The Difference- Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11



Lisa threw her purse into a corner and headed straight for the liquor cabinet, pouring herself a double - or possibly triple- shot of Absolute Vodka.  As the burning liquid soothed the flames consuming her on the inside, she closed her eyes.  Any second now she would be nice and numb.  Her eyes fell on the answering machine which showed several new messages.  Well, she was ready to bet her ass that none of them contained an apology from the bastard who was responsible for her almost being drunk at 11 am.  Not her fault there was this stupid time change from New York to LA, so her internal clock was on 2pm, which was only 3 hours away from the magical hour of 5pm which somehow made drinking socially acceptable.  Whoever came up with that rule anyway?  Either way, the only remedy for drowning out the persistent memories of Michael and what had happened was inside the clear contents of the magical bottle.  The genie of temporary amnesia.  But why did his eyes follow her still, even as everything else became a haze? Damn their magical pull to hell!

The phone rang and she almost dropped the glass.  Good thing she no longer needed crystal erasers to vanquish pain.  No, the liquid kind of poison would have to suffice today.  She would not grant him the power to send her into a full tailspin.  The current set-back was bad enough as it was.  Lisa did not notice she had bitten her lip until she tasted blood.  Should she answer the phone?  Who called her house phone, after all?  The kids and Danny would call her cell, and she just had checked in with them on her way from the airport anyway.  Lockwood was not speaking to her, so it was not him.  And Priscilla…well, she really did not want to risk her mother getting any hint of her current frazzled state of mind. Best plan of action: ignore the damn ringinng it until it goes away. 

The machine kicked on.  She listened to her own voice, asking the caller to speak now or hold their peace, then the peep.

“Lisa?  I thought you might have landed- where they hell are you?  I have tried to…”

Alecia! Yes!

Lisa leaped across the room, suddenly longing to talk to her friend, who possibly was the only person on this planet you would not judge her. 

“Hey, I’m here…just got in.”

“Are you screening your calls?”

Was she?

“No, I just walked in.  I almost broke my leg jumping over the couch to get to this.”

“You sound funny.”

“I don’t feel funny.”

“Ok…you sound fucked up, then.”

‘I missed you, too.  But yeah, you have no idea.”

“What the hell happened?  I have been trying to reach you for days.”

“Yeah…I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

Processing a return trip to heaven and hell. And feeling like a used piece of ass.  While loving the man who caused it all so much it should qualify as a sure cause of death.

“Hiding.”

“Lisa? What the hell?”

“Hold on: I need a refill.”

“Of what? Soda?”

“No- Swedish water.” She added more vodka to the glass. 

“Ok, you are fucked up. What happened?”

Oh, nothing much.  She had made the second or third most stupid mistake of her life.  Right after ever getting involved with Michael in the first place.  Right after forgiving him for trying to browbeat her into having kids and then impregnating his nurse.  Right after ever having felt any regret for her words to Michael earlier this year.  What in the world had possessed her to attend Bret’s party?  And why had she not just left with Lockwood?  Why had she not hauled ass out of that room when she had the chance?  And, why, for the love of everything that was holy, had she put up absolutely no resistance when he had fucked her like a cheap whore?

Lisa, are you really asking this?  You know the answer as surely as you know your heart beat.  You love him and you want him.  Rejecting him is not in your DNA.  You are a mutant- accept it. 

The thought brought back memories of feeling him against her.  Feeling him inside her, warming her like a life force she could not exist without.  He had inserted his core and brought her back to life.  And that was before he actually had touched her.  He was that good, the bastard.  She had been half drugged by his mouth on her, by his lips and his tongue on her skin. When his magical fingers stroked her, they set fire to a short fuse that ran straight to a barrel of gas.  It was incomprehensible to remember that they she had actually felt victory and vindication. He not only wanted her, he was not able to resist her! Ah, delusions of power...so heady, so destructive...  She thought his defenses had been broken down and she would finally have the chance to prove to him how wrong he had been.  Sure, he had acted like an asshole, but she was aware of his defense mechanisms.  What a joke! He had not been on the defensive at all- it had all been a heartless offense on her body and her spirit. 

What made it worse, she had been a most willing accomplice. After that first touch, that first kiss, she had absolutely no wish to leave him alone.  She needed to touch him and have his touch on her more than needing to take her next breath.  You can’t just hold a syringe of heroin out to an addict and expect him not to jab it into the first vein.  When he picked her up, half drowsy from what he made her feel, sitting there, having her soul and her body exposed, she had read the resolve to put her down in his eyes. Oh, no! She was not about to let him get away.  Of course, when she locked her legs around him, she was not fully prepared for the force of his attack. Or had she known all along what would be next, and had simply not cared?

Yes, Michael, driven to the brink, had an edge.  The edge she loved.  That razor sharp blade, slicing her open, bleeding her dry.  She loved his passionate loss of control as much as she enjoyed the tender times when he took his time making love to her for hours on end.  On the other end of the spectrum: the rushed, hurried, rough interludes.  The times he fucked her senseless either backstage, in the corner of a hotel, in a bathroom he locked them in in some fancy restaurant, or in his limo had always been intense.  He had always been able to reach inside her and steal a part of her while replenishing her being with that external gratification she longed for.  But still, during all those times they had been together in one way or another- she had never felt used. Until that night.

It definitely was a new experience.  Michael, at his most forceful, most passionate, most impulsive, sexy self, had never been heartless with her.  Not until that last time.  After her powerful flight to the moon, her heart stopping, gravity defying drop, after he had collapsed inside of her, shuddering against her, she had for one second actually read what had happened as a new start.  This would not be the first time a quick, but unavoidable collision had lighted the way back from the dark into another chapter of their saga.  Michael didn’t fuck for sport.  He did not make love without feeling love.  It had not been in him. 

Not until she had extinguished that glimmer of hope with her stifling words during that call.  She had heard it in his voice, had read the darkness correctly.  Her intent was to stop him from hoping- how funny that she finally had succeeded in something so completely. How ironic! Did it really have to be this endeavor that changed a string of fuck-ups?

Well, the Michael she had met that night at Bret’s was different.  He was hard- and not just the part that had filled her so completely.  There was an edge to him, a sarcastic void in his eyes.  She had thought it to only be an act.  He was a performer- used to hiding his emotions behind that mask.  But in the end her Michael always came through.  Always?

He had turned away.  He had not held her.  He had looked shaken, but not in the love-struck cute way she remembered.  For once second she thought she saw something familar in his eyes, then he was back to totally closed off and remote.  A polite stranger, handing her a frigging washcloth to wash his cum off her.  Humiliation and despair punched her and knocked her to the ground.  Not knocked out- but pretty damn close.

She closed her eyes, feeling the devastating revulsion.  Revulsion at herself as she saw this version of Lisa Marie through his eyes:  The desperate woman who had gotten what she deserved.

“Lisa?  Are you still there?”

Was she?  Who could tell?

Who was she these days?  Lisa, the mother?  Well, her kids were with their Dad, enjoying their time with him.

 Lisa, the daughter?  Her father had been robbed from her, and her mother had never been able to fill her needs. 

Lisa, the girlfriend?  Well, she might have fucked that one up, too.  Men don’t take it too well when their women screw their exes while they tip the attendant and sit in the car, being honked at by crazy New Yorkers. 

Lisa, Michael’s …what?  Exwife, lover, junkie, whore? 

Godammit.

Another glass emptied.

Well, she could still be Lisa, Alecia’s friend.

“I’m here.  Kinda.”

“Ok, spill.  Did you see him?”

“I saw more of him than I had planned.”

“Ah…please don’t tell me you saw something below his waist.”

“I did more than see it.”

“Fucking hell! Lisa!”

Lisa threw herself into the couch, covering up her eyes with shaking hands.  Too bad that only served to once again bring Michael’s eyes to mind.  His eyes in that mirror.  Looking at her like he had never seen her before.

“I know, I know. A little support here.  I feel like shit already.”

“What is it about this man?  I mean, shit!”

A sarcastic snort escaped Lisa. “You don’t know?  He is Michael frigging Jackson.”

“So?  That’s it?  He is Michael Jackson?  No shit.  You have known that for a quite a while.  I don’t think he could snow you just because he is some rich superstar.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“You have always been closed off about him.  You don’t talk about what it is that keeps you stuck on him.  Well, I actually thought, that was a good sign and you are over him, but now I wonder.”

Over him… How funny.  Being over him was about as possible as breathing under water.  As extinguishing an oil fire with water, as being in a snowstorm naked for any sustained period of time.  Talking about it wouldn’t do any good.  Alecia was her closest friend since Janet.  While Janet knew about the magnetism between her brother and Lisa, Alecia had never really dug about details, allowing Lisa the privilege of privacy in that matter.  How could any outsider ever understand what kept her shackled to him?

“There is nothing to talk about.”

“What, is he some magician in bed?  What makes him so fucking special?”

“Nothing…everything.  I can’t explain it.”

But yes, he is that amazing in bed as well.  Event though, that's only half the story of my madness.

“So you did it with him?  How? When?  I thought Lockwood had flown to be with you.”

“He did.  He was there.”

“Excuse me?” Alecia burst in to laughter.  “You had threesome? You go!”

Lisa laughed and rolled her eyes.  It felt good to laugh for once.  Bless her friend!

“Hell no.”

“Oh, come on, Lise.  I know you are freaky.  Hey, maybe that’s what keeps you into him, possibly he is into some …ah…interesting things as well.”

Well, he was into interesting things.  But he also was a red-blooded alpha male and would never share her with another guy. 

“Michael and I did it for like ten minutes while Lockwood got the car.  It was a stupid mistake, and I don’t want to talk about it, ok.”

Silence.

“Ok….sure…”

More of nothing. 

“Lish! Say something!”

“Ok, Bipolar dot com.  Can you make up your mind?”

“What the hell should I do?”

“About?”

“I wanted to talk to him, ok.  He would not see me.  Had his bodyguards tell me he was not available.  I mean, seriously?  I went to see him anyway and got to meet his little hooker friend who acted like she’s been with him for years. She...”

“He sees hooker?  Michael Jackson buys hookers?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.  No, not normally.  I mean, she looked classy enough.  Actually, I made some calls and found out she is a lawyer of some sort.  A friend of Mike’s lawyer.”

“Oh…I see.”

“Yeah, great, hum?  A looker with forever long legs, the perfect face, and a brain.  Did I mention she’s tall and gorgeous?”

“But you are…”

“I’m nothing.  I am a total idiot.  So, never running out of ideas on how to humiliate myself, I show up at our friend Bret’s party.  In hell of a dress, might I add.  Wear jewelry he gave me, which he pretended to not remember.  I make a fool out of myself in the middle of all these fuckers staring at me.  All to force his ass to talk to me.  He insults me in front of all said fuckers.  So, I left.  Well, Lockwood left.  I went into one of the bedrooms to collect myself- I was pretty upset; mad that I had shown up in the first place.  When I came out of the bathroom he was there.  Like he belonged there- the arrogant motherfucker.”

“And, you accidentally ended up in bed?”

Bed?  Mike was the ‘bed optional’ sort of guy.

“Nope.  We accidentally ended up against a wall. Like the good old days.”

“Ok, I obviously have a totally different picture of your ex in my head that what you describe…I’m stunned. And I have to say, a bit curious.”

“Well, there is a side to him that not many people know.  Lish, the things he can make me feel…the things he can make me do and that he can do to me…I don’t’ know how to explain it to you.  It…”

She ran out of words.

“Oh come on, Lisa, what makes him so different.  I mean, seriously, it sounds like good sex.  But many men can give good sex if you know how to ask for what you want.  Well, and you know, girls can, hand it out even better.”

Lisa had to laugh.  Leave it to Alecia to make her crack a smile again. She was the right kind of crazy.

“I don’t know.  With Michael it was never just about good sex.  Even when we had angry sex, or revenge sex, it always was like he twisted my body into something I did not even recognize.  But not just my body, I mean, it’s great, but what I feel with him just goes so beyond anything any other man – or women, thank you very much- has done to me or for me.”

“So, what?  He just has a really big ah…glove, or what?  I mean, he does have big hands…so…”

“Well, let’s just say he is not only talented but also very gifted.  And yes, he does wear big gloves.”

“I am blushing here, lady. Ok, this is way more than I ever wanted to know about the King of Pop.  So…what happened after…you  walked to the Moon and back?”

Her moon turned dark again.  The shadow of the sun swallowed its glory.

“Afterwards…well, after we….afterwards…” She  could not bring herself to name what had happened as she was not sure a fitting term had been coined. “Afterwards he just acted like…like a total stranger.  Like it was nothing.”

Angry tears started to rise and she felt like either throwing the damn glass against the wall or drowning the rest of the vodka.  How dare he make her feel like this?  Again?  How dare he rip her heart out? How many times had she come away from sex with Michael feeling like a cheap little whore?  And how many times had she sworn she would never go back, only to return, salivating for another dose of humiliation.  The problem was, when she was there with him, when he looked at her, touched her, spoke the words she needed to hear, it never felt like she had any other choice.  He was unlike anything else she had ever experienced.  He was a glimpse at the sun while being sucked into a deadly abyss.  But that one golden image, that one comforting glow, that tingling ray of electricity always made the fall from grace worth it.

Maybe it was justice.  Was this the earned reward for lying to him?  Was she reaping what she had sowed?

No, fuck it.  She did not deserve this.  She had come to New York to make things right.  Or at least to make a start of it.  It was not her fault he had refused to see her that day at the Regis.  And certainly not her fault he was parading his little legal eagle with him wherever he went.  So, she might have dressed up with the intent of capturing his attention.  That did not give him the right to take advantage of her and then discard her like a flaccid blow-up doll.

“Lisa, was it more than nothing?  Was it more than a quick fuck between exes?  Where is your head at? And the most dangerous question: where is your heart, girlfriend?”

Dammit- if only she knew.  Days ago she would have adamantly answered that she was in love with him.  That she finally realized that no one would ever measure up.  No one had ever hung in there through all her crazy stunts and her efforts to push people away to keep from getting hurt.  On the other hand, he also had done some unthinkable things.  He had opted to go for surrogates- twice.  He had given up on them, had strung her along, and paraded her around like the paramour of some ancient Sun King while staying conveniently married.  All their back and forth had seemed senseless and ridiculous days ago.  She had not cared about the past.  Had been ready to step forward into a glorious future.

How was she feeling now?  She hated him for how he had treated her.  She had loved feeling him shiver against her, had reveled in his obvious loss of control when he had picked her up and slammed her against the wall, after she had almost feared he would let her go.  And probably, fool that she was, under all her fake hate and resentment, she still loved him.  Great.  What would that get her?  A lonely life, more than likely.  She had the little brown pidgeon securely in her hand.  Should she really strap on her paper wings and fly after the golden eagle into the sun?

“I don’t know anything Lish.  Maybe I should just forget about it all.  I mean, you have been right- he seems fine.  He has a new girlfriend and he is about to leave the country.  Nothing I could ever say or do would make a difference now.  You should have seen the look in his eyes.  He hates me now, Lish.  I made him hate me.  And maybe that’s how it should be.  Cause if he didn’t, he would come after me again, forcing me to once again live every minute, every second with the fear of losing him.”

“So, having him, would automatically mean losing him? Isn’t that a leap in logic, Lise?”

“Logic?  What’s that? I think whatever I might have walked in here with drowned in vodka by now.”

They kept the conversation going for a bit longer, until Lisa finally asked if she could possibly call back later.  She simply did not want to talk anymore.  Not about Michael.  And yet, talking or thinking about anything else seemed impossible.

The blinking light across the room once again made her wonder who the hell had called.  Lockwood maybe?  But why would he call her?  He had barely spoken to her on the flight home.  At first she thought it might be ok to give him his space, then she got annoyed by his sulking.  Ok, she got it.  She knew she had messed up.  She did not need his sour face to remind her.

Whatever had made her think, even for a second, he would not catch on?  He knew her.  He knew her history with Michael.  Why had she ever filled him in on all the times she had snuck back into Neverland to get just one more glimpse of her lost paradise?  He knew how hurt she had been when she went to see Michael in 2003 after the Bashir mess and his royal majesty had hightailed out of the country.  During their time together, though, Lockwood had always hidden any insecurities about her feelings for her ex.  Which probably had been helped by her assertions to totally have put Michael out of her heart.

Well, when she had finally made it into the car the night of the party he initially was too busy trying to maneuver out of traffic.  She had jumped into the car and he pulled off, cursing at some cab drivers.

“So, Lise, damn, what were you doing?  I thought I would have to come up there and get you.  Fucking idiots! These people all drive like they are on suicide missions!”  He slammed on the horn, obviously having picked up local habits really quickly.

“Maybe we should have walked.  Well, but you have those crazy high heels on and…”

She had been silent and he finally looked over at her.  His eyes travelled over her pale face and her disheveled hair then locked his gaze to hers before being forced to watch traffic again.

Once again, he pounded the steering wheel.  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Lisa flinched.  She set her face and stubbornly stared over at him.

“What the hell?”

“Are you serious?  What the hell?  I should ask that. You could not contain yourself for what- ten minutes?”

Heat shot into her and she knew she turned red. 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” 

“You fucked him, Lisa.  You know damn well what I’m talking about.  I can see your hair, your face.  Hell, your eyes.  I know how you look after you screw.  I smell him on you.  I cannot believe you. First you introduce me as your fiancé and then you let him fuck you? What the hell is your problem?”

“I did not let him fuck me.”

“He raped you?  Is that what you’re saying?  He attacked you? Forced himself on you?”

For a short second she was tempted to go with the lie.  It would serve Michael right. 

The shaking of her head indicated her denial.

“Great.  Well, I’m glad you weren’t raped, really Lisa.  It is much better to know you sport fucked your ex.  Again. While I was getting the damn car for you.  Like the good little lackey that I am.”

She turned her head and looked out of the window.  Her thoughts were going a thousand miles a second while seeming to be stuck in some kind of tar pit at the same time.  Like the lights of this city.  Ever changing, ever sparkling…ever the same.  Like Michael’s eyes.  The way he bore into her, the way she thought she detected some old flame burning in them right before he clamped them shut and hid against her skin. 

No, Lockwood had not been happy.  And yet, he had stayed in their hotel suite.  He slept on the couch that night.  Lisa had expected him to leave the next day, but he stayed put as she finished up some business, sitting in the room, reading the paper, then some book, pretending very hard to ignore her.

Right before they left for the airport she had finally had reached her limit.

“Look, I know you think I screwed us over.  If you wanna leave, leave. I don’t blame you. Just stop the bull-shit and let me know what you want.”

“How kind of you to allow me to leave.”

She inhaled deeply and kept her cool.

“No, I was just saying that I know you’re mad.”

“Mad?  You think I’m mad? You hurt me! I thought we were together.  I thought we were exclusive.  And now you run off after him again.  Is that why you came here?  To get laid?  I would be more than happy to oblige, you know that…” He grabbed her arm and pulled her close.

Lisa glared up at him, her eyes frozen lakes, transcending and swallowing any warmth in their vicinity.

“You better let go of my arm right now, unless you want to lose those fingers.  I told you I’m sorry.  I told you are free to go.  What else do you want?"

“What if I wanted to stay?”

“If you want to stay, that’s fine, too.  I meant what I said at the party. I do want to marry you.  I think we can build something stable.”

He laughed.

“Stable?  How can we do that while you run back to him like a bitch in heat?”

She winced.  She probably had deserved that.  But still, was that how he saw her?  And why in the world did he want to hang around?

“I give you a couple of days.  I am around if you want to.  But I understand if you want to leave.”

“How very generous of you.”

Her patience had finally run out.

“What the hell do you want from me? I said, I was sorry! I said let’s move forward.  Do you want me to sew a letter A to my dress?  Won’t happen, babe.  We are not married right now.  And if you keep it up, we will never even come close.”

He grabbed her again, this time by her shoulders.

“What do I want?  I want you to look at me for only one second the way I saw you looking at him.”

Sure…. What was next? Asking her to fly?  She shook off his hands and went into the other room to finish packing.  He took a pillow and threw it across the room.  Not a glass or a vase.  Not his phone, either.  A pillow.  That about summed it up.

Back in Los Angeles, the limo she had reserved had waited for them, and she had taken him by his apartment first.  His suitcase already in hand, he turned before she could close the car door.

“Lisa…”

“What?”

“I’m in.” He turned and her driver closed her door.  Seemed like Lockwood was going to hang in there with her.  Amazing. 

So, no, it was unlikely he had already called her.

Well, the only way to know was to listen to the messages.  Sighing and having to laugh at her own cowardice, she scrambled from her comfy corner and went over to the machine, pushing the button.

“Lisa-Marie, I tried to call your cell, but you, of course ignore my calls.  Please call me when you get back.  We have some business to discuss and there is a function coming up for your father I want you to attend.  Please be courteous for once and call me back.”

Yes, mother, I will call you as soon as I feel a bit less like walking on the outer deck of a submarine that is about the go in for a deep dive.

Next message.

“Hey, Mom.  I’m just calling the home phone to remind myself to get the book I need for my history class.  If you get this before I get home from Dad’s, please don’t erase that or I will never bring up that grade.  Love you!”

Lisa smiled.  She missed Riley and Ben.  Almost time for them to come home. 

One more message left.  She only heard static and almost hit the delete button. At the last second, she thought she heard breathing.  Great…some pervert.  How did those people get her number?  Was it time for a change again?

Her finger was on the button when she froze.

“Lisa.” A deep sigh.  “I…I have no fucking idea why I’m calling you.”

Her head started to buzz as if she had just spun in circles for five minutes.  Oh God.  She had not expected to hear that voice again anytime soon.  How typical for him to take 15 seconds before deciding to speak.  Another break and she held her breath.

“Look, I can’t get what happened out of my mind.  I’m not sure if I should apologize.  I’m not sure of anything.  I was really angry at you.  I still am.  I… Lisa, dammit, the only way I could work up to this call was ‘cause I know you aren’t home yet.  You neglected to provide your home number on the card you gave me at the Regis.  But you know me…” His voice got lower, “I have my ways.”

Oh, did she ever know.  And how come the drop in timbre sufficed to raise the room temperature by at least twenty degrees.  That arrogant bastard. 

“I don’t know what happened.  I was upset that you forced me to talk to you when I wanted to leave.  I…I was upset that you wore that dress.  That you wore the necklace I gave you. Upset that I could not stop wanting you.”

He had remembered.  Of course he had.  Her hand touched her neck in an almost reflexive action.

“Then being in that room. I don’t know what came over me.  I wanted to simply talk to you, honestly.  I wanted to find out what was so urgent.  I still do.  I have no idea why after the past months you suddenly try to track me down.  You looked at me like I was cruel for not talking to you, which is really not fair.  I mean, you cut those ties.  You wanted to go on with your life.  You told me…”

Her eyes closed.  Please don’t say it.  Don’t remind me.  Don’t cut out another piece of flesh to pay my debt.

His voice sounded like he was close to tears.  She listened to his breathing, his efforts to calm his voice.  God, she knew him so well. She would almost see his face.

“Anyway…” He  cleared his throat. “I should have had more self-control.  I should not have touched you.  It was a …a really bad idea.  But, God, Lisa…”

He stopped again.  When he continued his voice was calmer and very controlled.  Oh how she knew that auditory equivalent of an ice storm…

“I am moving on.   I will leave soon.  I am seeing someone.  Julia.  And it sounded like you were engaged.  So, I’m sorry for what happened.  I never meant to hurt you.  I thought we were done with hurting each other.  I hope we can be.  Done that is.  I know we can’t be friends.  I wish…Hell I don’t know what I wish.  Look, this call was a bad idea, but I just wanted you to know I hope I didn’t…hurt you..when we…I mean…it was really intense.  It was…fuck, I can’t go there, Lise, not again.”

She noticed the tear when she tasted salt. 

No, Michael, you are right, I can’t go there again, either.  Too much pain.  Too much hope.  Too much loss.

“So, I think it’s best if we don’t speak or are in contact.  If you want to and you still have something urgent to say to me, just tell my mother and she will let me know.  I’m sure that, after what happened you also have no desire to talk to me…and I understand that.  So…bye, Lisa.”

She did not push the button as she could tell the call was still connected. She heard his labored breath again.

“Lise…I can’t hang up.  What the hell is wrong with me?  I hope you’re getting a good laugh out of this.  Anyway…maybe I can get to where you’re at one day.  That I feel the way you do.  Maybe.  Have a good life…Bye Princess.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Tears streamed down her face now and she stared at the damn answering machine: her torture instrument de jour. The timestamp showed this was hours after their last encounter.  God, he sounded so shaken.  Satisfaction and compassion snaked around her heart, forming some kind of odd double helix.

Like a trapped animal, she paced up and down the length of her room, only stopping to pour another glass of vodka.  The pain was so acute, she had to make it stop. 

Did he really have to rub it in that he was seeing someone else?  Did he screw her after he went home that night?  Did he erase his guilty conscience with the call and then jumped right back into the sack with pretty Julia?  Did he kiss her skin, inhale her, forget himself like he did when he was with her?  Did they laugh about her: Poor little desperate Lisa and her efforts to rekindle a dead flame.

She needed to stop those thoughts; she needed to erase him and his damn message from her life and her answering machine.  Her finger lingered over the delete button, ready to let herself soar through the escape hatch by means of ejection seat.  When she hit “replay” instead she knew that part of her had instead decided to let the torment commence.  There was no freedom from Michael.  So she turned away and slammed her prison cell shut once more, locking herself insight tightly.

(to be continued)

Image- Eternal Flame- from:
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