Chapter 14

AVALANCHE

Maia filled the papers out online, printed them and mailed them the week before Thanksgiving. If he signs them, I should be able to get the annulment before the new year She slipped them in the envelope and noted that tomorrow would be their three month anniversary. It made her shoulders ache. She called the attorney service, paid to have the documents served on House. Included was a short note.

If you sign these where I put the post it—then I won't have to hire a lawyer to go through formal proceedings. The court will grant it outright. Please sign and put them in the envelope addressed to me. I'll file them. Maia.

Maia's hands were shaking. She realized that some of the powder had gotten on envelope. She took her finger, swiped it across the envelope and rubbed her gums. Maia, put the documents into the envelope and ran them literally to the mailbox on the corner. As she let the envelope slip into the mailbox, she felt a piece of her dying. Losing House had been the biggest blow of all.

Wilson stopped asking House after a month went by. The answer to his questions about whether or not he had called Maia were met with silence or some form of no. Apparently there was a stalemate, two stubborn people who both needed to be 'right' refused to just say what the other needed to hear, starting with 'I love you.'

Wilson knocked on House's door, but for the longest time there was no response. Wilson opened the door with his key and found a familiar sight, House passed out with an empty glass of whiskey next to him. This was the second time in a week that Wilson had found House too drunk to respond to his knock. Things were not looking good.

Wilson checked House to make sure he was okay and then sat down to watch television. Around nine he woke House up. House, still slightly drunk sat up and rubbed his face. He got up went to the bathroom and came back.

Wilson sighed, "Okay? Why the bender this time?"

House looked at him, his eyes glassy, speech slightly slurred, "It's my three month anniversary. She sent me an anniversary present."

House threw Wilson the brown envelope on the table. Inside were annulment papers. Wilson wanted to slap House. House obviously didn't want the annulment or he would have had the papers drawn up himself. But, he couldn't bring himself to talk to her, to bring up the subject.

"What are you going to do?"

"What I do best. Make her life miserable."

"And just how do you plan on doing that?"

"Not giving her what she wants."

Wilson shook his head in frustration, "House, sign the damn documents and get this over with. You two need to stop this and move on."

House poured a glass of whiskey and took a drink.

Thanksgiving came and went, Christmas too. Impatient, Maia realized that if she wanted an annulment, she was going to have to hire an attorney. But she didn't have the money. The cheapest one wanted a $2,000 retainer and she no longer had her little nest egg that she had built up.

Maia kept to herself, the case against Bellinghere had been plea bargained back in October so she no longer needed guarding. Having the case go away was a Godsend. She hated having someone following her night and day, especially someone as dull and boring as Special Agents Lionel Fitch and Candace Miller. It had driven her nuts.

It soon became apparent that the only choice she had was to go over and badger House to sign the documents. She took off one snowy Tuesday, dressed in her oversized winter jacket, and went to PPTH. She was wearing a skirt and blouse because all of her pants were dirty. The black tights helped keep her legs warm, but she was still cold; she was always cold.

Maia looked in the office, but he wasn't there. The white board was filled with writing and there was a young man sitting at the table next to it. "Excuse me, do you know where I might find Dr. House?"

The dark haired man looked up, "He doesn't take patients directly; you have to be referred."

"No, I'm a friend. I stopped by to say hi."

The young man looked stunned, "Friend? You're a friend of House?"

Maia shrugged her shoulders, "Do you know where he's at?"

"Wilson came by, I suspect they went to get something to eat."

Maia nodded, turning to make her way down to the cafeteria.

Wilson was waiting for House to get back from the bathroom. He looked over at the door and saw a vaguely familiar woman. She was looking around; her eyes finally landed on him. As she walked over, it wasn't until she got up to the table that Wilson realized it was the waitress, House's wife.

"You're Dr. Wilson, right?"

Wilson nodded, "Maia?"

She stuck out her hand and Wilson shook it, noting how boney it was and how emaciated she looked.

"I'm looking for Greg. I, uh, need to talk to him about something."

Wilson nodded behind her, "He's behind you."

She turned and saw House making his way to the table. He stopped, looked her up and down and continued over.

"Well, you look like the darling of Darfur. I thought the concentration camp look was out and curves were in these days." He sat down in front of his plate of food. "What do you want?"

She closed up her jacket to hide her body, but her legs were like toothpicks and the large jacket just made her look like a fudgsicle, "Sign the papers. Get out of my life"

"Papers? What papers?"

She showed him a smug smile, "I knew you'd pull that, so I brought another set for you to sign." She pulled the documents out of the envelope and handed them to him.

Wilson started to get up, "I'll let you two talk."

House barked at him, "Sit down. She's leaving." House looked up at her, "I'll have to look them over, give them to my lawyer to review. I'll get back to you."

She hissed, "Greg, don't be an ass. Let's correct this mistake and move along."

He said nothing, but looked away from her, somewhat hurt that she wouldn't sit or make some gesture of contrition.

She sighed, shook her head and turned to leave. House jumped up and grabbed her by the wrist. He turned her around and looked into her eyes. Her pupils were dialated and he could feel that her pulse was elevated.

He said quietly, "Maia, how bad is your habit? How are you supporting it?"

She turned her head away, but he wouldn't let go.

"You're killing yourself. Don't do this. Get some help."

"Oh, fuck you. What do you care?" She wrenched her arm out of his clutches and ran out of the cafeteria.

House went back to the table and sat down. He looked at his food, but couldn't eat. Wilson sat quietly for a minute before leaning over, "She's in bad shape. She must be using again."

House snarled, "Jesus Christ, don't you think I know? I'm not an idiot." House was quiet.

"Was she using when you two got married?"

House shook his head.

"So this started after the two of you had your falling out?"

House didn't bother to acknowledge the obvious. He grabbed the documents, took out a pen and began to sign them. "I don't want a coke whore for a wife. She's not my problem now."

Wilson shook his head sadly, "House, House, you stupid, stupid idiot."

"Maia, you're a good customer, but you already owe me $500. I can't help you sweetie. Come back when you have the money." Gino Matuchi patted her hand.

"Gino, please, you know I always pay my debts. I had a really, really bad day, I need some snow. Come on. Please?"

Gino eyed her up and down. Maia had never looked this bad, had never spent this much on snow in her life. She was going down fast. He might as well make as much off of her as he could before she stroked out. "I tell you what. My friend, Frank, he does a little trade now and then. He's got himself a group of gals in your situation. You could do some work for him, say, one or two nights a week and he'd keep you happy. He's good to his girls, makes sure they have plenty of blow. You could keep your day job and just work the weekends." He watched her reaction. He had seen that face before, the one of utter despair. He knew she wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but the desire for a hit was too much. Gino knew that Maia would say yes, maybe not right then, but soon, "Look, I'll give you a little taste, but you think it over. Here's his card. I'll let him know to expect a call from you." Gino handed her the card and watched her boney fingers shake as she grabbed it and put it in her pocket.

He pulled out a square, opened it up and, with a razor, pulled out enough for two lines. It was one hit. It would probably last her an hour, maybe long enough for her to get home and fall asleep when she came down. He gave her the straw and Maia looked at it. Gino felt sorry for her; she wanted so much to say no. But she grabbed the straw and bent over, inhaling the powder in two goes. She patted her nose and removed the residue, nodded at Gino, then left.

Maia inhaled deeply when the coke hit her brain. The first sensations always felt like a hammer hitting her temples. The pain was palpable. Then the high kicked in and she was in control. She could control anything, do anything, feel what she wanted to feel. Right now she wanted to feel in control.

She didn't have money for the bus back to her neighborhood so she started walking, fast. Maia could feel the drug coursing through her, making her heart race, her thoughts wild and her feet fly. She wanted to be home before she came down, before the headache set in, the depression, the hunger for more. It was cold out, but she didn't feel it. She never did when she was high. It was a good thing because she passed the bank and the thermometer said that it was twenty-two degrees Fahrenheit and dropping. She still had a good three miles to walk before she got home. She looked at her bare hands, they were a bright red from the cold. Put them in your pocket or you'll get frostbite. She stuck them inside her pocket and continued to walk, realizing she was perpendicular to Baker Street. Maia snuck a glance down the road, but didn't see his car.

He must be out. I still have a key. He is my husband. He hasn't done anything to support me. He owes me. We are married. He owes me.

Maia took a detour down the street, ducking into the apartment building and out of the cold. She didn't knock, she just took out the key and went inside. She felt a rush of feelings. She looked around the apartment where she had been so happy.

Not happy, less miserable. That's what he said, less miserable. I was never happy, just less miserable. Fuck, where would he keep money? He has to have some lying around.

Maia began her search, pulling out drawers, grabbing change, checking the pockets of his coats and suit jackets. Occasionally, she'd find a dollar or two. But after looking for half an hour, she had only netted $17.38.

He owes me!

Maia looked at the wall of instruments, wondering if she could get one of the guitars on the bus now that she had enough to catch one. She pulled them each down and weighed them in her hands. The old classic Fender was the lightest. She could hock it at the pawn shop. She looked around

What else could I pawn? He owes me!

She couldn't carry much more so she started to rummage through his night stand for more cash. She found a nice watch.

7:00 pm…Christ, it's already 7:00? Man, it's getting late, the coke will wear off soon.

She continued to dive through the drawer. She was about ready to shut the drawer when saw it…the little black felt envelope. Smiling to herself, she pulled it out and inside was the ring. Ah yes, the gaudy diamond ring with the inscription to Stacy. The love of his life. I see he kept it. I don't see any signs of a ring for me. Maia drew in a breath when she realized that he hadn't followed through with his promise to give her a ring of her own. He hadn't even bothered to sell Stacy's ring. Maia palmed the ring. This will keep me out of the clutches of Frank for a few months. This will get me high for four, maybe five months. He owes me. I took the bullet for him. I was willing to die for him. She laughed to herself. Jesus, I can't believe what a fool I was.

Maia looked at the guitar, debating on whether to take it. She had the ring. The guitar would be hard to lug across town.

If I need it, I'll come back for it.