Chapter Two

Maureen slowly opened her eyes. She looked around her, disoriented. Her bedroom was completely dark, except from a faint pink glow from an outside billboard, that flickered brightly through the fire escape. She didn't even realize she fell asleep. Her head was throbbing so bad, she was sure it was about to burst into small pieces.

Moaning in pain and frustration, Maureen rolled herself over to check what time it was. Her eyes widened in shock when the clock's red digits glowed 11:30 PM. She took it from the bedside and gave it a shake to make sure it was working. It did. Damn, she had slept for hours!

She dragged herself tiredly out of bed and hauled her body into the bathroom. She was still wearing the clothes she wore to work that morning- her favorite tight blue jeans and an even tighter red tank-top. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and stared at it with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Was that her? Her hair was a mess of long, dark brown curls, her make-up was in even worse shape, and a trail of tears was visible against her brown mascara, hastily wiped from so many hours before.

"Oh, shit," she muttered under her breath and splashed some cold water on her face in a hopeless attempt to make herself look better. She was sure that her eyes looked bulged like a bullfrog's eyes. She was not amused by that thought.

On her way out of the bathroom she stumbled over something and fell flat on the carpeted bedroom floor. She let out a cry of pain followed by a nasty curse, and grasped the damn object that stood in her way. It was one of Joanne's stylish and very exspensive black leather stiletto shoes. Maureen threw the shoe angrily to the other side of the room, yelling some more nasty curses in the process. She heard it land somewhere but didn't really care.

She could not believe Joanne did that. She simply couldn't. No one dumped Maureen Johnson, what made Joanne think that SHE could! Yet, she did, Maureen reminded herself bitterly, as she got up from the floor. Damn, how could she?

Maureen stormed into the small living-room and dropped herself on the couch. She snatched the remote and turned the TV on. What she needed, she decided, was a good distraction from Joanne; from their breakup.

My God, BREAKUP!

The Wizard of Oz was playing. Maureen snorted her discontent. Even the TV went against her! It was Joanne's favorite film, and she used to call Maureen the Wicked Witch of the West from time to time. It became one of her many nicknames. She was lost in that memory for a split second before the afternoon's events came back to her in a flash. Even if she DID act as a wicked witch at times, was THAT a good enough reason to end it up so abruptly as Joanne did!

I became A LESBIAN for her, thought Maureen angrily. What was she THINKING, breaking up with ME! It made her even more furious because they had couple of good, uncluttered months, at least in Maureen's opinion. Yes, they had their ups and downs once in a while, but what couple hasn't? Was I the only one who felt that way? Maureen asked herself that question endless times as she cried herself to sleep earlier. She asked herself the same question now, as she gazed absentmindedly at the TV screen. That was why Joanne's sudden decision was so unpredictable. They were finally getting along and now…

Joanne didn't even give her a chance to protest. She had made up her mind, she said. She had enough, she was leaving, and that was final. She seemed to be so sure about her decision, so calm that it made Maureen even more furious.

She remembered the first night they met. She stormed out of the loft after having a nasty fight with Mark about her downtown gigs. It was the first time he ever raised his voice on her. Usually, she did the screaming and yelling, and he just stared at her, as passive and as hopeless as a rock. Roger was nowhere to be found of course, and Collins was out of town, so it was just the two of them, screaming at one another like crazy, until Maureen decided that she had enough and left. She wandered through the streets with no specific purpose or destination, and the only thing that made her stop was a flickering sign of a recently opened club. Of course, she wanted to go there ever since she read about it in the weekend's paper, but stupid Mark wouldn't go. He hated these places, so crowded with people and cigarette smoke. She snorted as his nerdy image popped in front of her eyes. What am I even doing with a guy like that, she thought. Sure, he was sweet, in his own dorkish way, and awfully romantic, but they were so different.

Surprisingly, it was Joanne who made the first step. Maureen noticed her when she got in. Maureen chose a high stool near the bar, but didn't pay much attention to her as she ordered a martini and lighted a cigarette from the only packet she still carried in her huge black leather bag for emergencies such as that. She looked approximately 10 years older than Maureen, in her mid 30s, in a very expensive suit. Soon she was sitting next to Maureen, who wasn't in the mood for talking to strangers, not to mention flirting. It was not an unusual situation for her, flirting with another woman. They always found her attractive, and she flirted back because she knew it made Mark insanely jealous. She found insanely jealous Mark quite adorable.

So Joanne introduced herself and bought Maureen another drink, and before she realized what she was doing, she started telling Joanne things she had never told anybody, not even herself. She wasn't use to making confessions, especially not confessions concerning her and Mark's relationship. Yet, Joanne was a good listener, probably something that came with her lawyer apprenticeship. She spent the night at Joanne's place, and when she came back to the loft the next morning, she and Mark acted as if nothing ever happened. She started leading her double life, living with Mark and having a secret affair with Joanne, until two months later she told him the truth. She was a lesbian, and she had a new girlfriend, and she was leaving, for good. She didn't give Mark much chance to digest the whole thing, and just left the next day.

Just like Joanne did that afternoon, she realized.

More tears. Maureen could feel them streaming down her face but she didn't bother to wipe them away. She felt sorry for herself. She was not used to be on the dumped side. She didn't like it much. She hated feeling miserable and hopeless. She couldn't think of anything else but that afternoon. Her conversation with Joanne, which was more Joanne's monologue, she corrected herself, still echoed mercilessly in her ears. Damn it, how COULD she?

She suddenly realized that she was starving. She met Collins for a quick lunch earlier at their favorite little Chinese restaurant, but it seemed like hundreds of years had passed since then. She made herself a mental note to call Collins later. Sweet Collins. Her features softened slightly as she thought of her friend. He'd understand, she just knew that he would. He always understood her, always stood beside her when they all still lived together. It was long before Angel, or Mimi… or Joanne.

There was nothing edible in the fridge, except from some silly healthy yogurt thingies that Joanne took interest in lately. Maureen just igored them as she considered her other very limited options for a late dinner. She didn't feel like eating the leftovers from her lunch with Collins. She didn't feel creative enough to actually cook something, either. Her gaze wandered up to a pizza-place magnet on the freezer's door. She snatched it triumphantly and was about to close the fridge's door when...

It was than when she noticed the vodka bottle that was hidden behind some milk that had been expired for ages.

Maureen hesitated, looking thoughtfully at the bottle, and then left the magnet on the kitchen counter and took the bottle out of the fridge. After taking an aspirin for her massive headache she came back to the living room, armed with the vodka bottle and a tall glass.

The film kept playing. Maureen raised its volume to the highest peak in a wishful thinking that the singing would drown her thoughts. Yet, the soundtrack was against her as well; the scarecrow looked straight at her while he was merrily singing If I Only Had a Brain. She snorted and threw a pillow at the TV screen. Even the stupid MGM scarecrow was mocking her, she thought miserably, absorbed in self pity.

She took her first sip, straight from the bottle. The alcohol burnt its way down her throat, yet she couldn't care less.

What was wrong with her? Clearly, SOMETHING was wrong, or Joanne wouldn't have left. And she already worked on changing all the things that Joanne didn't like in her to make their relationship work, so what was left? She quit smoking (actually she did that earlier, when she and Mark were still 'a thing', so it didn't really count), she stopped hanging out in crummy bars, she stopped flirting with beautiful mysterious strangers… It just couldn't be that!

Then, a new startling thought hit her and made her empty half a bottle in one long gulp, as if it was diet coke.

What if Joanne was seeing someone else?…

Worse than that… what if she was seeing that someone else… when she was still with Maureen?…

The phone's sudden ring put an abrupt ending to that thought and made Maureen nearly jump off the couch with a start. She let it ring until the answering machine took over.

"Hi, you reached Mo and Jo, please leave your message and we'll be back to you. Have a really nice day!" BEEEEP….

The recorded message brought fresh tears to Maureen's eyes. Joanne was going to make her record that boring, ordinary message, in case that her boring ordinary lawyer buddies ever called. They never did, but Maureen agreed to change her usually much-more-crazy message just to satisfy Joanne….

And NOW she was DUMPED!

"Joanne, hey," said an unfamiliar female voice. Maureen tensed. Her eyebrows knitted together in a suspicious frown. Who the hell is THAT? "This is Daisy, from Legal B in case you forgot… um… you're not available on your cell so I thought… oh, never mind, I'll just call later," she added quickly before she hung up. The machine beeped again. Maureen stared at its flickering red light in disbelief. Was that Daisy Joanne's new lover?…

Collins, she thought as she snatched the reciever of the wireless phone, I have to talk with him. She dialed his familiar number with shaky fingers. She wasn't even aware of that fact, or of how much alcohol she consumed already. She wasn't aware of anything. Two more sips of vodka and endless dial beeps later, Collins' machine took over. Maureen closed her eyes in frustration and felt the burn of her tears as they made contact with her skin as she listened to Collins' recorded message. Even in that message his voice was comforting, soothing like the voice of the big guarding brother that Maureen never had. It was then when she remembered that Collins left for Chicago right after their lunch. He told her he'd be there on a seminar for the entire weekend, and that he wouldn't be available on his cell, either.

The machine's long BEEEP snapped her back to reality, or something that was just as close to it. Her voice was husky from sleep, alcohol and hours of crying as she cleared her throat and started speaking.

"Hey Collins, it's me, I… totally forgot about that damn seminar, shit. I need to talk, and it's kinda important, I…" she held back a sob, but couldn't do it for much longer. "I'm falling apart… I can't…" she was weeping uncontrolably into the reciever. She knew he'd freak out when he heard it, he'd probably run all the way to her apartment to make sure she didn't do anything stupid like… slitting her wrists in the bathroom or something… yet at the moment, she didn't care. She had to let it out. And if Collins wasn't there to listen, his machine would do. She sniffed. "So just… call me when you get back, okay? Any time, I don't care," she added weakly and hung up. She threw the phone to the other side of the couch and burried her head in a pillow in despair. She felt so alone and deserted all of a sudden, as if she was the only soul on the planet, and a desperate soul, of all things.

She was about to take another sip from the bottle when she realized that it was empty. She cursed loudly and let it go. It rolled off the couch and fell noiselessly on the carpet but didn't break.

It was Maureen's heart that was slowly breaking, for the first time in her life.

She needed another drink, but could not even bring herself to a sitting position. Yet, she HAD to have another drink. She didn't want to think about Joanne anymore, or about that stupid Daisy-what's-her-name from Legal B. If a boring wannabe lawyer was what Joanne wanted, then it was fine by Maureen. She probably deserved that, some serious, boring, ORDINARY woman, just like Joanne herself.

I don't need her, she decided. I don't need her seriousness, or her silly healthy yogurt thingies in my fridge, or her arrogant lawyer attitude. I'm Maureen Johnson, I need no one, I'm practically perfect!

The Wicked Witch of the West sent her winged monkeys to chase poor Judy Garland. Maureen stared at her drunkenly and tried to imitate her evil laughter. She thought she did quite a good job, but who knew? She couldn't even sit straight at the moment, so thinking straight seemed to be even more out of the question.

Someone knocked on her door. Maureen jumped, startled. At first, she thought she was imagining it. The film's volume was still on max and she was so disoriented at the moment, she could no longer tell what was real and what wasn't. Yet whoever it was, he knocked again, more urgently. Louder. He practically banged on her door. Maureen's heart was racing, more with pathetic hope and with panic. Could it be Joanne?…

Somehow she managed to get herself up from the couch. She fought a wave of dizziness and nausea and went on swaying bare feet to open the door.

She surely wasn't expecting to see an even drunker Mark leaning dorkishly on her doorway.