She opens the text again, even though she knows those four words by heart and she can't take them out of her head. Anna wants to be sure, though, that the words are real and the number is his. That this is not a bad dream.

The memory of herself hours ago is humiliating. She was wearing a dress and had taken special care with her hair. She was excited. Eager even. Their plans for that night had finally held a promise of something more, but even if they hadn't, she would have been just happy to see him. To talk to him freely about books, everyday things and life, like they were getting used to.

When getting ready, while she was taking a shower, she thought about him arriving to pick her up, kissing her maybe? While she was doing her hair she remembered the texture of his lips, his hand on her cheek. She wanted more of that, too.

Only, eight o'clock came and went and there was no sign of him. She tried texting him. Something silly, about him getting lost trying to find her flat. As time passed, she started to worry. Not once did it occur to her that she had been stood up.

He had texted her that morning, asking if she was feeling better, if she was up to their previous plans to have dinner that evening. She had said she was feeling as good as new and yes, of course she wanted to have dinner with him. his response had come instantly.

I'll be there at eight. xxx

And then, nothing.

Anna forced herself to wait until it was past ten to call. It just rung until the recorded message kicked in. She doesn't remember what she said. Then she texted him she was worried. She just wanted to know if everything was all right. If he was all right.

Half an hour later, those four words.

Fine. Leave me alone.

And then emptiness. For a wild moment she considered he had been mugged. He must have been. But what sort of burglar would answer back a text instead of switching the stolen phone off? It didn't make sense at all. So, the only explanation was one Anna couldn't even consider.

She went to bed with her head heavy with questions and sleep eluded her for a long time.

When Jane came by to drop Jonah the next morning, she was clearly in a hurry.

"How was it?" She asked on her way to the door.

"Fine." Anna decided right then that she hated the word.

"You look as if you were awake all night," there was laughter in Jane's eyes. "I'll drop by later for the whole story."

"Great," she said to Jane's retreating back.

She is going to tell her later. She doesn't now because she knows Jane. She would've cancelled whatever important thing she had ahead and stay to comfort her. It wouldn't have been fair to Jane and Anna isn't ready for it, really.

She is about to ask Jonah if he's hungry when a buzz comes from the front door.

"Who is it?"

"'lo, Anna." Long pause. "It's me."

She freezes for a second, her hand hovering over the button. Relief and anger fight inside her. She wants to make sure he's all right, she needs and explanation and she has an urge to slap his face for good measure.

"Come up then," she manages.

When she opens the door she refrains from gasping aloud, just barely. Had she seen him on the street she might not have recognised him.

"John, what the-?"

His clothes are dirty and dishevelled. There are stains on his jacket and her shirt isn't neatly tucked in, as she has always seen it. But the one thing she notices over all this is the stench. Frightfully familiar from times she all but wishes to forget.

"Anna," he blurts out, stumbling over the threshold. "'S good to see you."

For a moment she doesn't know what to say, what to think. This has to be a mistake. Has to.

"What happened to you?" She finally manages, without letting him walk inside the house.

"I... I..."

"We had a d- an appointment yesterday."

"Yeah. We did. I... forgot..." he trailed off lamely, and his body moved forward as if he had tripped over an invisible obstacle. His hand moved to the threshold, sliding before managing to steady him.

"You're drunk." Anna stated, unnecessarily.

"Aw, Anna!" This time his bending forward is quite deliberate and she jumps back to avoid his hand cupping her cheek and his lips getting closer. The tips of his fingers feel clammy in that brief brush. The alcohol in his breath makes her feel nauseated.

"You stood me up. You didn't even answer and when you did... I wish you hadn't."

"Wait. What?" He seems surprised by her rebuff, and confused. A moment after, he is defensive. "I- I had a b- bad day, all right?"

"I certainly hope you're not making excuses-"

"I bloody well have the right-!" the sudden rise of his voice makes her jump for the second time.

"Not in this house, you don't." She clenches her teeth. She is frightened, but the last thing she wants is for him to notice it. It's never good when they sense you're vulnerable.

"I just..." he clenches his teeth, and gives the threshold and punch. Anna jumps. "I had fucking terrible news! I needed-! I just-!"

"And you couldn't have called to cancel, couldn't you?"

"I don't need t- to answer to you!"

"No, I suppose you don't." It feels like a heavy weight settling on her shoulders, but she knows about drunks, a good deal, and she has learned that trying to reason never works. Still, this is not the time to be understanding. She won't be understanding. "Only, that's the decent thing to do."

"You're being like this bec- because decency? When you don't know-" He trails off. "You have no idea!" He yells again.

Then John gives a small step inside and it take Anna a lot of effort not to back up herself. She stands her ground, though, torn between not wanting to break eye contact and looking for any object around that she could use to defend herself. Suddenly she realises she doesn't know the man in front of her, and she is very, very scared of him.

"Mum?"

She wheels around. Jonah is standing in the hall, his teddy bear clutched to his chest.

Unshed tears sting in her eyes but she manages to crouch in front of him. "I'll be right there, sweetie. Go play with the train."

The boy looks at John, frowning. "'uffin?" He asks.

"We go there later, all right? To get you a muffin." Jonah smiles and nods, albeit uncertainly. "Now go to your room. I'll be there in a moment, all right?"

Jonah obeys and, before standing straight and turning around, Anna takes a deep long breath.

"Leave." She says, surprised at how steady her voice comes out even though her hands are shaky.

"Anna, I.. I'm sorry-" He lowers his shoulders and takes a shaky breath.

"Leave. Now."

"I... I know I blew it-"

"'Blew it' doesn't even begin to cover it." Her voice is now a low growl. "Now leave. Get out. Sober up." She takes another deep calming breath. "Never come to this house again and get the fuck out of our life."

"I..."

He looks at her, eyes slightly unfocused, and it is so difficult for her to see there the spark there, the wit or the kindness. It breaks her heart.

He sighs and his shoulders drop.

"I'm sorry," his voice quivers, but he takes a step back. Walking around him, and feeling far less courageous than what she's trying to show, she opens the door.

He looks at her for another moment and then he turns around.

"I'm really sorry." She barely hears over the sound of the door closing and the strong smell of whiskey that suddenly fills her lungs.

She closes the door and leans against it, the air seems contaminated. That fucking bloody alcohol.

Anna has to run into the bathroom, still nauseous. More deep breaths and she feels a little calmer; she opens the tap and lets the water run on her wrists for a moment.

"Mum!" Jonah calls from outside the bathroom door.

"I'm here, sweetie." She wipes off that lonely tear and forces a smile. "Want some eggs?"

AN: Thank you all, very very much!