"Yes it was. You were at least three quarters of the way through when you got too stressed. That's the same night you emptied all the cabinets and scrubbed them down if I remember correctly."

"It's that anal nature of mine, I guess," Laura sighed. "When I had a wrinkle in the bed, Dad wouldn't just let me fix the wrinkle. He'd tear all the bedding off and have me start over."

"There's a difference between making the bed and throwing away months of hard work," Jenny pointed out. "You're the one who wanted to become a writer. You can't blame anyone but yourself for missing the deadline and you can't go back and change what happened." The whistle of the tea kettle made Jenny stand up. "You know the answer to your own question, Laur." Removing the screaming kettle from the stove, she poured the steaming liquid into her cup. "You know, someday they'll figure out a way to keep the tag from falling in when you add water." Setting the kettle on a different burner to cool, she added milk and sugar to her mug and returned to the table. "So? Have you figured it out yet?"

"You're playing therapist again, Jen."

"So I am. So are you going to have a fit and destroy the story, ruining any chance you have of ever getting it published and making money from it or are you going to take advantage of the extra time you now have to sit down and make the story the best you can?"

"It isn't that easy." Laura rubbed her face. Why do I get myself into these discussions with her? I always lose. "If the ideas won't come, I can't force them in order to finish the story."

"Then maybe you should look at what is keeping the ideas from coming," Jenny said, blowing at her tea before taking a sip. "I just can't seem to concentrate on the story. Alexandra seems

I don't know flat I guess."

"How so?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's just me. I'm just distracted, I guess." Laura's fingers traced the rim of her mug. "You know she became upset when I said we were friends? I don't think she had many friends growing up. How could she with a father like hers?"

"Laura, we can't go there," Jenny said softly.

"How can someone do that to their own kid?" she continued, ignoring the warning.

"There is no good reason, Hon, you know that. But I would say that anyone who can make it through that kind of horror deserves all the support he or she can get, don't you?"

"I hate him, Jen. I've never met the man and I hate him for what he did to her."

"We can't"

"I'm not talking about her," Laura said firmly. "I'm talking about me, about how I feel." She pushed the mug away, making sure it stayed on the . "How am I supposed to be supportive and listen when all I want to do is have my father get some of his military friends to go over and beat the hell out of him?"

"Do you think answering violence with more violence will solve the problem?"

"Don't play therapist, Jen. I don't want the high road answers." Laura pushed her chair back and stood up.

"You never did." Jenny set the tea cup down and patted the empty chair next to her. "Come sit down."

"No, I can't. I have things to do." Walking over to the sink, Laura opened the lower cabinet and removed the mop pail. "This floor is a mess." "The floor is fine and I'm sure you've mopped it at least once in the last twenty-four hours. Come on, Laur. Sit down and talk to me."

"I need to get this done, Jen," she said, testing the water temperature with her fingers. Once it was warm enough, Laura filled the pail before adding a healthy amount of cleaner to the water. Shutting off the tap, she hefted the pail out of the sink and set it down on the floor. When she turned to get the mop, she was surprised to find that Jenny had left the table and was now standing before her.

"Well if you won't talk to me then I can't stay any longer. It's getting too late. I know better than to try and talk you out of it. Do me a favor, though?" Jenny pulled her into a tight embrace. "Stop beating yourself up about missing the deadline," she whispered into Laura's ear. "It doesn't make you any less of a writer or any less of a person, despite what you think."

"You don't have to go."

Patting Laura on the back, Jenny replied "Yes I do. I'm not in the mood to fight you off, you octopus."

"Hey."

"Don't even think about it. I know you too well, Laura Taylor. If you think I'm going to believe that you're going to behave yourself tonight then I have a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you." Leaning in, Jenny gave her ex-lover a friendly kiss on the cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow."

An hour later the kitchen floor was mopped to a brilliant shine and the counters also reflected the same luster. Laura took her cleaning frenzy into the living room. Deciding that the table near the entryway needed a good polishing, she pulled out a fresh rag and the bottle of polish from the cleaning closet. While rubbing the cloth over the wood, Laura let her mind wander. You could have stay, Jen. I would have behaved. Her lip curled up as a devilish look crossed her face. Well, maybe not. Oh well, guess it's just me and my imagination tonight. The bright lights showed the multitude of fingerprints smudging the table surface. I can't believe you two. I just polished this yesterday. The pleasant scent of lemon filled the air as she moved the polish covered rag over the wood. I'm going to have to talk to Crystal about putting her fingers all over the place, Laura thought to herself, knowing her roommate was just as responsible for the smeared tabletop as her ex-lover. Deciding to check up on her wayward roommate, she quickly finished polishing the table and headed upstairs.

Laura quietly opened the door to Crystal's room. The night light plugged into the far wall outlet provided enough illumination for her to make her way over to the bed without stumbling into anything. "You awake?" she asked softly. "I just came in to check on you." Receiving no answer, Laura leaned over and tucked the edges of the blanket around the sleeping form. "I really wish you wouldn't get so wasted all the time," she whispered. "You don't need the drugs."

"Hmm?" came the groggy voice.

"Shh, it's just me," Laura replied, shifting back so her body wasn't too close to Crystal's. "I was just checking up on you." "Oh." Crystal rolled onto her back. "What time is it?"

"Close to ten. What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?"

"'round seven or so," the half-asleep woman mumbled.

"Well then roll over and get some sleep. It's going to be a long day tomorrow." Laura stood up and took a step toward the door. "Have a good day if I don't see you in the morning." She almost reached the door when she heard Crystal call to her.

"Laura?"

"Hmm?" It was several seconds before she heard the soft reply.

"Thanks for not being mad at me."

Laura walked back over to the bed and knelt down, resting her forearms on the soft blanket. "Hey, that's what friends are for, right? To help you when you're down?" Reaching out, she tugged the blanket up over Crystal's exposed shoulder. "I told you I'd rather come get you than have you driving like that. Now get some sleep."

After leaving Crystal's room, Laura returned downstairs to finish cleaning up before retiring to her own room. While the bed was a tempting sight, the computer proved to be a more powerful draw and Laura found herself watching the familiar startup logos and tests flash across the screen. Maybe something will come to me, she thought hopefully, reviewing the handwritten notes she kept next to the computer. Her main character, Bobbi, just saved a family from being killed in a warehouse fire and that was where Laura's creative juices trickled up. So now what? The family thanks Bobbi and she falls for the oldest daughter? Somehow thei.e.that seemed so good when Laura first started the novel now felt cliché and simplistic. Why would she fall for the daughter of the furniture baron? Laura rubbed her face. "This just isn't working," Laura said an hour later when no new words appeared on the screen. The sound of a door opening drew her attention away from the frustrating characters. Laura listened as Crystal made her way into the bathroom. A thump followed by a muffled curse drew her out of her chair. "Crystal? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I just ran into the hamper, that's all," came the reply. Laura turned her attention back to the paper before her. This just doesn't make sense. The whole family is there so why would Bobbi notice Julie and not pay most of her attention to Julie's father? The one that makes all the money? It's not like Julie looks ravishing all disheveled and covered with dirt. Laura struggled with the problem until she heard a gentle knock on her door. "Come in."

The door opened and Crystal poked her head inside. "It sounded like you were still up."

"I am." Laura motioned at the monitor. "I'm just working on my story but it doesn't seem to be cooperating tonight."

"It's your story. You don't know what happens next?" Crystal stepped inside and looked at the screen. "I don't see anything but a green screen."

"I minimized it." Laura reached out and clicked on the mouse. The screen filled with text. "I just had Bobbi rescue the furniture baron and his family from the arsonist who tried to blow them up in a warehouse fire. Now Bobbi meets the baron's daughter Julie for the first time and I can't figure out how or why she'd run into her again."

"And you're trying to put the two women together?"

"Well it is a lesbian novel, Crystal," Laura said, a smile forming on her lips. "The i.e.is that Bobbi and Julie become lovers and live happily ever after. Of course they have to go through all sorts of challenges and trials before that happens. But nothing's going to happen if I can't figure out what to do next." She leaned back, giving Crystal more room to look at the words on the screen. "See right now Julie's father is going to thank Bobbi for rescuing them and then the police are going to arrive. I can't figure out how to get her and Julie to talk to each other or even what they would talk about."