She got in her runabout and went to the Park to take her shift.
I went back to bed and stared at the ceiling fan as it made its lazy
turns, and felt like shit.
========= CHAPTER 5 =========
When I finally returned to the Park, 36 hours had passed and Lil had not
come back to the house. If she'd tried to call, she would've gotten my
voicemail -- I had no way of answering my phone. As it turned out, she
hadn't been trying to reach me at all.
I'd spent the time alternately moping, drinking, and plotting terrible,
irrational vengeance on Debra for killing me, destroying my
relationship, taking away my beloved (in hindsight, anyway) Hall of
Presidents and threatening the Mansion. Even in my addled state, I knew
that this was pretty unproductive, and I kept promising that I would cut
it out, take a shower and some sober-ups, and get to work at the
Mansion.
I was working up the energy to do just that when Dan came in.
"Jesus," he said, shocked. I guess I was a bit of a mess, sprawled on
the sofa in my underwear, all gamy and baggy and bloodshot.
"Hey, Dan. How's it goin'?"
He gave me one of his patented wry looks and I felt the same weird
reversal of roles that we'd undergone at the U of T, when he had become
the native, and I had become the interloper.
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