Work Text:
When she stepped inside the hall of Arrow House, Ada heard a distant cough. One she’d recognize, even lost in the din of a dense crowd.
“Good morning, Mrs. Thorne.” Frances welcomed her shyly and walked past Lizzie who greeted Ada with dark circles under her eyes, alarmingly brushing against the peaks of her weary smile. She was still wearing her salmon-pink silk night dress and her long matching robe.
Ada heard another cough from afar.
“Tommy’s here?” Ada knitted her eyebrows. “He’s not working?”
“Yeah, he’s upstairs. He’s not well.” Lizzie hesitated to carry on, purposely omitting something as if she’d kept a promise.
“What’s wrong with him?” Ada asked and Lizzie watered her worries like a valve which couldn't be closed back up: “He’s been shaking all night, drenched in sweat. Worse than the men getting out of their shift at the BSA." She paused again before continuing: "Then, he walked up and down the hall because he couldn’t sleep. Talking, talking and fucking talking.”
The leather squeaked as Ada squeezed her purse in between her gloved fingers. “What was he saying? Could you hear?”
“It was incoherent — business stuff, Mosley, Michael, the war… his usual fucking burdens. He was relentless. Called Polly’s name as if she was there, in the room. He jumped when he heard the floorboards creaking and saw me, then froze until I asked him what the fuck he was bloody doing.” Arms still dangling along her lean figure, Lizzie imitated Tommy’s voice: “Just rehearsing a speech, Lizzie. Go back to bed.”
“Shit.” Ada swallowed thickly and nearly tripped as she adjusted her balance of discomfort. “There’s not even a fucking speech planned.”
“I figured.” Lizzie sighed. “Come in.”
Ada followed her inside the living room and closed the door behind them. She trusted the maids to eavesdrop and snigger on their master’s weakening if they could.
Lizzie poured herself a whisky and looked back towards Ada, who was sitting on a padded chair. She asked Ada if she wanted any, only with a glance. As though she shouldn’t.
Ada shook her head and Lizzie shrugged.
“So he told you, didn’t he? You didn’t seem surprised.”
Lizzie skirted the red sofa to sit down on it, facing Ada. She looked up: “He didn’t tell me, but I noticed it. He might think I’m a bloody idiot.”
“I’m sure that's not the case.”
“It wouldn’t change a thing.” Lizzie put her glass down on the coffee table, got a cigarette out of her case and slid it between her pursed lips. “Just before the sun rose, he came back to bed and woke me up, sayin’ he’ll be gone abroad for business soon. He mumbled it was for the best, that he couldn't be around the kids any longer, that anyone he touched got hurt.”
Ada felt it blooming, invading in the corner of her eyes.
A rose bud digging its thorns into her skin,
intertwining along and beyond her shin.
She had looked away but the tight knot in her chest knew no disguise.
“I was worried, of the spiral going down and down all over again. I called the doctor. He came earlier this morning.” Lizzie lit a match.
“What did he say?”
“Delirious from soberness. Yeah, I too wish it was a fucking joke.” Lizzie laughed humorlessly and brought the flame of the match close to light her cigarette. It warmed her pale skin, but enhanced the shadows swallowing her lashes.
Ada frowned. “What does it even mean?”
“He poured all his medicine in the sink and hasn’t drink a fucking drop of whisky since yesterday morning.” She shook her hand, leading the flames consuming the match to die, and threw the rest of the wood stick in an ashtray. “The doctor said that considering his history, he wasn’t supposed to stop all of a sudden and should have instead decreased the quantities gradually if he wanted to quit. It’s too big of a shock for his body. But you know how he is. I’d better brace myself for a bunch more shitty fucking nights, ain’t I? That’s what the doctor implied before leaving. As if it hadn’t been the same fuckin’ thing since Polly died.”
“Fuck. He does pick his time." Ada bit her lips.
"Yeah."
"Did he say why he put this upon himself?”
“No. With spring comes new hopes, I guess.” Lizzie swallowed a mouthful of whisky.