Lizbeth’s voice was scary calm, even to her. “Mazie, I know you’ve had a long day, so you can stay, but I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going back to Durham, where I belong,” Lizbeth answered.
Mazie didn’t think that was a good idea. “You should wait until morning. You did give her that long.”
Lizbeth was determined. “I don’t need to wait. I saw enough.”
Mazie grabbed Lizbeth and brought her to a halt. “Stop! Just stop! Listen to me.”
Lizbeth stopped, but she didn’t care what Mazie had to say, she was leaving.
“I saw the same thing you saw, Mother, and granted I’m not in love with her, but I think you’re letting jealousy cloud your judgment. I still think there’s room to hope here. You did tell her to make sure. Maybe that’s what she’s doing, what you asked of her.”
Lizbeth’s glare took Mazie aback. She released her grip on her mother’s shoulders when Lizbeth said, “Mazie, I love you, but get out of my way.”
Mazie gave it one more try. “There won’t be a hotel with an empty room all the way to Durham. We’ll leave on the first ferry tomorrow morning.”
Lizbeth had turned her fear and hurt into anger. “You stay. I am getting the fuck off this island!”
Mazie saw no reason to argue. While her mother went to pack, Mazie crossed the street to where Fanny was still sitting on the porch. Lizbeth could see them talking through the upstairs windows as she packed her suitcases. Packing was much quicker this time than when she had done it for the trip down. She didn’t care how the stuff went into the bags. Lizbeth balled up clothes and crammed belongings into every opening in the suitcases.
Mazie came in from Fanny’s just in time to help pack up the spare bedroom. She began putting research materials and pads containing notes for Lizbeth’s paper into boxes and hauling them to the car. They worked quietly, barely speaking. Mazie, it appeared, had decided to go along. Lizbeth ran through the downstairs, grabbing personal items and throwing them into her big canvas shoulder bag. The food she would leave. Someone would come to clean and throw away anything she left behind. Double-checking the washer and dryer, Lizbeth then turned the lights off in the kitchen and prepared to leave for the last time.
She looked around the little kitchen while she stood there in the dark. There was a lifetime of memories in this house, old and new ones. The new ones she hoped in time would fade. Having this short-lived affair with the tall, tanned, blonde across the street had hopefully not marred the old memories. Lizbeth would have to worry about that later. Right now, she had to get away, because she never wanted to see Gray O’Neal again.
Lizbeth walked out the front door, shutting it for the last time. She turned the key in the lock and heard the bolt latch. The loud thud shook her, but she held it together. Lizbeth kept telling herself if she could just get home, then she could fall apart. She turned to leave and discovered Fanny standing by Mazie in the front yard. Lizbeth made her way over to the old woman and hugged her.
“Thank you, Fanny, for everything. You’ve been really good to me, I’ll never forget you.”
Fanny, who always had something wise to say, was speechless. Disappointment creased her already leather lined face even more. She held out a card in her hand, finally managing to say, “Mazie gave me your phone number. I’m listed in the book. Call me sometime, Lizbeth. Gray never answers my phone.”
“I will, but let me have a little while. I won’t forget to call you, I promise. Just give me some time.” Lizbeth said, feeling the tears begin to burn through the barrier she had erected against them.
Mazie hugged Fanny and her mother and then got into her car, pulling it out onto the street so Lizbeth could back out in the Mustang. When Lizbeth had her car facing School Road, away from the docks, she paused in the street. She looked around and felt the first tear trickle down her cheek. Fanny tapped on Lizbeth’s partially opened window. She had walked toward her house and stopped to wave goodbye to Lizbeth. Now, she leaned down, peering into the car. Lizbeth rolled down the window all the way.
Fanny put both hands on the car door. “Lizbeth, she’s a damn fool and I intend to tell her that. Do you want me to tell her somethin’ for you?”
There were a million things going through Lizbeth’s head that she would like to say to Gray. The only thing that she could grab onto, as the thoughts whirled in her head, was, “Tell her, I hope she’ll be happy.”
Lizbeth hit the accelerator, because she could no longer control the flow of the tears that began to pour down her face. Through blurry, water filled eyes, she looked in the side mirror and saw Fanny waving, still standing in the street. Lizbeth looked away, determined not to look back.
Chapter Twelve
It was after four in the morning when Lizbeth pulled her car into the garage at her home in Durham. Lizbeth’s home was a monstrosity her husband had insisted they build. He was sorry now. With its five bedrooms and over eleven thousand square feet on five acres, it was much too much house for Lizbeth. Lizbeth had grown accustomed to the finer things in life, but her time in the little cottage on Ocracoke had convinced her she would be happy in a smaller home with much less stuff. She had thought about getting a loft apartment downtown, but wanted to wait until she graduated before making the move.
The soaring ceilings and spiraling stairway were impressive. It was a beautiful home. The property contained a theatre, fitness and sauna room, stone fire pit on the patio, full guesthouse, pool, and spa. The master suite on the second floor was of royal proportions. Lizbeth had worked with a designer on the kitchen layout and loved to supervise huge meals, cooked with the help of a professional chef, and throw parties for guests. That’s how she had survived her marriage. She threw herself into being the best wife and mother she could be. Hosting parties for James’ clients or baking cookies with Mazie and her friends had seen her through the worst of times.
Lizbeth didn’t entertain anymore. She only took the house because James had loved it so. It was an important part of his grandiose self-image. She wanted him to know what it felt like to have to start over, build your life again. Lizbeth hurt James where she could, in his wallet and his ego. It was obvious he had no heart. The house would go on the market soon, and if he wanted it back, she’d make sure he paid top dollar. That was one way to get her money out of the deal in the current housing market. Lizbeth’s house appraised at nearly four million dollars.
Behind the gates of her exclusive neighborhood, locked tightly in her mansion, Lizbeth fell apart. She had refused to let Mazie stay with her, saying she needed to just cry it out and get it over with. Mazie had her doubts that it would be that easy. She wanted to stay with Lizbeth and watch over her. Lizbeth refused her company, unplugged all the house phones, and turned her cell phone off. Lizbeth didn’t want to see or talk to anyone for a few days. She preferred to wallow in her misery alone.
Lizbeth did not unpack the car when she arrived. She went straight upstairs, took off her clothes, and crawled into bed. She had cried off and on the whole trip. She was spent emotionally and physically. It did not take Lizbeth long to cry herself to sleep. Six hours later, her eyes popped open.
Lizbeth was awakened from a dream of Gray, coming for her as she stood on the shore waiting. Gray was on a boat, but every time she tried to clear the breakers to reach Lizbeth, the wind and rain drove her back, the waves pounding her hull. Lizbeth ran up and down the beach, waving her arms, calling to Gray to rescue her from the unknown island. Each attempt pushed the boat further out to sea. Finally, the boat was just a dot on the horizon and Lizbeth screamed for Gray not to leave her behind. The scream had escaped the land of dreams and reverberated around Lizbeth’s cavernous bedroom.
Lizbeth blinked her eyes. It took only that long for the full force of where she was and what had happened to seize her with misery again. Sleep had been a respite from the gnawing agony in her gut. Once more, the pain of loss invaded her every thought and
nerve ending in her body. It wasn’t just heartbreak. It was a smack down from a mind that would not be led astray again. She was going to remember this pain for a long while. There would be no next time.
Lizbeth threw her body over on its side, trying to force the sleep to return. She buried her face in the pillows, pulling the covers up tightly around her neck. She was naked and the air conditioning was doing its job very well. Lizbeth had lacked the energy to put on clothes to sleep in after removing the ones she had on when she arrived this morning. She normally did not sleep naked. She never had. Mazie came so soon after their marriage, she and James had just never slept without clothes on. She never knew when she would have to get up or when Mazie would join them. In the last ten days, Lizbeth had gotten used to not having anything on in bed, well, except for Gray’s body draped across hers.
Her mind lost control of her memory and allowed it to share once again the thrill of Gray holding her while she slept. Gray’s lean, smooth muscles pressing into her back, her small round breasts warm and soft against Lizbeth’s skin. Gray’s legs entwined in hers, those strong arms around her, it all came rushing back. Lizbeth gasped into sobs and stayed that way for some time.
Later, when she was able to climb out of bed and make it downstairs to the kitchen, she sat drinking a cup of coffee, and shoving oatmeal down her throat. She didn’t want the food, nor could she taste it. She was simply eating because she had to, or go into shock. She had only a housecoat covering her body. Even her skin hurt. She didn’t think she could tolerate clothing yet; maybe after a shower if she could muster the energy. She thought about just getting in the hot tub and letting it do the work. It would help with the tension in her overloaded muscles. She could take a bottle of wine with her. At least if she got drunk, she might pass out. Aching dreams and nightmares would be welcome in comparison to her current state.
Lizbeth’s cell phone sat on the kitchen table beside her purse, where she had dropped it upon entering the house. She picked it up and turned it back on. She needed to let Mazie know she was all right, or her darling daughter would be over there pestering her. The phone buzzed and rang with different tones, alerting Lizbeth to missed texts and calls. She had programmed Gray’s cell phone info into it days before. When she flipped it open and pressed the missed calls button, she saw Gray’s name fill up the screen. As she scrolled down the screen, she saw that Gray had called nearly every fifteen minutes since seven o’clock that morning.
All it meant to Lizbeth was that it had taken that long for Gray to discover she was gone. That was all she needed to know. Although she had told Gray that she had until morning to make up her mind, if it had been an all-nighter, it proved to Lizbeth that she wasn’t the one. The only one that made Gray’s heart beat faster. The only one that Gray truly loved. Lizbeth had been “not the only one” before. That wasn’t what she wanted from Gray. Lizbeth needed to be somebody’s “only one.”
Lizbeth wished that she had not fallen for Gray. What started as flirting and curiosity turned so quickly into total infatuation. If it had just stayed that way, Lizbeth could have let Gray bed her, notch her bedpost, and move on. Lizbeth fell hard for Gray and there was no way she could be around her, talk to her, or even be on the same island with her if she couldn’t love her. Lizbeth could not let herself love Gray if she was not the one that Gray wanted without question or doubt. Last night clearly showed that doubt existed, so there really wasn’t anything left to say.
Lizbeth set the phone down, rising to get a refill of coffee. Before she had taken a step, it began to ring and vibrate across the surface of the table. Lizbeth picked it up. She saw Gray’s name on the caller ID. She held the phone, staring down at the screen. Something began to boil inside her.
Along with the pain of heartbreak came the rage. Rage was the emotion Lizbeth most feared. It left her unable to control what she said and did. Rage was like a child lashing out in pain, wanting to inflict the hurt it feels on everyone around it. Lizbeth had let rage loose a time or two on James, but wound up horrified by her behavior and the hateful, awful things she had said. Although he deserved her wrath, threatening to prevent him from ever speaking to Mazie again and physically attacking him with various objects from the shelves and walls in the den had not been her finest hour. She was always grateful his golf clubs had still been in the car.
Rage was bubbling just below the surface, telling Lizbeth to answer the phone. She did, but only pushed the receive button, followed immediately by shutting the phone. The phone was connected just long enough for Lizbeth to hear Gray say her name. Rage flashed when the phone immediately rang again. Lizbeth’s eyes narrowed as she focused on the name, flashing on the caller I.D. Rage won out. She flipped the phone to her ear. She did not give Gray time to speak.
“I told you not to try to explain. Fuck you, Gray. Leave me the hell alone.”
Lizbeth slammed the phone shut. Rage had its say, but was not appeased. To make sure her rage was satisfied, Lizbeth hurled the phone against the wall, shattering it into pieces. She forgot all about calling her daughter. She snatched open the wine cooler, grabbed two bottles, the opener and a glass, and headed for the hot tub.
#
They found her naked, passed out in the corner of the shower, three hours later. She had an empty bottle of wine gripped tightly in her hands and clutched to her chest. The first thing Lizbeth heard and recognized as not a dream was Molly Kincaid’s voice.
“Oh, honey…look at you. Come on Lizbeth. Let’s get you out of there.”
Hands grasped her body and she let them lift her off the wet tile. She crumpled to the bathroom floor as Mazie and Molly wrapped her in towels, speaking softly in turn to Lizbeth, who had lost the drive to function. Lizbeth had not wanted this to happen. She had tried to stop the relationship before it got this far. She didn’t want to go down as hard as before, but down she went into the blackness of not feeling anything. Unable to care for herself in this state, Mazie and Molly fussed around trying to revive her.
Mazie’s voice was shaky with tears. “Mom… Mom… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone… I’m so sorry.”
Molly took control of the situation. “Mazie, go get your mother some dry clothes. Let me talk to her.”
Mazie left. Lizbeth was aware of what was happening. She could see and hear everything, but it felt like she was inside a fish tank looking out at the world swimming around her. Molly wasn’t much bigger than Lizbeth, but she had been an athlete and stayed in shape. She pulled Lizbeth to her feet. Lizbeth was limp as a noodle and offered not much help. Molly put Lizbeth’s arm around her shoulder and lifted her enough to be able to get Lizbeth onto a nearby couch, in the dressing room.
Molly covered Lizbeth in the thick terry cloth robe she found hanging on the wall. With Lizbeth now sitting up, Molly got on her knees in front of her, so she could look into Lizbeth’s down turned face. The wine had done its job. Lizbeth was drunk and numb.
“Lizbeth, we got to get you dry and sober. Are you hearing me? When did you eat last?”
Without notice, Lizbeth jerked to the side and vomited all over the floor. Molly jumped out of the way, but chuckled. “Good. That’ll help.” She hunted around and found a trashcan, holding it for Lizbeth while she retched, and keeping Lizbeth’s hair out of her face. “Lizbeth, we have just crossed a new threshold in our friendship. You know you have a true friend if they’ll hold your hair while you puke.”
Mazie came back with clothes in her hands. Seeing the situation, she said, “Oh God, Mom.” She looked at Molly. “Is she okay?”
Molly tried to ease Mazie’s concern. “She’s going to be fine. Just got the wind knocked out of her.” Molly looked at the floor and grinned. “I guess she’s paying you back for all the times she had to clean up after you.”
#
Molly sent Mazie to the store because Lizbeth really had no food in the house. She had planned to be gone until December and removed all the perishables before she left. Mazie returne
d with stuff to make sandwiches she knew her mother would eat, and chicken soup, because that’s what she thought you gave someone who was sick. Carolinians swear by the healing powers of Coke, so she brought a two-liter and a six-pack of little bottles because they were the best.
Now, Molly sat feeding Lizbeth bite sized pieces of toast and forcing her to drink the Coke to get her sugar levels up. Mazie buzzed around the kitchen cutting up vegetables for the deli sandwiches that she intended to force her mother to eat. Molly spoke softly to Lizbeth.
“Honey, you have to eat. If you don’t come back soon, I’m taking you to Duke Hospital.”
Molly knew Lizbeth well enough to know that would get a rise out of her. Lizbeth had eaten half the piece of toast very slowly and had a few gulps of Coke, so she was coming around, but barely. She rolled her eyes at Molly and snatched the bread from her hand. She bit a piece and chewed the dry bread forcefully to appease Molly.
Molly laughed. “Okay, I see you in there. Eat both pieces of your toast and I’ll leave you alone.”
Lizbeth remained silent, but set about the business of getting the food and Coke down. Slowly her senses began to return. She no longer had the inside the fish bowl feeling. She once again felt a part of the same world occupied by the rest of humanity. Lizbeth finished the last bite and chased it with the remainder of the Coke in her glass. Molly refilled the glass, sat back, and waited. She was patient and gave Lizbeth the time to gather her scattered thoughts back into some kind of order.
Lizbeth finally managed a whispered, “Thank you.”
Molly leaned in and looked Lizbeth in the eyes. “Are you with me now?”
Lizbeth nodded yes.
“Good, then listen to me. Mazie told me what happened. Lizbeth, I think you overreacted.” Lizbeth started to protest. Molly wouldn’t let her. “No, you need to listen to me on this one. Lizbeth, lesbian relationships don’t often end as neatly as heterosexual ones. From what Mazie said and how much she thinks this Gray really loves you, I think you made a mistake taking off like you did. I did notice you closed the lines of communication rather permanently.” Molly pointed at the pieces of Lizbeth’s cell phone, now neatly piled on the table.
Waking Up Gray Page 22