Jason reacts to Elizabeth leaving.
I wake up on the couch to a pounding in my brain. As I groan and sit up, holding my hands to my head as if that will somehow keep it from splitting apart, I realize the pounding is not just in my brain. Apparently it's time for Carly's daily visit. For seven straight days she's been coming by; she just won't believe I don't want to see her.
Elizabeth must have told her something to make her think I wanted to get back together with her, but it's not true. I just don't know how to convince either one of that fact. One doesn't want to hear it, and the other isn't around for me to tell her.
The night I got home from my trip I wasn't surprised that Elizabeth wasn't here. I know that I've been acting erratic around her; confusing in my behavior and reaction regarding Carly. It was when Carly showed up the next morning with Michael and spinning some story about how we could all be together again that I knew something was wrong. Elizabeth wouldn't tell my ex she was leaving and give us her blessing.
It killed me to be angry in front of Michael, but I told her in no uncertain terms that I wasn't interested and I wasn't going to allow her to use Michael or my love for him. She'd already ripped him away from my life once; I wasn't going to allow her back in just because A.J. was in prison. There would be no guarantees she wouldn't leave again.
After getting her on the elevator and telling her not to come back I slammed the door and stalked across the room. I needed a drink after that craziness, and that's when I saw the note. Elizabeth had left and it was because of Carly.
"Jason! I know you're in there!" Carly's voice drills through the door and into my brain. It is too early in the morning and I'm too hung over for this. "Come on, Jase, open the door. We could try again. Your little waif of a girlfriend obviously couldn't handle you. You know we could be great once more."
"Oh would you shut up? How desperate can you be? Jason's obviously wised up and doesn't want trailer park trash like you again."
Brenda's angry voice added to Carly's is nearly too much to take. The two of them turn on each other throwing insults and barbs. Under other circumstances I would laugh at the way Brenda and Carly can get under each other's skin. Today, I call Johnny instead.
"Johnny, escort Carly down to the lobby and make sure she gets in a cab. Then tell the guys down there that she's no longer welcome and to stop her before she gets on the elevator."
"Consider it done, Jason."
I can practically hear the relief in the guard's voice. It hasn't been easy on him being posted outside my door during Carly's visits, and I can imagine that he's been waiting for this particular order. Carly shrieks when Johnny tells her to go, and then starts yelling at him as he drags her onto the elevator. The man deserves a bonus for dealing with her. Brenda laughs and calls out a good-bye; then she falls quiet.
I wonder if she'll knock on my door and try to talk to me today, but there's nothing except for the sound of the door across the hall closing. It's just me and the silence, like it has been for most of the week. As is fast becoming my becoming my habit, I head into the kitchen to grab my breakfast. A bottle of beer.
I know it's too early in the day and everyone would disapprove, but it's the only way I can get through the days. If this could be called getting through. The memories of Elizabeth haunt me, and the only means of escape is to drown them out. But it never seems to work. They always bubble up to the surface, demanding my attention. Even though she took all of her belongings when she left, I can still feel her everywhere in the penthouse.
She liked my place the way it was, didn't try to change it or add little touches. But I liked the way her jacket looked tossed across the back of the couch. Or the lipstick smudged glasses I'd find tucked everywhere because she'd forget where she set her glass down and get a new one. Little by little she fit into my life, my home, and I liked the ease we had with each other.
But it all changed when Carly came back to town. I wasn't prepared to see her, wasn't prepared for the conflicting emotions that hit me, and I handled it all wrong. I don't love Carly anymore, but the anger I thought I was over was still there. Not wanting to take it out on Elizabeth I tried to push the anger away. Instead I pushed her away and hurt her.
It was clear you were thinking of someone else every time we were together.
I cringe as I remember that line from Elizabeth's letter. She thought I was thinking of Carly when we were together, and in bed. It wasn't true, but it probably seemed that way to her. After all, the first time we slept together was the night we saw Carly at Jake's. The contrasts between the two women seemed even more marked that night, and it struck me how much I cared for Elizabeth, even loved her.
All the reasons I had for wanting to take things slow with Elizabeth seemed like excuses to avoid taking the next step. The strength of what I felt for her couldn't be ignored anymore. It seemed like the right time, but afterwards I wasn't so certain. I was afraid to tell her I loved her, still wondering why she would want someone like me. We never talked about it, but we started pulling back from each other after that night.
I stand and stagger across the room, grabbing a decanter bottle and a glass. I'm going to need something stronger than beer if I'm going to wallow in my memories. Elizabeth apparently interpreted my fear of expressing my feelings as proof that I loved and wanted to be with Carly. I feel like knives have sliced my insides as I think about the pain I must have caused her. Pain so deep she left town.
The loss of her in my life kills me. The ache matches the one after Michael was first gone. She was able to soothe that wound, but I don't think this one will ever heal. As much as I wish it would be possible to forget my time with her and move on with my life, it feels impossible.
Slumping down in the couch, the pain slams into me. The glass slips from my hand, and the decanter spills to the side. Her image swims before my eyes and tears well up; much like Elizabeth's did on the last night we were together. The night she said good-bye.
Two days later I jerk awake from where I was sleeping on the couch as the front door slams loudly. My head throbs and my body protests the sudden movement as I look around trying to determine what's going on. Recognizing Sonny walking across the room I lean back on the couch in relief.
The relief doesn't last long.
"Get up," Sonny growls.
"What?"
He reaches down and grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet. "Get up. This has gone on long enough."
"Let go of me." As I pull my arm away I sway, causing him to reach out to steady me.
"No," he shakes his head, as his voice softens. "I won't stand back and watch you kill yourself. Come on."
I feel dazed and dizzy as he leads me across the room to the stairs. He points up them and says, "You have been in the same clothes for four days. Shower. I'm going to fix you some food because something tells me you haven't eaten in as many days or longer."
Wordlessly I head upstairs for the bedroom. It's been hard to come in here because this is the last place I saw Elizabeth. She was asleep when I had to leave, and her eyes were soft and heavy as I woke her to say I was going. I haven't slept in that bed since I found out she was gone. This room holds too many memories, and I don't know that I can handle them.
Ignoring the images laughing at me from the corners of my brain, I focus on following Sonny's instructions to clean up. The steam from the shower helps clear my head and by the time I'm dressed and heading back downstairs I feel weak and know that I need some food. Knowing Sonny, there will be enough food waiting to feed an army.
Sure enough, there are plates piled high waiting on the table when I walk into the kitchen. "Sit," he directs me to me a chair, as he pours a mug of coffee. "This probably isn't the best thing for your stomach, but I know you need the stuff."
"Thanks," I mumble as I collapse into a chair. He knows I don't eat breakfast, so he's cooked other food that will be easy to eat.
"Take some of those," he sets down a bottle of Tylenol and then sits down across from me. Dishing food onto his own plate, he eats in silence letting me have my peace. I know it won't last long, but at least he's not pushing me right away.
Even though I've taken smaller portions than I normally would because I knew I couldn't handle as much, there's still food on my plate when I put my fork down. My stomach is protesting, even though my body is craving nourishment. The taste of coffee is even sour right now. I stand, the chair scraping noisily in the quiet room and go for a glass of water.
"I made extras," Sonny tells me. "You can heat them up easily enough. You are going to eat, right? Or am I going to have to come over for every meal and make sure that you do?"
"Sonny."
Not heading the warning he gives me a smirk. "Or maybe I should send Brenda over."
"I'll eat," I tell him.
"Good." He nods and leans forward. "Because I'm not sitting back anymore and watching you trash your life. You weren't this bad when Carly and Michael left."
I growl low in my throat and stab a finger at him. "Don't."
"I will," he counters. "You're my friend. I tried to respect your need for space, but I will not keep quiet while you try to drink yourself to death."
"It's...it's the only way to escape the memories. It's the only way to quiet her voice."
"Jason, I...I know you're hurting."
Hurting doesn't cover it, and I think he knows that. "It seems so bad to say...but I couldn't see what she was."
"Who?"
"Elizabeth," I sigh. "She accepted me, didn't try to make me be something I wasn't. All I did was treat her badly, trying to distance myself from her; telling both of us it would be for the best."
Sonny sighs as well and leans back in his chair. "I don't think that's what made her leave."
"No, it wasn't." I take a sip of water and roll my neck to the side, trying to ease some of the tension. "She thinks I wanted Carly...and I knew she felt insecure, but I never did anything to alleviate it."
"Do you want to talk to her?"
More than anything, but I doubt she wants to talk to me. And how do I explain that when I slept with her it wasn't because of Carly? Shrugging I say, "I don't know. Maybe it's just better this way. She's made her decision and I should respect that."
"That's a crock and you know it," he shoots back. "You're miserable and you'll stay miserable until you talk to her. She took away your rights when she walked out without giving you a chance to talk."
"Don't be mad at her for-"
"I'm not," he interrupts me. "I saw her before she left and she looked miserable just like you. Go talk to her, Jason. Both of you need it."
He stands and takes a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and places it on the table in front of me. Reaching out I pause, hesitant to take what he's offering. It's a frightening prospect, and I don't know that I can put myself out there by showing up. That morning I showed up at her apartment after her accident was hard; this is so much beyond that.
"Get some rest," Sonny tells me, not calling me on the fact that I haven't picked up the paper. "I'm going to put this stuff away, and maybe send Johnny out for some more food. But you need sleep, in your own bed, not the couch."
"Yeah, sure," I nod and stand wearily. Even though I just woke up I feel so tired. Reaching out, I snag the folded paper and head out of the kitchen.
As I walk upstairs I can hear Sonny gathering the plates up and turning on the water in the sink. A few minutes later as I'm still standing outside my bedroom, hesitant to go inside, I hear him open the refrigerator and start taking out the beer bottles. I guess he was serious about not letting me drink myself into oblivion anymore.
Finally, I force myself to move and go inside the room. The food has added to my fatigue and the memories hit me harder than before. I sit on the side of the side of the bed and rest my elbows against my legs; the paper in my hand quietly haunts me and I wonder if I shouldn't wait until after I've slept. But I know I'll find a reason to put it off then, and keep finding reasons if I don't do it now.
Opening the single fold I read Sonny's neat block lettering. St. Louis. He's making me work for this, and I can't say that I blame him. I don't deserve to have everything handed to me. Picking up the phone I press the speed dial for Benny and wait for him to answer.
"Elizabeth is in St. Louis," I tell him, fatigue and pain weighting my words. "I need to know where she lives...and I...I need the jet ready on standby tomorrow."
I hang up and fall back exhausted onto the bed. For better or worse, I'm heading to St. Louis tomorrow.
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