“That’s why I was asking, honey. That’s why I’m asking you all of this. I’m not questioning how you came to be here...I’m wondering how youmanagedit. How did you...how did you get down the steps of your porch? How did you drive—you gotta be terrified of driving. I would be fucking terrified.”
“Iamterrified. I was terrified.”
“But you did it anyway?”
“I did it anyway.”
“And you did it because...”
“I did it because I don’t want to be like this anymore. I did it because I want to be alive and in the world, not frightened and hiding from it. And finally I did it because I’m...I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I...I didn’t mean to make you think you’d hurt me. I really wish you didn’t think you’d hurt me. I just hurt myself, that’s all. I always—”
He didn’t even wait for her to finish. She was only halfway through her big speech on how much he meant to her and how foolish she was when he took two big steps to her and just hauled her right into an embrace. Not even an embrace, really. It was more like a huge, desperate bear hug that pushed all the air out of her.
But she gladly sacrificed it. She would have sacrificed nearly anything to feel that stroking, soothing hand on the nape of her neck, and the tight, tight way he pressed the side of his face to the top of her head. It was so full of relief and love and everything good, and once he was done with that part he led her over to a crop of stones so that she could sit. He knew she needed to sit.
Probably because he’d already heard what he was about to say, in a tone so tender it was nearly unbearable. “You don’t have to be sorry, love,” he said, as he stroked hair away from her face and took her hand in his and all the other lovely things. Oh, he always made it so easy, so easy.
Did he know how easy it was with him?
She didn’t think he did, judging by his next words.
“Please don’t think you have to be sorry. It was all my mistake. I was just shocked, I should have handled it better. I’ve handled it better a thousand times in my head—with gentle questions and respect for boundaries,” he said, while she tried desperately to come up with a way to explain. To make him understand that he already did those things. She hoped at least that it was in her eyes, even if she didn’t quite get it out in the following bunch of jumbled sentences.
“Youalwaysrespect my boundaries. It’s just that my boundaries are really fraught and surrounded by tigers with lasers for eyes and there’s probably a moat filled with lava and lots of unexpected scorpions springing out of the ground.”
“Yeah, the scorpions did kind of take me by surprise.”
“You could never have prepared for scorpions.”
“It’s true, I couldn’t. But even so...I don’t know why I yelled. I feel like I yelled at you,” he said, because he was an idiot. He was such an idiot. He was almost as much of an idiot as she was, in the inventing-things-that-didn’t-happen department.
“You didn’t yell at me. I yelled at you and you just had to get louder to be heard,” she said, though she could tell he still didn’t get it. He wasn’t seeing all the love she could feel just pouring right out of her body—he kept turning away and shaking his head and rolling his eyes over what a fool he’d been.
“Stop absolving me of everything. I did some stupid stuff.”
“Name one truly stupid thing you did,” she said, but only because she was sure he wouldn’t be able to come up with one. It threw her a little, when he did.
“I shouldn’t have thought you meantgo forever,” he told her, and yeah, okay, he had a small point there. He probably knew her enough to know that she’d just been scared and lashing out, rather than serious. Yet still, she couldn’t quite accept the blame he seemed to be levelling at himself.
“In your defense, it did kind of sound like I meant never darken my door again.”
“Well, what about the interview? I said live on national television that I thought I’d hurt you. You can’t say that was a good idea.”
“Even though it’s partly responsible for getting me here?”
“Especiallybecause it’s partly responsible for getting you here. You could have careened off the edge of a cliff. Do you even remember how to drive? When was the last time you actually did it? I can’t believe you even have a car that works and had gas in it, I...Christ.” He stopped, even more frustrated than he’d seemed before. And after a second of tutting at himself he explained why. “Sorry, I’m doing the thing. I’m doing the caring thing that you fucking hate. Five minutes in and I’m doing it.”
“Don’t say that. I don’t hate you caring.”
She squeezed his hand, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. He was still wrestling with some invisible problem. She could practically see its hands around his throat, as he did everything he could to fight back. He forced out words—words that he clearly felt were clumsy—stumbling and fumbling over most of them until she could hardly stand it. It was as if he were doing this in the dark.
He was being attacked by it in the dark.
“You know what I mean. I don’t mean caring, I mean...making you into a victim who can’t even drive a fucking car,” he said, and there it was as plain as day. That look on his face like someone searching blindly for something in the pitch black. He had no idea he’d already found it.
She had to show him he’d already found it.
“Stop, stop, this is...unbearable. I don’t want you to have to struggle like this to think of the right thing to say. Can’t we just...can’t we just go back to how we were at the beginning? Can’t we just watch movies and eat garbage and do all the sex?” she asked, and for a second she was hopeful. He looked at her at least, instead of staring off at some unfathomable thing that could never be solved. And when he did, his eyes were full of that warmth—that good, familiar warmth.
