Thursday, May 05, 2005

When you said "bigger", you didn't actually mean"bigger", right?

Sunday, April 17, 2005, 11:00pm

"You're going WHERE?!"

"Steph. She's going to rehab. I'm going to say goodbye!"

"I thought you weren't speaking to her anymore!" she says, mockingly.

"I wasn't. Now I am."

"Why YOU? Why does she always call YOU for everything?"

"She doesn't call me for everything, Steph."

"She calls you constantly, she drunk dials you every night. Obviously she's still in love with you, and you're encouraging it!"

"So you're against me being friends with an ex now?"

"No, I'm against you being friends with THAT ex."

"Someday, you are gonna realize how much I love you, and you're not gonna worry about Lila anymore."

"Don't make this about me."

"Look. I'm going over there for 10 minutes, tops, before I go to work. I'll call you as soon as I leave her house, ok?"



Monday, April 18, 7:15am
Lila's house

She's standing on her front steps, smoking a cigarette. It occurs to me that I have not seen her in quite some time.

Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. It's shorter than I remember. She's wearing faded low-rise jeans, a pink babydoll t-shirt, and open-back sneakers with no socks.

It hits me all over again how completely beautiful she is. Her breasts somehow manage to be big and perky at the same time; her waist slim and tight; her hips voluptuous and curvy.

I park and walk up to her. She stares up at me, her eyes big and pleading and her lip quivering, and hugs me for a long time.

Yes, I love Stephanie. Yes, I want to be friends with Lila. But goddammit, as I smell that green-apple smell in her hair, and feel her tits press up against me, and her cheek, warm and soft on my neck, my stomach twitches with lust.

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"What if I can't get sober?"

"Just take it one day at a time."

I hand her a plastic grocery bag. "What's this?" she sniffles.


There's about 10 Snickers bars inside (her favorite). "I don't know if they're gonna let you have that candy, so you may have to wolf those down on the way over," I smile.

There's also a prepaid phone card, and copies of "The Great Gatsby" and "Madame Bovary".

"Why do I feel like I'm back at high school," she says, holding up one of the books.

"Those are both great ones, Lila. Read 'em. You'll have time on your hands, I promise."

I've had friends in rehab before. I know of what I speak.

She digs around in the bag. "What, no Cliff Notes?"

We laugh. Our eyes catch, and the laughing stops, and for a brief moment, with her smiling, and me smiling too, it feels just like it used to between Lila and me. I feel happy and content and at peace.

She looks down at her shoes. "How's Stephanie," she asks.

She was thinking the same thing I was.


Wednesday, April 27, 2005, 10:16am
Steve's office

My cell phone buzzes. Unavailable, again.


"Hiyeee!" It's Lila.

"Hey! How are you?"

"Fine! I'm feeling much better! I did my chores every day so I got some phone privileges today."

"Awesome! So rehab is going well?"

"Yes. I'm so glad I came here. I'm feeling so much better! I think this is just what I needed."

"I'm glad."

"Steve, I just want to say I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For how I treated you. All the drunk dials..."

"Lila, don't apologize, please. I'm the one-"

"You were so great to me, and I-"

"No I wasn't."

"And that whole thing with Dom..."

"Hey, by the way, I want to ask you something about that..."