This is just a oneshot. I couldn't get that scene with Alicia and Peter out of my head, so this is what I did with it. Had to process that before I could move forward with any other pieces. Hope you enjoy!
None of the characters belong to me, but I play with them to make them happy!
She didn't know what she was thinking. What was she thinking? Why was she making things more complicated instead of less so? Sure, there was the wine and her mother and that feeling of everything swirling out of control, but she couldn't use that as an excuse.
It had been about Will. Her mother had mentioned him. Her mother had accused her of denying herself something more with Will just to avoid any similarities to her mother's character. "You want him and you won't let yourself have him," the words echoed through her.
She had hit the nail on the head. And it stung.
After those painful words, Alicia had lingered a moment in the hallway between Zach and Grace's bedrooms. The rooms were empty, she had a moment to collect herself before having to return to the party. Will. This was all about Will.
She'd eaten a large dinner, but it didn't begin to compete with the wine circulating in her system. She wasn't counting, but she could imagine that she probably had close to two bottles herself. Her brain had been somewhat foggy all evening, clouded by the alcohol, and she had welcomed it to calm the awkwardness of the company. Now it was affecting her body differently.
As soon as she'd heard Will's name, she felt that pang she'd been ignoring deep inside. She knew what it was. It wasn't unfamiliar, just ignored. She wanted Will. And he wasn't here. Sure, that's just what this dinner party needed, she thought to herself sarcastically.
Doing her best to suppress the heat rising up within her, she walked back toward the voices in the other room. She stopped in her tracks when she heard her mother's voice and Peter's alternating quietly in the kitchen. She couldn't make out their words, but they were deep in a secret conversation.
Alicia felt a different heat rising in her now. Her anger spurred her forward just in time to overhear her mother say, "You're leading her on. Let her go."
Peter's reply was defensive, "What if I don't want to let her go?"
"Well then you're just being selfish," Veronica quipped back.
She'd heard enough. She cleared her throat to make her presence known. She knew what would happen next before she even took a step.
She took Peter's offer for help as an escape from the situation and he followed her. She was so angry that she didn't even hear what he was yammering on about behind her. Her jaw was clenched, her mind made up. She was doing this. It would prove she was happy with her choices. Right?
She threw the apron on her bed atop the guest's coats as if she were throwing it in her mother's face. She had too much self control for that. This was the next best thing.
Her skirt was opened before she even closed the door. Peter stood numbly on the cold tile, searching for the problem with the bathroom window. He looked back to her in surprise when he heard the door close and she would never forget his expression when he realized what she was doing.
Looking at his face, he was shocked, but he was going along with her anyway. She sat him on the toilet and pounded him into her. It was good. She enjoyed it. She almost believed she was happy.
It was harder to believe herself the next morning, cold and alone in her bed. There were no pretenses to uphold here. There was no one to convince. Her mother slept on the other side of a thin wall, but she didn't have to prove her happiness here.
A few tears fell from her eyes and she wiped them quicky as they rolled down the sides of her face. She wouldn't cry. It was no use. It didn't change the facts. She was married to Peter. She'd had sex with Peter last night in her bathroom with the door unlocked and her entire family outside. She didn't really want to be with Peter but she kept telling herself that they would work it out because she couldn't stand the thought of being divorced. She wanted Will.
In the dim morning, with the wind roaring outside her high rise window, it all seemed very clear. These were the facts. There was no emotion, no question. It was what it was. Now what would she do about it?
She sat herself up, feet hanging over the edge of the bed, hovering inches above the floor. She froze there for a moment, not moving but thinking. She knew what she wanted to do, but what would she do?
She'd acted to prove Owen wrong the last time. Would she do it to prove herself wrong this time? These were big steps to take. Big decisions. Big risks.
Who was she living her life for anyway? Her kids? They were nearly grown and would soon be living their own lives. Peter? He'd made his mistakes and had to live with them. Her mother? Absolutely not. She wasn't repeating her mother's mistakes. She was living her own life.
Alicia's feet hit the floor with a plan. She would talk to Peter. She would talk to Will. She would talk to Zach and Grace. Today. She would take her life back.
As she dressed herself for the day, she tried to ignore the haunted feeling in her bathroom. It was one last memory with Peter. That was all.
Her mother was annoying. Her mother drove her up the wall. But this time, and this time only, her mother had driven her in the right direction.
Alicia closed the door to the apartment door behind her with a smile and her heels clicking confidently on the hard floor. It was a new day.