Jimbo shoved a twenty dollar bill at Mickey. Mickey stood and walked toward the bar. Jimbo leaned toward Lizzie. “What the Hell is going on with you tonight?"

“Just tired," Lizzie said. “Neck hurts.”

“Oh," Jimbo shook his head. “Please don’t let it spoil my night." He nodded toward the retreating Mickey. “Our night.”

Lizzie blushed. “I’m sorry.”

Mickey returned with three shot glasses. The three raised their glasses. “To us," Jimbo said.

“To us," said Mickey.

“Kampai," said Lizzie. Mickey and Jimbo glanced at her, then they all three drained the shots.

“Granny don’t want you gettin’ drunk," Granny hissed at Lizzie.

“If one beer and one shot make me drunk, you can call me candyass for the rest of my life," she said, placing the empty shot glass upside down on the table.

“Hey, who’re all these pretty ladies with this ugly bastard?" Lizzie turned to stare at a tall blonde man wearing a pair of oil-stained overalls and a checkered flannel shirt. He has the filthiest nails I’ve ever seen.

“Jack! You son of a bitch," Jimbo stood and shook the man’s hand. “Thought you’d never get here." Jimbo gestured around the table. “This is my stepsister Lizzie and her Granny and, of course, you know Mickey.”

Jack extended his hand to Lizzie. “Nice to meet you.”

Lizzie shook his hand. “Sure.”

“How are you doin’, Granny?" he touched the old woman on her shoulder.

“Get away from me, you man!" Granny snapped.

“Granny, he was just saying ‘hi’. You don’t need to freak out at him like that," Lizzie said, patting Granny’s hand reassuringly.

“He scared me." Granny turned her gaze to Jack. “Granny don’t like no man touchin’ her.”

“I guess that’s something you and Lizzie have in common," Mickey said sharply.

Oh, you want to play it that way? “At least I’m honest about what I like," Lizzie said just loud enough for Mickey to hear.

“Okay, I need another beer," Jimbo pushed his chair back and stood. “Anybody else?”

“I’ll take another," Lizzie said. It’s 'go' time. Granny shot her a disapproving look.

“I’ve heard Jimbo talk about you," Jack said to Lizzie. “You live up there in New York City.”

“Chicago," Lizzie corrected him. “But I guess all big cities seem alike if you live in Butler.”

“Well, I guess so." Jack looked confused. “Uh, so what’re the plans, Mickey?”

“Huh? Oh, the wedding’s on January 25th. It’s a Saturday," Mickey said.

“Where are you going for your honeymoon?" Lizzie asked bitterly. “London, Paris, or Versailles? Since I assume you’ll be staying in Kentucky….”

“Actually," Mickey straightened in her chair. “We’re going to the Bahamas for three days."

“Be sure to take your visa," Granny said.

“What?" Lizzie asked. “They’re not going to work in the Bahamas, just visit.”

“You need your visa to get out of the country," Granny said deliberately. “Your cousin Bobby had to have his when he went to New Orleans.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense," Lizzie stared at her grandmother. “New Orleans is in the United States. Hell, New Orleans is in the continental United States.”

“I’m tellin’ you he had to take his visa." Granny set her jaw and stared at Lizzie.

“Do you mean he took his credit card?" Lizzie asked. “Because unless I have a cousin Bobby who is not American, he wouldn’t need a visa to visit a city within the United States.”

“Whatever," Granny said, dismissing Lizzie with a wave of her hand.
Jimbo placed a bottle in front of Lizzie. “Drink up!" He distributed the remainder of the drinks to the table.

“So, Lizzie, are you married?" Jack asked, taking a long drink from his PBR.

“Good Lord no," she said. She turned to Jimbo. “Don’t you ever talk about me?”

“Lizzie’s gay," blurted Mickey. “She, um, doesn’t like guys.”

“And proud to be so," Lizzie said, starting to feel a little drunk. I really am kind of a candyass. Oh shit, I took pain medication earlier tonight.

“Oh," Jack said, clearly uncomfortable with the revelation. “Um, good for you, I guess.”

“Yes, it is." Lizzie stared at Mickey. “Very, very good. Sometimes.”

“Hey, Jack. Did you pull the engine on that Camaro?" Jimbo asked loudly.

“Um, no, didn’t get around to that," he said, glancing between Lizzie and Mickey.

“I’ll be right back," Lizzie said to Granny. She walked back to the table where Teresa sat drinking alone. “Doing okay? Need a refill?"

Teresa nodded. Lizzie walked to the bar and retrieved another PBR. She sat at the table next to the woman. God, she looks like she’s pushing 50. “So, um, what do you do now?”

Teresa nodded at her bottle, then lifted it and drank deeply. “Nothin’ now." She slumped back in her chair. “Got laid off when they shut the paper bag factory.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard about that," Lizzie said. “My cousin Nate used to work there. Didn’t they move it to Indonesia or something?”

Teresa nodded. “Fuckin’ Japs.”

Nothing like a little misplaced racism. “Wasn’t that, like, three years ago?" Teresa shook her head, her lower lip trembling. My God, is that what you looked like that day with the pig? Did we do that to you? “I’m, uh, I’m really sorry."

“For what?" Teresa looked at her.

“For the, uh, pig thing," Lizzie said, looking down at the table.

“You should be," Teresa said, the tears streaming down her face. “You really should." She stood and walked toward the door, leaving her half-full bottle of PBR. She turned as she reached the door. “You can kiss my ass, you fuckin’ bitch!”

Lizzie blushed and felt a tingling in her face as if she had been slapped. Could this night get any worse? She looked over at the table where her grandmother, stepbrother, his fiancé, and his friend stared open-mouthed in her direction. Yes, it can.

She walked to the bar to get another beer. “What’d you do to her?" the bartender asked.

“I was mean to her in high school," Lizzie said. She laid a five on the bar.

“Must’ve been some kind of fuckin’ mean," he said.

I didn’t even remember. Lizzie walked back to the table.

“Makin’ friends," Jimbo said.

“I knew her in high school," Lizzie said. “Turns out Sam and I were real shits to her." She shook her head. “I didn’t even remember her.”

“Did you come on to her," Mickey asked. “And maybe she didn’t like it?”

“I’m not usually the one who does the coming on," Lizzie shot back, her blue eyes blazing.

“Lizzie!" Granny said sharply. “I think it’s time for us to go home.”

“Let me finish my beer," Lizzie said, looking down at the table.

“So, uh, Lizzie, what do you do for a living?" Jack asked.

“I’m a systems analyst for Concordia," she said quietly. “Until they file for bankruptcy in a couple of months and can my ass.”

“Oh, that’s…nice." Jack shrugged his shoulders at Jimbo. Jimbo shook his head.

“Granny, how’s Virgie doin’?" Jimbo asked.

“Oh, she’s same as she always was," Granny said. “Hateful as the day is long. Mean as a red-assed spider.”

Lizzie laughed despite herself. And just how mean is a red-assed spider? She glanced up to see Mickey glaring at her. She choked back her laughter and downed the rest of the beer. “Okay, now it’s time for us to go." She extended her hand to Jack. “Nice to meet you." She hugged Jimbo tightly, closing her eyes. “Bye," she said to Mickey.

“Lizzie, what’s goin’ on?" Granny asked as Lizzie ushered her to the car.

“Nothing, Granny." Lizzie slammed Granny’s car door. “Not a God damned thing.”


“What happened last night?" Lizzie avoided Ron’s eyes as she buckled her seat belt.

“Nothing," she lied. “I just…I just drank too much.”

“That’s not what I heard," he said as they pulled out of the driveway. “Is Hannah doing okay?”

“Yeah, she’s just tired." Lizzie said. “I think I kept her out too late last night. She’s not used to that.”

“So, who was this girl you pissed off?"

Which one? “Oh, you mean Teresa? Just some girl I went to school with." Lizzie shut her eyes, trying to forget the events of the previous evening. “Sam and I were pretty mean to her when we were kids.”

“Must’ve been," Ron mumbled. They rode in silence to the interstate. Lizzie felt a little nauseated. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest. “So, what’s your problem with Mickey?" Ron’s words startled her awake. “And don’t give me this shit about her boyfriend bein’ mean to Sam.”

Lizzie turned to look at Ron. She swallowed hard, realizing how mad he must be to use profanity. I can’t live with this anymore. “We, um, we had a…" She closed her eyes. “We had a thing.”

“What does that mean?" His jaw was set and he stared at the road ahead.

“You know," Lizzie turned her head to stare out the window. “We, um, we had relations." She grimaced at her use of the archaic phrase.

Ron pulled the car to the side of the road. “You what?" Lizzie felt her face flush crimson. “When?"

“Back when I first got here, back in September," she felt the tears flow down her cheeks. “After my surgery.”

“Oh my God," Ron whispered. He leaned back in the driver’s seat, his hands still clutching the steering wheel. “Jimbo.”

“I know," Lizzie closed her eyes and turned to look out the window. God, I just want to die.

“Do you know what you’ve done?" his voice was a whisper. Lizzie nodded, still looking out the window. “Fucking look at me!" His voice rang through the car.

Lizzie turned her head to look at him. “I’m so…" she gasped for breath. “God, I don’t know how I could…”

The tears spilled from Ron’s eyes. “How could you? To your own brother?" He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “What in the Hell is wrong with you?"

“I…I didn’t mean for it to happen," Lizzie started to regain control over her speech. “She…well, it wasn’t me who pushed it."

He shook his head. “Do you think that even matters?”

Lizzie wiped her eyes. I did. “I guess not.”

Ron wiped his eyes and looked in the rearview mirror. Lizzie tortured herself in silence the rest of the ride.


Ron dropped her off at the door of the office. She trudged in and walked directly to the therapy room. She shut the door behind her and stood staring at the carpet. She didn’t even notice when Amber stood up from her desk and walked over to her. “Have you been crying?" Amber offered Lizzie a Kleenex.

“Fight with my stepdad," Lizzie said, refusing the tissue. “Any chance we can cut this kind of short today?"

“Oh, um, sure," Amber blushed. “You can skip the bike."

“Thanks," Lizzie said. She moved toward the bench. She settled herself on the bench and started the pointing exercise.

“Do you want to talk about it?" Amber stood at the foot of the bench.

“No," Lizzie snapped, immediately regretting it. “I, um, I can’t right now."
Amber nodded and walked back to her desk. She fished a chart out of the drawer and opened it.

Way to go, dumbass. Lizzie completed the exercises and sat up. “I’m sorry," she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to be like that with you."

Amber looked up from the chart. God, I feel like fucking shit and all you have to do is look at me…”It’s okay," she smiled. “I know family stuff can be…hard.”

You have no idea. “Can I, um, call you?" Lizzie looked at her anxiously. “Maybe tonight?”

“Sure." Amber smiled. “Now, finish those exercises, Batman." She looked down at Lizzie’s chart. “Oh!" she yelped. “This is your last scheduled session." She looked up at Lizzie. “Is that okay?”

Could my life be any worse? “I…guess so," Lizzie said softly. She felt her breath catch as Amber locked eyes with her, a slight smile gracing her lips.


Lizzie emerged from the therapy session. She glanced around the waiting room. He must be in the car. She walked down the stairs toward the door. Or maybe he left my worthless horny ass. She stumbled into the blinding sun that flooded the parking lot and spotted his ancient Subaru. She opened the car door. He avoided her gaze. He pulled out of the parking lot as she buckled her seat belt. They drove in silence down the interstate.

“I can’t believe you did this," he said softly as they exited the interstate.

“I can’t either," she said. “I hate myself for it. I just…I just couldn’t stop it." She inhaled. “I had a huge crush on Mickey when we were in high school." She paused. “Remember when Mom got so excited because I wanted to take that Home Ec class?" Ron nodded. “I only took it because Mickey was in there." She stared at the road stretched out before them. “I memorized her schedule, just so I could see her for a minute between classes." She blushed. “I think…I thought I was in love with her.”

“That’s no excuse," Ron said. “Jimbo’s your family." He turned to face her. “I’m your family.”

“I know," Lizzie felt the tears rolling down her cheeks again. “I wish to God I could take it back. Every second of it.”

“Well, you can’t." Ron said bitterly. “Do you remember anything about your father?”

Lizzie shook her head, shocked at the change of topic. “Yeah, of course. Quite a bit. Why?”

“Do you remember when he cheated on your Mom?"

The words were like a sharp blow to Lizzie’s stomach. “What?"

“You heard me," he said, staring straight ahead. “Do you know what that did to her?"

Lizzie shook her head. No. Not him. “I didn’t know.”

“It destroyed her faith in him," he said. “It destroyed her faith in everything."

“When?"

“About a year before he died." He turned right at the foot of the hill. “Some girl in Newport." Lizzie felt dizzy. “Your Mom had been with him for eleven years and he did that to her." Please let me out of this car. “She never really forgave him for it. She never forgave herself for not forgiving him before he died."

Lizzie looked at him blankly. “Does Granny know?”

“No," Ron said flatly. He pulled the car into the driveway. “Your Mom never told anyone except me." He met Lizzie’s eyes. “She almost didn’t marry me because of what he did to her.”

“Why?" she whispered. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Sometimes," he said slowly. “It’s best for everybody if nobody knows.”

[vix84]

What an amazing update. I loved how it started with the hilarity of the pig and the beer-induced comments, and turned so sharp and emotional.

“Used to do it in college," Lizzie looked pointedly at Mickey. “Guess maybe I’m getting a little too old to keep reliving my college days.”

10 points to Lizzie for that line!

Oh, about the crazy driving from grandparents; I assure you my grandfather was worse than both of your grandmothers put together. He had an accident recently and is now permanently off the road. His neighbour (whose parking spot is beside his) was so pleased to hear that his car was fucked for good.

“Where are you going for your honeymoon?" Lizzie asked bitterly. “London, Paris, or Versailles? Since I assume you’ll be staying in Kentucky….”

OK, that is funny as hell. Some small town American names are perfect for jokes.

The ending is so sad. Poor Ron! He really seems sweet and his words of advice about keeping it a secret made me feel for him. I'm nervous to see what will happen. Surely if Jimbo was the one to tell him what Lizzie did the previous night, he has some inkling.

As for Amber, I'm very curious about her 'big secret'. Abusive parents? She was psychotic until recently and thus never went to an amusement park or read a comic? Looking forward to finding out the deal there.

I can't wait to read more, this is one of the funniest and most original things I've read on this board.

[Kathryn91628]

Several more brilliant updates. I have to say, i'm a little disappointed that Mickey turned out to be such a bitch. I think there could have been a very brilliant, dramatic plot behind it if she honestly did just like Lizzie. It's always hard for me to accept a second love interest once the first has been introduced, however, Amber seems like a much better character. (I suppose one reason the Mickey thing is weird for me is i have a character named that, and she's very drastically different, so whenever i read about Mickey here i think about my own Mickey, and it throws me off).

Just a note about the most recent update here, toward the end when Ron found out.. it felt a little melodramatic. All the tears streaming down cheeks and such. I think it would be more realistic for him to simply be very mad, or disappointed with her, as opposed to sad/crying. And it's a bit rushed through, i think more time should be spent on leading up to the moment, or when they are talking. Otherwise, it's very good.

Cheers,
~Kat.

[tcurti3]

Hey, guys. Not an update yet--working on it now & hope to have it posted tomorrow. Vix, Kieli, & Kat--you guys are the best. Your kind words really keep me going. Kat, you have a valid point about slowing it down or building up the revelation a bit. I've probably been watching too much Lifetime Movie Network for my own good . The thing that I was trying to get across with the tears was something specific to southern men (at least, a lot of the southern men I know)--that when they are very angry, they cry, which only makes them more angry. I really can't say that I've observed that much in the North, but you knew the shit was about to hit the proverbial fan in Kentucky when a guy started crying.
Vix: as for Amber being a psychotic, no more so than any other character I've ever written. You're on the right track, though. Some will be revealed in the next chapter & the rest will be revealed a couple of chapters after that.
Thanks again to everyone for taking the time to read my little story.

[Kathryn91628]

tcurti3--- oh, i didn't realize that. It makes a lot more sense, with that information. maybe you should put that somewhere in Lizzie's narrative-- to clear it up for those of us who are a) canadian, and b) too young to know that. anyhow, i really do enjoy this story. I'll be looking forward to the next update.

[Boschi]

My thumbs are getting tired - they've both been up for weeks now, ever since you started this. It's getting a little painful, they've never been like this for this long. I just...need...some...release.

(beats head against desk to clear mind)

Right - sorry about that. Point was - still love this. And I'll add my name to the Ron fanlist. Sometimes it's just dreadfully wonderful to have someone in your life who just wipes away all the bullshit. Scary as hell, but wonderful.

So... Lizzie seems totally lost at sea here - I'm looking forward to some more adventures and then a homecoming of somesort or the other.

And darn it, I like Jimbo - feel bad that he's in love with a nit like Mickey.

As for crying, angry Southern Appalachian men - yeah, the whole family betrayal thing makes that quite reasonable. Damn that's a gut wrenching dose of guilt.

Sorry for discombobulated feedback - I'm a little sleep deprived.

- Boschi

[tcurti3]

Hey, Kittens. Big, fat update for you guys this time, as I will be AWOL for the next week. Thanks so much to everyone for their feedback. I will respond individually upon my return to scenic Chicagoland.
Same rules apply as above: Mine, all mine.

-----------------

Moving Right Along

“Lizzie, honey, dontcha want somethin’ to eat?" Granny stood in Lizzie’s bedroom doorway.

“Not hungry," Lizzie said dejectedly. “Bring me some water, though.”
Granny turned and walked through the hall towards the kitchen. Lizzie tapped out two muscle relaxers in her palm. She fought to hold back her tears. No more. Not today. Granny returned with the water. “Thanks," murmured Lizzie, popping the pills in her mouth and swallowing.

“Lizzie, what’d Granny do?" Lizzie looked up to see tears welling in Granny’s eyes.

“Oh Granny, you didn’t do anything." Lizzie sat up and hugged her. “You’ve never done anything except take care of me. And before that, Mom and Virgie."

“Granny worked the whole time your granddaddy was off fightin’ that war!" Granny said.

“What?" Lizzie pulled back from the hug. “You never told me that.”

“Well, I did." Granny smiled. “Worked all day, five days a week at the cannery in Butler. Started when Buddy left for the war…”

“January of 42," Lizzie chimed in.

“…and worked ‘til he came home."

“August of 44."

“Used to take your Momma to work with me," Granny continued. “They had me peelin’ maters all day every day. Used to set your Momma in one a’ them big crates with Ethel Pillim’s little girl and they’d just sit and play all day."

Lizzie smiled at her. “Really?”

“Yeah!" Granny looked at the ceiling. “Them was the good old days. Had all the money in the world, Lizzie.”

Lizzie chuckled. And how much was that? $15 a week?

“All the money in the world," Granny repeated.


Lizzie hugged her grandmother again then stood and walked to the kitchen. She poured a cup of coffee then walked to Granny’s bedroom. She picked up the phone and dialed Amber’s home number. “Hey, it’s me," Lizzie said. “Uh, it’s Lizzie."

“I know who it is," Amber said. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little," Lizzie smiled. Now.

“Everything okay with your stepdad?"

“Not exactly," Lizzie bit her lip. “But I don’t want to talk about it on the phone."

“Oh," Amber said.

“This isn’t going how I planned," Lizzie said.

“So, how did you plan it?" Amber asked.

“Oh my God, did I say that out loud?" Lizzie gasped. “God, I’m such an idiot." Amber laughed. “Okay," Lizzie sighed. “Let’s start over. Would you like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Sure. Where are we going?”

“Hmmmm, I hadn’t thought that far ahead." Lizzie ran her finger along the bedside table. Granny really needs to dust in here. “Remember that I haven’t lived here in years, so I’m not really sure what’s around anymore,” she said. “The only places I’m absolutely sure of are the Pepper Mill, Frisch’s, and Dixie Chili."

“Well, that is quite a selection," Amber mused. “What’s the Pepper Mill?”

“You don’t want to know,” Lizzie said with a shudder.

“Okay,” she drew out the word. “How about the chili parlor?”

“You know, I think this is the only place you could hear the words chili and parlor together and not think anything of it,” Lizzie chuckled. “Chili sounds perfect. Shall I pick you up around 7:00PM?”

“Make it 8:00," Amber said. “I’ll need to take a shower after work.”

“Okay,” Lizzie said, praying that she would one day bear witness to the after-work shower.


Lizzie checked her hair one last time in the mirror. She grimaced at the bright pink scar gracing her neck. Well, if it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have met her. Then again, I most likely wouldn’t have fucked my future sister-in-law, either. She sighed, running her hand through her short brown hair. My hair has looked like shit since I stepped off that plane. She reluctantly plopped the Reds cap on her head. She gathered up the flowers strewn across the passenger seat and walked to Amber’s door.

“Irises!" Amber said brightly. She held the flowers out to one side and leaned to kiss Lizzie lightly on the lips. “You’re so sweet.”

“I’ve always liked them," Lizzie blushed. “And they’re, um, almost the color of your eyes." She looked at the ground.

Amber smiled as she ushered her through the front door. “Let me put these in water," she said and walked toward what Lizzie presumed to be the kitchen. Lizzie scanned the front room, noting the botanical prints on the walls and the hardwood floors. The sage-colored sofa and tan chairs contrasted nicely with the dark pink rug. Smells like oranges. Smells like her. “Let me give you the grand tour," Amber gestured for her to follow. “This is the kitchen." Lizzie nodded towards the copper pans suspended from the ceiling then turned to follow Amber out of the kitchen and down the hallway. She couldn’t resist the temptation to gaze at Amber’s swaying hips. Nice view. Lizzie smirked. “And this is the bathroom, obviously." Lizzie glanced in the small room. Clawfoot tub. Very nice. “And this," Amber said dramatically as she pushed open the final door in the hallway, “is the bedroom." The walls were deep burgundy, accented by small gold designs placed sparingly throughout the room. Lizzie leaned closer to examine the design. “I picked up these rubber stamps with Chinese coin designs on them at a craft store," Amber said. “Then I got a little creative.”

“Wow,” Lizzie said quietly. “Isn’t this what they call bordello style?”

Amber arched an eyebrow. “I don’t, um, I didn’t mean to imply…you know,” she trailed off. “But isn’t that what it’s called or am I even more of an idiot that I previously realized?”

“Let’s assume that’s what it’s called," Amber chuckled. “Are you hungry?”

“Um, sure. Are you ready to go?" Lizzie blinked, trying to clear her mind of the vision of Amber dressed as Miss Kitty from ‘Gunsmoke’ that had materialized upon mention of the word ‘bordello.’

“Let me get my shoes." Lizzie looked down at Amber’s bare feet. She felt Amber take her hand and lead her back to the front room. She stared unabashedly at Amber’s full hips and buttocks, swaying fluidly in denim. My God she can fill a pair of jeans. She admired the low-cut crushed velvet shirt Amber wore. Amber dropped her hand, bending to retrieve her shoes from the stand just beside the door.

“You look incredible," Lizzie said. Lizzie blushed, suddenly self-conscious about her ragged Levis, tan workman’s shirt, and Reds cap.

Amber straightened then took her hand, leading her out the front door. “You’re being awfully sweet tonight, Batman.” She locked the door then turned to face Lizzie. “Except for when you called me a prostitute.”


“Where are we going?" Amber asked as they drove up the 471 onramp. “Isn’t Dixie on Monmouth?”

“I thought we’d try a different one," Lizzie said mysteriously. “Don’t you trust me?"

Amber smiled. “I hardly know you.”

“True," Lizzie said. “But I’ve got a really cool car." She paused for effect. “Well, my Granny has a really cool car. If I play my cards right, I may stand to inherit all this.” Lizzie swerved into the exit lane onto the Covington 5th Street exit then made her way through side streets to Madison. “Here we are!" she exclaimed as they turned into the parking lot. “I haven’t been to this one since I was, like, ten!"

Lizzie held open the door to the restaurant, mentally urging Amber to hurry. The smell of Cincinnati-style chili and strong onions made her mouth water. They walked to the counter and placed their orders. “Two cheese Coneys with everything and a regular 4-way onion and a large Mountain Dew," Lizzie recited without looking at the menu.

“You must really be hungry," Amber laughed. “I’ll take a cheese Coney with everything and a, oh, a chili salad and water.”

“Chili salad? They really make such a thing?” Lizzie asked as she handed the cashier a twenty. Lizzie grabbed a white tray and moved down the line to the drink station. She grabbed two straws as an elderly woman prepared their drinks. “I love this place," she said to Amber.

“I don’t think I’ve been here since college,” Amber said.

Lizzie picked up the drinks and moved down the line for their food. The Coneys were the first out, heaping with cheese and onions. Lizzie scooped up the plates and put them on the tray.

“Did you come here a lot when you were a kid?” Lizzie asked. “I mean, it’s right here on Madison and you grew up in Covington, so I thought maybe…”

“No,” Amber said, reaching across Lizzie to adjust the items on the tray. “My mother…she, um, she didn’t like for me to eat fast food.”

Lizzie started to argue that chili was not fast food, but something in Amber’s tone made her withhold the comment. A few moments later, the white-haired woman on the other side of the counter slid the salad and chili across the metal server. Lizzie arranged the items on the overly full tray before realizing that she couldn’t lift it. “Um, can you, uh, take the tray?" she sheepishly asked Amber. “I’ll take the drinks.”

“Some superhero.” A smile played at the corners of Amber’s mouth as she scooped up the tray and walked to the nearest booth. She divvied up the food as Lizzie returned with drinks and silverware. She looked up at Lizzie then slid onto the white bench. Lizzie moved onto the opposite bench.

“My parents used to bring me here just about every Friday," Lizzie said. She pinched the end of the cheese Coney, preparing to devour it.

“Really?" Amber scraped some of the cheese off the top of her Coney.

“Yep," Lizzie bit into the chilidog. Oh sweet Jesus, that is good. “My Dad worked around here." She felt her eyes water at the mention of her father. She put down the Coney, grabbed a napkin, and wiped at her eye. God, please don’t let her notice.

“Are you okay?" Amber put down her fork. “You looked like you were about to cry."

“I’m okay," Lizzie sighed. She picked up her Coney and ate the rest of it. She started twirling the chili spaghetti around her fork.

“I’m not so sure about that," Amber picked up her fork and speared a piece of lettuce, dunking it in the chili that pooled alongside it. “Are you upset about that fight you had with your stepdad?"

“Kind of," Lizzie said. “He, um, he told me some bad stuff about my Dad."

“What kind of stuff?" Lizzie felt Amber staring at her.

“He, um," she took a deep breath. “He told me that my Dad had an affair just before he died." Lizzie continued picking at her chili.

Amber laid her fork beside her salad bowl. She reached across the table and took Lizzie’s left hand in both of hers. Lizzie looked up as Amber exerted gentle pressure on her hand. “Why would he do that?" Lizzie started to tear up. “Why would he tell you that now?”

Oh God, I don't want to tell her. “I, um, I provoked him." Lizzie felt the blood rise in her ears. She stared at the table. “I did something…very bad.”

Lizzie looked up again as the pressure on her fingers increased. “What? Since you’ve been home?” Lizzie nodded. “Oh, come on. You haven’t been here that long, so it couldn’t be that bad. What did you do?"

Lizzie felt her mouth run dry. “I…” Oh God, I can’t tell her. “I did something unforgivable.”

Amber looked at her quizzically. “How so?” Lizzie shuddered as Amber stroked her captive hand. “I mean, ‘unforgivable’ is a pretty harsh word.” Lizzie shrugged. “Did you kill someone?” Lizzie shook her head. “Pledge loyalty to Satan?” Lizzie chuckled despite herself. “What did you do, Lizzie?” Amber squeezed her hand.

“It’s just…” Lizzie started, looking at the table. “Ever since I got home, I’ve felt like I’m not really in control of, well, anything. Especially me.” She locked eyes with the blonde. “I mean, I guess even before that with the airline and my injury.” She sighed. “I feel like this surgery has really fucked me up in a weird, fundamental way.” She took a drink of her soda, trying to steady herself. “Does that make any sense?”

“I think so,” Amber replied. She removed one of her hands from Lizzie’s then took a drink of her water. “I’ve been around a lot of people who have had life-altering surgery,” she gestured toward Lizzie with her water bottle. “Some much worse than you.” She paused. “And I think it’s pretty common for people in that situation to do things that they normally wouldn’t.” She placed the bottle back on the table then leaned forward. “But you still haven’t told me what you did.”

“I’d like to blame it on the drugs,” Lizzie smiled weakly. “And I think that I can, just a little bit, but just in the beginning.” She frowned. “I had a…" God, she’s going to hate me. “I, um, I don’t think I can do this.” She looked at the table. “I’m just worried that you’ll, um, hate me.”

“I don’t think I know you well enough to hate you,” Amber said quietly. “But I guess I can’t promise that I won’t.” Lizzie felt tears sting her eyes. “But I can promise that I’ll try not to.”

Please don’t let her hate me. Lizzie looked up into Amber’s eyes. Like a Band-Aid. Rip it off. “I kind of had a…relationship with this woman who’s going to marry my stepbrother."

Lizzie felt Amber withdraw her hand. “You what?" Amber shook her head. “Did you know that she was going to marry your stepbrother?”

“Kind of," Lizzie stared at her chili. Please say something. Please don’t hate me. “I didn’t…I couldn’t control myself." This is definitely not helping. “I knew her in high school and…and she was my first crush." Lizzie struggled to keep her voice even. “And she was the only one with me when I went in for surgery and I was so scared and we kissed and that’s how it started." Lizzie wiped her hand across her face. “And I can’t believe that I did this to my brother."

“I thought you said stepbrother," Amber said.

“He is," Lizzie explained. “But we’ve known each other so long and been through so much with my Mom…our Mom…dying that, well," she sighed. “He is my brother in a lot of ways." Lizzie propped her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. “God, I just can’t believe I would do this," she said softly. “Not to him.”

Lizzie felt Amber slide onto the bench beside her. “Come on," Amber said, wrapping her arm around Lizzie’s shoulders. “Please don’t cry." Lizzie laid her head on Amber’s shoulder, crying quietly. Amber kissed the crown of Lizzie’s head.

She doesn’t hate me. Why doesn’t she hate me? Lizzie raised her head after a few minutes, blushing deeply. “Your chili’s getting cold," she said to Amber.

“It’s okay," Amber said, taking Lizzie’s hand and squeezing it. “It’s a salad.”

Lizzie laughed. She wiped her face with a napkin. Amber moved back to her side of the table. “Did I ever tell you about the time I got my parents thrown out of here?"

Amber smiled. “I wasn’t aware that one could be thrown out of Dixie Chili.”

“I played ‘Please Mister Please’ 20 times in a row on the jukebox." They both laughed. “My parents were so pissed. They didn’t even get to finish their chili."


Lizzie unlocked Amber’s car door and opened it for her. She walked around to the driver’s side and slid behind the steering wheel. She scooted toward Amber and awkwardly initiated a hug. Lizzie pulled back. “Do you hate me?" Lizzie whispered.

“I can’t say that I’m not, um, shocked,” Amber said. Lizzie nodded, looking at the space between them. “Are you still seeing her?”

Lizzie laughed bitterly. “I don’t think you’d call what we did ‘seeing each other.’” She met Amber’s gaze. “Actually, the last time we were, um, ‘together’ was the day I met you.” Lizzie said. And I was thinking about you.

“Really?” Amber asked.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I’ve never been a person who beat themselves up over bad choices.” She paused. “But this…I would give anything to take this back.”

Lizzie barely registered being embraced. Amber pulled back, sliding her hands smoothly up to Lizzie’s face and pulling her in for a chaste kiss. “I’m glad we both had onions," Amber murmured.

Lizzie laughed. My God, she doesn’t hate me. She slid back behind the wheel and started the engine.

“Where to now?" Amber asked.

“I’ve got something to show you," she said. “And then I want you to show me.”

Amber raised an eyebrow. “Well, that sounds intriguing.”

Lizzie turned onto Madison then headed west on 19th Street. She turned on Augustine and parked the car along an abandoned rail yard. “This is where my Dad worked," she said quietly.

“Really?" Amber asked. “You didn’t tell me he worked on the railroad.”

Lizzie stared at the rusting cranes and graffiti-ridden buildings. “He worked for Ortner Freight Car. They built railway cars." She felt a tightening in her chest. “Mostly hoppers, but some other types.”

“I had no idea this was even here," Amber said. “I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never been to this part of town.”

“I used to think he was like Fred Flintstone and actually worked with dinosaurs," Lizzie laughed. “Because of the necks on the cranes." She pointed out the rusting hulk to Amber. “Mom and I used to drive here every Friday night to meet him for dinner." Lizzie pictured her mother’s face, twisted in the pain of her last days. “Usually at Dixie.”
Lizzie shook her head. Why did he do that to her? She started the car. “Now you show me.”

Amber looked over at her. “Show you what?”

“Where you grew up." She put the car in drive. “Tell me how to get there.”

Amber led her through winding roads on the west side of I-71. “Here it is," Amber gestured to a run-down 2-story house on Hermes Street. “We lived on the second floor. Right there," Amber pointed to the window on the north side of the house. “That was my bedroom window."

Lizzie reached over and draped her right hand over Amber’s left hand. “Tell me what you were like."

“Not much to tell," Amber sighed. “I lived there with my mother until I was 18, then I went to live in the dorms at UC." Amber looked up at the window. “I had a pet cat for a while.”

“What was his name?"

“Her name was Snowball." Amber glanced at Lizzie then looked back to the house. “I know--it’s not very original.”

“Does your Mom still live here?" Lizzie asked.

“She’s dead," Amber said flatly, pulling her hand away. She turned to look out the passenger window.

“My God, I didn’t know," Lizzie said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be," Amber said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Can we go now?”

God, I didn’t know. “Oh, um, sure." Lizzie put the car in drive and headed toward I-71. I’m so sorry.


They drove in silence to Amber’s house. Lizzie noticed the blonde fidgeting as they neared her home. Lizzie parked the car and turned to look at her. “I guess this is good night." Lizzie said.

“Do you want to come in for a minute?" Amber asked. “I mean, for a cup of tea or something.”

Definitely or something. “Sure, I mean, now that I don’t have to worry about getting up early for therapy."

Lizzie followed Amber up the walk. “Nice neighborhood," Lizzie commented.

“It’s not bad," Amber said, unlocking her door.

“I’ve always liked Dayton," Lizzie said as she walked into the house. “It’s kind of like Newport but safer and cleaner. I had an uncle who lived near here.”

“Is tea okay?" Amber called from the kitchen.

“Sure." Lizzie kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch.

“Go ahead and sit down. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Too late. Lizzie stretched her arms over her head and yawned. She looked at her watch. 11:00? I am soooo lame. Lizzie smiled as she heard a burst of activity in the kitchen. A few minutes later, Amber entered the room with a tray. “Are we ready for the tea ceremony?" Lizzie joked.

Amber looked at her blankly. She sat the tray on the table and poured hot water from the pot into the two cups. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, uh, it’s a Japanese thing," Lizzie said. “There’s this really elaborate ceremony for serving tea. Everything has to be just so or they…well, I’m not too sure what happens, but I fear that it would not be good." She took a steaming cup from Amber. “I just couldn’t bring myself to attend one when I visited Japan. I’m way too Western to have the patience for that.”

“Batman in Japan,” Amber chuckled. “Decaf or regular?"

“I’m old," Lizzie said. “Give me decaf or I’ll be bouncin’ off the walls all night.”

Amber removed two teabags from the small Jadite container on the table and dunked one in each cup. “You’re not old.”

“How do you know?” Lizzie asked.

“I’ve seen your medical records,” Amber replied. “You’re only five years older than me, so,” she concluded. “You’re not old.”

Lizzie laughed. “Well, if that’s your medical opinion, I suppose I’ll have to accept it. But, I warn you," she said, reclining into the couch. “This is your future. In bed by 11:00 or you can’t even function the next day.”

“That’s not my future," Amber said. “That’s my present." She sat down
beside Lizzie.

“There are strong arguments for an early bedtime," Lizzie said suggestively, touching Amber’s thigh with her own.

Amber chuckled. “I guess you’re right." She took a sip of her tea then placed the cup on its saucer. She turned to Lizzie and scooted closer to her. “It’s cold tonight.”

“It is downright nippy, especially for Kentucky," Lizzie said, stroking Amber’s hair. Lizzie leaned forward to place her cup on its saucer, then moved her arms to circle Amber, pulling her closer. Lizzie buried her face in blonde hair, inhaling deeply. Oranges. Lizzie turned her head, nuzzling Amber’s neck then kissing the silky flesh. She felt Amber’s hands on the back of her head, pulling her closer. Lizzie opened her mouth, allowing her tongue to trace a lazy trail up Amber’s neck to her jaw. Amber moaned and tilted Lizzie’s head then kissed her deeply. Lizzie pulled away from the kiss slightly, placing smaller kisses around Amber’s mouth, then kissing gently on her nose, her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her eyelids. Lizzie kissed her once more, then pulled back to look into her eyes.

“I’d better be going," she said. If we go any further, I’m going to have to whack off in the Kroger parking lot. In my grandmother’s car.

Amber frowned. “Oh, um, okay." Do you not want me to go?

Lizzie drank the rest of her tea and placed the cup back on its saucer. “Can I call you tomorrow?"

“Sure," Amber said distractedly. “I’m, um, I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”

“I didn’t know,” Lizzie paused. “I never would have brought it up.”

“I know,” Amber said, reaching for Lizzie’s hand. “I’m just kind of sensitive sometimes. About family stuff.”

Lizzie leaned forward and kissed her gently. “I know how that is," Lizzie said. She started for the door, pausing to search her pockets for the keys. Upon finding them, she turned to face Amber. “Thank you," she said.

“For what?" Amber asked.

“For tonight." Lizzie turned to walk to the car, fighting the temptation to run back when she heard Amber shut the door. Goddamn, I want to stay. Lizzie shook her head and unlocked the door of the Concord then slid behind the steering wheel. I would be willing to bet a month’s paycheck that this will be the first time anyone has ever masturbated in this car. Lizzie laughed and turned the key. The car made a horrific grinding noise. Lizzie frowned and removed the key. She replaced the key and turned it again, grimacing as the noise repeated. Well, fuck, I guess I will be spending the night. Not altogether unhappy, she headed for Amber’s house.

“Um, the car won’t start." Lizzie said, blushing.

“I’ve heard that one before," Amber replied.

“No, really!" Lizzie stumbled over her words. “It…it really won’t start. You can try it.”

Amber moved back from the door and motioned her inside. “Just kidding," she said. “I heard that noise all the way in here."

“I can’t believe that thing is dead." Lizzie laughed. “I feel like we should have a memorial service." She gestured toward the couch. “So, is this a Hide-a-Bed?"

“Nope," Amber said. “Looks like we’ll be sharing." She started walking toward the bedroom.

Lizzie followed her into the bedroom. “Are you, um, sure about that?"
She touched Amber’s shoulder. “It wouldn’t be the first time I crashed on a couch."

“With that spine?" Amber gingerly touched Lizzie’s scar. “I will not be responsible for any further damage." She lifted her hand to cup Lizzie’s cheek. “I want you to."

Lizzie blushed. “Can I borrow some sweats or something?"

“Hmmm, I think I’ve got something you can wear." She walked to the dresser. “How about these?" She produced a pair of gray sweatpants. “Oh, and here," she tossed Lizzie a black T-shirt.

“I’ll be in the bathroom," Lizzie said. She leaned against the bathroom sink, contemplating her situation. She took off her Reds hat and ran her fingers through her hair. She changed into the borrowed pajamas then washed her face. Take it easy. You can control yourself. You're with a nice girl for once, so don't fuck it up by, well, fucking. She walked back into Amber’s bedroom. The lights were off and the TV was on. Amber sat propped up in her bed, flipping channels. Lizzie smiled and walked up to the bed. She slid in beside Amber. “What’s on?"

“Nothing much," Amber sighed. “Here." She shoved the remote into Lizzie’s hand, accidentally hitting the ‘Favorites’ button. A small box popped on the screen listing Turner Classic Movies, American Movie Classics, and Lifetime Movie Network.

“Seriously? Lifetime?" Lizzie laughed.

“It was an accident," Amber blushed. “I didn’t mean to set that as a favorite.”

“Uh-huh," Lizzie smirked. “Are you in the mood for a melodrama or can I look for something we might both enjoy?" Amber smacked Lizzie on the thigh. Lizzie laughed and pulled up the online guide. “Hey, now we’re talkin’!" Lizzie switched the channel to 160. “Batman!" Lizzie yelped.

“Oh, that’s something we’ll both enjoy,” Amber sighed. “What is it with you and this show?"

“I told you, it’s a religious thing." Lizzie pointed the remote at the screen. “I can’t believe it. This is my favorite episode." She looked at Amber. “It’s called ‘Catwoman’s Dressed to Kill.’" Lizzie bit her lip in excitement. “This was the first time that Eartha Kitt appeared as Catwoman." She looked back to the screen. “They had to kill the Batman/Catwoman romance that developed with Julie Newmar because Eartha is, well, black and it was the 60s." She looked back to Amber. “Am I boring you?"

“No, go on," Amber turned to cuddle up against Lizzie. She placed her head on Lizzie’s shoulder. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah," Lizzie replied absently. “This is the best part. See? Batgirl and Catwoman on screen together and they’re…oh..." Lizzie said, transfixed by the image on the screen. Amber yawned. Lizzie hit ‘mute’ as the show went to commercial. “This show formed my sexual identity," she said. Amber lifted her head from Lizzie’s shoulder then turned to face her. “It did. I was totally obsessed with it from the time I was six years old." She looked into Amber’s eyes. “I remember watching this episode and that scene that was just on, when Batgirl’s strapped to the table and Catwoman leans over her and lays that rose on Batgirl’s chest, then purrs…" Lizzie closed her eyes. “That was the first time I felt tingling in my, um, privates." Amber laughed. “No, I’m serious!" Lizzie laughed with her. “I feel it now!”

“I believe you," Amber said. “But, who was the tingling for? Batgirl or Catwoman?"

“I have never been able to figure that out," Lizzie said sadly. “I, um,” she started. “Can I ask you something?” Amber nodded. “Tonight at the chili parlor,” Lizzie bit her lip nervously. “You, um, why didn’t you freak out when I told you what I did?”

Amber shifted away from Lizzie, propping herself up against the headboard. She fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “I try not to judge people,” she said softly then looked at the TV. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.”

What could you have done to compare with what I did? Lizzie turned her attention back to the TV. She sighed as the closing credits for the show scrolled across the screen. Lizzie leaned over to give Amber a chaste kiss before rolling onto her side and falling into a dreamless sleep.



Where the fuck am I? Lizzie opened her eyes, immediately aware that she was on her left side, spooning a blonde. She smiled as she remembered the events of the prior evening. She hugged Amber closer, melding her form tightly against the blonde’s curves. She buried her face deep in Amber’s hair. Amber moaned in her sleep, clutching the arm Lizzie had draped over her stomach. Perfect fit.

Lizzie breathed deeply, overwhelmed by Amber’s scent. Eventually, she felt the other girl stir. She felt Amber’s back muscles tighten. “It’s okay, Batgirl," Lizzie whispered. “Batman’s got you." She felt Amber relax. Lizzie smiled as Amber wove the fingers of her right hand with Lizzie’s and squeezed. Lizzie loosened her grip on the blonde as she felt the woman rolling over.

“Sleep okay?" Amber asked. She raised her left hand to stroke Lizzie’s cheek.

Lizzie caught Amber’s hand in her own and raised it to her lips, kissing her palm. “Very okay.”

Amber smiled, propping herself up on her elbow. She leaned over and kissed Lizzie deeply. She gently nudged Lizzie onto her back, sliding on top of her. Amber ran her right hand up Lizzie’s arm, softly touching her shoulder and settling to stroke her neck. Lizzie moaned and embraced Amber, her hands exploring the blonde’s back. Her head swimming, Lizzie broke the kiss. “We, um, maybe we shouldn’t yet…"

Amber smiled and moved her mouth to Lizzie’s ear. “But it feels so…" she ran her tongue along the rim. “…Good." She trailed her index finger down Lizzie’s neck to her right breast. Lizzie gasped as Amber traced circles around her nipple. The blonde bit softly on Lizzie’s earlobe, breathing into her ear.

Lizzie turned her head to meet Amber’s lips. She moved her left hand to cradle Amber’s head and wrapped her right arm tightly around the woman’s waist. Lizzie’s eyes flew open as Amber splayed her hand over her breast. I have got to get control. Lizzie rolled Amber onto her back. She pulled back from their kiss and looked into Amber’s eyes. “Naughty Batgirl," Lizzie said, her mouth breaking into a wide grin.

Amber blushed. “I like mornings," she said softly.

Lizzie laughed. She leaned down and kissed Amber’s nose. “I’ve always been more of a night owl," she said. “But I could get used to this." She kissed Amber sweetly on the lips then reluctantly sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Lizzie stood, stretched, and yawned. “What’re we doin’ for brekky?"

Amber grabbed a crimson silk robe off the chair beside the bed. “Not sure what I have on hand. Maybe an English muffin and some fruit?”

“Hmmm, why don’t I take you out?” Lizzie said. “You know, payment for letting me crash here last night.” Lizzie twisted, trying to scratch a persistent itch on her back. “Mmmm, pancakes sound good," Lizzie said. “You know, Granny’s developed this weird obsession with microwave pancakes." Lizzie paused. “Oh, shit." She turned toward Amber. “I need to use your phone.”

“Kitchen," Amber said. Lizzie sprinted toward the front of the house.



“Lizzie Mae Gossage," Granny said. “Granny don’t appreciate bein’ lied to.”
“What?" Lizzie rubbed her eyes sleepily. “I didn’t lie to you. I just forgot to call." She sighed. “I haven’t had to call home in, like, 20 years.”

“You said last night that you’d see me later tonight." Lizzie envisioned the thoroughly pissed-off look on her grandmother’s face. “Well, I still don’t see you and it’s the next day.”

“Oh Christ," Lizzie groaned. “You know, why are you giving me shit about semantics?" Of course she won’t know what that even means. “I forgot to call you, that’s all." Lizzie smiled at Amber as she walked in the kitchen. She admired the blonde’s shapely legs, exposed by the short robe. Amber dug in the refrigerator for a few moments, finally producing a sack of English muffins and two oranges.

“Well, where the Hell was ya at all night?"

“Oh, um, we went to Dixie Chili and then we just kind of hung out back here," Lizzie said absently. God, I’m an idiot. Why did I stop this morning? “Oh yeah, and the car died. I think it’s the starter.”

“What the Hell’d ya do to Granny's car?" Granny’s voice raised an octave. “They wasn’t nothin’ wrong with that car!”

“Like I said, I think it’s the starter." Lizzie watched Amber plug in the toaster oven. “Those things just die sometimes." Amber smiled at her as she walked back to the refrigerator. Lizzie felt warmth spread through her chest.

“Granny’s got places to go, Lizzie Mae. Granny needs that car," she snapped.

“I’ll take care of it," Lizzie sighed. “I may not be home for a while, though. Depends on how busy the garage is." Amber placed a small tub of Promise on the table then moved back to the sink, cutting the oranges into quarters and distributing the slices on two plates.

“When you comin’ home?" Granny asked. “Jimbo wants you to call him and your Aunt Virgie needs to go to the mall.”

That’s just what I need. “I’ll be home as soon as I can." Lizzie turned to hang up the phone. “Tell Jimbo I’ll call him later and tell Virgie I’ll take her to the mall this afternoon if I can. Otherwise, we’ll go tomorrow." Lizzie sighed. “Granny, I’ve gotta go," Lizzie said. “I’ve gotta find a garage that can work on the car today. I’ll just have it towed, then get Keith to drop me off at the garage and then I’ll be home when the car’s ready." Lizzie hung up the phone and walked to stand behind Amber. She slid her arms around the woman’s waist and leaned in to kiss her neck. She halted her movement when she felt Amber stiffen. Lizzie dropped her arms and stepped back. “Everything okay?”

Amber pulled the muffin halves out of the toaster oven then placed two each on the plates. “Here’s your breakfast," she said flatly.

Lizzie accepted the plate. She tried to look at Amber’s eyes, but the blonde was wiping the sink with a sponge. “Are you mad at me?”

Amber looked up at her. “Why would I be mad?"

Lizzie frowned. Why would I be asking if I knew? Lizzie looked down at the floor and shuffled toward the kitchen table. Lizzie placed her plate on the table and opened the refrigerator, searching for jelly. She removed a jar of grape jelly from the door and turned to sit down. She stared at Amber’s back. Please turn around. She spread jelly across her muffins then half-heartedly took a bite. Amber grabbed her plate and turned around. She avoided Lizzie’s gaze as she walked over to the table and sat down. “No butter?”

“I like my sugar straight up," Lizzie joked. Lizzie’s smile faded as she realized Amber was not laughing. “Um, that’s a joke." Amber shrugged. Lizzie looked down at her plate. They ate their breakfast in silence. God, what did I do? I knew she had to be freaked out about what I told her last night. Lizzie walked to the sink and placed her empty plate in the drainer. “Mind if I use your phone again?" she asked. Amber nodded, staring at the table. Lizzie opened the Yellow Pages, scanning for ‘automobile repairs.’ She ran her hand through her hair. Maybe it’s my hair. She chose a repair shop at random and dialed the phone. “Hi. I’m having some trouble with the starter on my 1980 AMC Concord. I don’t guess you’d happen to have one of those in stock." Lizzie braced herself, expecting gales of laughter.

“Well, you know, I think we just might." Lizzie perked up at the man’s words. Well, the universe isn’t completely against me today.


“Thanks for driving me to the shop," Lizzie said as they climbed into Amber’s green Ford Contour. “I’m just glad they could tow it so quickly.”

“No problem," Amber said. She slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.

What the Hell did I do? “Seriously, what did I do?" Lizzie asked.

Amber glanced in her rearview mirror as she pulled out into the street. “I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Lizzie looked down at her hands. “We were just…" she started. “I was just—I had a really nice time last night."

“Mmm-hmmm," Amber said noncommittally.

“And then, this morning. It started so perfectly and then…" Lizzie trailed off. “I honestly don’t know what I did. Is it what I told you last night?" Amber pulled into a parking lot. Lizzie looked at the sign to her left. Plastic Products of Kentucky? “I don’t think this is the garage.”

“Why did you lie to your grandmother?" Amber said, staring out the driver’s side window.

“What?" Lizzie looked to Amber, puzzled. “I told her about the car. I really do think it’s the starter.”

“Not about the car," Amber said, turning to Lizzie. “About where you were last night.”

“I told her we went to Dixie and then came back to the house," Lizzie mentally recounted the conversation she had with her grandmother.

“You told her you that you were out with Keith last night," Amber said angrily. “Are you telling me you didn’t say it?”

“I don’t remember saying anything like that." Lizzie shrugged. “Are you sure I said that?”

Amber shook her head. “You told her that Keith would drop you off today.”

I’m going insane. “I have absolutely no memory of that."

“Fine," Amber said coldly. “I guess I’ll just drop you off at the garage.”

“Wait," Lizzie said, grabbing Amber’s hand. “I, um, I believe you that I said it." Lizzie bit her lip, trying to group her thoughts into a coherent whole. “I guess that it’s just become a habit—lying to Granny." She looked into Amber’s eyes. “A really stupid habit." She paused. “I can’t even remember when it started. And it…it’s not like it’s ever anything that she would even get upset about." Please believe me. “Like, I told her when I was in college that we didn’t get grades—it was all pass/fail. Even though I was on the Dean’s List every semester after my freshman year," Amber frowned. “Or when I flew to Tokyo, I told her it was only a three-hour flight from Chicago." Amber laughed. “Yeah, I know. She’s not so strong on the geography."

“Why even do that? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know," Lizzie said. She loosened her grip on Amber’s hand and looked down at the console between them. “I can’t even tell you why I do it."

“It just made me feel,” Amber started. “Like a dirty little secret.”

“No,” Lizzie said, placing her hand over Amber’s. “I’ve been out to her since college. I’m really…I’d never do anything to hurt you.” Lizzie raised her eyes back up to meet Amber’s gaze. “Not intentionally. Now, stupidity is a different matter altogether.”

Amber tilted her head, still looking at Lizzie. “Sometimes, I don’t know what to make of you.”

“I know," Lizzie said quietly. “Me neither.”


“Can I call you later?" Lizzie asked hopefully.

“Not tonight," Amber said. Lizzie frowned. “But tomorrow I should be around."

Lizzie smiled and leaned toward Amber. Amber met her halfway in a tentative kiss. Lizzie reluctantly broke the kiss then opened the car door and stepped onto the curb. She shut the door then looked at Amber through the tinted glass. ‘Bye’, she mouthed. Amber smiled and pulled out into traffic. Lizzie turned to walk into the garage. She noticed that the Concord was already pulled up to the garage door. “So, what’s the damage?" Lizzie asked as she shut the door behind her.

“Huh?" The elderly man behind the counter looked up from the magazine he was reading. ‘Thrifty Nickel’, no doubt.

“On the Concord," Lizzie gestured toward the garage door. “Has anybody looked at it?”

“Nope," the man said, returning to his magazine.

Lizzie stood directly in front of the counter. She tapped her fingers on the counter immediately above his magazine. “Any idea when they will?”

The old man sighed and walked to the door separating the main office from the garage. “Earl!" he yelled. Lizzie saw a hulking man in overalls walk toward the office from the recesses of the garage.

“Yeah?" Earl filled the doorway.

“This girl wants to know about the Concord."

Lizzie attempted to remain calm at the use of the word ‘girl.’ “Yeah, just wondering when you might have a chance to look at it." She glanced at her watch. “I’m kind of stranded here til it’s fixed.”

Earl grunted. “If it’s the starter," he said, gesturing toward the car. “Should be done about noon. Caught me on a slow day."

“And when will you know if it’s definitely the starter?" You better not try to fuck me over.

“Hour," Earl said as he turned and headed towards the back of the garage.

Well, shit. “Guess I’ll go wander the streets aimlessly," Lizzie said. The old man licked his finger and turned a page in his magazine without looking at her.


Lizzie walked down 4th street then headed North on Monmouth Street. She shuddered as she passed by the Pepper Mill then continued east to Saratoga. She frowned at the neatly manicured median, filled with tidy flowerbeds and ornamental trees. She had expected to see the Saratoga of her childhood, deep potholes and train tracks running down its middle.

“That’s where the trolleys used to run," Lizzie’s Dad told her as he drove his shiny red 1977 Pontiac Lemans down Saratoga.
“Where are they now?" Lizzie asked. She looked up the street hoping to catch a glimpse of a trolley car.
“They stopped runnin’ when I was a little boy," he said. “Guess they didn’t make enough money.”

Lizzie frowned at the memory. How could you do that to her? She dug her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and walked south. This is much skankier than I remembered. She glanced to her right at the red brick building across the street. Two children clad only in diapers sat eating dirt in the front yard. A clothesline stretched between the twin pillars on the front porch. What the Hell? It’s November. Lizzie tried not to look at the stained women’s underwear flapping in the breeze.

She turned to walk back towards Monmouth, strolling past the Brass Ass nightclub. She had always loved their sign—a sassy little donkey braying at a giant martini glass. Even in broad daylight, Lizzie could see the seedy red glow of the neon sign. She continued up the street. She walked into Dixie Chili and ordered two cheese Coneys and a bottle of water. She made her way to a seat by the window. She looked out on the city of her childhood and took a bite of her Coney.

“How many of those is she going to eat?" her grandmother asked.
Ruth dismissed the comment with a sweep of her hand. “So, you never saw him yesterday?" she asked, lighting a cigarette.
“No." Lizzie’s grandmother shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“Well, I’d like to know where in the Hell he was til two in the mornin’, then.”

Oh my God. Lizzie halted in mid-chew as the memory flooded over her. I remember. I knew.

[Kathryn91628]

Yes! I get to be the first to leave feedback! *cheers* Another wonderful update, as always. And nice and long, too. I like how we're getting to see more of Amber's personality, and i have to say, i love the constant Batman jokes. It's hilarious.

Amber is quite a mystery girl. Every now and then there's a hint of something dark in her past, and we've gotten a little closer to figuring it out, but i'm still drawing a blank. I think it has something to do with her family, though. And, about that part where Amber says, "except for when you called me a prostitute" or something like that.. what was she talking about? Did i just miss something, or.. ? I dunno, I have dumb moments, so i prob. just missed it.

Anyhow, this was fantastic. I look forward to the next installment (i really do-- i've run out of things to read, and this story is so entertaining).

Cheers,
~Kat.

[Kieli]

Amber is quite a mystery girl. Every now and then there's a hint of something dark in her past, and we've gotten a little closer to figuring it out, but i'm still drawing a blank. I think it has something to do with her family, though. And, about that part where Amber says, "except for when you called me a prostitute" or something like that.. what was she talking about? Did i just miss something, or.. ? I dunno, I have dumb moments, so i prob. just missed it.

She was referring to the bedroom decor. The wallpaper reminded Lizzie of old Wild West-style bordellos (whorehouses). She was implying that Lizzie was indirectly calling her a prostitute because of it. Which is weird but...I kind of get it.

MHO? Amber either had a cheating past herself or is trying very hard to escape a dark past where lots of mistakes were made, even a few that are considered unforgiveable. She's a lot more reticent about opening up with Lizzie than Lizzie herself. Usually that indicates deep trauma, probably some form of abuse. But that's just my observation.

[justin]

I'm really enjoying this story. I like Lizzie and Amber and like everyone else I'm curious about what Amber's so secretive about.

I think Grannies really funny

I have a horrible feeling that Lizzie's affair with Mickey won't stay a secret forever.

Looking forward to reading more

[cbrymm]

I would just like to say that this fic is effing awesome!

[tcurti3]

Hey, Kittens! You'll all be happy to know that I survived my T-giving in Grannyland. Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback on the last chapter. Rest assured, all will be revealed about Amber within the next week. Short chapter today, but I will post another one within the next 2 days. Thanks for reading.

Same rules as above: Mine, all mine. No distribution w/o my permission or papal dispensation.

-----------------------
Memories and the Mall

“Where the Hell ya been?" Granny was waiting for Lizzie when she walked in the front door.

“Now, you know damned good and well where I have been," Lizzie said. “I had to get the starter replaced in your tank.”

“Ain’t no tank!" Granny replied. She pushed through the dog pack toward the kitchen. “Granny can’t drive no tank!”

Lizzie chuckled despite her anger at being criminally overcharged for the repair. Maybe we’ll trade in your tank for something more fuel-efficient and cheaper to maintain, like a Humvee. She smiled, remembering her parting kiss with Amber as she swatted at dogs with her toe as she made her way to her room. She gathered a pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt and underclothes then walked to the bathroom. “Takin’ a shower. Don’t run any hot water!" she yelled to Granny. Lizzie adjusted the water temperature and stepped into the shower facing away from the showerhead. She shuddered as the warm water caressed her back. God help me, she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen but what the Hell was up with her this morning? She grabbed a washcloth from the rack and rubbed the soap against it vigorously. She’s all sexed up as soon as she wakes up then she’s barely speaking to me twenty minutes later. She washed her face slowly, reveling in the warmth of the water and texture of the washcloth. Seems a little, well, extreme. She replaced the soap in the dish. What the Hell am I going to do about Jimbo? She felt tears sting her eyes as she pictured his face when he told her about meeting Mickey. She choked back her emotions and rinsed the soap from her face. She re-soaped and ran the rag across her arms and down her torso. Why in the fuck didn’t I remember that about my Dad? She puzzled over the sudden return of the memory. When she was finished with washing, she poured shampoo into her palm and started washing her hair. She closed her eyes, straining to remember anything further about her parents during that time. Broken flashes of memory came back to her: her mother standing at the door smoking, Lizzie’s G.I. Joe suitcase in the hallway, Lizzie crying on her bed. Oh my God. The full memory made her reach for the wall of the shower to steady herself. Oh my God.

Eight-year-old Lizzie sat at the red Formica kitchen table with her parents. They were both smoking and they both had dark circles under their eyes. Lizzie absently played with a quarter she found under the table. “Who’s it going to be?" Lizzie’s father asked. Lizzie refused to look at him. “Who’s it going to be?" her mother pressed. “You have to decide." Lizzie used one finger to prop the quarter on its side then flipped it with the other finger. She frowned as the quarter spun off the table. “Who are you going to live with?" her father asked. Lizzie bit her lip. “Granny," she said.

Lizzie kneeled in the tub, sobbing. She wrapped her arms around her knees and cried softly, the steam rising around her naked body. They made me choose. I was just a little girl and they made me choose.

Lizzie called Keith as soon as she got out of the shower. “Hey, fuckface," Lizzie joked weakly, her voice uncharacteristically nasal.

“What’s wrong?" Keith asked. “You’ve been crying.”

“How the Hell did you know that?" Lizzie asked.

“How long have I known you?" Keith asked.

Lizzie smiled. He really does know me pretty well. “I’m just…this surgery and everything here is just really putting me through the ringer." She sighed and ran her hand through her wet hair. “This trip has been harder on me than the surgery.”

“Well, it’s fuckin’ Pendleton County," Keith sneered. “What did you expect?”

That’s the Keith I know. “Yeah, I know the drill—you’d rather have your testes eaten off by fire ants than move back here."

“In a heartbeat." Keith said. “So, what’s going on?”

God, where do I start? “Well, it started when I told Ron about Mickey.”

“You what?" Keith snapped. “Are you fucking stupid? Has being back in that shithole made you retarded?"

Lizzie sighed. “You know that Ron has always been able to sense things in a weird way. Remember when he knew that I lost my virginity?"

“With that fuckin’ psychopath Mark Sayer," Keith grunted.

“Not important!" Lizzie hated to be reminded of her teenage heterosexual misadventures. “What’s important is that he knew. And that time we vandalized all those cars." Lizzie grew more animated. “He knew that we were doin’ something very illegal that night.”

“Okay, first of all, he probably smelled the liquor on your breath and noticed you walking funny when you lost it." Keith sighed. “That or you did something really stupid like put your underwear on outside your pants." Lizzie laughed. “’Cause you were shitfaced that night. And," he continued. “You were equally shitfaced the night we went on that vandalism spree. If I remember correctly, you were laughing so hard by the end of the night that you had actually peed your pants."

“Oh, come on," Lizzie replied. “I’ve never peed on myself.”

“Oh, but you did, Blanche." Lizzie knew Keith was telling the truth. “So, in conclusion, Ron has no telepathic powers, but he can read you like a book." Keith paused. “Because you allow him to.”

“Maybe," Lizzie admitted. “Anyway, damage is done there." She stretched out on Granny’s bed. “I couldn’t have held it in much longer anyway." She rubbed her hand over the chenille throw. “Only thing is, he thinks I shouldn’t tell Jimbo.”

“Well, no shit!" Keith said sarcastically. “He’s right.”

“Really?" Lizzie frowned. “Because I don’t know if I can live with that.”

“You are so fucking selfish," Keith said.

“What?" Lizzie sat up. “What the Hell does that mean?”

“You’d destroy your brother’s life so you can sleep better at night?" Keith’s voice rose. “You think that makes you a good person?" He paused. “Not sleeping with your brother’s fiancé would make you a good person.”


Lizzie sat on her bed, mulling over the conversation with Keith. I am a terrible fucking person. She ran her fingers through her hair and noticed her hand was shaking. “Lizzie Mae!" Lizzie winced at Virgie’s sharp voice, backed by a pack of howling poodles. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Lizzie sighed. She was still a little shaky from the revelation in the shower and Keith’s harsh message. She pulled on her Reds cap and headed for the front door. “I guess you want me to drive," Lizzie said.
“Yes, smart ass," Virgie crushed out her cigarette. “You know I don’t drive anywhere outside the county.”

Lizzie nodded. Geographically-defined agoraphobia—now, there’s a psychology thesis just begging to be written. “Fine." Lizzie opened Granny’s door for her. “You in?" she asked. Granny nodded. Lizzie gingerly shut the door then walked around to the driver’s side. “Does everybody have everything they need?" Lizzie asked. She couldn’t begin to count the number of times she had to turn around and drive all the way back because Granny or Virgie had forgotten their purse.

“Yes," they replied in unison. Lizzie nodded as she slid into the driver’s seat.

Lizzie glanced back at her aunt’s sweatshirt. It was emblazoned with a blue gingham fabric appliqué of a needle, a pill bottle, and a stethoscope. Written under the design in puff pen were the words ‘Nurses Are Special.’ “When did you become an LPN?”

“What?" Virgie squawked. Lizzie gestured to her shirt. “Oh, very funny, smart ass." She pulled on her shirt, straightening out the design. “I’m far too busy taking care of your uncle to do anything like that."

Lizzie suppressed a laugh. Sure, that’s why you could never be a nurse. “What do you even need at the mall?" Lizzie asked, smiling as the car turned over without incident. “I thought you hated the mall.”

“I never said I hated the mall," Virgie snapped. “I said I hate drivin’ to the mall."

“She hates everything," Granny mumbled.

“Mother!" Virgie snapped. “I heard that.”

Lizzie smiled and pulled the car out of the driveway. “So? What do you need?”

“Oh," Virgie pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse. “I need a new cellphone.”

Lizzie looked at her in the rearview mirror. “You have a cellphone? Since when?”

“I’ve had one for seven years, smart ass." Virgie snubbed her nose at Lizzie. “Your uncle bought me one when they first came out."

“Why didn’t you ever give me the number?" Lizzie asked. “Does Granny call you on it?”

“No one calls me on it!" Virgie snapped. “It’s only for emergencies.”

Lizzie shrugged then returned her eyes to the road.

“She don’t give nobody that Goddamned number," Granny whispered.

“Mother!”


Lizzie hung her head as they entered the Florence Mall main entrance. She looked disdainfully at the goth kids gathered outside Hat World. Redneck posers. I wonder if they raised rabbits or hogs in 4-H. “What provider do you have now?" Lizzie asked.

“What?" Virgie lit a cigarette as they walked past the giant concrete rhino in the play area. “What’s that mean?”

Lizzie sighed. “Who do you write the check to every month?”

“Oh," Virgie frowned. “I think it’s Verizon.”

Lizzie grunted and pointed to a kiosk. “There."

“Lizzie, why they got that funny-lookin’ cow over there?" Granny indicated the rhino.

“I have never been able to figure that out," Lizzie said. “That thing’s been there since they built the mall, Granny. Don’t you remember?" Granny shook her head. “Grandpa used to sit on the bench next to the rhino while Jimbo and I went in the record store that used to be over there." Lizzie pointed. “Remember?”

“We used to come to the mall every weekend when your granddad was around." Granny smiled. “We’d bring you over here and just let you kids shop and shop.”

“Yep," Lizzie nodded. “Used to come here just about every weekend. Then you and Grandpa would sit on that bench and wait for us. Remember now?”

“We’d go to Ma Bentley’s and eat shrimp," Granny continued, oblivious to Lizzie and the rhino. “You’d eat and eat and eat. Til I thought they was gonna ask us to leave." Granny laughed. “’Member, Lizzie?”

“Yeah, I remember," Lizzie grumbled.

“Well, how do you know that I want that?" Virgie interrupted.

“What?" Lizzie asked.

“Verizon." Virgie pointed her cigarette at the kiosk. “How do you know that I don’t want to change?”

“Fine," Lizzie rolled her eyes. “We’ll see what the other dealers have to offer." Lizzie walked to the Nelnet kiosk. “What kind of plan do you want?" she asked Virgie.

“I don’t know," snapped Virgie.

“Well, what kind of plan do you have now?" the kiosk tender asked. He is not a day over 18.

“I pay $10 a month and $2 a minute," Virgie said.

Lizzie and the man-child looked at each other. “Are you sure about that?" Lizzie asked.

“I write the check every month," Virgie insisted. “I haven’t used that phone in 2 years.”

“Understandable if you’re paying $2 a minute," Lizzie mumbled.

“Can I see the phone?" the man asked. Virgie fished around her purse and retrieved an enormous phone resembling a scientific calculator from the early 1970s.

That thing must weigh two pounds. “Oh my God," Lizzie whispered. “It’s the world’s first cellphone.”

“This should be in a museum," the man marveled at the size of the phone. “I think we can definitely get you a better phone and a better plan." He glanced at the back of the phone. “Oh my God, this is analog." Virgie shrugged. “I had no idea there were any of these left." He paused. “Anywhere.”

The man explained several different plans to Virgie. She settled on a plan that gave her two phones and 200 minutes of airtime. The man retrieved a sign-up form and started filling it out.

“So, what’s the current phone number on your cell?" he asked.

Virgie stared at him blankly. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?" Lizzie asked. “That doesn’t even make any sense." She shook her head. “How can you not know your own phone number?"

“I don’t know it," Virgie stated. “We keep the phone number locked up in the safe at home.”

Lizzie banged her head against the kiosk. “Kill me," she whispered.

The man stared incredulously at Virgie. “All right, how about you call my cell phone and I’ll get your number from my caller ID." The man gave Virgie his number and waited as she dialed. “Aha!" he said, jotting down the digits. “Almost done," he smiled reassuringly at Lizzie. Seriously, kill me. “Now, I just need your Social Security Number and we’re good to go.”

Virgie stared at him. “Well, I don’t have that either.”

“What?" Lizzie cried. “You’re 52 years old and you don’t know your Social?"

“I know your uncle’s," she said.

“Well, a lot of fuckin’ good that does," Lizzie spat. “If you don’t know it, then why in God’s name don’t you carry it with you?"

“I don’t know it because everything’s in your uncle’s name," Virgie said angrily. “And I don’t carry it with me because I don’t want someone stealing my identity.”

“She’s stupid, Lizzie," Granny mumbled.

“Mother! Stay out of this!”

Lizzie took the forms from the vendor and slowly ripped them in half then turned to Virgie. “If there is one person on God’s green Earth who is not at risk of having their identity stolen, it’s you." Lizzie said angrily. Because no one in their right fucking mind would want to be you. Lizzie turned and started walking toward the mall exit. I don’t know how much more of this fucking place I can take.


As soon as they returned from the Mall, Lizzie called Sam to relay the cell phone incident. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me," Sam’s voice crackled over the line. “She didn’t know her Social? What a stupid fucking cunt."

“I wish you could have seen that phone," Lizzie laughed. “It was like something out of ‘Logan’s Run’.”

“Renew!” Sam cried. Lizzie envisioned him punching his fist in the air.

“Oh my God, only in Kentucky." Lizzie said. “Well, only in Pendleton.”

“Lizzie!" Granny’s voice nearly made her jump.

“Hang on a minute," Lizzie said to Sam. “What?”

“Call Jimbo," Granny said, retreating into the hallway. “He’s been drivin’ Granny nuts callin’ here!”

“I will, Granny.” Fat fucking chance. “I’m back," Lizzie sighed.

“How’s it going with the therapist?" Sam asked.

“It’s going," Lizzie smiled at the memory of their last kiss. “I wish you could see her. Even Keith was impressed.”

Sam coughed. “Well, it’s going pretty well with Joel, too.”

I am such a shitty friend. “Oh, are you and the burly running man hearing wedding bells?”

“Actually," Sam paused. “He wants me to move in with him.”

Lizzie felt her spine stiffen. “Really? That’s, um, that’s great." She tried to gather her thoughts. “When?”

“Today," said Sam. Lizzie swallowed hard. “Just fuckin’ with you." She laughed nervously. “But he does want me to move in with him," he said in a serious tone. “Soon.”

“Is that what you want?" Lizzie twirled the phone cord.

“I don’t know," Sam said softly. “I think it might be.”

[vix84]

Woohoo! More of this!

I'm finding Lizzie's long lost memories of her parents very interesting. She's such an unusual character, the way she is hard and blunt with people but sometimes falls apart and is so emotional. I think I would lose patience (hell, lose my mind) if Keith and Sam were my closest friends. I think Lizzie needs some soothing Amber touches and words of comfort to make things better.

I chuckled all the way through Virgie's trip into the new century, and was surprised that Sam and his boy are reaching the U-haul stage. I thought only lesbians did that.

More soon, please!

[tcurti3]

Vix: Yeah, Lizzie is a pretty odd character. She's very compartmentalized--she doesn't really think about much beyond what is immediately in front of her. The combination of surgery, drugs, and living in an emotionally-charged locale is forcing her to confront a lot of stuff that had remained more or less buried for many years. I know several people (mostly women, oddly enough) who, well into their thirties, have gone through these epiphanies about traumatic childhood events.
The one part of Lizzie that I can speak to is the consequences of losing a parent at an early age. My father died when I was 15 and I know that, for about 20 years, I found it nearly impossible to remember any of the less pleasant aspects of his personality. Not that he was a bad person or anything--it's just that I had this idealized image of him partly b/c he died very young.
All that being said, please let me know if you think the avalanche of revelations are unrealistic or untrue to the character. Sometimes it's hard for the author to see that kind of thing.
As for Sam, the guy I based him on is, I believe, a closeted lesbian. Bless his heart--he hangs out in leather bars but only because he genuinely thinks that's where he's going to meet Mr. Right. If/when he does meet the elusive fellow, I'm sure that I'll be helping him move in within the week.

WARNING: NC-17 hot all-girl action ahead.
Same rules apply as above: Mine, all mine.

--------------------------

Calling Out

I wonder what she’s doing today. Lizzie grimaced as the Concord roared down I-471. I wish I had remembered to get a tune-up. She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror, removing her Reds cap and running her right hand through her hair. Really looking like shit today. She replaced her hat and accelerated as she swerved toward the Grand Avenue exit. Lizzie drove leisurely through the streets of Newport, winding her way toward Amber’s house.

Lizzie drove by instinct, not really registering where she was going. She flipped on the radio. Country. Of course. She turned the knob, praying that WEBN or WKRQ were still broadcasting. She frowned when she felt no resistance from the knob. She parked on the side of the street then removed her seatbelt to examine the radio. The silver preset tabs across the front of the radio refused to budge. “Well, shit,” she grumbled as she re-fastened her seatbelt. “I guess it’s country or nothing.” She sighed as she noticed the long line of traffic blocking her. Why is it that every fucking car in Campbell County materializes when I’m trying to pull out? The distinctive sound of a steel guitar marked the beginning of a new tune on the station. Wait, I know this one. Lizzie hummed along with the opening of the song, quickly recognizing it as Kitty Wells’ “Honky Tonk Angels.” Mom loved this song. She smiled, remembering her mother’s off-key rendition of the song’s chorus. Where the fuck is she now that I need her? The events of the last day of her mother’s life flooded her vision.


[blockquote]“She’s callin’ out for the dead," Granny whispered. “She ain’t long for this world."

Lizzie sat back hard in the gray recliner and rubbed her eyes. “Of course she’s not." She sighed. “We’ve known that for six months." Lizzie looked over at Granny. She was stroking Ruth’s emaciated hand. "I haven’t seen her eat more than five ounces of food in four Goddamned months."

“It’s all right, Ruthie," Granny said softly. “It’s gonna be all right."

Lizzie laughed bitterly. “It’s not going to be fucking all right. She’s dying."

“Well now, I know that, Lizzie Mae Gossage," Granny hissed. She turned back to Ruth. “She knows it, too." Softly. “It’s all right, Ruthie. My little baby Ruthie."

“No!" Lizzie’s mother opened her eyes. A spasm caused her left leg to twitch wildly. “No. Can’t… " Her eyes closed. “Jim.”

Lizzie winced at the mention of her father’s name. She looked at her watch. I’ve been up for 42 hours straight. She stood and walked to the bathroom. She sat on the toilet, feeling the tears run down her cheeks. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She slapped her palm against her forehead. Why her? Why does she have to suffer like this? Overwhelmed by a wave of nausea, Lizzie slid off the toilet seat to sit on the floor, resting her head against the cool porcelain of the tank. She cried silently, allowing the tears to drip off her face. She lunged forward suddenly, dry-heaving into the bowl. She slumped back onto the floor, resting her arm on the toilet seat. Lizzie barely registered the tapping at the door.

“Lizzie?" Granny’s voice called quietly. “You okay?”

“Yeah," Lizzie said. “Is Ron awake yet?”

“No," Granny said. She opened the bathroom door. “Lizzie, are you sick?”

“Just a virus," Lizzie said, standing quickly.

Granny rushed forward and felt Lizzie’s forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re burnin’ up!" Lizzie pulled away from the old woman’s hand. “Why don’t ya go lay down?”

Lizzie shrugged. “I don’t wanna leave you alone with…" she couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Granny’ll be fine," she said. “I’ll come get ya if anything happens.”
Lizzie smiled weakly. “I’ll just lie down for a half hour." She headed toward the back bedroom. “Come get me." Lizzie pulled back the pink floral comforter and pink sheets on the twin bed she’d used as a child. These are so definitely not mine. She slid under the covers, rolling on her side to face the wall. The tears flowed slowly. She inhaled deeply. Stale cigarette smoke, roses, and bleach. She smiled through the tears. Her smell. Mom’s smell. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Visions of IVs, catheters, and pill bottles flashed behind her eyelids. She sighed and rolled to stare up at the ceiling. Fuck you, God. She felt her sinuses throb as another crying jag neared. You fucking asshole. She shut her eyes tight, trying to remember a time before her mother was sick. She frowned as her mind drew a blank. She turned her face toward the bedroom door as she heard someone approach. “Lizzie?" Granny asked quietly.

“Yeah," Lizzie said. She rolled to a sitting position.

“Granny’s gotta go to the bathroom real bad." Lizzie noticed that Granny was shifting her weight nervously. “Will you come sit with your Momma for a little bit?”

“Sure," Lizzie grunted. I guess we’ve all got a little virus. Lizzie stumbled out to the living room. She swallowed hard as she did every time she saw her mother’s hospital bed. Thank God for hospice. Lizzie sat in the chair Granny had previously occupied. She looked at her mother’s sunken cheeks and eyes. Just let her fucking die, you asshole. Lizzie noticed that a small line of spittle had formed at the side of her mother’s mouth. She stood to retrieve a towel from the kitchen. She nearly jumped at the feel of her mother’s hand on her own. She looked down to see her mother staring up at her. “Jim?"

“No, Mom." Lizzie choked back tears. “It’s me…Lizzie."

“Jim?" Lizzie’s mother rolled her head toward the window. “Daddy?”

Lizzie felt as if her chest would collapse. She leaned forward until she was inches away from her mother’s ear. “Go to them," she whispered. “Go to him." Lizzie felt tears streaming down her face. “We’ll all be okay." Ruth closed her eyes. Lizzie stood, staring down at her. Stop breathing. Ruth’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Stop breathing. Lizzie’s shoulders drooped. She walked out to the kitchen and grabbed a towel. She walked back into the living room and wiped the spittle from her mother’s face. Please go. She plopped down into the chair beside her mother’s bed and hit the ‘power’ button on the TV remote. Infomercial. Shitty sitcom. Made for Lifetime. Infomercial. Lizzie propped her chin on the metal bedrail as she flipped through the cable channels. Is Nancy McKeon in everything on this fucking channel? She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. She opened her eyes as she heard Ruth’s breathing hitch in her chest. Lizzie turned to see Granny behind her.

“Death rattle," Granny whispered.

Lizzie looked back to her mother’s face. No. Her mother’s eyes opened and she took in a ragged breath. No, don’t go yet. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she exhaled. No.[/blockquote]

How did I even get here? Lizzie maneuvered the Concord into a parking spot across from Amber’s house. I don’t even remember leaving that parking spot. She walked to the front door and pressed the button for the doorbell. She noticed that her hand was shaking as she looked at her watch. Guess she’s still working. Lizzie walked back toward the car. She studied the carpet of red leaves spread across Amber’s front yard as she walked to the car. Not a leaf left on any tree in Chicago by now. She slid into the car seat and headed back to Newport.

I know there’s one around here somewhere. She scanned the businesses along Monmouth Street. Maybe it’s on York. She turned west on 7th Street, then onto York. Aha, the parking gods are with me today. She pulled into a parking spot directly across the street from the florist. She walked in, scanning the refrigerated cases lining the walls. She frowned at the daisies and roses. Cliché. She stopped at the final case and smiled. Perfect. She turned to make her purchase but stopped to examine a small planter next to the counter. Well, shit. Lizzie shook her head, perplexed. Which do I choose?

Lizzie loaded her purchase in the car and drove around the city, returning to Amber’s house at dusk. She clumsily parallel parked the Concord and glanced around for Amber’s car. Aha. She spied Amber’s green Taurus driving the opposite direction. She gripped the top of the steering wheel with both hands and lifted herself slightly out of the driver’s seat, biting her lip in anticipation. She watched as Amber parked her car then extricated herself from the seatbelt. Lizzie admired Amber’s shapely backside as she turned to lock the car. She was dressed in a black sweater with white piping around the neck and a plain black skirt. Lizzie licked her lips and opened the car door. “Hey!" she cried, stepping out of the car.

Amber looked around, quickly spotting the Concord. She walked over slowly, resting her forearm on the top of the opened car door. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you I was busy today."

“I…um…I thought I’d just drop by," Lizzie felt the blood rise in her neck. “I mean…I just wanted to see you." Shit. She doesn’t want to see me. “Um, if you’re busy I can just go back home." Lizzie looked down at the car door. I'm such an idiot.

“No," Amber said quietly. “You can come in for a minute."

“Wait,” Lizzie said. “I got you something." She reached onto the passenger seat and gathered the bouquet of pink and red tulips. Amber smiled as she took the flowers. “Actually," Lizzie stood to face her. “I got you two somethings." She produced a small planter filled with ivy from behind her back. She blushed as Amber studied the basket. “I just…um…couldn’t decide which was more like you." Amber looked into Lizzie’s eyes. “I mean, because the ivy is so homey and the tulips are so…" Lizzie looked at the ground. “Lush."

"Are you calling me a lush?" Amber said playfully then leaned forward, tilting her head, until their lips met. The kiss was gentle. Tender. Amber pulled away and smiled warmly at Lizzie. “Thank you," she said softly, “for thinking of me.”

Lizzie smiled shyly. Amber turned and walked toward the front door. Lizzie slammed the door of the Concord and followed her. “How was work today?"

She thought she saw Amber flinch. “Had the day off," she said.

“What’d you do?" Lizzie asked.

“Here, hold these," Amber said, shoving the tulips in Lizzie’s hands as she rifled through her purse looking for her keys. She located the keys then unlocked the door, still holding the planter in one hand. Lizzie followed her inside. They walked to the kitchen, where Amber searched for a vase large enough to accommodate the tulips. Lizzie admired the other woman’s curves as she squatted to search the shelves of the cabinet under the sink. Amber caught Lizzie looking at her when she turned, holding a large silver vase. Both women blushed but neither averted her eyes. Her hands grazed Lizzie’s as she relieved her of the tulips and placed them in the container. Amber ran the planter briefly under the tap. She placed the planter on the sill of the kitchen window. Wordlessly, she picked up the vase and walked back to the living room. She placed the flowers on the long, flat table in front of the couch.

“Looks nice," Lizzie said.

Amber frowned. “I think they’d look better somewhere else," she said, scooping up the vase and walking toward her bedroom.

Lizzie swallowed hard and followed her. Is this it? Lizzie walked into the bedroom in time to see Amber place the vase on top of her dresser. Without looking back at Lizzie, she kicked off her shoes and stretched her arms above her head, arching her back. Like a cat. Amber turned to face Lizzie. Lizzie kicked off her Nikes and tossed her Reds cap on the floor then stepped tentatively toward her. Amber closed the gap between them. She cradled Lizzie’s face in her hands then kissed her, softly and slowly moving her lips against Lizzie’s. She flicked out her tongue, tapping against Lizzie’s upper lip. Lizzie moaned, pushing her body into Amber’s. Amber moved her left hand to the back of Lizzie’s head, pulling her closer and exploring Lizzie’s mouth. She wrapped her right arm around Lizzie’s waist and pulled her tight. Lizzie moved her hands to the bottom of Amber’s sweater. She pulled up on the fabric, then ran her hands along the silky skin of Amber’s exposed stomach and sides. Amber moaned into Lizzie’s mouth. Lizzie slid her hands around Amber’s back then raked her nails upward from Amber’s waist to her bra strap. Lizzie trembled as she felt Amber push her breasts into her.

Amber pulled away from the kiss. She pulled back slightly from Lizzie and looked down at Lizzie’s shirt. Amber grinned and reached to Lizzie’s chest to trace the Batman emblem. Lizzie smiled and felt her cheeks start to blush. “Good luck charm," Lizzie said softly.

Amber laughed, then pulled Lizzie close for another kiss. She gently bit at Lizzie’s bottom lip then abruptly broke the kiss. She grabbed the bottom of Lizzie’s shirt and pulled it upwards as Lizzie lifted her arms. “Guess you won’t be needing that anymore, Batman," Amber whispered. Lizzie gently pulled Amber’s sweater over her head then dropped it to the floor. She reached out her hand to cup Amber’s cheek, then slowly moved her hand down the woman’s neck past her collarbone to the valley between her breasts. She moved forward, using her tongue to trace the path she had just made with her finger. Amber threw back her head and tangled her fingers in Lizzie’s hair. Lizzie reached behind and unhooked Amber’s bra. She slid her hands slowly up to Amber’s shoulders, then guided the straps gently down Amber’s arms.

Lizzie pulled away to look at Amber’s full breasts. Beautiful. She dropped to her knees, kissing Amber’s stomach and working her fingers between the fabric of her skirt and Amber’s soft skin. She pulled the woman’s skirt and pantyhose down slowly, kissing and nipping gently. Amber sighed, running her fingers through Lizzie’s hair. Lizzie nuzzled her face into the light curls of Amber’s sex, breathing deeply of the woman’s scent. She quickly pulled the skirt and pantyhose off then gently kissed along the lines of Amber’s hips. Lizzie maneuvered to face the woman’s backside and gingerly kneaded her buttocks. Amber gasped as Lizzie placed open-mouthed kisses on her buttocks, lightly nipping the flesh.

Lizzie stood then turned Amber to face her. She gazed deeply into the blonde’s eyes and wrapped her arms around the blonde’s waist. She pushed her hips into Amber’s and urged her backwards. When they reached the bed, Lizzie slid her hands to Amber’s shoulders and pushed gently, urging her to sit. Lizzie quickly whipped off her jeans, boxers, socks, and bra then kneeled before her. She placed her hands on the swell of Amber’s hips then slowly slid her hands all the way down the outside of her legs to her knees. She gazed into Amber’s eyes as she slowly trailed her ring and pinky fingers along the outside of her calves. Lizzie lifted Amber’s right foot to her mouth and kissed the top of her big toe. Amber giggled nervously. Lizzie looked up from the blonde’s foot and trailed her finger slowly down the arch of her foot. Amber tried to jerk her foot away. “Ticklish!”

Lizzie laughed. She kissed slowly up the woman’s smooth calf, swirling her tongue around the sensitive area behind Amber’s knee. She worked her way up her thigh, alternately licking and biting. She noticed Amber’s breathing increase as she neared her pubic hair. Lizzie moved her nose across the swell of Amber’s sex. She felt the woman twitch as she extended her tongue to part Amber’s outer lips. Oranges. She licked slowly up the side of her clit, pressing on the hood with the bottom of her tongue before continuing the trail down the opposite side of the sensitive bud. She brought her arms up to clasp Amber’s thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed. Amber complied, pushing her sex gently into Lizzie’s face. Lizzie smiled, tracing her tongue along the blonde’s opening. She inched her tongue forward, penetrating slowly. She felt Amber’s legs spread wider, urging her deeper. Lizzie extended her tongue as far as it would go then retracted and entered again, establishing a languorous rhythm. She felt Amber’s fingers pulling her hair. Lizzie released Amber’s left leg, moving her right index finger to the blonde’s vagina. She removed her tongue, quickly replacing it with her finger.

Lizzie shifted on her knees, becoming more comfortable in the awkward position. She glanced up at Amber, who was rolling her head against the blanket. Lizzie smiled and leaned in, tilting her head to the right. She lapped gently at Amber’s clit, exploring the blonde’s depths with her index finger. She felt the blonde’s climax building. Lizzie rolled her lips over her teeth then took the entire clit in her mouth, applying gentle pressure to the sides. Amber’s moan turned to a scream. Lizzie felt the internal muscles spasm around her finger. She released the captive clit, giving it a final lick along its length. Amber shuddered and pulled back on Lizzie’s hair. Leaving her finger pressed against the other woman’s sex, Lizzie pushed herself up to lie on top of Amber. Lizzie kissed the woman gently then trailed her hand up Amber’s body. The blonde moaned as Lizzie introduced her moist digit to their joined lips. Lizzie pulled back from the kiss, gazing into Amber’s eyes. Smiling, she rolled off Amber and lay on her side, her right arm curled under her head.

Amber rolled on her side to face Lizzie. “Here," Amber said, gently lifting Lizzie’s head and placing a pillow under it.

“Thanks," said Lizzie. She lifted her hand to stroke Amber’s cheek. “Was it…?”

“Wonderful," Amber replied. She took Lizzie’s left hand and kissed her palm. Lizzie blushed. Amber released her hand then moved to stroke the scar on Lizzie’s neck. “Still hurts?”

“Sometimes," Lizzie was suddenly self-conscious. “Not right now, but it hurts sometimes. Mostly late at night and early in the morning."

Amber sat up abruptly. She scooted off the bed. “Be right back.”

Lizzie stared after her, confused. What the fuck did I do now?


Amber returned a few minutes later, carrying two damp towels, a dry towel, and a bottle. “Roll over on your stomach." Lizzie did as she was told. Lizzie sighed as Amber placed a warm damp towel on the back of her neck. She smiled at the sensation of Amber’s fingers gently rubbing her neck through the towel. Amber straddled Lizzie’s lower back. “Little bit cold," she said. Lizzie jerked slightly as she felt liquid poured on her upper back. Lizzie moaned as the blonde started massaging her shoulders. Lizzie smiled, her nipples hardening under the pressure. Amber gently kneaded Lizzie’s back from her shoulders to her hips, paying special attention to her shoulders and the base of her neck. “You’re really tight.”

“Now, how can you possibly know that?" Lizzie paused. “Yet.” She jerked as she felt Amber slap her on the buttock.

“All right, funny girl," Amber said as she removed the towel from Lizzie’s neck. She gently rubbed the sides of Lizzie’s neck, carefully avoiding the tender spots along her spine. “How’s that feel?”

“Mmmmm," Lizzie groaned. “So good." She felt drool escaping from the corner of her mouth.

Amber removed one hand from Lizzie’s neck, wiping the liquid from her back with the other wet towel. She then removed the moisture from Lizzie’s skin with the dry towel, never halting the gentle massage at the base of her neck. Lizzie gasped as she felt Amber lean forward, running her arms along Lizzie’s and twining the fingers of both hands. Lizzie’s hips shifted involuntarily as she felt Amber’s breasts pushing against her back. Amber nudged the side of Lizzie’s head with her nose, urging Lizzie to twist her head to the right. Amber’s hot breath on Lizzie’s ear made her squirm. “Better?" Amber asked. Lizzie found herself incapable of answering as Amber’s tongue stroked the rim of her ear.

Amber used her knee to gently force apart Lizzie’s legs. The blonde slowly trailed her hands along Lizzie’s arms, stopping just past her armpits. She pushed up with her arms, grinding her hips against Lizzie’s ass. Lizzie moaned and pushed back against the pressure. “Not yet," Amber said as she pulled back her hips. She dragged her left hand along Lizzie’s side, rubbing gently, to the crest of Lizzie’s buttock. Lizzie sighed as the blonde traced gentle patterns across the fleshy mound. She gasped as Amber suddenly moved her left hand under Lizzie, cupping her pudendum. Amber stroked the soft curls, running the length of Lizzie’s sex. On the third stroke, Amber suddenly inserted two fingers into Lizzie. Lizzie moaned, pushing herself against Amber’s hand. Lizzie felt the muscles of her vagina clench around the woman’s fingers. Heaven. Amber positioned her right hand over Lizzie’s clit. She crooked and rotated her fingers, simultaneously rubbing her index and middle fingers on either side of Lizzie’s clit.

“Oh my fucking God," Lizzie moaned into the pillow. Amber resumed the thrusting motion, accompanied by sporadic fingertip massage along the sides of Lizzie’s clit.

“Yes," Amber growled, pushing harder into Lizzie. She thrust the full length of her fingers into Lizzie, twirling the digits while moving her other index finger along the full length of Lizzie’s clit.

“God!" Lizzie cried into the pillow. Lizzie gripped the blanket furiously as the spasm hit. Everything. She shuddered as Amber brushed against her swollen clit while removing her hands from Lizzie.

Lizzie felt a few stray tears run down her face. “Alakazam,” she whimpered.

“And poof,” Amber said, moving up to lie on her side next to Lizzie. She reached out to wipe the tears from Lizzie’s face. “You're crying," Amber said, stroking Lizzie’s face. “Did I hurt you?" she asked anxiously. “I should have been more gentle…”

Lizzie rolled onto her side. “No," she reached to cup Amber’s cheek. “No. It was perfect." Lizzie smiled.

“Are you sure?" Amber gently stroked Lizzie’s neck. “I’d never forgive myself if…”

Lizzie grabbed Amber’s hand and moved it to her lips, kissing her palm gently. “I think that I…" Lizzie hesitated. “Um, I think my neck is fine." Coward.

[Kieli]

Holy jumpin' baldheaded Jesus Erm...ahem....I come back to your thread to tell you not to worry and what do ya do? Try and kill me! *fans self* Erm...*cough* Ok now where was I? Oh oh, yes! Comments! Yes.. ahem...I'll be right brassed off with you if Amber becomes another Mickey, because she's growing on me (and don't I ever wish she.....ANYWAY....)

Must go take cold shower.

[tcurti3]

Hey, Kittens. I've got a few chapters for you today, but will probably post in 2 sets due to an ever-dropping wifi connection. Kieli, I hope you've recovered from the bird flu (just kidding--well, I do hope you've fully recovered but I know you didn't have avian flu). I have a niggling fear that the smut in the last chapter pushed you into a relapse.
Rating is R. WARNING: angsty-ness ahead.
Same rules apply as above: mine, all mine.
Feedback makes a happy tcurti3.

---------------------------------
The Morning After

Lizzie awoke with a start. She blinked her eyes then smiled, remembering the events of the previous evening. She rolled on to her side, slipping her arm under the blanket and wrapping it around Amber’s waist. She suppressed a gasp at the feel of silky skin. Oh my God. Lizzie looked down at her chest. We’re both still naked. Lizzie felt Amber stir and then felt the woman’s hand slide along her arm, drawing her closer. She nuzzled Amber’s hair, planting a kiss on the plush skin of her neck.

“Mornin’," Lizzie said quietly. Amber yawned then laced her fingers with Lizzie’s. Lizzie blushed as the blonde pulled her hand up to her breast. Recovering quickly, Lizzie pinched her nipple. Amber moaned and arched her back against Lizzie. Lizzie trailed her tongue down the woman’s neck then gently bit the sensitive skin. Amber rolled over abruptly to face her, reaching around to knead Lizzie’s ass. She leaned her head forward, allowing her lips to lightly graze Lizzie’s. Lizzie strained into the kiss then pushed forward, rolling the blonde on her back. The pair kissed deeply, Amber sucking gently on Lizzie’s tongue.
Lizzie pulled back, lightly kissing the blonde’s nose as she lifted herself
up on her arms. Lizzie glanced downward. “Like your costume.”

“Thanks. That means a lot coming from you,” Amber laughed and raised her head to kiss Lizzie. Lizzie was caught off guard when Amber suddenly slid two fingers inside her labia. “Oh," she said in a sultry voice. “I see someone had sweet dreams." Lizzie shifted her legs to allow the blonde better access. “Or were they sour?" Amber asked as she trailed her fingers slowly up Lizzie’s body. She shut her eyes and placed damp fingers in her mouth. “Mmmmm," she moaned. “Definitely sweet.”


“Any plans for today?" Lizzie asked.

“Just Kroger," Amber said. She sat up and stretched her arms, twisting to the left then the right. “Other than that, not much. Nothing important.”

Lizzie smiled at the smoothly muscled back. “Hey, you never told me where you were yesterday."

Amber stood up. “No place special," she mumbled. She shook out her robe. “How about you?"

“Eh," she ran down the events of the past 48 hours in her mind. “Nothing much. Took my aunt to the mall." She ran her fingers through her
hair. “Talked to Sam.”

“Who?" Amber walked to the dresser and smelled a red tulip.

“Sam," Lizzie said. “You know…my buddy that I live with in Chicago.”

“Oh, right," Amber straightened and walked toward the door. “I, uh, I guess I forgot for a minute about Chicago,” she said, still facing the door. Lizzie grimaced as she saw the blonde’s shoulders tense. “You want some breakfast?" Amber called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

“Um, no." Lizzie looked around for her clothes. Shit, why did I have to bring up Chicago? She looked up when she heard the bathroom door close. She pulled on her T-shirt and reached under the dresser for her Reds hat. She plopped on the bed to tie her shoes. I’m such an idiot. Lizzie walked through the hallway to the living room. She looked around nervously. Should I just leave? Amber emerged from the bathroom and walked into the kitchen. Lizzie leaned against the doorway, watching the blonde rummage through a cabinet. “I, um, I guess I should get going.”

“No breakfast?" Amber shut the cabinet door. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah." Lizzie bit her lip. “Gotta get home to Granny." She walked to the front door then turned to see Amber standing in the kitchen doorway. “Can I call you later?”

“Sure," Amber said.

Lizzie nodded and opened the door.

“Wait," Amber said. Lizzie turned to see her walking to the door. Lizzie stepped toward her. Amber cradled Lizzie’s head in her hands, tilting her head to the right and kissing her. Thank God. “I’ll miss my Batman," Amber whispered.

Lizzie wrapped her arms around Amber’s waist, drawing her into a hug. She kissed the woman’s neck, pulling her lips away with a loud smack. “You better.”


Lizzie beamed during the drive back to Granny’s house. Granny met her at the front door. “Lizzie," Granny said. “You need to call that girl, Jamie." Lizzie felt her good mood dissolve.

“Who the fuck is Jamie?" Lizzie asked. She kicked off her shoes, inadvertently hitting a poodle. “Sorry, Pete." Lizzie looked back at her grandmother as she walked toward her room. “I don’t know anyone named Jamie.”

“That girl," Granny said. “That girl you work with at the airport.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?" Lizzie opened her drawer, producing a pair of tube socks and Batman boxers. “I don’t work at the airport. Never have." She walked toward the bathroom. “I work for Concordia Airlines at corporate headquarters.”

“Whatever," Granny snapped. “That girl said you needed to call her as soon as you got in." Granny paused. “Where was ya all night?”

“Amber’s," Lizzie grinned as she said it. She glanced in the bathroom mirror as she pulled off her Batman T-shirt. Luckiest shirt in the world. “Did Janet," she emphasized the name, “say what she wanted?”

“Granny don’t know," she scooped up a poodle and headed for the kitchen. “Somethin’ about a book.”

“A book?" Lizzie glanced back at her grandmother.

“Yeah," Granny called over her shoulder. “Chapter somethin’ or other.”

Lizzie raced to the bedroom and dialed Janet’s number. “What happened?" Lizzie asked frantically. “Did they really do it?”

“Government turned down the loan," Janet said dejectedly. “No way we could survive without that."

Shit. Shit. Shit. “Anybody get whacked yet?"

“Nobody yet," Janet whispered. “But I’ve heard that there’s a list.”

“There’s always a list," Lizzie snapped. “Haven’t you been there long enough to know that?" She twirled the phone cord around her wrist. “It’s just a question of who’s on it.”

“I’ve heard that the cuts start next week," Janet said, ignoring Lizzie’s comment. “And I’ve heard that it’s mostly IT.”

“Fuck," Lizzie sighed. “Nice workin’ with ya.”

“When are you coming back?" Janet asked.

Lizzie glanced out the window at the oak tree in her grandmother’s side yard. She watched a yellow leaf drift from the lowest branch on to the ground. “Guess I’ll be there on Monday." Six days.


Lizzie slammed down the receiver. Fuck. She raised her right hand to rub her neck. Where’re those pills? The phone rang. Janet must have forgotten to tell me something. She picked up the receiver. “What now?”

“Well, there you are," Lizzie froze at the sound of her stepbrother’s voice. “I been tryin’ to get in touch with you for days.”

“Yeah, um, I’ve been…" frantic, terrified, hysterical, “…busy.”

“Yeah, I bet you have," Jimbo laughed. “Granny told me you ain’t been comin’ home at night."

“Yeah, I’ve been…uh…with Amber a lot," Lizzie said. I wish I was now.

“Good for you," Jimbo said enthusiastically. “I’m really glad you’ve made a…um, that you’ve met a nice girl."

“Does Mickey know?" Lizzie said, immediately regretting it. Shit. Stupid.

“I think I might have told her," Jimbo said. “Why?”

“Just wondering." I am such a stupid fucking moron.

“Huh," Jimbo replied. “Well, I was gonna see if you wanted to come down tonight.”

Oh Jesus God no. “I, um, well…" Illness. Plague. Broken leg. Anything.

“Head down round seven," Jimbo said. “Bring Granny if she’s feelin’ up to it. I’ll ask the old man.”

“Okay," Lizzie said. She hung up the receiver and stared at it. Goddamn it, Granny. Haven’t you ever heard of caller ID? Lizzie stumbled into her bedroom, frantically searching for the bottle of Vicodin. She picked it up and removed the top. Shit. She stared in disbelief at the empty bottle. Lizzie considered throwing herself down Granny’s front porch steps, abandoning that idea when she realized that Granny probably didn’t even have homeowner’s insurance. She then envisioned plowing the Concord into a barn. Well, if she doesn’t have homeowner’s, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have car insurance either. Four hours later, she found herself physically intact and standing at Jimbo’s front door. Lizzie knocked on the door. Maybe I’ll have a heart attack. She was relieved when Jimbo answered. “Hey!" He pulled her in for a bear hug. “Where’s Granny?”

“Not feelin’ well," Lizzie frowned. Why don’t I just tell you one more lie?

She allowed her eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the trailer. “Spruced the place up a little, huh?" she asked, indicating the freshly mowed lawn and sparkling new gas grill.

“It’s all my girl’s doin’," he said. Lizzie blushed. “She’s in the kitchen." Lizzie nodded and followed him. “Look who’s here.”

Mickey stood with her back to Lizzie, peeling potatoes over the garbage can. She turned and smiled half-heartedly in her direction. “Hi.”

“Um, hi," Lizzie mumbled. Kill me. “Where’s the old man?" she asked Jimbo.

“Said he didn’t feel well," Jimbo said. “Weird, though. I saw him this morning and he was fine.”

Lizzie blanched. It’s because he can’t stand the sight of me. “Huh," she said.

“Maybe he and Granny caught the same bug," he said. He pulled open the refrigerator and removed a heaping platter of steaks. He shoved the plate under Lizzie’s nose. “Rare enough for ya?"

Lizzie jumped, startled by the combination of guilt and beef. “Oh, well, not far from it." Lizzie smiled weakly.

“Ruth used to make me and Lizzie sit at a different table 'cause Lizzie likes her steaks so rare." Jimbo said to Mickey. She nodded then returned to peeling potatoes. “Can I help?" Lizzie asked. Mickey shook her head. “I’m gonna get these started," said Jimbo. He headed back through the living room to the front porch.

“What in the Hell are you doing here?" Mickey hissed as she turned to Lizzie.

“He’s my brother," Lizzie said, looking at the floor. “That’s not gonna change because of what we did.”

“He’s your stepbrother," Mickey said. “And he’s my fiancé." She glared at Lizzie. “Who do you think he’s gonna choose?”

Lizzie looked at her, mortified. “Choose?" She shook her head. “Who ever said he had to choose?”

“Of course he has to choose," Mickey spat. “After what you did.”

“What I did?" Lizzie felt the blood rise in her face. “I seem to remember that you were present, too.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t do it," Mickey said. “Don’t pretend you didn’t get me drunk and rape me.”

Lizzie laughed. “Are you kidding me?" She moved to stand in front of Mickey, pulling herself to her full height. “You had one beer the first time we were together." Mickey glared at her. Lizzie felt the blood pounding through the veins in her neck. "And, as Granny says, you can't rape the willing." Mickey glanced up, her face distorted in fear. Lizzie heard the clatter of a breaking plate behind her. She turned to see Jimbo standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a rare steak and a shattered dinner plate at his feet.

“Jimbo," Lizzie said, moving toward him. She gripped his arm. She flinched as he jerked away.

“Honey," Mickey said, dropping the peeler and the potato into the garbage can.

Jimbo shook his head, blinking rapidly. “Get the fuck out of my house," he said and turned to walk toward the back of the trailer. “Both of you," he called over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck," Lizzie said quietly. She walked to Jimbo’s bedroom door and tapped lightly. “Jimbo," she closed her eyes. “Please talk to me."

“Leave him alone," Lizzie felt Mickey’s hand on her shoulder. “Just leave us alone.”

Lizzie saw the door blur and realized she was crying. “I am so sorry," she said, placing her palm flat against the wooden door. “I love you, Jimbo," she whispered. But I can’t blame you for hating me. “I’d take it back if I could." She shrugged Mickey’s hand from her shoulder then pushed past her to the front door.

[tcurti3]

And, here's update #2. It may appear that all has been revealed about the gorgeous but troubled Amber in this update, but there could be another skeleton or two in that closet. Hmmmm...those may have to stay hidden until the weekend.
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Aftershocks

Lizzie sighed as the car’s engine wound down. She leaned her head against the steering wheel and felt the tears burn her cheeks. Stupid. She opened the car door and made her way up the walk. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but was stopped when the door opened from the inside. “I thought it might be you," Ron said. He stepped back into the house, leaving the door open for her. She walked in and sat on the edge of the sofa.

“Want a Co-Cola?" he called from the kitchen.

“No," Lizzie said weakly. She looked up as Ron walked into the living room from the kitchen. “Have you talked to Jimbo?”

“Yeah," Ron eyed her suspiciously. “Earlier.”

“Oh," Lizzie looked at the floor. “So, you haven’t talked to him tonight?”

“What the Hell happened?" Ron whispered.

“It wasn’t my fault," Lizzie croaked. This is where she was. Lizzie gasped as she recognized the placement of the furniture. This is where her bed was. She fixed her eyes on a picture on the mantle. It was the five of them at Natural Bridge State Park in 1984. Granny stood in the middle of Ruth and Ron, while Lizzie and Jimbo were a blur of movement in the background to the right of the adults. I was messing with him--threatening to push him off the edge. Lizzie blinked at the memory then realized Ron was standing in front of her. “What?”

“Did you tell him?" Ron asked. “Did you tell him what you did?”

“He found out," Lizzie said slowly. “He heard me and Mickey arguing and he…" Lizzie trailed off.

“Oh God," Ron said. He plopped in the gray recliner. “Oh God." He ran his hands through his hair. “Is he…is he okay?”

How would that even be possible? “I, um, I don’t know." Lizzie looked back to the floor. “He locked himself in the bedroom and told me to get out." She grimaced at the memory. “I tried to talk to him but…"

“Well, no shit." Ron said. “I wonder why he wouldn’t wanna talk to you." He leaned forward in the chair.

"Please," Lizzie said softly. She buried her face in her hands. “Please don’t." She slumped forward, cradling her head in her hands. “I can’t…" She felt her body racking with sobs. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I still can’t believe this out of you," Ron said. Lizzie looked up to see him leaning back in his chair. He seemed to have aged a decade in the last few days. “Not you." Lizzie noticed he was crying. “He would never hurt you like this.”

“I know," Lizzie said. She felt nauseated from crying. “I never thought I would hurt him," she sighed deeply. “Not like that.”

“Why did you do it?" Ron asked. “Just tell me that.”

Lizzie took a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiped her eyes. “I told you about how I felt for Mickey when we were in school," Lizzie started. Ron nodded. “Well, it…I guess it started that day when I was going in for surgery." Lizzie turned her head to look out the window. “This asshole intern had just told me that I could be a quadriplegic and, um, Mickey was the only one there." Lizzie continued. “So I…something told me that I had to tell her how I felt." Lizzie paused. “And, when I did, she kissed me.”

“Where was I? Jimbo and me were both there that day," Ron said.

“You’d taken Granny down for coffee," Lizzie bit her lip. “I was just so scared," she whispered. “I really thought that, well, I had never really thought about what would happen if the surgeon made a mistake." Lizzie swallowed hard. “Things have been so tough." She looked back to her stepfather. “Ever since Mom…”

“Don’t you dare," Ron snapped. “Do not blame this on your mother’s death.”

“I’m not," Lizzie replied. “I’m not saying that." She frowned, formulating her sentence carefully. “I’m saying that, ever since then, I’ve just felt like I’m drifting." She looked back toward the window. “And then when 9/11 happened, and everybody knew that Concordia was going under, I felt like I was on a sinking ship." She paused. “And now, with what I’ve done to Jimbo, I feel like I’m drowning." Lizzie tried to choke back the tears. “I just don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore."

“So, you’re drifting, sinking, and drowning?" Lizzie looked back to Ron. He was crying but had a slight smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I guess that’s a pretty shitty string of analogies, huh?" Lizzie laughed despite her tears. “Guess they’ll be repossessing that English Lit degree, huh?”

Ron leaned forward to sit on the edge of his chair. “I love you, Lizzie." He said simply. Lizzie blushed. “You’re my daughter.”

Lizzie smiled at him. “I couldn’t have asked for a better Dad." She felt a sharp stab of guilt remembering her birth father. I’ve had two Dads.

Ron looked at her closely. “But I don’t know that I’m ready to forgive you for this." Lizzie’s face fell. “And I don’t know if Jimbo ever will.”

Lizzie slid into the front seat of the Concord. She pulled out of Ron’s driveway and headed up the hill to Granny’s house. She pulled over halfway up the hill and collapsed in tears against the steering wheel. She cried for about ten minutes then drove the rest of the way home. She rushed through the house and shut the door to Granny’s bedroom before dialing Sam’s number and relaying the evening’s events. “Oh, fuck," Sam said. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, what the fuck can I do?" Lizzie replied. “It’s not like I can force either one of them to talk to me." She sighed. “Much less forgive me.”

“I guess you’re right," Sam paused. “It’s just…fuck…that is awful timing.”

“You’re telling me." Lizzie toyed with the phone cord.

“I can’t believe that fucking bitch Mickey," Sam spat. “I told you she was a fucking cunt.”

Lizzie drew a flower design in the dust on Granny’s bedside table. “Yeah, I know." She paused. “But it’s not like she forced me to do anything." Lizzie grimaced. “I did this. I put myself in this situation and I fucking hate myself for it."

“Bullshit," Sam said. “She threw herself at you. She knew how you felt about her and she manipulated you into this.”

He really is my best friend. “I still betrayed my brother," Lizzie said quietly. She felt herself tear up at Sam’s silence on the other end of the line. “How’s it going with, uh, burly man?”

“Great," Sam said. “He’s actually a pretty cool guy. I can’t wait for you to meet him." Sam paused. “When are you coming back?”

“Actually, I’ll be home either Sunday night or Monday morning." She looked out the window. “Haven’t made the reservation yet."

“Oh shit, yeah. I almost forgot about the bankruptcy." Sam said. “God, you really are having a shitty week. Are you okay? Have you heard anything yet?”

“Nothing you haven’t heard," Lizzie replied. “I just know that it’s gonna be ugly."



Lizzie hung up when Sam got another call on the line. She stared at the phone, debating whether or not to call Jimbo. She sighed and dialed his number. “Jimbo, it’s me," Lizzie chewed her lip anxiously. “I, um, I was just wondering if you were okay." She paused. “Just…uh…just call me when you get a chance." She started to place the receiver back on its cradle then pulled it back. “I love you." I’m such a fucking idiot. Lizzie hung up the phone. Ring. She stared at the phone. Ring now.
“Lizzie!" Lizzie nearly jumped at Granny’s voice. “Lizzie! Your aunt Virgie had to go to the doctor today.”

“What?" It took a moment for Lizzie to understand the words. “Is she okay?”

“No," Granny whispered. “She’s got somethin’ wrong with her electric lights.”

“She’s always…what?" Lizzie realized what her grandmother had said. “What the Hell are you talking about?”

“Her electric lights," Granny hissed. “In her liver.”

“Oh Jesus, Granny," Lizzie said, shaking her head. “You mean her electrolytes." She laughed. “How did they determine that?”

“Took some a’ her blood.”

Lizzie looked puzzled. “But Granny," she started. “They wouldn’t have gotten the results that quickly. How can they say it’s her electrolytes if they haven’t even processed her blood sample?”

Granny shrugged. “I don’t know, Lizzie." She sighed. “I just don’t know what them electric lights are for.”

Where do they plug in? Lizzie restrained herself from being a smartass. She glanced back at the phone. Ring.


Lizzie waited until Granny went to bed then took her keys and headed for Amber’s house. She parked in front of the house and leaned her head against the steering wheel. What have I done? She got out of the car and walked slowly to Amber’s front door. “Hey," Lizzie said. “Mind if I come in?" Amber stepped back from the door and motioned Lizzie in.

“Are you okay?" Amber asked. Lizzie shook her head and embraced the woman when she turned after closing the door. “Hey," Amber said softly. “What’s going on?”

Lizzie held Amber tightly. She breathed in her scent then released her. “Rough couple of days." Lizzie smiled sadly.

Amber caught Lizzie’s lips in a slow kiss. “Better now?”

Lizzie kissed her quickly. “Much."

They turned their heads at the scream of the teakettle. “Want some tea?" Amber asked, heading for the kitchen. “I was just going to make a cup.”

“Sounds good," Lizzie said, kicking off her shoes. She sat on the couch and looked around at the living room. She frowned at a vase filled with six pink roses perched on the long table next to the front door. Where did those come from?

“What?" Amber asked as she sat the steaming cup on the table in front of Lizzie.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t say anything," Lizzie said. I hope I didn’t. “Nice flowers.”

“Guess so," Amber said noncommittally.

Lizzie examined the blonde’s face, looking for any hint as to the flowers’ origin. What is she keeping from me? “I, um, do you mind if I ask you a personal question," Lizzie bit her lip. “Kind of a weird question.”

Amber placed her cup in its saucer on the table. “Okay," she said warily.

“Are you, um, seeing someone?" Lizzie swallowed hard, hoping her instincts were wrong. “I mean, someone other than me?” Are we even seeing each other?

Amber looked at her quizzically. “Seeing someone?" she repeated. She followed Lizzie’s gaze to the flowers. “Oh!" She shook her head. “No." She took Lizzie’s hand in hers. “I told you I wasn’t seeing anyone."

“So, you bought yourself a half dozen pink roses?" Lizzie asked.

“Not exactly." Amber dropped Lizzie’s hand then crossed her arms. “Why does this matter so much to you?"

“I just feel," Lizzie took a deep breath. “Like you’re hiding something from me.”

Lizzie saw Amber’s jaw tighten. “The flowers," she started, "were for my mother’s grave." Oh God. “Today was the anniversary of her death." Oh God, why am I such a fucking self-centered asshole all the time?

“Oh my God," Lizzie felt herself blush. “I am so…" she tried to catch Amber’s gaze. “I didn’t mean to, um, to upset you." Lizzie reached to place her hand on Amber’s shoulder. She felt her heart drop when Amber flinched at her touch. “I’m so sorry.”

Amber stared at the roses. “A year…" she said quietly.

Lizzie shifted, moving to face Amber, her knee propped awkwardly against the back of the couch. She leaned forward, gently rubbing the back of Amber’s neck. “What happened?" Amber shook her head. Lizzie looked down at the fabric of the couch. When she looked up, she noticed a tear rolling down Amber’s cheek. “My mom’s been dead about ten years," Lizzie said. Amber looked up at her. “Pancreatic cancer.” Lizzie pulled the blonde into her arms. Lizzie held her gently, caressing her hair. “I’m sorry," Amber murmured.

“Yeah," Lizzie tilted her head forward, resting her forehead just above Amber’s ear. “You can tell me,” Lizzie whispered.

Amber huddled closer, resting her head on Lizzie’s chest. Lizzie kissed the top of Amber’s head. “She committed suicide," Amber said flatly. Lizzie felt her chest constrict. She hugged Amber tighter. “Overdose.”

“Amber," Lizzie said involuntarily. “My God, I’m so sorry." Lizzie started rocking gently, cradling Amber to her. Should I ask? “So, do you…uh…do you know why?" She blushed, immediately regretting the question. “Forget I said that," Lizzie said. “Please." She kissed the top of Amber’s head again. “I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

Amber pulled away from Lizzie and sat upright. “She’d been depressed for most of her life," she sighed. “At least, for most of mine." Amber reached for her tea. “She’d actually seemed a lot happier in the last couple of months." Amber took a sip of her tea then replaced the cup in its saucer. “I should have known," she said bitterly. “I didn’t have what you’d call a happy childhood.” Lizzie reached for her hand. “When all the other kids were out playing, I’d be taking care of her.” Amber frowned as Lizzie entwined their fingers. “No summer camp, no school dances, no…nothing,” she sighed. Lizzie squeezed her hand. “She called me,” she said, her voice cracking. Lizzie’s shoulders tensed. “That night,” Amber said, looking at the flowers. “She called me just about every night.” She pulled her hand away from Lizzie’s. “But that night, Jenny and I had dinner reservations.” Amber shifted on the couch, pulling her knees up to her chin. “And I just…” Lizzie moved closer. “I just really wanted to go out and have a little fun that night.” She paused. "It was our anniversary." Lizzie swallowed hard. “We were just about to leave and the phone rang.” Amber paused. “I saw it was her and I…” she trailed off. She turned to look at Lizzie. “I told Jenny it was just Mom and I’d call her when we got home.” She closed her eyes. “And by then it was too late.”

My God, what the fuck do I say to her? Lizzie blinked away tears. Sorry really doesn't fucking cut it. “My Mom,” she started. “Mom had been sick for about a year," Lizzie said quietly, toying with the fabric of the couch cushion. Amber turned to look at her. “She, um, wouldn’t…my stepdad and I tried to get her to go to the doctor, but she wouldn’t listen to us." Lizzie felt hot tears roll down her cheek. “By the time the pain got too bad, it had spread from her pancreas to her liver." Lizzie bit her lip and looked up to Amber. “They wouldn’t even give us a chance." She felt her lip quiver. “The oncologist didn’t even say ‘it would be a one in four billion chance’ or anything." Amber reached for Lizzie’s hand. “The only thing he said was that she had about six months left and we should make her as comfortable as possible.”

“Did you take care of her?" Amber asked, rubbing Lizzie’s hand.

“I tried," Lizzie blinked away the tears. “I was living in Louisville, going to grad school and holding down this really shitty job at the Post Office." She smiled. “My stepdad, Jimbo, and I took care of her the best we could." Amber had dropped her gaze to Lizzie’s hand. “So, you took care of, um, her a lot?"

“I tried," she said quietly. “But she always kept me," Amber paused, “at a distance." She shook her head. “I didn’t have a clue that she was thinking about…”

She cupped Amber’s chin and pulled her face up to meet her gaze. She leaned forward and gently kissed Amber. “Don’t do that to yourself." Lizzie saw the tears reflected in the blonde’s eyes. She pulled her into a loose hug, stroking the back of the woman’s head with her left hand while pulling her closer with her right arm. “It’s okay," Lizzie kissed Amber behind her left ear. “It’s going to be okay." Liar. Lizzie swallowed hard then pulled back from the embrace. “You okay?”

Amber shook her head, returning Lizzie’s gaze. “Not really.”

“Where’s she, um, buried?" Lizzie asked. “My mom’s at Lenoxburg.”

“Where?" Amber asked.

“Middle of fuckin’ nowhere." Lizzie chuckled. “Rural Bracken County."

Amber looked back to the roses. “Mother of God," she said. “In Latonia.”

Lizzie cradled Amber’s hand in her own. She lifted Amber’s hand to her mouth, softly kissing the blonde’s palm. Amber smiled sadly, catching Lizzie’s gaze. Lizzie gestured their twined hands toward the flowers. “Was pink her favorite color?" Amber nodded. “My mom, too," Lizzie said quietly.

“Can you, um, stay tonight?" Amber asked, looking at Lizzie shyly.

That is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. “I’d like to," Lizzie replied.

Amber stood then picked up both their cups and saucers. Balancing both, she kissed Lizzie’s forehead. “I would like," she said softly, “for my Batman to hold me all night.” Lizzie smiled and rose from the couch. She followed Amber to the kitchen door, watching her place the dishes in the sink. Beautiful. Lizzie studied the way Amber frowned slightly while washing out the cups and placing them in the strainer. Amber looked up from her work, catching Lizzie staring at her. “Did you want something?” she asked. “More tea?”

“No," Lizzie said quietly. “I’m fine.”


Lizzie followed Amber into the bedroom. Amber motioned to the familiar gray sweat pants and black t-shirt on the chair beside the bed. They quickly changed into their pajamas then slid into bed. Amber grabbed the remote off her bedside table and clicked on the television. “Give me that," Lizzie said, snatching the remote from Amber’s hand. “Lifetime," she said dismissively, shooting Amber a sly smile.

“Accident!" Lizzie flinched as Amber lightly smacked her arm. “How did you get that?" she asked, running her finger down the jagged, faded scar behind Lizzie’s ear.

“Oh, uh," Lizzie blushed. “I got drunk and fell out of the oak tree in front of my dorm freshman year." She flipped through the basic cable channels, finally sighing and hitting ‘mute’ on the remote. “Tell me something," Lizzie started. “Tell me about when you were happiest." Amber frowned. “Like, when you were a kid and you got something really cool for Christmas.”

Amber sighed. “Christmas was never very happy at my house.”

“Bad example--Christmas is never really happy for anybody, “Lizzie said, lacing their fingers. “But you know what I mean.”

Amber stared at the television. Lizzie endured the silence. “I guess," Amber said quietly. “It would have been skating.”

“Roller?" Lizzie asked.

“Ice," Amber corrected her. “At King’s Island. Mom took me once a month during the winter every year from, well, since I can remember. Always on a Saturday, her day off." She looked at Lizzie. “She never skated. She just sat on a bench at the edge of the rink." She looked back to the television. “I’d skate for hours. Until the park closed." A sad smile played across Amber’s lips. “We got into a big fight one time when I was 14. I wanted to go to a football game instead of skating." She looked back to Lizzie. “She never took me skating again.”

Lizzie rolled onto her side and embraced her. She gripped tighter as she felt Amber’s body quake, racked with sobs. “Shhh," Lizzie couldn’t think of anything else to say as she stroked blonde hair. Thank you.

Eventually, Amber broke away from the embrace. “I’m sorry," she said quietly. "I know I'm being kind of a downer tonight."

“It’s been an emotional night for both of us,” Lizzie said, pulling Amber back into her arms. “Let’s get some sleep.” Lizzie shut her eyes and burrowed her nose into blonde hair. I am so in love with you.


Lizzie awoke to find an arm draped over her side, the hand tucked between Lizzie’s stomach and the bed. She smiled and rolled carefully onto her back, turning to gaze at the blonde sleeping beside her. So beautiful. I can’t believe what she went through. Lizzie frowned, mulling over the Jimbo situation. Will he ever speak to me again? Lizzie sighed. So much has changed since the last time I saw the Sears Tower. She felt her chest constrict. Only four more days. She gazed over at her slumbering lover. God, I haven’t even told her.

Lizzie extracted herself from the bed and took a shower. Afterwards, she stared in the mirror. How is it even possible that my hair looks like shit when I just got out of the shower? She grimaced, shoving her Reds cap over her wet hair. She pulled on her clothes from yesterday then opened the door to the bathroom. She was met with the smell of coffee. Just when I thought she couldn’t be any more perfect. Lizzie walked into the living room. She moved to the doorway of the kitchen and watched Amber cut a grapefruit in eighths.

“Hungry?"

“Yeah," Lizzie said. She walked into the kitchen and removed a coffee cup from the cabinet over the sink. “Viagra?”

“What?" Amber glanced over at her then down at the blue mug in her hand. “Oh," she laughed. “Promos from the office.”

Lizzie sat down at the kitchen table. “Got any goetta?”

“Goetta?" Amber said. She turned to face Lizzie. “I haven’t had that in years." She turned back to the counter. “This is much better for you.”

“I guess you’re right," Lizzie sighed. She walked over to the coffee pot and poured a steaming cup then turned to face Amber. “You don’t know how many times I have wished there was a grocery store in Chicagoland that carried goetta." She moved behind Amber, sliding her arms around the blonde’s waist. “Let’s go back to bed," she purred.

Amber turned to face her. She leaned forward, pressing her lips against Lizzie’s. Lizzie pulled her closer. Amber pulled away from her. “What about breakfast?"

“It can wait," Lizzie said, cupping Amber’s chin and kissing her deeply. She ran her fingers up the blonde’s spine, stopping to knead her shoulders. “Now you’re the one who’s tight," she said. Lizzie kissed along Amber’s jaw to her ear. “What can we do to fix that?" Amber took Lizzie’s hand and led her toward the bedroom.


An hour later, the pair broke apart. “I guess I’ll finish up breakfast," Amber said, rolling toward the side of the bed.

“Not yet," Lizzie said. She encircled the woman’s waist with her arms, pulling the blonde's backside tightly against her. Lizzie nuzzled Amber’s neck with her nose and pressed her breasts into the blonde’s back. Amber stroked Lizzie’s hand, bringing it to her lips and gently kissing each fingertip. Lizzie responded by licking the nape of Amber’s neck. Amber shuddered then sat up.

“Hungry," she said to Lizzie. Lizzie frowned. “Be right back, my impatient crusader," Amber leaned in to kiss Lizzie’s forehead.

"Caped crusader," Lizzie corrected her. She smiled, watching the blonde don her robe. She watched the shapely derriere retreat from the room. Lizzie pushed herself up on one arm and glanced around the bed. She retrieved her t-shirt and pulled it on. She propped herself up against the headboard after grabbing the remote from Amber’s bedside table.
She clicked on the TV and accessed the online guide. “Oh yes!" she squealed. She looked up as Amber entered the room, carrying a long tray lined with two poached eggs, a large bowl of fruit, and two cups of coffee. Lizzie held the tray in place as Amber sat down beside her and slid under the blanket. “I don’t think I’ve ever had breakfast in bed," she leaned over to kiss Amber’s cheek. “Unless you count the Jell-O that Granny threw at me after surgery.”

Amber shot her a puzzled glance then turned to look at the TV. “Not again," she groaned.

“I know," Lizzie whispered excitedly. “This is my favorite non-Catwoman episode." Lizzie took a bite of grapefruit. “It’s ‘Nora Clavicle and the Ladies Crime Club.'" She took a sip of her coffee. “Stars Barbara Rush of ‘It Came from Outer Space’ fame."

“Nora Clavicle?" Amber shook her head.

“It’s so cool," Lizzie continued. “The plot is like something from Euripedes." She swallowed the grapefruit and speared another bite. “So, you’ve got this all-female police force carrying rolling pins instead of billy clubs and wearing mini-skirts…" She looked over at Amber. “I’m boring you," she said sheepishly. She handed the remote to Amber. “Sorry.”

“No," Amber said softly. “It’s important to you, so let’s watch it.”

Lizzie felt her chest constrict. Four million women in Chicagoland and I find you a few blocks from where I grew up. She felt her neck blushing and turned her head back toward the TV. Batman, Robin, and Batgirl were raiding a knitting supply warehouse. Lizzie smiled, remembering the rest of the plot line. Our intrepid heroes are captured by the villains and forced into a human Siamese knot. “I so wished that I was Robin in this episode," Lizzie whispered.

“Why?" Amber stared at the screen. “Oh, because of his, um, position?" Robin was seated on the floor with Batgirl splayed against him, one of her booted legs propped on his shoulder and her hand clasped around his neck. “Wow, that’s pretty racy for back then, isn’t it?”

“Especially when you consider that Batman is in the human knot behind Batgirl," Lizzie said. “Kind of a pre-cable version of a ménage a trios."

Lizzie swallowed the grapefruit then took a long drink of coffee. “I think I figured it out," Lizzie said abruptly.

“What’s that?" Amber looked over at her.

Lizzie maneuvered her hand under Amber’s and squeezed it. “The one that does it for me. It’s always been Batgirl."

[Kieli]

Whoa you threw a LOT of emotional monkey wrenches at us all at once. I think my head hurts now. That bitch Mickey had me swearing a blue streak. I honestly didn't think she'd play the rape card but f**k if she didn't fool me. It's rare that story has my grinding my teeth in rage that the sheer capriciousness of a char; Mickey just got on my LAST queer nerve. Ok, Kieli, no more cold drugs for you...you get too cranky.

No more heart attacks for me these next updates. My arteries can barely stand it. I think it sucks that everyone is blaming Lizzie for this almost totally...like Mickey had no responsibility in it whatsover. That's crap and I'm surprised at Jimbo for jumping on that bandwagon. At least her stepbrother threw them BOTH out. Mickey deserved it, the wench. *grr* Stopping now...going to go cool off.

[Boschi]

Indeed. Flying monkey wrenches. A downpour in fact. Broken up occassionally by smut. Not a bad duo admittedly, but perhaps someone with an objective perspective looking at the whole thing with a bit of humor would be good? Keith or Sam perhaps? Hmm - I dunno. Life drama is just so spectacularly absurd sometimes ... and I don't mean your plot is unrealistic, just realistically absurd.

I like Amber and Lizzie, and the past chapters have revealed a lot of "Significant" emotional aspects of them. You've done a good job of filling out details of Lizzie's personality (autobiographical a bit?) with her daily habits and dialogue. I'd like to see longer stretches of dialogue between her and Amber that are more mundane - little revelations of personality as opposed to big ole honkin' drama (Ambers snippiness when she Lizzie lied to Granny about where she had stayed was great).

I have to admit that my dorky little self got all blushy when Amber referred to Lizzie as "my Batman". Such adorable dorkiness.

Allright, I just reread what I've written and it seems critical, which was not really my intent. I like it - I'm checking everynight for updates here.

Oh - and may Mickey ... damn. I can't even think of a worthy curse. Die young and be quickly and painlessly forgotten? Hmmm... dying seems a bit harsh - so may she just be quickly and painlessly forgotten by everyone, including poor Jimbo. No... nevermind. Throw a painful death in there too....

- Boschi