Blame It on Me

Baby, where are you at? Please text me back. I know we were fighting but Jesus, I didn't think you'd actually leave without at least texting me to let me know you were safe. Just let me know you're okay. Everybody else is worried, too. Where did you go?

Alicia sighed and pushed her hand back through her hair as she sat in front of the vanity in her bedroom the next morning, replaying the message on her voicemail for what seemed like the twentieth time. It was George; he'd left it this morning, frantic because she hadn't responded to the obscure, almost incoherent text he'd sent at three o'clock Pacific time. He knew she was never awake that early, and he knew she couldn't read text speak.

But still, it warmed her that he had at least tried to call her to make sure she was alright. Of course, it didn't help her anger subside any. If anything at all, his phone call and his text made her angrier. If he truly cared, why had he waited until three AM to get a hold of her when their fight had happened earlier on in the afternoon? Would he have really left her alone on the streets or out in the hallway of their shady apartment building for that long without trying to make sure she was okay?

She sighed and shook her head, flipping the phone shut. She wasn't going to call him back like he had requested; wasn't going to let him know where she was at. Why should she, she thought to herself. Why should she bend over backwards to contact him when he hadn't lifted so much as a finger to find out if she was even still breathing?

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she jumped when she heard her cell phone go off. A quick check on the caller I.D. told her that it was, yet again, George.

Oh, he must really be sweating now if he's calling me at eight thirty, she thought to herself. George was never awake before noon; and even that was rare. He was known to sleep in; known to stay up late. It was one of the things she'd gotten used to in their relationship.

She was tempted to answer, though she let it go straight through to voicemail once again before she picked it up to listen to the message he'd left. A part of her was feeling guilty for causing him to worry, though she ignored that part of her. He had it coming, she decided.

Alicia, stop playing fucking games with me, okay? I get it. You don't want to talk to me. I made you mad. I kicked you out; I deserve the anger. You can blame it on me. I don't care anymore. Just let me know you're fucking alive, please. Don't make me have to go down to the morgue or something because--

She sighed and flipped the phone shut, not needing to listen to the rest of his ramble. Damn straight, she'd blame it on him. He was the reason she was here in Colorado in the first place. She hadn't even been able to afford the plane ticket; she'd had to have her mother wire some money to a machine at the airport to get her back to Colorado in the first place. That never would have happened if George hadn't kicked her out; hadn't screamed, hadn't had a temper tantrum like a two year old.

She had just stood up when she heard the phone go off for a third time. She sighed, looking down. It was George again.

This time, she decided, she would answer.

"You scream or yell, and I'm hanging up the phone," she snapped at him, not even bothering to say hello. "Now, you're going to listen to me. Don't say a goddamn word, George," she continued. She paused for several long seconds, wondering if he'd actually listen. She smiled when he said nothing. "Good. Now, if you're so goddamn concerned about where I'm at...I'm in fucking Colorado. Cold, alone, and angry. And this is because of you."

"Baby, what did you go back--" He started before she cut him off, narrowing her eyes even though he couldn't see it.

"Shut up. I left because you told me to, asshole. I left because I had nowhere else to go; no one to turn to. I was on my own yesterday when you kicked me out, George. What was I supposed to do? Find a women's shelter?"

There was no sound on the other end of the phone for several minutes. It took George awhile to figure out what he wanted to say, though when he did, Alicia kept her mouth shut so that she could listen out of curiosity to what he had to say.

"You're right. This is my fault. I'm the biggest fucking asshole in the world for kicking you out like I did," he muttered into the phone, causing a slight smile to form on Alicia's face. At least he was man enough to admit it, she thought. "And we both know that we'll fight again; that you'll either storm out or I will, or one of us will kick the other out or some shit like that. But we both know we love each other, baby," he told her into the phone. "And we both know that fuckin' Colorado is the last place you want to be."

"You're right," she told him. "About the Colorado part, anyway."

He froze and for a few seconds, she almost felt his fear through the phone. "...You're saying you don't love me?" He asked her softly.

"No, you were right about that as well," she sighed. "But if I come back, George, things have to change. No more fighting. No more yelling and screaming and punching the wall--we can't afford that anyway," she muttered under her breath. "No more name-calling and no more kicking each other out. If I come back, things have to change or, as much as I hate it, I'm staying here."

He didn't reply right away, and that scared Alicia. What if she'd just scared him off? Of course, the thought of scaring someone as large and as intimidating as George was ridiculous, but it could happen, right? He wasn't the type of man who liked change. He wasn't the kind of man who liked to do things differently.

"Fine," he answered her. "Things will change. We won't fight anymore; not like this. Just fucking come home, Alicia."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. He was being impractical by asking her to come home; to leave Colorado less than a day after she'd gotten there when she hadn't even been able to pay for the ticket. But yet, it warmed her heart. She had known that breaking up wasn't what he wanted; that it couldn't be what he wanted. She pushed her hand back through her hair and then looked at the clock. It was early enough in the day that she'd be able to drive back to Denver if he wired some money to her. She could be back in Hollywood by the end of the day if he could do that.

"Wire me the money and I'll be on a plane this afternoon," she replied smoothly before she hung up, not letting him answer.

She knew that things wouldn't change as she stood up and grabbed the duffel bag that he'd thrown her things into. She knew that next week, they'd probably have a fight just like this one. Of course, she would think twice next time before flying back to Colorado. But they'd fight, none the less. It was a part of the relationship she'd come to accept, no matter how much she hated it. After all, that was what life was with George Ragan.