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Kerry weighs up the two options, not sure which one is sadder. Attending a work party where everyone just about hates you, or sitting at the bar alone, daydreaming about the cute firefighter you're too scared to call? She pictures herself surrounded by beautiful women, happy couples, getting steadily drunker and more miserable; suddenly facing her colleagues sounds like a tantalising option.
Technically there's always staying in, curled up on the sofa with her battered old copy of Mansfield Park, but the house feels emptier these days. Before Kim, being alone had never bothered her.
On the way out of her door Kerry reaches for her cane, then hesitates. The room Mark's rented isn't far from County, but it's a hell of a schlep from her place. She's looking forward to the free booze, which takes driving off the table, and she'll have to walk at least part of the way if she wants to catch the L. She likes the cane for special occasions, but the pavements are slick and it's more decorative than anything else.
She opts for the crutch, and steps out onto her porch before she can change her mind about going.
The train is boiling, with partiers, bright eyed office workers with their ties loosened, and red-faced teenagers packed in like sardines from end to end. Kerry's palms sweat as she tries to hang onto the grab bar, her shoulder wrenching every time the carriage rocks. Condensation fogs the windows, and she stares at the ads that line the ceiling. Concerts that have passed, movies she'll never see, insurance and water and retirement homes.
The train screeches to a halt, bodies jostling her as people try to keep their footing and others spill out onto the platform.
"Doctor Weaver?", someone asks, cutting through the murmur of conversation.
It takes a second for Kerry to place the voice, and she squints through her foggy glasses at the woman now stood beside her.
"Abby!" She manages eventually. "Hi."
"You don't normally take the L. Planning a night of heavy drinking?"
"Nah, my car’s in the shop.”
"Right, right." Abby accepts. "Well, if you wanted to share a cab later, I guess we'd be going the same way."
"Sure, if it's convenient for you." She smiles weakly. "But I probably won't stick around too long."
"I'm not in the partying mood either." Abby returns Kerry's smile with a rueful one of her own.
They stand in an awkward semi-silence, grateful for the babble of people around them - and Kerry for the fogged up windows, that she can't see how flushed she's getting.
Abby's pretty sure she passed Kerry's car in the staff parking lot this morning, but she says nothing. So what if Weaver needs to gets wasted? Abby suspects a little alcohol might loosen her up. Carter even insists that Kerry is 'actually pretty fun, in her own way', so excuse Abby for being a little curious!
Her dark eyes flick to the other woman, who is frowning and staring at her feet. Her cheeks have turned a pretty pink in the cold.
The party is somehow crappier than either of them could have imagined. Everyone is in a foul mood, between the early December weather and a busy day at work, and even Mark's attempts to rouse people into karaoke fall flat. He eventually slinks off to god-knows-where with Susan, Kerry watching them leave from her booth in the corner.
Also, as it turns out, the drinks are not free. Not after your first one, anyway. And yes, Kerry can afford a glass or two of wine, but she also knows it would be cheaper to drink at home, and possibly less depressing - initial attendance was poor, and people are already starting to make a move. She can't see Abby anywhere in the ballroom, and resigns herself to paying full taxi fare.
She shoves her way through a set of double doors, and just as she's about to tackle the icy steps-
"Ow! What the fuck, dude?"
Kerry jumps a little, one hand still poised on the railing. The door swings closed, and for the second time that night she's face to face with Abby Lockhart.
Abby's lips are parted, like she wants to say something. No words come out.
"God, sorry Abby. Did I hit you?" Kerry ventures.
"Oh, no, it's nothing. I chose a stupid place to smoke." All the anger that was in Abby's voice seconds ago has trickled away. Her eyes drift down to Kerry's hand, red and wind-burned and now tightly gripping the frosty banister. "Um... did you want to get that taxi?"
"Do you want to?"
"It's no bother. I'm itching to get out of here. I know it sounds a little sad, but I'm looking forward to putting on my pyjamas, having a cup of tea, watching whatever trash is on cable..."
Kerry suddenly thinks about the darkness of her apartment, the janky radiator, the bedsheets cold as she slips beneath them. She imagines pouring herself an over-generous glass of wine, listening to a CD that reminds her of Kim, and crying herself to sleep.
She doesn't want to stay here, but she can't go home. Not yet. Not until she's tired enough to hit the mattress and pass right out.
"Thank you, Abby, but I think I'm going to go for a walk."
The other woman's mouth once again forms that perfect 'o' of surprise, her brain scrambling to catch up with the situation.
"What?" Abby swallows, not wanting to overstep. Kerry Weaver is still a bit of a mystery to her, she's not sure where she stands. "In this weather?"
Kerry shrugs, a nearly imperceptible movement beneath the bulk of her coat.
"I'll come with you, if you want." Abby adds. "I haven't finished my cigarette."
Kerry doesn't say yes, but she doesn't say no, just starts making her way carefully down the narrow stone steps towards the poorly salted pavement. Abby follows, shoes skidding on the melting snow, and pulls her sleeves down over her fingers to grasp the freezing stair rail.
Abby's not sure if Kerry's going somewhere in particular, but she dutifully follows along. Down random side streets and across gridlocked roads, Abby stopping to drag on her cigarette but catching up easily. They've trudged past the L station, followed the track for a while, and now cut off sharply down a road that's overflowing with exuberant life; colourful fairy lights adorn the bars, and laughing groups of friends unthinkingly clog the pavement.
"They look like they're having fun." Abby says eventually, wanting to break the ice. She gestures to a group of women in far less clothing than befits this sort of climate, hanging off each other and giggling as they cross the street.
"Huh? Yeah." Kerry says, barely giving the woman a glance. She hurries on forward, some of the clustered partiers parting for her immediately while others take their time and move back with apologies. Abby darts through the gaps in the crowd before they close up.
Abby falls in and out of Kerry's eyeline as they keep walking, but as she emerges onto a bright main road, Kerry realises she can no longer hear the click of Abby's heeled boots or her ragged breaths as she draws in more smoke. Leaning on a rough brick wall for support, she turns herself back around, suddenly untethered, adrift. Did Abby get lost? She didn't seem the type to just get bored and go home without saying anything.
Kerry starts back the way she came.
"Abby?" She calls. Her voice sounds desperate, pathetic to her own ears, barely audible over the music leaking out of pub-fronts and the excited screams of college students. Taxis screech past her, and she edges away from the road towards the mouth of a darkened alley.
"Kerry! Thank god!"
Abby steps out from the alley's mouth, almost panting. "I'm sorry, I should've said something rather than just running off- my ex, she just came out of nowhere, so I ducked in there for a few seconds. When I came back out you were gone."
They're stood in front of some speakers, and Kerry's ears are ringing, slightly. She probably misheard.
"She? You dated a woman?"
Abby's looks at her, confusedly, and then stiffens a little. Maybe not, then, Kerry reassesses. Maybe she heard perfectly.
"Not that I have a problem with that." she adds quickly. "I have lots of gay friends. I just assumed, with you and Kovač-"
"It's 2001, Kerry. Bisexuality is practically mainstream." Abby deadpans. Kerry looks aghast, terrified. "I'm sorry, I'm teasing. I just thought-"
"Thought what?" Colour is rising again on Kerry's high cheeks. Her eyes flick to the floor, back to Abby, back to the floor, and her voice is small when she continues. "What have people been saying?"
"Nothing! Nothing." Abby sighs, cringing at the waver of untruth in her own words. "I thought you were, y'know, an ally." A lesbian, Abby's subconscious helpfully provides.
"I am, I-" Kerry's breath catches for a second. She tries again. "I'm sorry for my reaction. I didn't know. And I won't tell anyone about you, Abby, if you don't want me to."
Abby nearly laughs at the other woman's solemnity, but instead she bites down hard on her lip. She's never kept her sexuality a secret from anyone, not even her mom, or her friends. She'd had her first girlfriend at 15, and been on a few dates with women after her divorce.
"It's fine, Kerry, seriously. I don't care who knows." She tilts her head, mock-thoughtfully. "Though I do regret telling Malucci."
Kerry purses her mouth at the mention of his name, but eventually says -
"He was an asshole."
"Total prick." Abby agrees. "Good riddance."
"Where are we going, Kerry?" Abby asks, eventually. They've been walking for the best part of an hour, conversation coming in fits and starts as they go in circles.
"Um- I wasn't really sure at first." Kerry admits. "I'm heading down to the water now. Unless you wanted to go somewhere else?"
Abby nods. She's stopped smoking, but her breath nonetheless comes out in silvery plumes that rise towards the sky. Bulky clouds gather above them, and she wouldn't be surprised if it started to snow soon.
"No, I'm fine."
As they get closer to the lake, the night grows darker and mistier. Abby's shivering a little, the back of her neck feels cold, her heels are growing uncomfortable. Kerry's pushing onwards still, but she's leaning pretty heavily on her crutch now, her limp more pronounced than Abby's ever seen it.
"Mind if we sit?" Abby asks, eventually. "These boots aren't made for walking."
Kerry snorts, a deeply endearing sound. "We're almost at the waterfront. My favourite bench isn't far."
"You have a favourite bench?"
"So what? It's a good bench!"
She's telling the truth. Comfy, well-maintained, a brilliant view of the lake. There's also a small silver memorial plaque for 'Henry', no last name - Abby wonders if he's someone Kerry knows, or if she's just sharing his spot for a while.
The two women huddle together as the snow starts to fall, hands to their chests and knees knocking. Abby's shoulders are hunched against the wind, and Kerry's pulled a hat from nowhere and jammed it on her head. Their noses are red and freezing.
"My place isn't far from here, you know." Abby says eventually. "It's warm."
Kerry shakes her head, not making eye contact, instead watching her finger trace the woodgrain on their shared seat.
"I can't." She says, simply.
Abby nods, swallows. Then it occurs to her.
"Oh, god. I don't mean it like that, I'm sorry. What was I thinking, telling you I like women and then immediately asking you to come home with me- trust me, Kerry-"
"It's fine, Abby. I didn't take it that way." She's still looking at her hands, thumb following a seam in one of the slats. "I wouldn't mind if that's what you had meant. I mean, I wouldn't be offended, or uncomfortable. You're right about me. I am a lesbian."
Abby doesn't respond, just scootches down the bench so she's pressed even closer into Kerry's side. They sit like that for a long time, Kerry avoiding eye contact, Abby watching boats off in the distance.
"I'm going to call the taxi company." Abby says eventually. "Where exactly do you live?"
"I think I'm going to stay here for a while." Kerry says, in lieu of an answer.
"Well - do you have a way of getting home?"
"I'll take the L."
Abby knows there's a station close by, so she says nothing. She trusts that Kerry will make it back okay.
"Goodnight, Abby," Kerry prompts. Abby rises to leave.
"Night, Kerry."