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Show Woodworth/226 under his hair. Heartbeats stolen from her body. Better not to go that way. Always better not to go that way. She finishes her drink in two swallows. Something to celebrate. Something good to think about. Megan is home. Megan, who never comes home any more, and she came this time. Better make the trip good, maybe she will change now. Maybe it was all adolescent rebellion anyway, and now Megan is over it. She smiles and bounces her way back to the bottle. Grabs it by the neck again and fills her glass. I'll toast Megan's welcome home for all of them, since they never got a chance last night. She pours in an extra splash, raises her glass to the ceiling, to the sleeping people above it, and drinks. The bitterness is gone. The scotch slides like honey, warming the edges of that black mass that weights her with its familiarity, pokes her with rude edges. She collapses on the couch. Too bad she can't see the sun coming up from here, but she can see the sky getting lighter. Imagine what it would be like to stay out all night, at a party at'the Four Seasons, taking a cab home right before dawn. So exhilerating, it's as if she has done it. Tipsy, but a light, bright, drunk. Not like now, with this heavy black thing pawing at her. She pictures Kevin as f^egan has described him - tall, thin, red hair and a red mustache. He is wearing tails and a top hat, leaning against her while she talks brightly, wide-eyed, in the back of the cab. He is laughing at her jokes. He finds her witty, intelligent. They pull up in front of her apartment building - a big gray one, with a blue and white awning in front, and a doorman standing ready. Just like the hotel she stayed in with Ned |
