"Mark?"
"Just get the hell away from me."
Joanne would never forget the look in his eyes at as he stared at her, as though for the first time. It was the first time, in a way. The first time since he found out.
He looks at me in wonder / He looks at me in fear / Wrestling with his anger / His pride, and stony tears
She would never forget the way his eyes welled up, and the way he did not let himself cry As long as she lived, she would never forget the pent-up tears of the one she'd grown closest to. He seemed calm, but it was only an act. She could tell, although so few others would have been able to.
"Get out of my apartment, Joanne. And just…please don't come back."
To place me in his life / Will be hard and slow / Does he want it? Need it? / I might never know
"Mark, if you could just let me explain…" She began sincerely enough, but halted her words even before he asked her to. There was no explaining to be done.
"There isn't anything you could say that would make me forgive you, Joanne. As soon as the word Pookie slipped past Maureen's lips, your second chance became nonexistent. You betrayed me." She nodded, because there was nothing to do but agree. As she was searching for something else to say, something to ease the awkwardness, he spoke again.
"You know how much I loved her." Pain crossed his face, and he corrected himself. "Love her. I'm in love with her, Joanne. I mean, I know how badly it hurt you when she came back to me, but I didn't go after her. I never once tried to go after her while you were together. Even when she left you, even when she came around here again, I checked with you. I came to you and askedforyour freaking permission before I let her back into my life, and you said it was okay. You said we were okay.
"So what happened?" She just shrugged dully, feeling more shamed by the glare of this boy, of her wounded best friend, than she had ever been before. Letting Mark down, breaking Mark's heart, cut her deeply.
Just not deeply enough.
"You know how she is, Mark. You know how Maureen is; she's like a hypnotist…"
"And you know how it feels to have her slip up, pout her lips and call you 'Pookie.' You know how it feels to know there's a Pookie out there somewhere who stole your place in her heart and her bed, no matter how briefly." Joanne cringed away from his words, but there was no avoiding their truth. He closed his eyes and filled his skinny chest with air, trying to regain that façade of calm that was beginning to slip. When he opened his eyes to go on, his lashes were wet, and his eyes were those of a stranger.
The boy feels strange / Oh, the boy has changed
"You know how it feels to have her come to you and tell you that it's over. Again. That she just can't be tied down, that she really loves you, but she needs to fly, she just needs to spread her wings and fly. But what you don't know, Joanne, is to hear on the tail end of her little speech that the new bird she's decided it's time to fly with is your best friend."
"Mark, I—"
"Save it. Just save it, okay? Go see her. I know you'd rather be there with her than here apologizing to me. You'd do it again if you could, wouldn't you?" Joanne dropped her eyes, desperate not to let him discover the resounding yes he would surely find within them. He laughed bitterly. "I know you would. Don't I know it.
"I love her, Joanne. I know you love her too, but that doesn't matter because she was mine." She opened her mouth to protest, to explain to him that Maureen is never really anyone's, that everyone has a fair shot. But she'd had her shot, and she certainly hadn't been fair. So she kept silent and let him continue. "I never would have done this to you, you know. Not ever."
Her entire being ached with the truth of his words, but again she said nothing. What was there to say? She knew that she had betrayed him, and he could think of no course of action which would lead to forgiveness. There were no words she could say; no apologies she could concoct; no pathetic pleading that would ever be enough. As he stood before her, wearing his pain on his chest like a badge, she was simply at a loss.
I want to reach out and believe him / Through his miles and miles of pain
It was that sense of loss that made her reach out and touch him. She did it without forethought, simply extending an arm and placing a hand on his shoulder in a way that was meant to comfort. Had she thought it through, she never would have done it. She never would have been so foolish as to think that she could possibly comfort him.
But she didn't expect him to jerk away like he did, as though her fingers were laced with poison, as though she could burn him with just a touch. As though she was everything unwanted and unclean reaching out to choke him.
As though she was the enemy.
Lately, when I touch him / The boy feels strange
"I asked you to get out, Joanne," he reminded her, still angling himself out of her reach. The need to do something to fix this, to make things right again, hadn't left, but she was resigned to that fact now. She nodded, backing away from him with her eyes on the ground. Before pulling the door shut, she turned to face him one last time. She had to say what she came to say, at least once. Maureen had told her to.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, so quietly that she feared she would have to repeat herself if he was to hear it. He gave no indication that he had heard her until she cleared her throat to say it again. Then he shook his head once, shortly, dismissing both her and her apology. Her breath was wasted.
She left without a word, and he cried.
The lyrics in italics are from The Boy Feels Strange, by Melissa Etheridge. I still haven't quiet decided if I'm going to leave them in, or if they're just a distraction that should be taken out. I'd love to hear your opinions on the matter!