I could hear my dad cough down the hall. The walls of our home were very thin and closing the door didn't accomplish much more than shutting a curtain... I could hear my Dad laughing, a lighter sparking off, more coughs etc. Often I would hear him get into the cabinet that the TV sat on. This always intrigued me because normally the cabinet was locked. I could hear him crack a beer, more lighters... More coughs... Heard him make his way to the bathroom to drain then back out, more lighters, more. "That's exactly what I am, Dezzy," Liz replied. "Exactly that. They're blaming me for what happened to Nancy." Liz lit a cigarette. "At least some people are, and one of them is Clete Anderson." Why, how can he blame you, Liz? You had nothing to do with it."Liz took two drags on her cigarette. "Not directly, no. But- "Desirée looked at her friend, waiting for the answer to the mystery in the truncated sentence. "Come on, Liz. Tell me what you mean-"Liz laughed bitterly. "Clete and I, you. More

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