Lisa entered her apartment. Two weeks. Two weeks she'd been gone yet it felt like a lifetime.
She numbly clicked on the television. The news was blaring.
"Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security Charles Keefe was shot and killed by an unknown..." she clicked it back off.
The sun shone outside and Lisa knew she should cal her father or the police but she didn't. Instead what she did was walked to her room, drew back the comforter of her bed, and crawled in. And then, curling into a ball, began to cry.
Gradually, things began to return to normal. Well, as normal as they could get, anyway. Two weeks later her life had returned to how it was before at work and home. She spouted off lies about her kidnapping. She'd gone willingly. After all only her father knew the truth and she begrudgingly lied as she asked him to. He questioned why she didn't want Jack Rippner thrown in jail. She didn't answer, simply because she didn't know the answer herself.
His face still flashed before her mind when she allowed it the luxury to drift. So she forced herself to work more and think less. It hurt too much to think of him.
She wondered for a little bit about what they'd had. She didn't know what to call it. Her heart said love but her mind said lust. It was hard to choose which one was right.
Around six o'clock one night Lisa was cooking some pasta with the tv on to keep her company. She'd found it easier to avoid thoughts of Jackson if it was blaring. It was the news, which had thankfully cooled down from reporting on the Keefe murder to play news of new scandals. Lisa had taken to watching old Full House reruns while that had been playing.
Lisa carried the noodles back to the sink to drain as she listened to the reports. "Do you really think I give a shit about Britney Spears' liposuction?" she sighed to herself as the phone rang.
Lisa let it ring through as she dried her hands. She figured it was her father, since he called at least twice daily now. He would leave a message anyway.
At first all she heard was silence and she moved to delete it.
"Goddamn telemarketers," she muttered as her finger touched the delete button. Then a voice began to speak.
"Leese," the too-familiar voice said. Lisa's chest seized up and every fiber of her being told her to delete it but she was frozen. "It's-well, I think you know who it is," his voice was pained. "I haven't slept for days now. I'm a mess and I hate to admit it but I miss you. I know you won't listen but..." he took a deep breath. "In short, I'm a huge ass and I miss you. Please, Leese..." his voice cracked, something that shocked her. "I need you. You're all I have left that's not shit and I love you, so, so much." Then there was a pause. "But...you're obviously not there or you're sitting there laughing at this message so...I'm going to go now. G'bye, Lisa." Click.
Lisa's chest still felt frozen. And then, as if he were in the room with her, she spoke. "Anything but, Jack. Anything but."