(no subject)

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

Hey, it even rhymes. How morbidly poetic.
standing in the elevator

phoning home [RP for Lee]

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.
standing in the elevator

I need help [RP for Lee] (spoilers for tonight's ER)

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.
  • Current Mood
    anxious anxious

private entry

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.
  • Current Mood
    distressed distressed

[RP for Lee] (spoilers for tonight's ER)

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.
with lily purple hat

(no subject)

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.


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.
  • Current Mood
    nostalgic nostalgic
hand on forehead

homecoming [RP for Lee]

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.
hand on forehead

Daddy Dearest (rp for Lee)

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!