Notes and all that fun stuff in Chapter 1.
~*~
Bobbin' 'n' Weavin' II: Drowning
Chapter 2
By Jadecow
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I don't know if I knew where I was walking, or if I did it automatically, but I wound up in front of a bar. It had gotten dark while I walked around. My eye had long since stopped throbbing and had gone numb. Then again, my entire body felt numb. Of course, I wasn't aware of it until the heat inside the bar made me feel again.

When the next bad thing to happen happened, I was well on my way to being drunk. I had lost count of the shots I had. I was back to numb and it was a good numb. The alcohol stung my empty stomach, but that feeling was welcome as well. The bartender looked close to cutting me off, probably dismissing me as some stupid out of towner from the city who couldn't hold his liquor.

Then Christine came in. I recognized her immediately. She still had her unique beauty and that contagious smile. Our eyes met from across the smoky room and she ran to me. Literately ran over and had me in a hug before I could process what was going on. She nearly knocked me off the stool.

"Danny!" She said, pulling away. "Oh my God! What are you doing here?"

"Visiting my parents...Kind of."

She sat next to me and the bartender placed a drink in front of her without asking her order was. She sipped it, and indicated my empty glass. "Stopping for the night?"

I shook my head, almost fell over, and grinned. "No, I'm not seeing enough of you yet." I cannot believe I let a line like that leave my mouth.

She laughed and I realized she hadn't seen a day of pain in her life. "I watch you on TV, ya know." She said, indicating my empty class to the bartender.

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course. I mean, it's not every day that you see someone you've--" There was a smile on her face, and she didn't need to finish the line. "--ya know, on television. I've watched it ever since we got CSC out here."

"Good."

I took a sip of my drink, nearly choking when she put her hand on my thigh. I managed to keep all alcohol in my mouth and swallowed hastily. I looked at her; she shifted her hand just a little. Enough to let me know it wasn't an accident her hand wound up there.

"Christine," I squeaked, surprised at how my tongue refused to cooperate. My half-empty glass slammed into the bar harder than I intended when I put it down.

"Shh, Danny."

I realized I was probably shouting, attracting more attention to us, and concentrated on lowering my voice. "I-I have a girlfriend."

"Is it serious?"

"Serious enough for me to be a little disturbed by your hand." Serious and disturbed are two very hard words to say when your tongue won't work.

She grinned, moved her hand again and made me wonder about all the other people in the bar. She leaned in close, all her weight on her one hand while she whispered in my ear. "I should have never let you go, Danny. I'm in a relationship too. Don't let it matter tonight."

"I-" The words died in my mouth when she blew in my ear. The bar swam in front of me; took two attempts for me to successfully grab my drink and finish it.

"You hurt me, you know that? " She said, backing away, not moving her hand.

"I'm sorry." I suddenly couldn't remember what I had done to her. I couldn't' remember if she was so prone to mood swings either.

"You told me you'd come back here, but you never did. Not even for summer vacations or anything. You stayed away from this town like the plague. Why?"

"Because my little brother is buried in it."

That stopped the seduction momentarily. For a second she was the Christine I dated my senior year, the Christine who smiled and laughed and almost made me forget how screwed up every other aspect of my life was. The Christine who I told I would see again and then I didn't come home for more then a week, and then I was in Dallas.

"I'm sorry, Danny." She sipped her drink. "I didn't even think about that."

I just shrugged, wondering how sorry she was. Not sorry enough to remove her hand from my crotch, apparently. Again she leaned in close, a little more liquid courage in her. "Come home with me."

"I have a girlfriend." I repeated, unsure who I was saying it to.

"Come home with me and talk. Nothing more. I haven't seen you in years."

"Will your hand stay where it is right now? Because it makes conversation a little hard."

"Among other things."

I stood up, almost falling over in the process. "I walked into that one, didn't I?"

"You sure did."

I followed after her, knowing that leaving with her was a mistake. Knowing that I was wrong, knowing that I was drunk and knowing that I was in enough pain to do something incredibly stupid. I should have gone straight home after the fight with my father. But I didn't. Instead I went to a bar, got falling over drunk and was seduced by a woman who I had once fucked in the back of a Honda after whispering that I loved her.
~*~
I felt like scum when I got back to New York. It didn't take much for me to forget about Rebecca and hop into Christine's bed. Not much at all. A few kisses and a few other gestures. And more alcohol. I took the train back, my head between my knees to keep from throwing up. The sun was rising when I got back to my apartment and I was feeling the physical after effects of consuming too much alcohol. At least that's what I told myself when I was kneeling on the bathroom floor, shaking.

Sunday was a blur. I know I tried to sleep. I know I didn't eat anything, yet I still felt nauseous. Rebecca called and I told her I was sick. I managed to keep my voice even--I don't think she even suspected that I was holding back the truth. After I hung up, I called into work. Dana put up a fight for about three minutes until I managed to convince her I really was sick. I sighed as I put the receiver down and laid in bed the rest of the day.

Actually, the entire month of December was a blur. I lied to everyone who asked about my bruised eye. At least it didn't swell. I made up a story about getting fouled in a basketball game at my gym Saturday morning. I knew no one fully believed me. Four weeks of completely lying to everyone I knew and cared about and I knew I was scaring them again. There were two giant elephants that I didn't want to think about but couldn't stop thinking about.

Every time I managed not to think about her, I thought about my father. I felt a little better for actually saying what I wanted to say for years. I had to feel a little good about that. But most of the time, I didn't. I just felt crushed, because I knew there was no chance. I guess I had always prayed that there was.

December is not the month to lose all hope in your family life. Or be hiding a huge secret from someone you love. I didn't want to hurt her. I was terrified to tell her. Terrified of how she would react.

So I didn't tell anyone. I wanted to. I wanted someone to just ask me what the hell was wrong so I could tell them. But no one asked. I did my best to make sure nobody did. I hate when they all dote on poor, depressed Dan. So I bought gifts for everyone, did all that holiday crap with a fake smile on my face. And I tried not to be hurt that it worked so well.

That's what it was always like for me, though. I want someone to just say 'Hey, are you all right?' but I don't want them to worry. And I don't want their constant attention. I hate it. So I pretend to be happy, or at the very least, not a second away from a nervous breakdown, and inside I get angry because they can't see through the fake smiles. Great way to live.

It wasn't until two weeks into the New Year that Casey got suspicious. He'd ask me if I was okay every day, three times a day, and then he'd look at me oddly when he thought I wasn't looking. Of course, it took a phone call to get him to actually say something.
~*~
I was in editing. Every day that went by made it harder and harder to not just blab it all to someone, especially with Casey asking me every five minutes if I was all right. I was starting to believe that if I didn't say it out loud then it wasn't real. So I spent as much time as possible away from Casey. Of course, the man who I was hiding from was the one to come in.

"Dan, your Mom's on the phone."

I felt a tinge of worry. Usually if I'm not in the office no one goes to find me. He never searches me down, he just simply says I'm out and takes a message. "Is everything okay?"

Casey shrugged. "She said she wanted to talk to you and isn't hanging up until you come...I think she's mad."

I groaned as I followed after him. Mothers have that power, no matter what age their child is, to actually make them aware of their mistakes. I still had no idea what she was mad about. I called on Hanukah, hell, I even called on Thanksgiving and New Years.

Casey didn't leave the room; he looked vaguely worried as well.

"Hello?"

"Daniel."

One word and I knew it was big. You always know by the way your mother says your name. I sat down, trying to figure out what I had done. When she didn't say anything for a minute I was pretty sure that she believed whatever I had done was sending me straight to hell.

"You were in town?"

I closed my eyes. "Yeah, a couple weeks ago."

"You didn't hang around to talk to me? I haven't seen you in six months. And you live an hour away."

"I'm sorry...I was going to stay around but we had a fight and I couldn't stay there."

"You and your father fought?"

"Yeah." I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to dispel the headache that was rising up.

"Why?"

I looked at Casey, who was trying to pretend he was working. "You know why. I was just too mad to stick around and he was too mad for me to stay."

"Fine. But that's not why I'm calling."

"It's not?"

"No. I was in the store and I met Mary Stewart. She told me something quite interesting."

Mary was Christine's mother. I swallowed. "What?" I knew she knew I knew what just by the way my voice sounded.

"That her daughter Christine is getting a divorce."

I almost fell out of my chair. "What?"

"She's married, Daniel. Do you know why they're getting a divorce?"

"Irreconcilable differences?" There was definite hope in my voice that it was the reason.

"Actually it was because Christine cheated on her husband. This is where it got really interesting in the store. You know, with this girl's mother standing in front of me. Apparently, my son, who I always thought had good morals, was the one to help break Christine's sacred vows."

I couldn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.

"I'm disappointed in you."

I still couldn't say anything.

"I thought you were dating Rebecca."

Silence. She was waiting for an answer. I couldn't lie. "I am."

"So you managed to cheat on your girlfriend and end a marriage in the same night."

"I didn't know."

"It doesn't matter. I felt like crying in that store, Danny. Do you understand what it feels like to raise someone and then have them disappoint you like that?"

I heard it in the silence. I knew that she was thinking: "It's not the first time I've been disappointed in you." The first time my mother had ever really been hurt by my actions was when she found out it was me who started Sam on drugs. She had cried and told me she was disappointed in me.

For a minute I felt like I was going to start crying right there, but then I was slamming the phone down. In the effort I managed to knock over the desk lamp, the phone, and the pencil holder.

"What was that?" Casey asked, looking at the phone among the mess on the floor.

"I...I have to get some air." I darted from the office before Casey could ask more questions.

All I could think about was how both my parents officially hated me. I mean, they really hated me. Outside the building I mentally kicked myself for not grabbing my jacket, until I realized I liked the cold. It slapped me in the face but after a few seconds it faded away into numbness.

I wasn't out there very long before Casey came out. He handed me my jacket. "Your lips are turning blue, man." He said.

"I guess I should have said I wanted to get air alone."

"No. We're done with this."

"Done with what?"

"You not talking about what's bothering you."

I sighed and leaned back against the building, not putting on the coat. I just looked at him, feeling angrier then I should have.

"I'm serious, Danny. I'm not going to let it go this time and watch you nearly kill yourself again."

"Casey."

"What?"

"Shut up and leave me alone."

"No."

"Oh, you are such a pain in the ass, you know that!?"

Casey stepped closer. "There is absolutely no reason to be yelling right now. I wouldn't bother you if I wasn't worried."

For some reason, pissing Casey off was how I was going to make myself feel better. I knew talking would make it even worse. Talking would involve sharing everything I had been hiding. I wasn't prepared to do that. So instead I tried to hurt my best friend. Great logic.

"You don't worry, Casey."

"I don't worry?"

"No, you don't. You have two emotions."

"What're those, Danny?"

"Numb and angry."

"That's not true."

"Yeah, it is. You push all emotion away the second something goes bad. You just sit there with a dear in the headlights look and screw up the show."

"And you've been doing so great on the show for the past month." He spat out sarcastically.

I didn't say anything, just glared. Not for the first time, I couldn't think of anything to say.

"You've been gone for almost two months, but I let it go because I know how you feel when people push you. But five minutes ago, Danny, all the color drained from your face. And now I'm not going to let it go. What the hell has been going on?"

"I'm not sharing my feelings so you can feel better about yourself, Casey. No, I'm not happy, but I'm not in any danger zones or whatever you think I am. I'm fine."

"Yeah, you're the picture of sanity. It's below freezing with the wind chill and you're standing outside in a sweater."

"Casey, butt out. I don't need help. If I wanted help, I would ask for it. So just go back upstairs."

"You know what, Danny. I'm not playing the game this time. We're not going to go back and forth like this and wait until you crack. You try to take me down with you this time and I will never say another word to you again. Screw up your personal and professional life if you want, but leave me out of it." He turned to leave.

"Yeah, like you would lose your job." I muttered it, knowing that it would get his attention, wanting his full attention. It worked, he spun and crossed the distance between us.

"What?"

"I said it's not like you would lose your job."

"Why not?"

"Because you're the one fucking the executive producer." It was mean, it was meant to hurt. Him, not me. But he had one arm across my chest, pinning against the wall before I finished the sentence. The last word ended in a puff of air. He had all his weight on my chest.

"Danny, I swear to God if you ever mention Dana or my relationship with Dana in that way again I will kill you."

I believed him. Stupidly, I nodded. He left without another word. After a few minutes of staring into space, I went inside myself.
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End of Chapter 2.