If her calculations were correct, Stayne had already landed and was taking a care back to Chicago. Probably gave her half the day or so to mingle and waste as she pleased.
"Hn, Scotland must have been beautiful." Alice mused longingly to herself, staring down at the bowl of oatmeal. The chunky substance was easily downed with a sprinkle of cinnamon and brown sugar. Eating it plain reminded her of life too much.
But Alice's mind kept wondering and falling, on and off as she chewed she would fall into a whole of Scotland. Watching some magical sunset over a field of green, distant sounds of water hitting a cliff would echo around her. Just like home... No, exactly like home.
But she could dream... She was so good at dreaming it was a second profession. And she was proud; regardless of what Stayne said.
Funny how a brilliant woman could feel so bleak in a beige colored kitchen with orange warmth pouring from outside. Funny how she could feel so lonely when it was her who was running her late father's company.
'He's a cold hearted snake...' Alice's phone vibrated on the counter top just to her left. Meanwhile, Paula Abdul's voice continued to sing and repeated the chorus over and over till finally the blonde answered softly.
"Hello?" Alice frowned at the voice of the other end. "Ah, Wilson."
It wasn't a surprise that Stayne would have a second fill in further information to his blond haired wife. As much as she wanted to hang up... she wasn't quite sure on how to get to the coffee house. She hadn't visited the place in over a year and the original roads to the place had been redone and had additional loops and curves much to her chagrin.
So to put plainly... Alice just didn't bother. Why would she? She was more than capable of making a good cup of jasmine tea by herself—thank you very much!
"I'll think about it, thanks, Wilson." Alice nodded her head nonchalantly, and hung up after farewells were said and empty words of praise and flattery went through one ear and out the other. Same old, Wilson. Silly man.
An hour or so of chewing a granola bar while in front of the TV made Alice ponder just how far Stayne was from his flat. Giving the time of the starting of the soap opera, and how cold her coffee had gotten, she'd figure he was another hour or so away—give or take a couple stops to a boutique for his own personal pleasure.
He won't call you... That's not how it works. You'll wait on him.
Because... that's your job. Being a wife and all.
No. It's because that's how you play the game if you want to stay in it.
It's his game, Alice. Remember? It's not yours anymore. Where's your muchness?
Right here!
The Polaroid camera made a wrenching sound as the photo shifting through the mouth and finally stopped at the awaiting pale hand. A few waves through the air and a couple swift blows of air to the photo showed a blue eyed woman looking back. Blonde hair tousled and cheeks flushed from the slight rush of caffeine through her veins.
"It's in there somewhere. My muchness."
