A/N: Short(ish) chapter again! I might keep this rhythm, actually. Long chapter followed by a short one. I don't know. Anyway, I needed to include something like this because despite everything, Tiffany still has deep trust issues and it's still badly broken (from having been used by all those men). In the movie Pat mentions she has a "broken wing, but it's being mended", and that's exactly what's happening here. Her wing is not fully healed, hence this. -Also, I can't write slurred speeches, so just use your imagination for that!

I CAN FORGET THAT WE HAD A FIGHT
AND SHE RAN AWAY
AND THAT ANY OF THIS SHIT HAPPENED.
June, 5, 2007

I wait for Tiffany for a very long time. Since she left around 7pm I don't get worried that anything bad will happen to her, because as I mentioned before our neighborhood is very safe. However, as much as I don't want it to happen, the irrational part of me slowly goes into panic when she's not back by 11pm. I think about calling her sister Veronica or even her parents, but I don't because I know that that will worry them if Tiffany isn't there. Instead, I get out some high school papers that I need to mark, sit on the brown couch –deliberately because I am trying to be hopeful— and patiently wait for her to show up. After marking about fifteen papers my eyes start to close because this past week has been so hectic and I've barely gotten any sleep. I don't want to take coffee or tea in case I stay up all night, but I also don't want to fall asleep before Tiffany is back so I end up going up and down the stairs several times to wake up. I think about how the fact that Tiffany left so suddenly bothers a lot, especially since she had promised not to do it again and yet now here she is breaking that promise. It's true that she hasn't done something like this for a very long time -as long as we've been together actually- but I still can't shake off the feeling that she let me and herself down somehow, since I have never, not once, reacted in this way before and she was the one to make the promise in the first place. And then I think that this is not fair on me, and that Tiffany should at least call if she is indeed staying with her family and that this is fucked up and I should have run after her and-

I only register the broken glass when I accidentally cut my bare foot on it. Immediately I feel bad that I have allowed myself to get this way, especially because it had been so long since one of my episodes and Tiffany really liked the crystal figurine that I have just thrown and broken. I stop in my tracks and pick up the mess, thinking about how I'm going to need to explain this to Tiffany and that's probably going to make her angrier. When I'm done, I go to the living room, sit down and try to stabilize my breathing. After a while, I put on the TV and will Tiffany to come back. As crazy as this sounds, I actually close my eyes and start praying to God that Tiffany is OK and will come back soon, because I know that somewhere He is listening and can easily watch out for Tiffany. However, soon the clock is striking midnight and Tiffany is not back yet. I think about calling the police, or going out to look for her, but I don't want to make a scene and get a bad reputation with our neighbors because they are all really nice people –some of which I actually consider as friends. I then remember how one time Tiffany told me how she used to stay out all night, back when she was in her fog and having sexual intercourse with every possible man as a way to grieve Tommy, so I settle on waiting until 5am. I do this because I know that Tiffany has done this before in the past, and still managed to be OK. I still pray to God that she will indeed be OK, though, just in case.

I am slowly falling asleep when I hear a crash coming from the front door. I look at the clock and see that it is 2am. I must have dozed off at some point because I don't remember putting on the movie which is showing on the television, and I also don't remember hearing any noises before the awful crash. Immediately I am up on my feet and running out of the room in case something bad is happening. I have a good idea of what it is though, and my suspicions are confirmed when I see Tiffany trying to get inside the house.

"Tiffany..!" I exclaim, before I notice that something is off with her.

She is leaning onto the doorway, trying to support herself, and she reeks of pure straight vodka.

"Oh, God, Tiffany…" I make my way over to her but she pushes me away.

"Fuck off, Pat" She throws a weak hand at me, almost as if I were a fly and she was trying to shoo me away. Because of this, I easily avoid it and then wrap my arms around her waist, trying to give her some support.

"I said fuck off!" she shouts this time, and I have to do some manoeuvres in order to close the door so that the rest of the neighborhood will not hear.

"Tiffany, you're drunk. You're really drunk." My voice sounds tired and disappointed, as if I were talking to a five year old instead of a full grown woman. I remember my mother talking to me this way, back when I was living my old movie, but now I understand it because sometimes full grown adults can be so much like children that we need to talk to them as if they were exactly that.

Instead of getting angry, like I used to do, Tiffany simply laughs.

"I should have known." She says. "You're exactly the same as all the other men. You only want to use me."

I am trying to walk with her to the sofa in the living room, but her un-coordination and un-cooperation make it all very difficult, let me tell you, and this is why I don't reply straight away to what she tells me.

"All this time I thought we had something real. I thought, seeing as it took us so long to get here and I spent so much time fucking planning everything, I thought we had a chance. But we don't. You're never gonna get over your Nikki" Her speech is slurred and I have a hard time making out what she is saying. When I do, I try to tell her that she is wrong, that I don't love Nikki and that I am very sorry for suggesting that we have children, but she cuts me off, as usual

"Save it" She says as she quickly turns around to face me. This move however makes her very nauseous, because next thing I know she is covering her mouth with her free hand.

I take this as her cue to vomit, so I lift her off the ground and quickly carry her to the kitchen sink –since the only toilet is upstairs— and as soon as I put her down she starts to vomit. She stays like that for a good five minutes, and I gather her hair in my hands and hold it back so that she doesn't get any of the vomit on it. I remember back when I was in college I would never understand why the girls did this, until Nikki explained to me years later that it was because it's easy to get vomit in your hair and not so easy for it to come out. So I hold Tiffany's hair in a messy bun because I know she wouldn't like it if the vomit got to her hair.

After she has stopped, I take her in my arms, this time with her head resting on my chest, and carry her to the sofa. Although she is very tired and I can see it in her eyes, she still tries to get away from my grasp. I use all my man strength to prevent this, and that's when she starts to scream and kick and shout out horrible things, as if suddenly coming awake. This only lasts for four second though, because after that her energy becomes drained. God, she's so drunk. I lay her down on the sofa, put a pillow under her head and take her jacket and shoes off. I go upstairs and grab a blanket and some Tylenol from the toilet cabinet. When I come back downstairs, she's fast asleep. I freeze, because Tiffany looks really beautiful like this, and for a moment I can forget that we had a fight and she ran away and that any of this shit happened. I lean down and kiss her forehead before I have to wake her up, and she sort of smiles in her sleep. I go to the kitchen and bring back a glass of water for her to take the pill with.

"Tiffany" I nudge her couple of times, but nothing happens.

"Tiffany, wake up"

"Go away…" she manages to get out. But now that she's awake, I have to force her to take the pill and the glass of water. I tell her she needs to replace the fluids she's lost from the vomiting, but she still moans in disgust.

Finally, I cover her body with the blanket I brought down and silently wish her a good night.