Chapter 15
"Is it my imagination Or have I finally found something worth living for?
I was looking for some action But all I found was cigarettes and alcohol ... "
She turns on the lights and quickly throws her bag on the table nearby.
"At least collaborate, Greg" Lisa hisses in his ear, but all she gets in return is a smile too wide and eyes almost closed. She snorts resigned, leaving him against the wall and looking around.
"God, how I hate you when you're drunk!" she almost shouts, yes, because she believed that those situations were definitively removed from her routine, instead here she is again. She rubs her temples, he smirks.
"I'll add it to the list..." she takes him by the arm, she can at least throw him on the couch, so she'll have her conscience clear. But he's heavy, leaning on her completely, they don't go not even over the piano stool. She leaves him there as best as she can and looks at him. That wasn't a show that she had wanted to see again.
Allison is quickly walking along the sidewalks, she's late and the doctor will complain surely, like all times, but without saying a word. The front-door is strangely open and, according to his habits, the door should be almost open, not that he does something to hide anything to anyone...
She pauses in front of the door, trying to put on a shoe that has slipped off.
'Damn 30$ shoes...'
She's fixing the shoe when she notices that the lights are on, the door is more open than usual and he's not alone. She peers in, she cannot help it.
"Look at you...".
House grins, looking up at his former wife.
"It's a contradiction in terms, there are no mirrors here".
His voice is slurred and too low, Lisa comes up to him and the smell of alcohol is sickening and so she wrinkles her nose. He keeps smiling.
"If nothing else, tell me that you do not need to vomit".
He shakes his head, still smirking. She steps away from him, hands on her hips. She must think about how to handle that situation.
"OK, you need a night's sleep and a coffee".
"I need a Vicodin...".
Allison, from behind the door, sees the woman clenching her fists and shake, his words have pissed her off. She's thinking seriously of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"It's not my problem, my problem is to put you in bed".
House chuckles, leaning his elbow on a G on the piano "It's curious that you're wondering it only now...".
It's obvious that she's trying everything to ignore his digs, Allison doesn't know what their relationship is, but it's clear that there was some sex between them.
"Come on, please, get up. I'll give you a hand to get to bed".
He gets up, swaying slightly, but holding on to the piano and the cane, unable to stand straight, she looks even more upset...
"Look at you, in what state you are..." she whispers.
Allison sees him frowning, he must be lucid enough to understand but not to think.
"I'm fine! I just need a Vicodin! But that son of a bitch of my boss what thinks to do? ! Placebo! Who does he think I am, huh? ! An octogenarian sure to have any type of illness! ?".
She sees that the woman in front of the doctor is at the limit, she almost runs to him, hitting him on the shoulder "You're an addict!". He rolls his eyes. "Thank Heaven that there are people like Vogler trying to get you out of the shit you've gotten into! You're a toxic dependent and you're afraid to admit it because that would mean that you were wrong! And you can't be wrong! Never!".
House grins, but he's out of breath, he has to lean on the piano again. He looks down...he has nausea "I believed that the phase of the sermons was officially over when I signed for divorce".
The woman is able to stay calm, she retrieves the bag by the door. Allison is forced to move away, but she can still hear them.
"And I thought that I'd have been free from guarding you once you were out of home, but it seems that history repeats itself..." she sighs "Take an aspirin and go to bed".
Allison jumps, stepping back, avoiding the gaze of the woman and looking at her shoes.
She doesn't.
She feels her eyes on her, from head to toe, it's not a new situation. She also feels the sigh of resignation before she goes out. Now she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know whether to go in or not, he's drunk, she doesn't want to relive a situation like that.
"You're going to stay there all night? Do it standing is not my forte".
'Damn...'.
She closes her eyes suddenly, takes a breath and crosses the threshold, she hopes to be able to manage him...or that he'll faint...
He's leaning against the piano, rubbing his temples, and raises his head up when he hears the door close. She stops, smiling.
"Hi, how are...".
"Don't ask me, I don't pay you to ask questions".
He's irritated, he moves from the piano and goes to her (limping more than usual...), a small grimace of pain when his body weight is on the wrong leg.
He's close. Close to the point that she not only tastes the smell of alcohol (not the usual scotch that all in all it was becoming almost pleasant and familiar), but she sees the red eyes and trembling hands. She has done that work for too long not to know that those are the signs more visible when someone is in withdrawal. He grins and she can't move, she doesn't know why.
"Perhaps we should reschedule, doctor".
"And why, Evy?".
It pisses her off the way he said it, he had never done it...so...vulgar. She's no longer sure she can manage him.
The movements are awkward, annoying, but he's able to block her against the wall. His lips pressing on her neck, the smell of smoke and alcohol impregnated on him, she hates these situations. His lips are wet, but it's a feeling that bothers her this time.
House steps away slowly, scraping her cheek with his beard, keeping contact with her. He's in front of her, she feels his breath that comes out from his parted lips, he's too close...
She plants her hands on his chest, pushing him away when she sees him move toward her mouth "No" she doesn't shout, but she has a hard tone, enough to make him snort, annoyed. He moves away a step, puts his hands in his pockets, pulling out some money, Allison doesn't see how many, she's just about to leave. He blocks her.
He puts money into the neckline of her blouse, and she must use all her strength not to be disgusted by the gesture. Then he grabs her chin with his hand. He's sweaty and trembling even in contact with her skin, but he doesn't seem to notice...
"Let's talk about it again..." he tries to take her lips again. She pushes him away again, more determined than before. He feels angry.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? !".
Those blue eyes are stranger than the other times and he's still out of breath...
"No kissing on the mouth, doctor".
He moves away and leans against the couch behind him, grinning. He rubs his beard and looks more disheveled and messy than other times. She sees his right hand grasping his thigh, then, he grins again.
"Oh yeah, the bullshit of diseases that are transmitted by saliva...mmm, I'm a doctor, I'm healthy. What I have, I can't give it to you".
Allison shrugs, she feels safer having him at a distance "If I were to listen to all those who tell me that they are healthy...".
He gets nervous, suddenly, he knocks down the knickknacks on a small table, the lamp falls on the sofa. He returns to her "I don't care, I want to kiss you and you're paid to do what I want!".
The way he grabs her wrist is unbearable, she's out of breath, he holds it with a meticulousness and a longing that are suffocating. It hurts.
"Enough...please".
He comes back to her face and she dodges.
"Kiss. Me".
"No".
The doctor tries again, increasing his grip on her wrist. Then, he collapses.
She moves him away, throwing the money on the ground and going quickly to the door. She needs to be outside.
She walks quickly, she doesn't know If she hit him in the groin or lower, the main thing is that she hurt him, that growl of wounded beast was a confirmation.
She just needs to clear her head, that situation has scared her. She needs Sammie.
He hits the parquet, watching the sweat slipping from his chin. It hurts.
He pushes himself up, sitting, leaning on the couch, he wipes the sweat with his shirt. He hates when a situation gets out of hand. He grabs the money. He needs a Vicodin.
Allison closes the front-door behind her, catching her breath for the run she just made.
She just wanted to leave that building, she had a queasy stomach and something told her that she'd have started breathing regularly when she'd have been outside.
She puts her hand on the handle of the door, then she opens it.
Finally out...
She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and keeps breathing. She hears the sound of car horns, the laughter and screams of children, a bike running fast all around her and suddenly she seems to calm down.
The breathing becomes regular despite the persistent nausea. She stays still a moment, thinking, then she opens the bag and grabs the phone.
Her friend on the other end of the phone answers on the fourth ring "Yes?".
Allison breaths a sigh of relief "Sammie, it's me. Can you come to pick me up?".
There is a moment of silence on the other end "Now?".
"Yes, now".
"What happened?".
Allison tries to keep the tone of her voice more stable, she doesn't want to frighten Sammie, there's no need "Nothing".
"Ah, yes. Congratulations, you've been really fast, about a quarter of an hour to fuck a man...Where's the catch?".
Allison closes her eyes, breathing "Sammie, please...".
Sammie sighs worriedly "Are you okay, Allie?"
She doesn't answer immediately "Come early".
TBC...