Title: Turning Circles
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up through season 9, including A Thousand Cranes.
Archive: Would be loverly.
Feedback: Even more loverly.
Disclaimer: Yeah. Sure, why not? They're mine. Yay!
Man, if I thought I was confused before, that's nothing compared to what I'm feeling like right
now. Completely baffled works better. My mind is totally reeling. Really, I have no idea what
just happened.
I knew exactly why he rented out that restaurant tonight–what I can't figure out is why he didn't
do it. I'll admit that I'm not always playing with a full deck, and at times, I can be pretty clueless
about things. It was almost a year before I finally figured out that John wanted me as more than a
friend, and even then, I didn't figure it out until he told me. So, I can be oblivious at times. But
I'm not stupid. You don't rent out a restaurant just to have a conversation, and a very brief one
at that, about hoping that a relationship is going to last. He was going to propose to me tonight.
But the $64,000 question is, why didn't he?
Of course, the fact that I saw the ring pretty much sealed the deal. He went out and bought an
engagement ring for me. He had this fancy ass restaurant reserved for just the two of us, and he
backed out. What happened? He asked me a couple of nights ago. What changed between now
and then? Since I knew what was coming, I had been psyching myself up for it all during dinner
and then...nothing. I'm sure I'll be hurt about this later on, but right now, I have to get past the
confusion.
I know I wasn't supposed to see the ring. But it's not like I went looking for it. It fell out of his
jacket. It didn't look like the normal, stereotypical engagement ring box, either–it wasn't black
velvet. It was blue and it had a snap. So, I was curious and opened it. And staring back at me
was probably the most beautiful piece of jewelry I've ever laid eyes on. It was the kind of thing
I'd pick out for myself if I had to choose one.
I finally snap myself out of my thoughts when I hear Carter walking out of the bedroom area and
pour the boiling water into a couple of mugs. He comes up behind me and kisses my neck, then
takes his mug and moves to the living room, sitting down on the couch.
Can we say mixed messages?
Briefly, I consider that this is the end of us. That I've finally pushed him so far away that he can't
possibly come back. But he's here right now, acting as if everything is all right. Unless he's
waiting for something to happen; some sort of excuse to leave me so he won't have to just spring
it on me and find some sort of reason for it. If we have some sort of argument, then he'll have a
semi-justified reason for leaving me. But he was just saying that things were working out
between us.
Good lord. My mind can't stop running around in insane circles.
"Abby? Hello? Are you with me?"
I finally turn around and face him. "What?"
He looks at me, concerned. "Everything all right? You looked like you were a million miles
away."
I shrug and give him a small smile, knowing it looks fake. I pick up my own mug and head over
to the couch. "Yeah, everything's fine," I say as I sit next to him.
He doesn't believe me. Then again, I'm not trying to put on a convincing performance.
I really want to talk to him about this, but it's not exactly the easiest thing in the world to bring
up, you know? I want to ask him about the ring, but then he'll want to know how I know about
it, and why I saw it, and even though it was semi-accidental, I don't think he'll buy it. And if he
wasn't ready to really propose to me, since he decided that he wasn't ready to make that kind of
commitment to me, or that he didn't want to make that commitment to me, how does one go
about bringing up a topic like that? There's really no etiquette for this kind of scenario. Should I
let him be the one to bring it up? Should I call him on it? And if I do bring it up, will he feel
pressured to ask me to marry him? Because I definitely don't want that kind relationship. That
one's right up there with getting married just because you're pregnant.
John touches my shoulder and I jump. "You're doing it again."
"Sorry. I guess I'm just tired." I lean forward and put my mug on the table, then rub my face for
moment. "I'm going to take a shower," I tell him, then get up before he can ask any more
questions.
Oh, joy of joys. I think I can feel tears threatening to make an appearance. Apparently, I won't
get to deal with the confusion first, and then the hurt. Lucky me, I get a lovely little duet;
confused pain. Always one of my favorites.
I quickly grab my pajamas and clean underwear, then lock myself in the bathroom. I turn on the
water as hot as I can stand it, strip down and get into the shower. I make it just in time, too,
because I feel a tear trickling out of my eye.
I hate myself for crying like this. First of all, I shouldn't be crying over this, period. Second of
all, if I'm going to cry, I should be able to cry in front of Carter. But I don't want him to see me
like this. I don't want to have to explain why I'm so upset. And I really don't want to know all
the reasons why he didn't ask me to marry him. I suppose I could be a woman of the 21st century
and ask him to marry me, but I'm not at that point yet. Maybe once I work through all of this, I'll
be able to consider that, but definitely not right now.
And the tears are coming harder and faster. I haven't cried like this in a while. Not since I first
found out about Eric. I know crying is supposed to be cathartic and all that, but it just makes me
feel weak. I know crying isn't a sign of weakness, but I told myself it was for a long time, and old
habits are hard to break.
So much has changed and happened in less than a week. A few days ago, I was lying in bed with
Carter in the middle of the afternoon, singing. Tonight, I'm crying in the shower, too scared,
truth be told, to talk to him about why I'm so upset. I'm very scared about what he could say to
me, about his reasons for not wanting to marry me. I know I push him away, a lot, and tell him
that he should leave me while he can, but that doesn't mean I really want him to go. The part of
me that's selfish and needy and completely in love with him wants him to stay, no matter what.
But the part of me that's trying so hard to be selfless keeps trying to let him go, knowing he
deserves so much better than me and anything I might possibly have to offer. Which isn't much.
What happened tonight that stopped him? I have to figure this out. For my own sanity, I have to
know what happened at dinner that made him back down. I replay our conversations over and
over in my head. I keep coming back to the conversation we had just before dessert. That had to
be the point when things changed. But what was it? He really seemed fine for most of the
conversation, like he was building up to it. He talked about being in the right place, being in a
good relationship that he wanted to last...yeah, he was fine. He was smiling. Nervous and
twitchy, but smiling. Was it something I said?
My head rolls back and I sigh to myself. Of course it was something I said. I've never had a
knack for saying the right thing at the right time. But I didn't say much during that part of the
conversation. I wanted to know what the whole evening was about, trying to kind of prod him in
the direction I thought he was going in. I said I wanted the relationship to stick, and I said that I
didn't think people can change...oh crap. That was it. That was when he changed his mind. I
remember now. His face kind of fell then. Oh, Christ. I told him I didn't think that people ever
really changed. Is it possible I misunderstood the question? Change how? Then I thought I'd
misread the entire evening because he wanted to order desert and that was that. It's all I can do
to keep myself from banging my head against the wall. I'm just a little slow on the uptake,
apparently.
I finally realize that I'm staring, and that I have no idea how long I've been in the shower. The
water's starting to cool off, and my fingertips are quite prunie. I turn off the water and wrap a
towel around me, shivering at the temperature drop. I drag myself over to the mirror and pull out
my blowdryer, and start drying my hair. Not because I'm terribly concerned with my appearance,
but because I need some more time before I face him again. I also need to make sure that my
eyes aren't too red, and that any lingering redness can be passed off as having gotten soap in my
eyes.
When I can delay no longer, I dress myself in my pajamas and drag myself partway to the living
room, the knowledge of how I screwed things up weighing heavily on my shoulders. I may not
have a knack for saying the right thing at the right time, but I most definitely have a knack for
saying the wrong at the worst possible time. Way to go, Abby.
I stand in the doorway of the bedroom for a moment, watching Carter watch TV, oblivious to my
presence. "I'm going to bed," I announce.
"Okay." He grabs the remote and turns the TV off, standing up to join me.
"I didn't mean that you have to come to bed, too. If you're watching something, feel free. I just
wanted to let you know that I'm going to sleep."
He shrugs and walks over to me. "It's all right. I was waiting for you anyway." He wraps his
arms around my waist and brings me closer to him, pressing his lips against my forehead. I close
my eyes; I never knew that a simple gesture like that could make my heart clench like that, like
someone had reached into my chest and just squeezed. I reach up and put my hands on his
elbows, holding on, never wanting to let go.
"You smell good," he whispers, lips still against my forehead. "New shampoo?"
"No, same old stuff," I whisper in return.
"Hmm. Must just be you, then," he tells me, and I can feel him smiling.
Why is he doing this to me? I know it's not intentional, but why is he doing this to me?
I pull out of his arms and turn around, trudging to bed. I pull back the covers and climb in on my
side, curling myself up into a tight little ball, my back to him. I can feel him watching me, and I
know he knows that's something wrong.
I feel the bed dip beneath his weight next to me, and feel the heat from his body as he slides closer
to me, watching me, waiting. I don't think I've been in a position this fetal since I was in the
womb, but I need to hold onto something right now. Holding myself seems like the best option. I
want so badly to hold onto John, but I'm afraid that if I do that, it'll just make things harder when
the end comes, as it inevitably will.
He finally speaks, and I feel my body tense up even more. "Abby, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," I say. "I'm just tired."
"Then why do you look like you're collapsing in on yourself?"
I manage to give him a little shrug. "Just a little cold, I guess."
Wrong thing to say. He immediately moves closer to me, and carefully slides his arms around,
trying to warm me up. "That better?"
"Mmhmm," I mumbled. It feels better all right. It feels great to have his arms around me like
this. But wasn't I trying to avoid this tonight?
I try to even out my breathing, hoping he'll think I've fallen asleep and I really was as tired as I
said, but I can't make my body relax. There's no way he'll think I've drifted off if my body keeps
betraying me like this.
No sooner do I think that than does he ask, "Why are you tense? You're hard as a rock. Relax a
little. You're never going to manage to get to sleep if you're all curled up like this." He rubs my
arm a little, then moves his hand down my side to my leg, trying to loosen me up. I finally give in
and straighten my legs a bit, and his legs immediately find shelter in the space behind me.
God, he's killing me. I don't know if I can take this much longer.
"So, you gonna tell me what's on your mind?" he says quietly, his voice a deep, comforting
rumble, his lips close to my ear. "Or are you going to make me guess?"
I have to give him credit–he's not letting me get away with this. That's something I suppose.
The only problem is that now I'm going to actually have to tell him something.
After being silent for a minute or so, I finally say, "I've been thinking about what you said earlier,
in the restaurant, about us changing. I'm not quite sure what you meant by that. Did you mean
people in general, or us specifically? Because I don't think people can change, fundamentally at
least. There are some parts of you that will never change, but people do manage to change, to a
certain degree. I mean, a year ago, I was alone, too scared to come into my apartment. Now,
I'm with you, and I've never been happier in my life. I think you could call that a change." I
pause, thinking about my next words. "I think we've changed as a couple, too, if you look back
over the past few months. The first couple of months, I never wanted us to leave the beginning
stage of the relationship. I wanted us to always be all moony-eyed over each other and constantly
be in that state where all I could think about was you. But when I think about it, I'm happy with
what we have now. At the beginning of a relationship, there's still that fear, even if it's minute,
that if you're not touching each other somehow at all times, or not within each other's line-of-
sight, then the person you're with will just disappear, and you'll wake up and realize that it was all
a dream. But we've gotten to the point where we don't need to do that. And it's not because we
don't want to hold hands or be around each other, but it's because we're secure enough to know
that this is real and it's not going to just vanish if we're separated for a few hours. I love the fact
that I'm this comfortable with you now. I wouldn't want to go back to all that, no matter how
wonderful the beginning of a relationship is, because no matter what, I always want us to move
forward, as long as we're moving forward together. Wouldn't you call that a change? At least a
small one?"
Now it's his turn to remain silent for a while. I have no idea if it's a good silence, or a bad one.
The longer he stays quiet, the more nervous I become. I'm practically to the point of biting my
nails when he finally says, "Yeah, that's definitely a change. Is that really how you feel? I mean,
are you really happy with where we are now?"
I'm not sure how to answer this. I tried answering truthfully earlier tonight, and he decided not to
propose to me. What kind of response will this answer bring? Oh, hell, I might as well just be
honest. If nothing else, I'll get points for that. "For the most part. There's always room for
improvement, especially on my part, but I'm happy with the general direction we seem to be
going in. I'm happy with the progress we've made. Honestly, it's a lot for me. I don't know if
I've ever gotten to this point with anyone else." I stop, not wanting to say too much, but then my
mouth opens without consulting my brain, and I keep talking. "You mean so much to me, Carter.
I don't think you have any idea how important you are to me. I'm happy. I'm content. Even
when things seem bleak, I have you, and you have the power to make things better, even if it's
just a little." Why am I telling him all of this? Maybe I want him to know how I feel about him
before he dumps me. He should at least be able to make a well-informed decision.
"You're important to me, too, Abby," he answers, though I'm having trouble reading the tones in
his voice. "I can't imagine my life without you."
I try to swallow the lump in my throat and manage to whisper, "Same here."
And then that's it. The conversation is over. There's really not a whole lot left to say at that
point. Not unless I want to bring up the ring, but I really don't think I have the energy for that
conversation at this point. I'm exhausted, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep.
Carter, however, seems to be having no trouble falling asleep. I can feel him fading away behind
me, though his arms continue to hold me close. I can tell he's almost asleep when he tenses up
ever so slightly, becoming aware of himself for a moment. "I love you," he tells me sleepily, then
drifts off again.
That just about does me in. I feel a single tear drip out of the corner of my eye. "I love you,
too," I answer. God, do I love him. I just hope I can somehow manage to make everything right
between us.
My eyes remain open. Sleep just doesn't seem interested in me tonight. I tilt my head slightly so
I can look out the window into the night sky. Of course, I can't really see much of the sky. All I
can see are the twinkling lights of Chicago. They kind of look like stars, though. I wonder if I
find the brightest one and wish on it, my dream will come true. The question is, what would I
wish for, exactly? For us to get married? For us to stay together? Or for us to have a chance? I
just don't know. I don't think I know anything anymore. Are we all right? Will we figure this
out? Maybe Carter just got cold feet, and it didn't have to do with me. Right. Even I can't talk
myself into believing that it had nothing to do with me. Maybe I'll wish for us to never stop
loving each other.
I stare out the window for many hours that night, hoping and praying and wishing that we'll make
it through this, whatever this happens to be.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up through season 9, including A Thousand Cranes.
Archive: Would be loverly.
Feedback: Even more loverly.
Disclaimer: Yeah. Sure, why not? They're mine. Yay!
Man, if I thought I was confused before, that's nothing compared to what I'm feeling like right
now. Completely baffled works better. My mind is totally reeling. Really, I have no idea what
just happened.
I knew exactly why he rented out that restaurant tonight–what I can't figure out is why he didn't
do it. I'll admit that I'm not always playing with a full deck, and at times, I can be pretty clueless
about things. It was almost a year before I finally figured out that John wanted me as more than a
friend, and even then, I didn't figure it out until he told me. So, I can be oblivious at times. But
I'm not stupid. You don't rent out a restaurant just to have a conversation, and a very brief one
at that, about hoping that a relationship is going to last. He was going to propose to me tonight.
But the $64,000 question is, why didn't he?
Of course, the fact that I saw the ring pretty much sealed the deal. He went out and bought an
engagement ring for me. He had this fancy ass restaurant reserved for just the two of us, and he
backed out. What happened? He asked me a couple of nights ago. What changed between now
and then? Since I knew what was coming, I had been psyching myself up for it all during dinner
and then...nothing. I'm sure I'll be hurt about this later on, but right now, I have to get past the
confusion.
I know I wasn't supposed to see the ring. But it's not like I went looking for it. It fell out of his
jacket. It didn't look like the normal, stereotypical engagement ring box, either–it wasn't black
velvet. It was blue and it had a snap. So, I was curious and opened it. And staring back at me
was probably the most beautiful piece of jewelry I've ever laid eyes on. It was the kind of thing
I'd pick out for myself if I had to choose one.
I finally snap myself out of my thoughts when I hear Carter walking out of the bedroom area and
pour the boiling water into a couple of mugs. He comes up behind me and kisses my neck, then
takes his mug and moves to the living room, sitting down on the couch.
Can we say mixed messages?
Briefly, I consider that this is the end of us. That I've finally pushed him so far away that he can't
possibly come back. But he's here right now, acting as if everything is all right. Unless he's
waiting for something to happen; some sort of excuse to leave me so he won't have to just spring
it on me and find some sort of reason for it. If we have some sort of argument, then he'll have a
semi-justified reason for leaving me. But he was just saying that things were working out
between us.
Good lord. My mind can't stop running around in insane circles.
"Abby? Hello? Are you with me?"
I finally turn around and face him. "What?"
He looks at me, concerned. "Everything all right? You looked like you were a million miles
away."
I shrug and give him a small smile, knowing it looks fake. I pick up my own mug and head over
to the couch. "Yeah, everything's fine," I say as I sit next to him.
He doesn't believe me. Then again, I'm not trying to put on a convincing performance.
I really want to talk to him about this, but it's not exactly the easiest thing in the world to bring
up, you know? I want to ask him about the ring, but then he'll want to know how I know about
it, and why I saw it, and even though it was semi-accidental, I don't think he'll buy it. And if he
wasn't ready to really propose to me, since he decided that he wasn't ready to make that kind of
commitment to me, or that he didn't want to make that commitment to me, how does one go
about bringing up a topic like that? There's really no etiquette for this kind of scenario. Should I
let him be the one to bring it up? Should I call him on it? And if I do bring it up, will he feel
pressured to ask me to marry him? Because I definitely don't want that kind relationship. That
one's right up there with getting married just because you're pregnant.
John touches my shoulder and I jump. "You're doing it again."
"Sorry. I guess I'm just tired." I lean forward and put my mug on the table, then rub my face for
moment. "I'm going to take a shower," I tell him, then get up before he can ask any more
questions.
Oh, joy of joys. I think I can feel tears threatening to make an appearance. Apparently, I won't
get to deal with the confusion first, and then the hurt. Lucky me, I get a lovely little duet;
confused pain. Always one of my favorites.
I quickly grab my pajamas and clean underwear, then lock myself in the bathroom. I turn on the
water as hot as I can stand it, strip down and get into the shower. I make it just in time, too,
because I feel a tear trickling out of my eye.
I hate myself for crying like this. First of all, I shouldn't be crying over this, period. Second of
all, if I'm going to cry, I should be able to cry in front of Carter. But I don't want him to see me
like this. I don't want to have to explain why I'm so upset. And I really don't want to know all
the reasons why he didn't ask me to marry him. I suppose I could be a woman of the 21st century
and ask him to marry me, but I'm not at that point yet. Maybe once I work through all of this, I'll
be able to consider that, but definitely not right now.
And the tears are coming harder and faster. I haven't cried like this in a while. Not since I first
found out about Eric. I know crying is supposed to be cathartic and all that, but it just makes me
feel weak. I know crying isn't a sign of weakness, but I told myself it was for a long time, and old
habits are hard to break.
So much has changed and happened in less than a week. A few days ago, I was lying in bed with
Carter in the middle of the afternoon, singing. Tonight, I'm crying in the shower, too scared,
truth be told, to talk to him about why I'm so upset. I'm very scared about what he could say to
me, about his reasons for not wanting to marry me. I know I push him away, a lot, and tell him
that he should leave me while he can, but that doesn't mean I really want him to go. The part of
me that's selfish and needy and completely in love with him wants him to stay, no matter what.
But the part of me that's trying so hard to be selfless keeps trying to let him go, knowing he
deserves so much better than me and anything I might possibly have to offer. Which isn't much.
What happened tonight that stopped him? I have to figure this out. For my own sanity, I have to
know what happened at dinner that made him back down. I replay our conversations over and
over in my head. I keep coming back to the conversation we had just before dessert. That had to
be the point when things changed. But what was it? He really seemed fine for most of the
conversation, like he was building up to it. He talked about being in the right place, being in a
good relationship that he wanted to last...yeah, he was fine. He was smiling. Nervous and
twitchy, but smiling. Was it something I said?
My head rolls back and I sigh to myself. Of course it was something I said. I've never had a
knack for saying the right thing at the right time. But I didn't say much during that part of the
conversation. I wanted to know what the whole evening was about, trying to kind of prod him in
the direction I thought he was going in. I said I wanted the relationship to stick, and I said that I
didn't think people can change...oh crap. That was it. That was when he changed his mind. I
remember now. His face kind of fell then. Oh, Christ. I told him I didn't think that people ever
really changed. Is it possible I misunderstood the question? Change how? Then I thought I'd
misread the entire evening because he wanted to order desert and that was that. It's all I can do
to keep myself from banging my head against the wall. I'm just a little slow on the uptake,
apparently.
I finally realize that I'm staring, and that I have no idea how long I've been in the shower. The
water's starting to cool off, and my fingertips are quite prunie. I turn off the water and wrap a
towel around me, shivering at the temperature drop. I drag myself over to the mirror and pull out
my blowdryer, and start drying my hair. Not because I'm terribly concerned with my appearance,
but because I need some more time before I face him again. I also need to make sure that my
eyes aren't too red, and that any lingering redness can be passed off as having gotten soap in my
eyes.
When I can delay no longer, I dress myself in my pajamas and drag myself partway to the living
room, the knowledge of how I screwed things up weighing heavily on my shoulders. I may not
have a knack for saying the right thing at the right time, but I most definitely have a knack for
saying the wrong at the worst possible time. Way to go, Abby.
I stand in the doorway of the bedroom for a moment, watching Carter watch TV, oblivious to my
presence. "I'm going to bed," I announce.
"Okay." He grabs the remote and turns the TV off, standing up to join me.
"I didn't mean that you have to come to bed, too. If you're watching something, feel free. I just
wanted to let you know that I'm going to sleep."
He shrugs and walks over to me. "It's all right. I was waiting for you anyway." He wraps his
arms around my waist and brings me closer to him, pressing his lips against my forehead. I close
my eyes; I never knew that a simple gesture like that could make my heart clench like that, like
someone had reached into my chest and just squeezed. I reach up and put my hands on his
elbows, holding on, never wanting to let go.
"You smell good," he whispers, lips still against my forehead. "New shampoo?"
"No, same old stuff," I whisper in return.
"Hmm. Must just be you, then," he tells me, and I can feel him smiling.
Why is he doing this to me? I know it's not intentional, but why is he doing this to me?
I pull out of his arms and turn around, trudging to bed. I pull back the covers and climb in on my
side, curling myself up into a tight little ball, my back to him. I can feel him watching me, and I
know he knows that's something wrong.
I feel the bed dip beneath his weight next to me, and feel the heat from his body as he slides closer
to me, watching me, waiting. I don't think I've been in a position this fetal since I was in the
womb, but I need to hold onto something right now. Holding myself seems like the best option. I
want so badly to hold onto John, but I'm afraid that if I do that, it'll just make things harder when
the end comes, as it inevitably will.
He finally speaks, and I feel my body tense up even more. "Abby, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," I say. "I'm just tired."
"Then why do you look like you're collapsing in on yourself?"
I manage to give him a little shrug. "Just a little cold, I guess."
Wrong thing to say. He immediately moves closer to me, and carefully slides his arms around,
trying to warm me up. "That better?"
"Mmhmm," I mumbled. It feels better all right. It feels great to have his arms around me like
this. But wasn't I trying to avoid this tonight?
I try to even out my breathing, hoping he'll think I've fallen asleep and I really was as tired as I
said, but I can't make my body relax. There's no way he'll think I've drifted off if my body keeps
betraying me like this.
No sooner do I think that than does he ask, "Why are you tense? You're hard as a rock. Relax a
little. You're never going to manage to get to sleep if you're all curled up like this." He rubs my
arm a little, then moves his hand down my side to my leg, trying to loosen me up. I finally give in
and straighten my legs a bit, and his legs immediately find shelter in the space behind me.
God, he's killing me. I don't know if I can take this much longer.
"So, you gonna tell me what's on your mind?" he says quietly, his voice a deep, comforting
rumble, his lips close to my ear. "Or are you going to make me guess?"
I have to give him credit–he's not letting me get away with this. That's something I suppose.
The only problem is that now I'm going to actually have to tell him something.
After being silent for a minute or so, I finally say, "I've been thinking about what you said earlier,
in the restaurant, about us changing. I'm not quite sure what you meant by that. Did you mean
people in general, or us specifically? Because I don't think people can change, fundamentally at
least. There are some parts of you that will never change, but people do manage to change, to a
certain degree. I mean, a year ago, I was alone, too scared to come into my apartment. Now,
I'm with you, and I've never been happier in my life. I think you could call that a change." I
pause, thinking about my next words. "I think we've changed as a couple, too, if you look back
over the past few months. The first couple of months, I never wanted us to leave the beginning
stage of the relationship. I wanted us to always be all moony-eyed over each other and constantly
be in that state where all I could think about was you. But when I think about it, I'm happy with
what we have now. At the beginning of a relationship, there's still that fear, even if it's minute,
that if you're not touching each other somehow at all times, or not within each other's line-of-
sight, then the person you're with will just disappear, and you'll wake up and realize that it was all
a dream. But we've gotten to the point where we don't need to do that. And it's not because we
don't want to hold hands or be around each other, but it's because we're secure enough to know
that this is real and it's not going to just vanish if we're separated for a few hours. I love the fact
that I'm this comfortable with you now. I wouldn't want to go back to all that, no matter how
wonderful the beginning of a relationship is, because no matter what, I always want us to move
forward, as long as we're moving forward together. Wouldn't you call that a change? At least a
small one?"
Now it's his turn to remain silent for a while. I have no idea if it's a good silence, or a bad one.
The longer he stays quiet, the more nervous I become. I'm practically to the point of biting my
nails when he finally says, "Yeah, that's definitely a change. Is that really how you feel? I mean,
are you really happy with where we are now?"
I'm not sure how to answer this. I tried answering truthfully earlier tonight, and he decided not to
propose to me. What kind of response will this answer bring? Oh, hell, I might as well just be
honest. If nothing else, I'll get points for that. "For the most part. There's always room for
improvement, especially on my part, but I'm happy with the general direction we seem to be
going in. I'm happy with the progress we've made. Honestly, it's a lot for me. I don't know if
I've ever gotten to this point with anyone else." I stop, not wanting to say too much, but then my
mouth opens without consulting my brain, and I keep talking. "You mean so much to me, Carter.
I don't think you have any idea how important you are to me. I'm happy. I'm content. Even
when things seem bleak, I have you, and you have the power to make things better, even if it's
just a little." Why am I telling him all of this? Maybe I want him to know how I feel about him
before he dumps me. He should at least be able to make a well-informed decision.
"You're important to me, too, Abby," he answers, though I'm having trouble reading the tones in
his voice. "I can't imagine my life without you."
I try to swallow the lump in my throat and manage to whisper, "Same here."
And then that's it. The conversation is over. There's really not a whole lot left to say at that
point. Not unless I want to bring up the ring, but I really don't think I have the energy for that
conversation at this point. I'm exhausted, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep.
Carter, however, seems to be having no trouble falling asleep. I can feel him fading away behind
me, though his arms continue to hold me close. I can tell he's almost asleep when he tenses up
ever so slightly, becoming aware of himself for a moment. "I love you," he tells me sleepily, then
drifts off again.
That just about does me in. I feel a single tear drip out of the corner of my eye. "I love you,
too," I answer. God, do I love him. I just hope I can somehow manage to make everything right
between us.
My eyes remain open. Sleep just doesn't seem interested in me tonight. I tilt my head slightly so
I can look out the window into the night sky. Of course, I can't really see much of the sky. All I
can see are the twinkling lights of Chicago. They kind of look like stars, though. I wonder if I
find the brightest one and wish on it, my dream will come true. The question is, what would I
wish for, exactly? For us to get married? For us to stay together? Or for us to have a chance? I
just don't know. I don't think I know anything anymore. Are we all right? Will we figure this
out? Maybe Carter just got cold feet, and it didn't have to do with me. Right. Even I can't talk
myself into believing that it had nothing to do with me. Maybe I'll wish for us to never stop
loving each other.
I stare out the window for many hours that night, hoping and praying and wishing that we'll make
it through this, whatever this happens to be.