Both Godot and Phoenix had busy minds. It was unclear what Phoenix's was from, but Godot was predictable. He knew, and the man sitting across from him knew. It was disconcerting and uncomfortable to have him know so easily when he couldn't read Phoenix at all. Both of them sat on the couches in the waiting room, where they had an hour to spare. Neither of them had invited one another, but both of them had forgotten that daylight savings time had started and thus forgot to set their clocks accordingly. They woke up at what they thought was the correct time but it ended up being an hour too early. They had time to burn, and while they thought of something to say they both just sat there and tried to read one another.
Phoenix was difficult to Godot. No matter how much he looked at him, he couldn't read anything. He sat as casually and limply as he normally did, save for the fact that his hand covered his mouth in a way that was fidgety and uncommon. It didn't look familiar and it didn't seem comfortable. Of course, he knew he was sitting so attentively because he was trying to figure him out, but it just looked odd to him. It didn't look right.
"Mr. Wright," Godot began calmly, sitting back and grabbing his cup of coffee off the table next to him, "how well can you read me?" Phoenix straightened, but only just. "I see you over there; you're just staring at me. Your eyes can't lie." He remained in that same uncommon position for several moments before moving and shifting his weight. A slight smile twitched into the corners of his lips.
"Well, I haven't figured out much yet." Godot felt his heart leap with surprise. He expected Mr. Wright to have everything down by now. "You seem tense, but there's really nothing else I can figure out from over here." At that, Godot thought to hold his tongue, but almost without his consent he started speaking and found that he couldn't bring himself to stop.
"You'd be tense, too, if the love of your life died." The entire room seemed to fall into a thick air of anxiety. Godot held his hands together with a tightness that was probably unhealthy and his knuckles started to pale. Across the room, he noticed that Phoenix's lips turned several shades lighter and his face gave the impression that somebody had knocked the wind out of him. Godot dropped his head and chuckled, embarrassed with himself. "I'm sorry, I—"
"No," Phoenix began, but whatever else he was about to say was cut off as Godot raised his head and spoke.
"Let me forgive myself," he pleaded weakly. "Please." Phoenix detected depths of meaning under the simple thing he had said. They both stared at each other for a long time before Godot let out a laugh that was obviously to keep from crying. "Y'know, when you lose someone that close to you, you kind of realize how boring life is. You did everything—everything with them, and then everything you do just seems empty." Phoenix was quiet. This was a rant that was probably being held inside him; he probably needed to let it out. Yet his silence disoriented Godot and he paused for a long while as he tried to remember what he was going to say. "You can't listen to a song without thinking about the first time you listened to it with her," he said, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. He wasn't looking at Phoenix anymore, but the young attorney figured he was stuck in some memory and didn't distract him. "You can't—You can't eat certain foods because when you do you remember they were her favorite." He was getting a little louder now. Phoenix feared how loud he would get, and just in case he poised himself on the edge of the couch.
"I know how that is."
"No," Godot said, looking back at him with what he thought would've been a slightly angry face, had he been able to see his eyes. "Just stop. You don't know."
"I knew her, too—"
"You didn't love her like I did!" He nearly spat out his words, pointing fiercely at himself. He was angry, but he couldn't hide the crack in his words that had slipped itself into the end of his sentence. He stayed as he was, save for the subtle shaking of his head. "Nobody did," he exclaimed, and Phoenix was thankful to hear him lowering his voice.
"I never said I loved her." Godot lost his temper and threw his cup of coffee at him, but he managed to move quick enough to only get a drop or two splattered on his hand.
"That doesn't matter! You don't have to say it!" He was flailing slightly as he spoke and Phoenix did not argue anything. He already threw the coffee cup, and the only thing left on that table was a magazine, a lamp, and a jar of candy. He didn't want any of those thrown at him anytime soon. "You still could've loved her!" He stood up now and Phoenix could think of nothing to do but stand up himself. If he was going to attack him, he might as well be up and ready for it. "Did you love her, Phoenix?"
"Well, yes, but not in the way you did." He made sure to pick his words carefully, and the effort seemed to pay off; Godot wasn't attacking him, so he must've said something right. He began laughing, and this time it didn't show a shadow of sadness. It sounded hysterical and broken. It concerned Mr. Wright more then the throwing of the coffee.
"Goodness, I miss that woman." He sat down, smiling slightly and shaking his head in what Phoenix perceived as disbelief. Disbelief that she was gone, that one could be robbed of somebody so close. "And the worst part is that I can barely even think back on any memories with her."
"You two spent a lot of time together."
"I don't need you to assure me of that!" Godot snapped, staring up at him. "I know we did! I'm glad we did! It's because we did that it just kills me to know that I can't think of any memories with her!"
"Maybe it's just a state of shock?"
"It's been a while since she died, Mr. Wright; I highly doubt—"
"You loved her a lot and spent practically every day together. To have her suddenly die like that, you might very well still be stuck in shock." Godot stood up and grabbed Phoenix's collar, hoisting him against the nearest wall and slamming him into it.
"Shut up! Just shut up!!" He shook his head quickly and for a second gave a look of extreme ferocity. "If I could've stopped her from dying, heaven knows I would've! I would've loved that woman for days if I knew she was going to be taken from me!" Phoenix struggled slightly in his grip as he spoke, his words coming out slightly slurred with worry.
"Maybe that's just how it was supposed to be. Maybe she was supposed to go that day!"
"Even if she was, I would've loved her! I would've made sure she knew how much I cared for her! But I didn't and now that she's gone, I can't even think about whether or not I had ever told her how much I loved her!" He dropped Phoenix and thumped a fist against the wall, dragging his nails down it as he growled and grumbled. "I can't even remember her birthday." Phoenix wanted to say something, to console him to some degree, but he could think of nothing. "Mr. Wright…" He listened intently. Maybe now he could redeem himself. "Do you think she's in heaven?" He found himself growing very quiet. He didn't want to hesitate and put a doubt in Godot's mind about anything, but at the same time, he had to stop and think about his answer and how to word it.
"There is no doubt in my mind." He glanced down at his feet for a moment before licking his lips and watching the man in front of him, struggling to find any more words to say. He wanted to continue on what he was saying, but nothing came to his mind.
"She did nothing to deserve any less. In fact, she did nothing to deserve death, so what would I know about where she is right now?" He punched the wall harder this time, leaving a subtle crack and causing a picture to shake on its hooks. He let out an exasperated growl before turning on his heel to Phoenix, who stepped back slightly. "I want her back."
"I know you do," he responded in a gentle voice. He didn't want to say anything that might infuriate him further. Phoenix wanted her back, and there was no doubt that Pearl and Maya wanted her back, too, but Godot seemed convinced that nobody had the same feelings as he did and so Phoenix said nothing about it.
"I'm just sorry I couldn't be there for her," he grumbled, trying to keep his temper. "I could've protected her, if I had just known!"
"Nobody knew. Nobody expected it." Godot turned and kicked the wall now before slamming the lamp off the table. Although the sudden outburst had made Phoenix jump with surprise, he was incredibly thankful that it hadn't broken the lamp – or his foot. "It just seemed too early—"
"Y'know," Godot began, turning to look at Phoenix with a crazed twitch in his lip, "I'm tired of talking about this."
"Alright," he replied, shrugging. "We don't have to."
"But, ugh!" He turned and slammed himself against the wall, missing his visor by several inches. "I have to talk about her! I can't ever forget about her!" He banged the wall with both hands before stepping away from it and shoving his hands in his pockets. "But who am I kidding? I've already forgotten her birthday." He laughed desperately, shrugging with a forced carelessness and using a foot to scratch the back of his leg. "It's only a matter of time until I forgot her name, too!"
"You won't—"
"I will!" he exclaimed, impatience rising in his voice. He was ready to forget her and move on, but at the same time there was a frantic longing to do everything in his power to continue loving her and cherishing her memory. Yanking his hands out of his pockets with unnecessary force, he squeezed his fingers into his hands until the force of his nails caused his skin to split and bleed. Chances were that he felt it, but the chances were higher that he couldn't see the blood dripping through his fingers.
"Godot!" Phoenix exclaimed, looking around the room for a tissue to clean his hands and staunch the flow.
"Look, Mr. Wright," he yelled, pointing at him so suddenly that several drops of blood spattered on his face and the lapels of his jacket, "when you fall in love with someone, you let me know what it feels like when they die. You let me know how much you miss her, and then we'll talk!" He walked out of the room, crying slightly and slamming the door behind him, not completely aware of the fact that Phoenix had lost someone he loved almost as much as Godot. Phoenix only stood there, startled by what just happened before looking at the clock. The trial was going to start in fifteen minutes. There was no doubt in his mind that when Godot came back, there would be severe tension. But he would cross that bridge when he came to it; he'd have to.