"Oh hey, Ace, what's up? It's kind of late for you to be calling."
"I know. I'm sorry, but you haven't called me for a couple of days. You always call. I get worried when you don't call."
"Oh, I know. But hey, it's been busy. Meetings non-stop. But hey, I have to run. I'll try to call tomorrow, ok? Talk to you later, Ace."
And that was that. She hung the phone back up on the receiver and took another look around her cold, lonely dwelling. He seems to be avoiding me. He spends absolutely no time on the phone with me anymore. I don't get to see him; I barely get to talk to him. In desperation to have a longer-than-five-second conversation with someone, she picks up the phone again.
"Hey, Kiddo! How's it going?"
"Hey, Mom. I'm fine. What are you up to? Are you going out with Dad tonight?"
"Yeah. Oh crap! There's the doorbell. Where's my lucky bracelet? Oh, there's my bracelet! Where's my sunglasses…"
"Mom, it's dark outside. Just leave the sunglasses."
"Oh, yeah, I suppose. Hey, Kiddo. I really should let you go. I'll call you later, okay…I promise…okay?"
"Okay, Mom. Have a good time."
Yet again…another avoidance. She hung up the phone (yet again) and slipped out the door to grab something to eat. The dark gloom of the pub down the road should be more inviting than the suffocating emptiness of the apartment left behind.
…………………………………………..
The air was smoky, the music loud, and the place was drenched with heartache. It made Rory feel welcome for once in the past couple of days. She wasn't accustomed to bar life. She has always been the good girl, but for once in her life, she wanted to step out of character and attempt to distinguish her inner hurt.
A couple hours, and a couple too many drinks, later, Rory was becoming the life of the party. She was making a fool out of herself and was too far gone to even realize it. Let's just say that Rory, not being accustomed to the bar life, does not handle large amounts of alcohol well. After about a half hour rant on the injustice of the world, she slinks down into the barstool about ready to pass out. A familiar hand reaches around her and picks her up.
"Come on, Rory. This isn't you. You shouldn't be here life this. I'm taking you home."
Rory just barely gave enough directions to get to her apartment. She was to far gone to even fully realize he was there. He was actually quite disgusted by it…not by Rory…but by the situation. This wasn't in Rory's character. Something must have driven her to behaving in such a manner.
By this time, she had completely passed out. He carried up to her apartment and laid her gently on the bed. For a couple hours, he watched over her to make sure she kept breathing, but he made sure to leave before the morning hours. Tomorrow morning, she more-than-likely would not remember how she got to the apartment, and for now, he wanted to keep it that way.