No Place Like Home- Part 4 Abby's Black Balloons

Author: Lexa

Email: c_rossingjordan@yahoo.com

Rating: PG

Synopsis: Abby has to face coming 'home' for Christmas.

Spoilers: Don't think there are any.

Comments: Alright, this is the first time this chapter's been posted anywhere. I hope you're all enjoying it.

The song for this one is "Black Balloons" by the Goo Goo Dolls

Disclaimer: I think we've established the fact that these characters aren't mine.



"Hi, room 1214 please."

I tap my finger against the phone as wait while the clerk puts me through to Luka's room.

"Hello?" Hearing a voice so familiar at this moment is so comforting it almost makes me cry. What I wouldn't do to just be back in his hotel room and not have to deal with this house that haunts me every minute.

"Hi, Luka." Talking to him is the second best thing to being there with him... I guess.

"Abby? Hi," I know he's smiling as he says it. I don't want the second best thing, I want to be there with him.

"Hey." That's the best thing you could come up with? You're not there with your boyfriend of over a year for thanksgiving and all you can say is 'Hey'?

"How is your visit home going so far?" Home. Right. Of course. That's what it is.

"Fine, I guess. It'll probably be better when Eric gets here."

"He's not there yet?"

"No, he's coming tomorrow."

I can hear him sigh over the phone. Maybe he realizes that me being alone with my father is one of the most torturous thing in the world for me at this moment. Last thanksgiving it was my mother, this thanksgiving; my father. God. I could really use a cigarette right now.

"So it's just you and your father?"

"Mmmhmm." All I need is one. Just one cigarette, then I'll be fine. That'll get me through tonight. Or, dinner at least.

He's obviously trying to think up something to say. I don't blame him. What is he going to say, 'Oh, it must be nice to catch up with your father who you love so dearly,' or even better; 'You must love being in that house again, with all those wonderful memories.'

"How was the car ride over?" I actually have to applaud Luka. That's better than anything I would have thought up.

"It was fine." Should I say it? I nervously play with the phone cord as I say end up saying it, "I miss you Luka."

Say something. Say something. Say something. Oh God, please say something.

Why isn't he saying anything?

"I miss you too Abby." Well, that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. "I can't wait to see you again."

Don't cry Abby. Don't cry. Your fathers in the house and you're on the phone with Luka, you can't cry. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"Luka.." Nice going Abby. Talk so quiet that he probably won't be able to hear you.

"Yes?" Never mind.

"Umm.. No, it's nothing." What are you doing Abby? Tell him how much being here kills you inside. Tell him that the fact that this is the closest thing to home you're ever going to get and that that makes you almost fall apart, because 'home' isn't supposed to be like this.

"Is something wrong?" Of course something's wrong. But if I tell you, you might think. oh God, there's a lot of things you could think.

I distract myself for a moment by looking at my toes, wiggling beneath my socks. They're dying to get free. To escape from their co-toes, from the foot that they extend from, from the smelly hellhole that is my sock. All they want is to break away from the only thing they've ever known.

"No, no, nothing at all." Quick! Quick! Abort conversation immediately!

The problem with going out with an intelligent guy like Luka is that he can tell when you're lying. You just have to hope that he doesn't decide to pry or pay attention, and normally, it works. But I'm not taking that chance today. "Umm.umm. Luka, I gotta go eat. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Al-alright," he responds hesitantly.

Oh, shit Luka, when you say it in that disappointed voice it makes me feel even worse.

"I'll call you later."

"Alright. Bye Abby."

"Bye Luka."

With that, I hear the phone click on his end, and I slowly put down the phone. I still have another fifteen minutes before the food will be ready, so I quickly slip down stairs, through the kitchen where my father is cooking what I gather to be dinner, and into the backyard.

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A thousand other boys could never reach you

How could I have been the one?

I saw the world spin beneath you

And scatter like ice from the spoon

That was your womb

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