Abigail
Mahalia's bullying finally manages to get me showered, fed and moved to the lounge so that room service could air out the bedroom.
However, I'd drawn the line at actually leaving the house. So we'd settled for some edibles and her combing my hair as I lay on her lap.
A weight lifted off my shoulders, I'd told her everything. Every moment we'd shared, why I'd barricaded myself, everything that I could possibly think to tell her about my ex-girlfriend, the now criminally charged Secretary of State.
Short of a few exclamations and questions all Hal did was listen to me. Like I always knew she would.
For the tenth time today, Werepaca's distorted Put Your Head On My Shoulder chimed on the speakers.
Absentmindedly stroking my hair behind me, Hal hadn't questioned it - and I'm glad she hadn't. Because having to tell her that it was the last song I danced to with Elizabeth Masey on the night of the inauguration gala would've just sent me into another fit of sobs.
Abigail
20 January 2017
Inauguration Day
Elizabeth Masey was the picture of perfection, even in white silk pyjamas and low lighting.
Her hair fell to the side with her head tilted. She had on one of those smiles. The disapproving one, that I coaxed out of her whenever I surprised her.
The one she had when I'd said I love you.
You never imagine someone could so physically affect your moods without even trying. But here I am, filled with boyish excitement at being alone with my lover. My girlfriend.
Elizabeth is in a playful mood apparently. She lets me in with a mocking chivalrous bow.
The suite was a modern no-personality eyesore. There were three, three seater couches - a mix of red, grey and white. From the window directly opposite the door, you could clearly see the Washington Monument.
But the biggest monstrosity of all was the side wall, painted with a ghastly black and white graffiti mural and lined with laminated bright red shelving.
I just know Elizabeth hated it.
"Nice digs." I poke.
Rolling her eyes in disgust she closes the door and turns to focus on me: "To what do I owe this pleasure ma-lady?"
"Do I need a reason to visit my girlfriend?" I ask. Smiling wide like an idiot.
I watch Liz move the remote from the table to the couch armrest. She's - fiddling, quiet adorably too. Not something I'd associate with the usually composed lawyer.
"Are you nervous?" I ask with astonishment.
She chuckles: "I don't know. I wasn't expecting you. I think you're giving me butterflies."
"Oh wow, I should dress up more often then."
"It's not that, I think. I just...sitting there, watching you tonight. I - I wanted you. I wanted us so badly Abby. I wished we could've...I don't know." She shrugs smiling sadly.
"I do know." I say slowly walking to her.
"Because I too, thought it was unfair,"
I lift her from the corner of the grey couch and grab the small of her back, gently pulling her close.
"What?" Liz asks smiling.
