Cocktail hour begins after breakfast while she can still taste the gritty protein drink coating her tongue. She makes it a little better by chasing the vodka with a handful of vitamins. Then she pours herself just a little more because what she really wants is the numbness
Some days she promises herself she won't drink. Just for that day. And she sits in the living room, her fingers tapping on the edge of the sofa, and she snaps at Logan as he rushes out the door, backpack slung over one shoulder. Everything is jittery and she stares across the room at the bookcase where she knows she tucked a small bottle between the carefully alphabetized titles.
Nobody in the house reads but their bookshelf is full of beautiful hardcover books, collectible editions, rare signed copies that Aaron brings home from his trips and his movies shoots. And Lynn places them carefully on the shelf, in order by author and she brings the books up to her nose, enjoying the dusty smell and trying to catch of hint of perfume from Aaron's latest bimbo.
She unpacks his suitcases, examining each item of clothing. Looking for a trace of lipstick, a love note slipped secretly into a pocket by some foolish, idealistic girl who mistakenly thinks Aaron might rescue her from her pitiful existence. But she never finds the evidence she both craves and dreads. He's too clever for that. It becomes one of the games they play with each other.
It's not like she's been tirelessly faithful and Aaron's the jackass who breaks her heart over and over again. She had a beautiful couple weeks on the Rivera with the son of a Greek shipping magnate. There was her trainer who had wandering hands and Lynn finally let them wander at will. But her indiscretions were few and far between, and for Aaron cheating on her seems to be as essential as breathing.
After breakfast Lynn takes a long bath then stands in front of the mirror, water still dripping off her body. She stares at her long, tanned legs, her breasts courtesy of the best plastic surgeon in Milan, her face smooth from chemical peels and botox. And she thinks that a long time ago she really was beautiful, living a crazy life of parties, lurking along the edges of the glitterati. She would stay up until the sun was so bright she had to push her sunglasses up her nose as she stumbled home to bed. There were parties and clubs and snorting blow off mirrored trays in the bathroom. There were old men that she seduced and they bought her beautiful clothing and jewelry that sparkled in a way that made her know it was the real stuff. There were sons of movie stars she slammed against the bathroom wall and stuck her tongue down their throats, giving them a night they'd never forget.
She was beautiful and vibrant and alive, so when she met the handsome movie star with his blinding smile and his charming ways, Lynn fell head over heels in love. Here was the man who would give her everything she wanted. He was her perfect match.
It wasn't even a year before Lynn figured out he was cheating on her. And sometimes she'd wondered if he'd ever been hers at all.
She'd wanted to leave him after she walked in on him fucking some anonymous groupie in their bed. But she was seven months pregnant and Aaron seemed sincere as he begged her to stay, as he promised it was the first and the last time. He'd told her she was the only one for him, that he'd die without her, and the next day she found a small leather box containing a huge teardrop sapphire on a platinum chain.
She'd forgiven him. And she always wears the sapphire when she needs to remember what hope feels like.
Sometimes she wondered between her fourth and fifth glass for the day what would have happened if she'd walked out that late fall afternoon. She wouldn't have the beautiful house hidden behind a gate and long winding driveway. There would be no shopping trips in Paris during fashion week or weeklong spa getaways in Arizona.
But she might still have herself instead of trying to lose herself in alcohol every day.
And maybe she wouldn't have to sit in the living room and listen to the sound of the belt hitting her son's back, each crack across his skin a testimony toward how Lynn had failed him by staying and letting him be at the mercy of Aaron's anger.
She always expected anger from Logan when he finally emerged from the den, but there was only sadness and pain, and he would finally let the tears spill from his eyes when she was sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand trying to sooth him, the other holding her highball. She would sip from her glass and say nothing because there were no words that wouldn't reveal that she was also guilty for Logan's pain. Sometimes when the marks were bad and leaking blood from around the edges, she would dab at them with gauze and clean them with hydrogen peroxide, and then she would feel like a mother again.
Lunch would be a low fat turkey sandwich on wheat bread and an apple, chased by another glass of vodka and a couple Valium, and then she'd sit by the pool and smell the chlorine and try not to think.
The sun would be beating down on her and she'd hear the squeal of brakes in the circular driveway. Minutes later Logan would come stalking up the pathway; backpack still slung around one shoulder. Some days when she missed her morning drink, and she didn't chase lunch with Valium, things would be clear enough for her to ask him how his day had gone. And he might sit on the edge of her lounger and tell her that he got a good grade on his essay in AP English, or a funny story about Duncan. And before Lilly died she'd tell him what a nice girl she was just to see Logan smile a little.
They haven't talked much since Lilly's murder. Logan is closed off and his eyes are always sad and Lynn doesn't have the words to tell him that so much of life is loss and pain and this is just his first lesson. So most days she just turns her head when she hears the car in the driveway and pushes her sunglasses up her nose and tries to look like she's asleep.
And when he'd gone, sitting in his room playing video games, Lynn reaches for her glass once again and takes a drink, and wishes there was some way they could talk because Logan is the only thing keeping her from taking a few more pills so she can finally slip away.
Lynn smiles a little and relaxes into the lounger. She still loves her husband, despite his indiscretions, and she feels like a fool. She loves her son because he's the one thing that is truly hers. But most of all she loves the vodka and the pills she chases it with, because they bring the numbness and she needs the numbness so she doesn't have to look at what she's become.