They arrived home a little after six-thirty, and Kelly headed for the office, eager to be away from Michelle, who had polished off most of the twelve pack before falling asleep a few miles inside the North Carolina border. Kelly lit some incense and sat down at her desk to go over a few briefs she needed to have prepared before Monday’s partner meeting.
Her thoughts kept turning to Kaitlan, and finally she surrendered and phoned her daughter, only to be reassured that everything was fine and that Kaitlan and her roommate, Erica, were heading to a party being thrown for the freshmen by one of the on-campus clubs. After a gentle warning about drinking, Kelly hung up and stared at her computer screen. She simply couldn’t get motivated to search Westlaw for citations about search and seizure or anything else.
The doorbell rang some time later, with Michelle yelling that she would answer it. A few minutes passed, and then Kelly heard movement in the hall. She glaced up as the office door opened, and her heart dropped into her toes.
Michelle was naked, save for the apron she wore when grilling – the one that said “I’m on fire” – holding a pizza box in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. She was grinning.
“I made dinner, Sweetheart.”
“Um ….” Kelly fought for something to say that wouldn’t bring on one of Michelle’s famous mood swings. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Nonsense. We finally have the house to ourselves again. Just like old times, pizza and bubbly.” Michelle waggled her hips. “Now, get thee to the bedroom.”
“Michelle … oh my God, is that the Dom … the ’95?” They had bought two bottles the day Kaitlan came to live with them, one for that night and one to save until Kaitlan turned eighteen. Kaitlan’s eighteenth birthday had been spent in an uncomfortable dinner with Susan, and Kelly had put the thought of the now vintage champagne from her mind.
“You betchya, Toots. Come on, the pizza’s going to get cold.” Before Kelly could respond, Michelle turned and sauntered back down the hall toward the bedroom.
Jesus. Kelly stared after her partner for a long moment, trying to decide what to do. Their sex life had been sporadic for a few years, and lately Kelly dreaded the thought of being intimate with the woman who drove her so insane. It was obvious what Michelle wanted for dessert, and on top of the taunt of a very old, very good champagne, it was almost more than Kelly could take.
Finally, and with a deep sigh, she got up and went to the kitchen. Pulling a soda out of the refrigerator, she headed to the bedroom to face what felt like impending doom. Michelle had lit candles and put a CD of flute music in the player on the bedside table, and was laying against the pillows looking expectantly at the door.
“Finally,” she said, sounding slightly exasperated. “Get those clothes off.”
Awkwardly, Kelly pulled her shirt over her head, followed by her bra. Leaving her jeans on, she crawled onto her side of the covers. “I’d rather have soda than champagne.”
“This is a celebration, screw soda.”
“Damn it, Michelle! I’m serious about not drinking.”
Michelle responded by holding out a piece of pepperoni pizza. “Whatever. Eat.” She picked up her own flute, already filled with champagne, and took a long draught.
Kelly took the slice, managed to burn the roof of her mouth, and cursed inwardly that she hadn’t seen something like this coming. Michelle could be quite the romantic when she wanted to be, and under different circumstances it would have been the beginning of a wonderful evening. But Kelly was still angry from the afternoon, and having alcohol waved under her nose wasn’t making things any better.
“So, what’s bugging you?” Michelle refilled her glass. “You’ve been off for a couple of days.”
“Kaitlan leaving? Ring a bell, by chance?” Annoyed, Kelly slid closer to her edge of the bed.
“There’s something else. I can tell. So what is it?”
“Are you serious? I’m trying like Hell to get sober, all you’ve done is try to make me drink, and you wonder why I’m upset?” Kelly heard her voice shaking and tried to regain control of her emotions. An argument with Michelle wouldn’t end well.
“I don’t see why you feel the need to ‘get sober’, Kelly. You aren’t a drunk.” Michelle had an all-too-familiar placating tone, one that served only to increase Kelly’s irritation.
“All that matters is I do feel the need. Why aren’t you being more supportive? Never mind.” Kelly stood up. “I wouldn’t expect you to do anything that cuts into your personal time.” She’d almost said drinking time, but a screaming match was the last thing she wanted.
“God, you can be a bitch,” Michelle growled, standing as well. She snagged a t-shirt off the bedpost and tugged it over her head. “I just wanted a nice quiet evening now that we’re alone, and you have to go looking for a fight.”
“I didn’t start this,” Kelly responded angrily.
“Whatever. I’m ending it.” Michelle gave her a dirty glare. “I’ll be in the den if you decide you can be civil for five minutes.”
Kelly stuck up her middle finger as the bedroom door slammed shut. She stood there shaking, wanting nothing more than to curl into a ball and cry, but unwilling to give Michelle the satisfaction. Her emotions felt raw, uncontrollable, unwanted. She finally let out a scream and threw a pillow across the room.
“Damn it to Hell!” She shouted. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
There was only a momentary hesitation as she grabbed the bottle of champagne and lifted it to her lips. So Michelle didn’t think she needed to get sober? Kelly would show her. She barely tasted the liquid they had saved for so many years, had cherished the thought of sharing together. She only knew she wanted to drink it all, and then find something else, and not stop until the pain and the anger and the hatred vanished in the warm haze that would eventually come.
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