I'm technically proficient

Haiku2 for lockhart_md
regret let him die i won't try to stop it hell maybe i'll fly
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Created by Grahame

Hey, it even rhymes. How morbidly poetic.

After three hellish days in detox, Abby is finally feeling well enough, relatively speaking, to settle into a routine of sorts at the inpatient rehab center she's checked herself into. Throughout the detox process, throughout the tremors, nausea, debilitating headaches, and insomnia, all she's thought of (other than having a drink) is Lee and Lily. She's cried more than she'd ever admit, missing her husband and daughter and home almost to the point that she feels it physically. She almost regrets saying she needs to do this alone, but knows she'd never be able to do it if this wasn't her decision and hers alone.

But she still needs them. More than she's ever admitted to herself before. She takes a shower, subconsciously wanting to be fresh and clean for her first allowed phonecall after a successful completion of the detox process. She makes her way from her room to the main floor where she waits, impatiently, for her allotted time slot to begin.

When she finally gets on the phone, she freezes for a moment, her fingers forgetting what to do, what numbers to dial. When she shakes herself and dials the familiar numbers of Lee's phone, she can feel her heart banging around in her chest. What can he think of her now? Maybe he won't even want to talk to her. Maybe he's relieved to be rid of her and the mess she's made of her life. She wouldn't blame him, and she can feel her palms sweating as she listens to the phone ring.

After a strangely jarring conversation with the new hospital chaplain, Abby finds herself taking the elevator upstairs, to the surgical department. Making her way to her husband's office, she waffles outside the door, pacing, stalling.

It's not until she sees one of the surgical nurses casting a curious look in her direction that she knocks softly on the door, then pushes it open. She takes a deep breath, running her fingers through her hair, and lets the door close behind her as she steps into Lee's office.

She begins to speak but has to clear her throat before she tries again. Hey...how's the leg feeling? She approaches her husband slowly, gesturing to his injured leg.

1. If your doctor told you TODAY that you were pregnant, what would you say?

I'd say they're batshit crazy.

( more... )

I know I can't be doing this. This is what I swore I'd never do.

The alcoholics who say they like being drunk? They're full of shit. Oh, sure, it's loads of fun while you're buying party hats and kissing desk clerks and slapping coworkers on the ass. But then you sober up and you've got a husband who's afraid to leave you alone with your daughter, you've got a boss who keeps "checking up" on your work, you've got a best friend who you haven't even spoken to in weeks because you have no fucking idea what to say.

I know he's right. I know I'm jeopardizing my career, my family, everything I've worked so hard for.

But he's wrong about one thing; this is me. He knew it was me; it's been me for as long as I can remember and it's just been lying dormant all this time. It's me, and he just never wanted to believe that about me. I never lied to him about it but he never really believed me. It's not fair, but a part of me keeps thinking that he should have known better. I've got hiding places all over the house; it's in my empty shampoo bottle for god's sake, and it's scary what he doesn't notice.

And after all this? God, all I want is a drink. It doesn't even feel good anymore, but I want it, I need it.

Abby sits in the rocking chair that she's pulled up next to Lily's crib, watching her daughter sleep. She has a bottle of wine, a leftover get well gift for Neela, in one hand, her phone in the other. The alcohol isn't doing enough to calm her nerves as she plays the events of the evening over and over in her mind - a panicked call from the babysitter, carrying a bleeding Lily into the ER, not being able to hold her baby while she endured a CT scan and an MRI. As she sits there, she feels even more alone than she had in the hospital, waiting for test results.

The two calls she's received since arriving home - a telemarketer and then later, Chuny, checking up on Lily - were not the call she's needed ever since the babysitter came running into the ambulance bay with Lily in her arms. She's more than a little upset as her finger hovers over the redial button; she's lost track of how many messages she's left on Lee's phone over the course of the evening. She takes another long drink and turns the phone over and over in her hands.

I need to get birthday pictures off the camera, but here's one of Lily from tonight's bath:

( here )

My baby girl is now one year old. I honestly don't know where this year went. It seems like yesterday Lee was putting her in my arms for the first time. I know, everyone says that...I always kind of rolled my eyes at that, thought it was so cliche, but god, it's true. How did she get so old, so fast?

Something new every day. I missed a lot while I was gone; I can't say how much I regret that. She's so close to walking. She has new words. I already missed her first word; I never wanted to miss more.

She's so precious. Oh, she's got a mischievous little attitude like you wouldn't believe. But she truly is the happiest little girl I've ever known. And she's a morning person. (She gets that from Lee, obviously.) But hey, it makes my mornings all that much better to see her little face light up while she's saying my name, reaching for me. It's kind of a rush.

Oh, shut up. I'm her mother; I get to babble about my little girl.

[private]

Trying not to think about drinking only makes me think about it more. I've had a bit of Lee's vodka, but he's going to notice if I take much more. There's a box of wine here, get well present that Neela neglected to take with her (who the hell gives box wine to someone recovering from life-threatening injuries and on pain medication?! on second thought, who the hell gives box wine to anyone, period?), but even I'm not that desperate. Yet.

September 8, 2007

She can finally go home. She takes a cab to the airport directly from her father's sparsely attended funeral, not lingering at the gravesite. She's done too much lingering the past several weeks, waiting for him to die.

Even though she's been preparing herself for this ever since she got the call from Texas, she still doesn't know how to feel. The past few weeks have been draining, emotionally and physically, Abby running on poor to no sleep most days, and bad hospital and vending machine food. She feels no more at peace with her father than when she'd come; she knows Lee had expected or at least wanted her to make amends with the man before he died, and while she'd been there every day with the dying man, the times when he was with it enough to converse had been stilted and awkward at best, if not as angry as when he'd been in Chicago.

The night he died, she'd been alone with him. After the doctor on call had pronounced him, she'd been left alone again, "to say goodbye." She sat there, staring at his body, trying to feel something other than anger and regret, trying to think of something appropriate to say. Eventually she gave up, getting up and walking out of the hospital in the direction of her hotel. On her way, she passed several bars; she stood outside one for a full five minutes before going in and ordering a beer. And then another, and another. When she finally leaves, she's successfully numbed herself, but when she returned to her hotel she opened the mini bar for the first time. She spent the entire next day in bed, nursing an impressive hangover.

Now, after calling Lee to let him know her flight information, she sits on the airplane, wanting nothing more than to just be home already. On top of her father's death, she's also missed her husband's birthday, the guilt over that not doing anything for her state of mind. At least she'll be home in time for Lily's first birthday, she muses, but even that thought doesn't cheer her as much as it should. And when the attendant comes around to take drink orders, Abby only hesitates a couple moments before requesting a tequila on the rocks.

When she lands in Chicago, she's just consumed enough alcohol to take the edge off, not wanting to be drunk when she sees her husband and daughter for the first time in weeks. She puts a piece of gum in her mouth as she walks through the terminal with the other passengers, scanning the crowd of waiting people as she makes her way towards the baggage claim.

Abby is giving Lily a bath, laughing as the little girl deliberately splashes water at her. She dips the washcloth into the warm water and brings it up, shielding the baby's eyes as she squeezes the water over her head to rinse her wispy curls. Lily babbles happily in "conversation" with her mother, enjoying the water and the one-on-one attention. Abby is reminded of her conversation with Barb about taking the baby to the beach, and she leans over the tub to kiss Lily's wet head. Would you like that, baby? Go to the beach with Mommy and Daddy? Maybe check out the water a bit?

She's still keeping up a chatter with her daughter as she finishes washing and rinsing her, letting the little girl play before the water gets too cool, when her cell phone rings. She looks behind her where it's sitting on the bathroom counter, and she keeps one hand on the baby as she leans backwards, reaching for the phone. The caller can clearly hear the baby's excited laughter as Abby answers without looking at the ID, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder as she brings her hands back to Lily.

She doesn't recognize the female voice on the other end of the phone, but as the caller identifies herself and why she's calling, Abby's expression quickly changes to one of confusion to surprise, then anger. She has a short, stilted, but increasingly emotional conversation while Lily calls out "fup!" loudly over and over in the midst of her laughter. When Abby finishes the conversation she closes her phone and tosses it to the bathroom floor, watching as it slides across the tile. Yeah, Lily, fup is right. She mutters, drawing in a wavering breath and letting it out slowly, trembling slightly.

Abby is on autopilot, no longer chatting happily with Lily as she gets the baby out of the bath and wraps her in a hooded towel. She pulls her face away when the baby pats at her cheeks, her mind on the phone call she'd just received. She pulls the plug out of the tub drain and stands up with Lily, holding her close as she makes her way to Lee's home office. Standing in the doorway watching her husband, she's visibly shaken, at a loss as to how to proceed. Seeing her father, Lily squeals happily. Dada dada dada!

Well, since Barb shared pictures of her first boyfriend, I figured I'd do the same. It's obviously no secret that I, too, am a sucker for guys with long, curly hair.

( pictures )

Author's Note: Nasty, nasty plotbunnies. This directly continues from the first half of dr_hair's ficlet. Like said there, who knows what's eventually going to happen with Abby and Lee in the actual roleplay. This is just another possible route things could go.

With apologies to T.

dr_hair wrote:
Don't pour another drink.

Come have one.

*****

As they stared each other down, she despised him for this. She hated feeling mocked. Exposed. She almost looked down to see if she was still clothed. Instead she gazed unflinchingly into his eyes. For once she couldn't read what was there.

He expected her to deny his challenge, she knew that much. He was taunting her, rubbing her face in something he knew she couldn't have.

Why should I deny myself the forbidden, when you didn't?

She took one step into the kitchen. Watched as he filled his glass again. Salt in the wound. She could almost taste it as he swallowed it down. She'd fucked him out of spite; she could admit that to herself, if not to him - and here he was, doing the same to her. Her eyes flashed. Angry. Dangerous. Warning. Daring him to make her do something he'd never forgive her for.

Another few steps and she was standing in front of him, almost too close. She glanced at the bottle on the counter. He bought the good stuff. Expensive. Not like the cheap, tasteless stuff she'd settled for back then. Back then. She didn't have to settle anymore. He'd always wanted her to spend his money.

She reached for the bottle, didn't bother with a glass. As she felt the cool liquid touch her lips, she knew what she was throwing away. Five years of sobriety. Problem was, she didn't know what else this would cost. She saw the look of mild shock on his face and swallowed. Like a cliche, it burned as it went down. The feeling was all too familiar.

They could hear Lily begin to wail from the nursery upstairs. She flinched slightly. Something crumbled inside.

She raised the bottle to her lips again.

It's been a few weeks since she's returned home, and Abby has been growing increasingly restless night by night. She hasn't slept well in Sophie's room, save the first night she'd been back, but up until tonight she hasn't given herself the option of sleeping elsewhere. She knows Lee wants her to come back to bed with him, but she's been cautious about any step she's taken with him so far, guarding herself against additional hurt from a person she no longer trusts completely.

But tonight, as she tosses and turns, her mind keeps returning to the man in the master bedroom down the hall. She appreciates that he's backed off, given her time and space like she's asked him to, but now she finds herself craving his nearness, his familiarity, his embrace. She pushes back the covers and gets out of bed, hugging her arms to herself as she makes her way quietly out of the bedroom and down the hall. She has no idea if Lee is sleeping, and the idea that he might be awake sends her walking back to Sophie's room again.

Several times she repeats the same routine, padding down the hallway to the master bedroom only to chicken out and return to the other bedroom. As much as she knows it's time she sleeps near her husband again, she's wary of sending him the wrong message. And she has no desire for stilted small talk or awkward explanations as she slips into bed with him.

Finally, she makes it all the way to the door of the master bedroom. Listening carefully, she eventually convinces herself Lee must be asleep, and she quietly opens the door and pads silently to the edge of the bed. She's relieved that he appears indeed to be sleeping, and her heart squeezes a little to see him holding her pillow to his chest as he lays there. She lifts the covers carefully and slips into bed, attempting to move the mattress as little as possible as she does. Though she wishes she'd thought to bring a pillow from Sophie's bed, her own being in use here, she settles herself next to him, as close as she can without touching. She can't help a small sigh escaping as she pulls the covers back up over her.

Dear everyone,

-My husband and I are working on our marriage. Yes, our marriage.
-No, I do not need or want your advice, your place to stay, your bitching, or your prayers.
-Mae Lee Park is not pregnant with my husband's child. It's simply not true. She's lying to cause a gossipy scandal, and thanks to all you idiots, it's worked.
-I am fine.
-Lily is fine.
-The stupid cat and dog are fine.
-None of this has anything to do with any of you.
-Stop sticking your noses where they don't fucking belong.
-Yes, I am talking to all of you.

Thanks,
Abby Dubenko. Or Abby Lockhart. Whatever the hell you want to call me, stay the hell out of my personal life, unless you've been expressly invited to participate.

Abby has Lily on her lap as she aimlessly surfs the internet. She clicks on Lee's journal out of a sort of morbid curiosity, rolling her eyes and muttering to herself when she realizes her husband had posted while drunk. She scrolls down the numerous comments, mostly finding herself growing irritated at Lee's alcohol-induced self-pity.

It isn't until she reaches his conversation with Chapman that she starts growing more and more angry. And not just angry, hurt. Again. Her eyes fill with tears several times and she has to wipe them away as she continues reading. She's never known the extent of his frustrations with her, and half of her doesn't believe what she's reading, the other half just doesn't understand why he couldn't have talked to her about it. And instead he slept with her. She can't help wondering if he really would have slept with Allison Chapman had he had the chance.

Finally she can't read any more; she's nauseous as she shuts her computer, sitting back in the chair at her small kitchen table. She clutches Lily to her chest, disappointed when the baby would rather play than cuddle. She sighs, reaching for a plush rattle on the table in front of her, handing it to the baby who shakes it with a loud squeal of laughter. Oh, Lily...What am I going to do?

As Lily plays with the rattle, Abby reaches for her phone. She doesn't know whether to focus on her anger or her hurt as she dials Lee's number, taking measured breaths in attempt to calm herself.

I got drunk dialed today. By my husband.

You know, that's not something I ever thought I'd say.

Completely not in the mood for that. At all. He's the sloppy depressed drunk type. It's oh so fun, only not at all. So I turned off my phone.

My voice mail's full now. Three cheers for maturity and restraint.

[the following locked from everyone besides Neela]

I miss you. I love you. Come home. I swear to god, a couple actual calls and upwards of twenty voice mails and that's all he said. It's ridiculous. As if getting drunk and sobbing into the phone countless times makes up for fucking a med student.

Early April - continued from here

As she drives towards Neela's apartment, her car packed with bags for both her and Lily, Abby keeps up a one-sided conversation with the baby in the backseat, attempting to keep her mind off the reason she's making this trip. She chatters to Lily almost mindlessly, telling the little girl that she'll like staying with Aunt Neela, and keeping a running commentary about the places they're passing on the drive.

When she reaches her old apartment building, Abby finds a parking spot on the street and turns the car off, letting out a long sigh, the enormity of the situation hitting her hard as she looks up at the building. Her eyes well with the tears she's kept at bay since she left the house and she swallows them back, turning in her seat to face Lily. Well, baby girl, this is it. She gets out of the car and gathers the baby from her carseat. She also grabs the smaller of the bags out of the backseat, figuring she'll bring in the rest of their things once she doesn't have the baby in her arms.

She kisses Lily's cheek and walks up to the front door of the building, freeing a hand to press the buzzer for Neela's apartment. Her stomach turns as everything hits her again, as she thinks about explaining the situation to her friend.

I don't know how he can be so fucking...stupid. God, even Morris sees it. At first I thought I was crazy, you know? Reading too much into things, overreacting. How he was touching her. Flitting around all pleased as punch. He's never even touched me like that, not while we're working. But I'm not overreacting. Unless all of County is overreacting with me.

Mae Lee. Mae Lee. Oh, how cute.

I should call Eric. He'd kick his ass. I could kick his ass, but then I'd have to live with him after.

I'm pissed off. And when I'm done being pissed, this is just going to hurt like hell.

After thirty years he's back in my life.

I didn't ask for this. I made my peace about my father long ago. And suddenly he's back and where is my peace? He wanted to see how I turned out. Wants to get to know me. Well, I turned out fine if I do say so myself, no thanks to him, and I don't let just anyone get to know me. Especially not just because we happen to have some of the same genes. The most significant contribution he's made to my life was the sperm; does that sound like I'd want him in my life now? That I should even trust that's what he really wants from me?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

Except he's sick. He's dying. I tried to help him, but maybe not as hard as I should have. Not as hard as Lee wanted me to. He needs to be on oxygen, he needs to see a goddamned pulmonary specialist but we all know we can't do much for patients who refuse treatment.

Maybe I should have driven him to his hotel. Or back to County. But I didn't. I shouted at him and said I didn't care and let him walk away. Lee thinks I'll regret that later. Well, fuck regret. He doesn't deserve my regret. Let him die; I won't try to stop it. Hell, maybe I'll fly Eric out and he can stumble drunk and manic into his grave. Wouldn't that be entertaining.

Who am I kidding? I care. I hate that I care. What am I going to tell Lily when she asks why she doesn't have a grandpa? What am I going to tell myself when it's too late to know him anymore? I tried to call him and his phone's disconnected. I guess it is too late.

David Wyczenski gets out of the cab in front of the Dubenkos' house. He'd been able to easily get their address since the phonecalls he'd received from both Abby and Lee, and despite Lee's insistence that he not come near Abby again, he can't help but want to know more about his estranged daughter. As he walks up the drive towards the front door, he tells himself he'll honor Abby's request that he not contact Eric, if only he's able to have another conversation with the woman. He double checks the number above the door before ringing the doorbell, stifling a cough as he stands, waiting in the cold air.