#luisanna

Bagna w stanie Luizjana przypominają do złudzenia planetę Dagobah z Gwiezdnych Wojen.

Luisa is sober.

Or, well. She should probably say she's "recovering." Sober, the noun, feels like it's supposed to mean permanently, and she's not sure if she’s ready to commit to that yet. But she's been sober now for eleven and a half days--give or take a few hours. When do you start the countdown clock when you passed out and woke up still a little drunk?

She's never really been good with that. Precision.

Which says a lot.

(But look. Mateo is cute, right? She honestly did everyone a solid there. In the long run.)

"You're awfully quiet."

Luisa jerks her head up, startled out of her reverie. For a second, she'd almost forgotten Susanna was here. (That almost, it's important. There's a tingle in her skin whenever she's within five paces of a beautiful woman. Like she's a compass, straining at whatever's holding her back, trying to find north. Susanna makes her feel electrically charged, like she could static shock the whole world with her wanting.)

(Rose made her feel like she was being set on fire.)

"It's just--weird to be drinking an upper, I guess," Luisa hedges, waving her coffee cup. She's sure it's long since gone cold. She's never cared for coffee, but she cares about Susanna a lot, so... it's not like she was going to turn down the invitation.

Susanna smiles uncertainly. Luisa gets that look often; people never know when to take her seriously. But Susanna always does, in the end. "Have I mentioned lately that I'm proud of you?"

It's silly to be blushing.

"Not--no?"

"Well, I am." Susanna reaches across the table and takes Luisa's hand. Squeezes her fingers, gently. "Only a few days away from your next milestone."

"They don't give out chips for two weeks sober."

"That doesn't make it any less important."

They haven't kissed again. Not since Rose... well. Not since Rose.

(Seventeen days, five hours, two minutes.)

(Give or take.)

"I feel stupid," Luisa says, quietly. "For relapsing."

She's never actually said that before.

Susanna doesn't say a word. She just tilts her head to show she's listening, and rubs her thumb across Luisa's knuckles. 

"I know that drinking isn't something I can just turn on and off. And I know--I know--that the person I am when I drink isn't very..."

"Dependable?"

"--Lovable. I let people down."

"Maybe you do," Susanna allows, "And I'm glad you're taking responsibility for that. But that doesn't make you any less worthy of love, Luisa."

"Raph hates me."

"He doesn't."

"I'm an idiot."

"You're an addict," Susanna corrects. "And you're trying really, really hard. Don't let your regret for backsliding be a reason to keep punishing yourself, okay?"

"Or an excuse to keep doing it," Luisa mutters darkly.

Susanna's eyes are kind. "Or that. But it's okay to be having a hard time right now. You lost the love of your life."

"God, I hope not."

Her face falls. "Luisa... no. Rose is dead. You have to accept--"

"Oh! Oh, no. That's not what I meant. I know she's gone. I was saying I hope...” Stop talking! “I mean. I have a lot of life left to go. Is all I'm saying."