Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

-T.S. Eliot

The Preface

In life, once one recognizes the problem, that person can begin to correct it. Once Lizzy realized she had lost her grip, her sense of self had vanished; she knew it was time iron out the wrinkles.
This all occurred to Elizabeth early one morning. It was still dark, but the sun would rise at any moment. Talking to Adam had never been so hard. Lizzy knew what she wanted to say, but it just wasn’t coming out. She loved him, but that was not the issue.
Music was the problem and the remedy. So, like a snake bite, the only thing that would heal him would be the venom. Was it really a poison, or was it just the way Lizzy chose to see it? Regardless of the truth, Lizzy knew that she needed to leave Adam so that they both could move on. Earlier that night, Adam's presence was larger than life. Lizzy had seen him perform hundreds of times over the last few years, but for some reason this time was different. It was the same band, the same music, the same crowd, but Adam was different. Lizzy had been out of town, and despite her reasons for the trip, she was thrilled to see him. They locked eyes, but it was clear he was not to be interrupted. That was all right. It had been a long time since she had seen him that alive on stage. Whatever it was inside of Adam, he needed to let it out; he had no choice. Lizzy was aware of that fact, but if life is full of choices, why was Adam’s situation so different? Why could he not compromise? It had been five years ago since Elizabeth Archer felt autonomous. Lately, it was difficult to define Lizzy from Adam, and thus Adam from Lizzy. They seemed fused together with the classic adhesive: codependency.

It was raining, and Lizzy had gone to the beach. You might think that this odd: the beach in the rain, but it was the most freeing thing she could do at that moment. The ocean always made her feel the most controlled and the most wild. She wanted to swim out until she would be too tired to swim back; she didn’t want to play a part in the social games of college. Lizzy was just was sick of the contradictions existing in “twenty something” girl sect: honest yet untrustworthy; concerned yet aloof; understood but misconstrued.
“I give up,” she shouted as she walked out of her house earlier that day. Yet now, she was in the water, and she made a decision. She chose Lizzy.
“I want to be me –only me… if that meant alone, than alone it would be.” When she realized she could care less about the so-called-friends, Lizzy swam back. There was no need to make a grandiose statement like most literary heroines. Her statement was indifference. Fuck ‘em.

Her legs were as heavy as her mind, so she went to her favorite bar to continue her contemplation. Lizzy just walked right into Vickery’s with sand on her feet and hair cured with the salty sea water. Alone, still, she looked around for the most inconspicuous seat at the bar and ordered a beer. While waiting, she tried to light a cigarette. Her hands were shaking; actually, her entire body was shivering. Lizzy was so cold by the beach and the rain, every time she would strike a match, her shivering hands would blow out the flame. Feeling so ridiculous, she had no choice to laugh. Her laughter didn’t imply she desired attention, and for the most part, she was able to remain hidden from everyone; everyone except for Adam. That was when she first saw him. They only exchanged looks. Lizzy’s expression, she felt, was closer to “leave me alone,” yet despite her mood, he warmed her with a comforting smile. Thinking back on that smile, he let her know he had been where she was -alone. They were two exhausted people, sick of trying to fit the mold.
It’s not that there is anything wrong with the traditional mold; what Lizzy came to call, the parent’s wet dream. Yet, despite her efforts, six years of rebellion, Lizzy had grown fond of that her parents’ dream. After college, Liz went directly to graduate school. Her parents believed their daughter to be highly motivated, but Lizzy knew graduate school was more about procrastinating the inevitable. After spending another four years reading, extracting, analyzing, critiquing, and writing, she and her PhD took a job teaching Literature at a small liberal arts college up North.
One thing Lizzy believed wholeheartedly was that she was a great professor. She enjoyed arguing the intent of writers. As she yearned for human connection, she felt most safe connecting with dead writers. Their words are permanent; therefore, she always knew where she stood in the relationship.
It was not long after she began teaching that she began to fall in love with the idea of the house, the Labrador, daffodils, green grass, children, thanksgiving dinners- the whole package. Lizzy kept these dreams to herself. She was aware of the fact that Adam wanted nothing to do with her conventional daydreams. Sadly, she would see all the students’ parents coming on campus throughout the semester. She was not exactly resentful of the Kate Spade cut outs; they were just too adorable. Every one of the women was petite, graceful, and energetic. Seeing these women never caused Lizzy to wonder where she went wrong, but perhaps, where she went different.
“Aren’t those types of women I ignore? I have spent most of my life distinguishing myself from these Country Club types,” She confided to her friend, Summer. “Maybe you’re growing up?” Summer replied, “I hate to break it to you, but you might be becoming practical.”
Perhaps, Summer was right. Certainty never came easy for Lizzy. Defining things by contrast undeniably takes an eternity, so her friends and family would oftentimes observe Liz in situations knowing the outcome. However, they never judged her; love and support was all they showed. It would not have mattered if they had criticized; Lizzy would have ignored them and went on her own way. She believed some of her greatest mistakes were made in reaction to someone telling her what they believed was the “right” choice. Although he was the wrong choice on so many levels, she knew she would never meet another man like Adam. He was unique, loyal, and absolutely crazy. He also would never be deemed conventional. Lizzy often noted how silence settled when Adam’s name came up in conversation. Her friends and family clearly did not want to say a word for fear of another “Elizabethan rebellion,” as they came to be known.

That afternoon at Vickery’s, when they first saw one another, they never said a word. Adam and Liz didn’t speak for months; they simply smiled at one another. Finally, she decided to introduce herself, but still nothing resulted. She took this a cue to let it go, but things seemed to change one day when Lizzy walked in to the bar, and once again she was enraged and cured by salty sea water.
It started out as a normal steamy, hot summer day, but she had accepted a co-worker’s offer to go sailing. It was a sickening hot, so sailing sounded perfect. Pascal was a German professor who had an affinity for sailing, and he always told her about his dream to retire in France with just a sailboat. Accompanying them was a little weasel from the Chemistry department, who preferred to be called Dr. Dan.
The evening started with beautiful ride through the Harbor. The apricot glow settling behind the horizon seemed timeless; the same view has been seen by those lucky enough to go out in the harbor for centuries. However, as timeless as the sunset, this harbor was known as a torturous route to sea. If the sailor does not know how to navigate the boat, the boat could be run aground. Pascal and Dan were determined to defy the odds and get the boat to sea. That they did, but it was a rough day. Unfortunately, Pascal had not installed the lifelines on his new boat. So, Lizzy spent most of the afternoon positioning her body behind the tiller, under the boom, and between the seats to prevent from falling off the boat.
After four hours, it was clear that Pascal had turned into a psychotic Captain Ahab. Water was coming in over both sides of the boat as Pascal and Dr. Dan jibbed to and fro. When we finally docked, Liz crawled off the boat promising never to re-board that with crazy Ahab. Pascal and Dr. Dan suggested that they go to Vickery’s for dinner, and Lizzy agreed knowing that she could ditch Ahab and Ishmael as soon as she walked through the door.
Perhaps it was seeing her with another man, but then again, maybe Adam loved with way she looked seasick windblown. Whatever his reasoning, he walked over to her and inserted himself between Lizzy and Pascal. Adam and Lizzy devoured drink after drink, making small talk until the bar closed at 2am.
Much of what Lizzy learned from Adam, she already knew from asking people at the bar. Adam was a musician, who came from a long line of artists. His uncle was a renowned photographer from the sixties and seventies but currently is known for his scandalous autobiography documenting his life in those decades. Adam’s father was a famous session guitarist whose name appeared on over one thousand recordings; those being the one’s he remembered. Much of that time, Adam cautiously disclosed, his father was battling his “inner-daemons”. His grandmother had been a well-known opera singer in San Francisco, and his grandfather was an English professor as well as a published writer. Lizzy often wondered if this had any bearing on Adam’s interest in her.

Weeks later, Adam finally called Lizzy inviting her to a small jazz show. The regular guitarist was in Seattle, and Adam was asked to sit in for a couple of songs. “I guess it’s sort of audition,” he explained. “If things go well, I suppose I would be a sort of understudy.”
This was the first time Liz saw Adam perform. Although Adam was a reputable blues guitarist, he was virtually unrecognized in the city’s fierce Jazz scene.
The night finally arrived, but the rain started pouring moments before Adam arrived at Lizzy's apartment. Needless to say, dodging raindrops in high heels would pose a problem for even the most graceful woman. Then add a guitar into the scenario, and one could imagine how walking might seem impossible. When Liz left home that evening, she was thrilled to go to a new place, and it was clear that Adam was becoming a dear friend. They had discovered all sorts of similarities, specifically their tastes in music.
As Lizzy stumbled down the street in what seemed to be a monsoon, she longed for a warm, dry place… preferably one with a vodka tonic waiting. They approached the club and headed towards a dimly-lit door with a faded awning. Thrilled to escape the rain, Lizzy pushed her way inside. With guitar in hand, she glossed over a steep, rickety staircase that led to drowsy doorman seated on the third floor. They arrived twenty minutes late and were completely drenched. Adam, who was scheduled to play during the second set, went directly to the band. Lizzy went straight to the bar. Vodka and tonic in hand, she wandered around this dark sanctum. A golden glow set off from the Fortuni shades gave the room an eerie sensation. Scattered over every dark wall were ominous faces; dark portraits painted by a patron. Every face seemed unfriendly, but at the same time intriguing –they each had stories to tell.
The people, those who were not painted, were unconcerned; they all appeared deeply involved in their own dramas. “Nice place to escape,” she thought.
As Liz continued wandering through this unusual place, she spotted Adam speaking with the bass player. Thinking it would be a good time for introductions, Lizzy walked over to Adam. Before she had a chance to say, “Hello,” the bass player harshly explained, “If you fuck it up, we’ll stop, walk off. We can’t be accountable for your bullshit.” Lizzy desperately wanted him to play the “dad” card; after all, his father was a legend. Adam kept his cool and said nothing. Lizzy felt that recovering any sort of pleasure from their first date was impossible; unless, of course, she wanted to fish it out of the gutter.
Supposedly, the show must go on despite the brutal conditions laid out by the bassist. So, after a brief introduction from the band, Adam jumped on stage with his guitar. Lizzy took a seat next to the stage to have a clear view of what was about to happen.
Pulling his guitar strap over his shoulder, Adam looked at the sax player, drummer, and bassist; he mumbled a title; they both nodded. The group steadily grooved into a Horace Silver standard, “Song for my father.” They played only a few songs together, and when they finished, Adam darted off the stage, threw the guitar in its case, and left the spotlight. Proud of his performance but irritated by their disrespect, Adam needed to get out of there. Ignoring all praise from the crowd, he pushed his way to the door. Lizzy followed him down the rickety staircase and to the street. It had stopped raining, but the gloominess of the night hovered over them as they walked home.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Would you like something to drink?” his roommate asked.
“Any Bourbon?” Adam replied. His roommate, Ryan, handed him the drink. Adam did not stay; instead, he took his drink into the other room. Down-hearted and defeated, Adam sat alone tuning his guitar, yet unbeknownst to him, Ryan and Liz watched from the threshold.
They watched and listened as the guitarist departed from his tuning and went into a melody; one born in his mind. Adam stood up, moved away from his chair. Every chord led him to something greater. Liz knew she was witnessing something metamorphic, but the guitarist knows nothing but what he plays. In a sense, he has left his body. Every crisp sound peals from the guitar making it impossible to put it down. Liz sat in awe. The fascination bred more music. The guitarist finds his way out of his song and takes his seat. Still clenching the guitar, one could almost perceive something intangible enter the guitarist’s body -- Adam had returned. Overwhelmed by the moment, the three of them sat in silence; the music still resonating.
The torture Adam endures to pursue his art was clear to Liz- even then, but somehow Lizzy believed that she could ease his pain. She thought she could absorb it, like a sponge; she could soak up all those deprecating moments. Unify the artist with the man so that they would not fight for the voice. What she really needed was an exorcism.... and, sadly, she was not Catholic.

For five years, Adam and Lizzy made the impossible possible. He was a musician; she was a professor. He worked nights, she worked days. Then there came the time when Adam slowly seemed less appreciative of Liz. He no longer showed the same level of affection and intimacy. Perhaps Adam realized she yearned for something more traditional –or even worse: secure.
Turbulent was one way she would describe their relationship.
“We don't speak as often” she tells her mother. “Sometimes I’ll even see a couple on television suffering from the same problems, but they are never afraid to accept the obvious answer…. Ups and Downs is a better way to put it, really” Lizzy confided, “Sometimes Adam's happy, sometimes he's sad. What am I supposed to do? I can’t abandon him. It's funny to me that I am ‘with’ someone, but I am always so alone.”
Down was more apropos - Inevitably, that proverbial straw came the day Lizzy decided to try and cheer up her despondent artist. Dinner…I will make a fantastic dinner; comfort food yet mouthwatering delicious! Straightaway, she went to the market for the freshest bread, oregano, thyme, basil, truffle oil... Every ingredient selected to ensure delectability. Yet, as Lizzy walked through the door to their apartment, she was not greeted with a hello or a helpful hand. She sought him out, ignoring the darkened living room. Liz walked around the house, and finally, Liz walked into the dark, living room and turned on the lights. She found Adam couch. Liz was unsure whether he was asleep so she leaned over noticing tears and a blinking of his eye lashes; both were illuminated by the glow of a television. Lizzy’s heart sank, and suddenly her enthusiasm has vanished. In fact, she wanted to go into her dark bedroom and sleep.

No. Must persevere; must be the strong one.

Lizzy sliced some bread and poured some olive oil on a dish to present as an appetizer for her five star meal. As she was about to invite him to taste the fresh baguette, the phone rings.
"Good Evening, Dean... No, I'm sorry I am not going to be able to play tonight. Yes, I have to cancel… I guess that is what I am saying... I apologize... I appreciate that... I will see you Saturday... Thanks again... Yes, sir... Goodbye"
Sounded like a good call, but her feet were greeted with the flying cell phone. Adam had thrown it across the room; not at Liz, but in frustration, hopelessness, and sadness.
He walked past Liz and the fresh baguette towards the bedroom. The baguette accompanied Lizzy, following him to their bedroom, but he shut the door and turned of the lights. Liz looked at the baguette, I guess he's not hungry. Mission Failed: She ripped a off a piece of bread, grabbed her bag, and headed out for a walk -destination unknown. At first, she thought she would just walk to the cemetery, but once she arrived, Lizzy kept walking. Liz continued down the hill, and stopped at the subway station. Looking in her wallet, Lizzy pulled out some tokens.
She had no book to keep her company but staring out the window seemed good for her needed contemplation: How can this go on? I cook, I clean, I wash, I provide, I smile, I joke, I encourage, I support, I praise: I try... I am always trying, trying, trying. Waiting for the day when he realizes that he owes me. He owes it to me to be a better man. At least, better than this!
Lizzy knew, more or less, where she was headed at that point. She exited the train, and pushed her way through the station, fighting to get on the train headed in what she believes the “right” direction. This time, Elizabeth takes the seat closest to the map because she wants to know exactly where she’s going.

Elizabeth muddled through her relationship for a while longer, but she finally ended things. It was true, she loved him, but that was not the issue. So, Adam stayed in the city to maintain the level of 2nd rate stardom he had established, and Lizzy headed south. The trip she had taken, was in fact a final interview, she accepted a position as Associate Professor of American and 18th Century Woman Literature. The change of environment would undoubtedly be inspiring; she needed that change.

For months, Lizzy was troubled by Adam’s sporadic attempts to win her back. Although they both knew it would never work out, he was still a ghost that haunted an already haunted southern city.
The new position was amazing, and Dr. Elizabeth Archer had not felt this boundless since that rainy day in the ocean. Until one crisp fall night, she walked home from her seven o’clock class. As she thumbed through her mail, she saw a wedding invitation from her friends Jack and Summer. Summer had been her closest friend since college; everything they did, they did it together. Jack and Adam had even developed a strong friendship. It had never occurred to Lizzy that she would not being making the same matrimonial step with Summer.
Moderately saddened by her choices, she poured a glass of wine and sat to grade her students’ paper. Maybe it was the wine, but soon Liz became overwhelmed by anger and sadness. All she could say was “why.” Liz finally collapsed on her sofa and closed her eyes…

A voice permeated her mind…
"FINAL BOARDING CALL FOR FLIGHT 8791; BOARDING OUT OF GATE 27C "
“Oh my God, that’s me,” she thought.
In a gust, Lizzy's friends blew past her sprinting for the gate. Her heart started pounding, and she began to panic. Her body felt lifeless and unprepared for what seemed to be the "great race." Not seeing the baggage obstructing her from the destination, she tripped and fell to the ground. Certainly someone would take notice of a wounded girl, but she was left in the dust of the blissful stampede of young men and women in desperately pursuit of the departure gate.
Brushing herself off, Lizzy watched the couples boarding two by two.
“Was it Noah’s Ark?” she thought. Having lost her “two,” and finding it most peaceful as a “one,” she began to wonder if “ones” were permitted to board.
"Good Morning," Lizzy said with a feigned smile, fumbling to hand the boarding pass to the flight attendant. The attendant quickly glossed over the pass and returned it to Lizzy with the same insincere smile. "I apologize, Miss. Archer but it’s not time for you to board"
"Oh you haven’t called my section?"
"No, I mean this is not your flight!"
"But I have a boarding pass"
"Yes, for the later flight... I am sorry, but it's just not time for you"
"All my friends are on this flight. We bought tickets together…"
"Be that as it may, you are not on this flight. It is clearly marked- this is not your flight."
Scrutinizing the ticket, Lizzy realized the flight attendant was not wrong.
"On behalf of Matrimonaire, we apologize for any inconvenience... If you would like to go to the Airport Bar, we will page you when your plane is ready for boarding"
"Well, how long do you think it will be?"
"Let's check... Oh dear…it doesn’t look good. It seems there are treacherous conditions around Limbo City; this may mean that there will significant delays getting into Indecision. It's honestly hard to say. Regardless, we'll let you know the minute we have some information"
Confused and very discouraged, Lizzy staggered to the airport bar.
“What am I supposed to do? My friends are gone… I am completely alone” Lizzy mumbled aloud to herself. Under normal circumstances, she would have tried to put on a better front; her mother always told her “Elizabeth, never air your dirty laundry in public.” At this moment, she was completely broken and didn’t care who was listening or who thought she was crazy.
The airport bar had an entryway that was illuminated with neon, script that was almost illegible. Lizzy stopped her muttering long enough to make out the name of the bar: “Travelin’ Light.” I wish I was, she thought, but Liz was still toting all her baggage. What a relief it would be to just throw it out.
"Well, hello there! What’s your poison?" The bartender inquired with a heavy British accent.
"Strychnine will do!” Lizzy giggled. She was only half kidding, but the bartender laughed as though it was the funniest thing he had heard. "Bad day, I take it?" “I guess...”
“What would make it better?”
“Liquor… but I don't want you to let me leave until I am very drunk... very, Very drunk." The bartender turned to his work. He positioned several bottles between his fingers and began to pour different liquors: the mean reds, the blues, and the greens with envy –they were all flowing into one shaker. That must be a wicked drink, Lizzy thought.
"Here you are, my lady, this here is something that I call Panic Attack? Not too fruity, not too painful. It does tend to leave you a bit breathless"
"So, it’s quite strong?"
"I suppose it is!" He handed me my drink.
"So, you are waiting for your flight?"
"Yes I am, but I have a feeling that it may not be coming, something about bad weather over Indecision? Either way, I have time for another Panic Attack."
"You should try patience, my dear" "I’m game, what’s in that?”
“I meant you should try having some patience.”
“Oh, I thought 'patience' was another drink you serve.”
“Afraid not, I was talking about the real thing”
"Hmm… anyway, I think I'll have a Panic Attack. You know, the breathlessness isn’t so bad once you get used to it!”
The bartender had not given his name, but he was a very tall, distinguished man, to say the least. You could see bits of gray running through his hair. He had a long, scruffy face, and he wore glasses. Undeniably, he was very handsome.
"Relax, your flight will come" he assured me. Just then, another person enters the airport bar. "Hello old friend” shouts the bartender to the man. “Hello old friend" he answers in a British sing song way. "It's very nice to see you once again... Just what is it that you think you are doing back there? You giving the little lady panic attacks, are ya?"
"The name is Paul" the new arrival announced.
"I'm Lizzy Archer." She went to stand up from her stool and must have slipped a little.
"That Panic Attack was stronger that the first"
"Are you getting Dizzy Miss Lizzy?” Paul shouted.
"Apparently I am... hiccup"
Very confused as to why someone would be a regular at an airport bar, Liz asked Paul, "Do you come here often?"
"When the Band is not on the Run"
Mmmm, another musician; fabulous! Un-amused, she turned to her loyal panic attack and took another sip.
"So, what has you down, Honey Pie? You miss a flight? No worries, there is always another plane leaving," Paul assured.
"…and that’s why I am waiting with my new friends... Paul and ... I didn’t get your name?"
"Eric... it's a pleasure to meet you"
"Likewise" she said. "Hiccup"
"You know, you don’t seem like you are in desperate hurry to go anywhere… You just seem Lonesome and a Long way from Home!" noted Eric.
"Sort of seems that way, doesn’t it? Honestly…” Lizzy paused as if she was going to say something personal but then closed up. “Oh, what difference does it make? I don’t even care.”
"Then why not go home?" Paul said.
"I don’t want to go alone… everyone’s gone"
"Well, she’s at a bit of a Crossroads, I’d say!" Eric noted. "
"You know, Miss Archer, as soon as you stop caring, you stop living." Paul seemed very optimistic; Liz seemed to really like him…
"All you need is Love! Ba da da da da"
Lizzy sort of choked on her drink. She was startled by Paul’s sudden burst of song. "Excuse me?"
….. All you need is love; Ba da da da da.
“Shhhhh… You don’t need to sing so loud, mate” Eric advised.
“Why are you singing, Paul?"
….. All you need is love, Love, Love, Love is all you need. “Love is all you need.” "Can I get my check, Eric" “Love is all you need.” "Yeah I get it!" Lizzy shouted exasperatedly.“Love is all you need….
Eric looks down at the bar. Breaking into song must be a frequent thing for Paul. Eric just shakes his head looking up at Lizzy with his eyes; the expression indicates “no tab.” She smiles and picks up her baggage and walks back out in the terminal.
Although Lizzy started this journey believing she was “traveling light,” her baggage was weighing her down. Although she loved the company of those nutty characters: Paul & Eric, she knew spending her time sipping on panic attacks and hanging out with pontificating artists, would not suit her long term. It was becoming that cliché: Nice place to visit, but wouldn’t want to live there.
There was no sense in heading back to the gate, so maybe she meandering through the terminal would lead her somewhere interesting. Feeling lightheaded and woozy from the alcohol, she was easily mesmerized by all the neon signs; they all seemed like emblazed distractions lining the halls welcoming in the aimless travelers.
For the first time in years, Lizzy wanted a cigarette. Perhaps it was the hopelessness of her trip, maybe it was the liquor, but when Liz stumbled up to the Duty Free shop ----