Her ears were still ringing with his voice telling her Zelena was pregnant, like the echoes of a bell in a church steeple. However, she was not down on the sidewalk enjoying the melodic chime of the bells; she was inside the bell, being jolted from one side to the other. The chimes deafening, stealing way possession of all her other senses.
She did not stop him when he followed her out of the apartment. She needed him just as much as she needed solitude in the moment, the reminder of a tear-stained page as the tie breaker. She walked involuntarily until she found a seedy joint that she was sure served hard liquor. His hand naturally found the small of her back as she took in the place, and she suddenly hated her sister even more. The touch that was created to bring her pleasure brought her pain in the moment.
Soon they sat silently, each trying to find answers at the bottom of the rock glasses in hand.
There were so many things to talk about. She tried to push past everything and simply enjoy that she was sitting across from the man she desperately loved, the man she thought she would never see again.
She mustered her first words, taking on what seemed to be the most manageable of the obstructions ahead of them. Her jealousy. In a more rational moment, she would be ashamed that these were her first words to him, but for now, the lightest of all seemed to float to the surface.
His mention of Roland put things in perspective a bit, and before long, she was reaching out to him. The only thing that hurt her worse than the ache she felt in her own chest was the image of the man she loved sitting across from her, lost.
He did what she could not do in the moment, he found hope in the midst of the darkness. They could be together, he told her, but she was barely capable of breathing in the moment, much less fighting off the pessimism life had soiled her with.
What do we do now?
His question hung tangibly in the air, a weight sitting between them. She sat the glass down, disappointed that it did not hold the answer in the bottom.
We go home, she told him with a nod of certainty. Without another word, she stood and headed for the door. He fumbled, trying to pull money out for the drinks before she could disappear from the bar. He failed. Out the door, his eyes flashed in every direction, scanning the shadowed faces for her. She was not running from him, but his desperation to find her certainly was precipitated by the feeling. He caught sight of her, walking in the opposite direction of the apartment. He called out to her, but her steps were sure. He called her name again, picking up the pace and bumping into one or two unsuspecting city dwellers along the way. As he rounded the corner, he expected to find her, but she had disappeared again. He shook his head in frustration, until he saw her tucked away in a barely lit alleyway. Her back was pressed against the filthy brick; she held her face in one hand and balanced her weight against a metal trash can with the other.
I don't know how to get back to where we were, she told him through tears.
His inclination was to reach out for her, to pull her into the comfort of his arms and wipe away her tears. He had noticed, though, her flinch as his hand met her back in the bar. He did not fear her rejection; he feared overstepping the barrier she put up to protect herself. If his touch brought her pain, then he would give her the space she needed, no matter how hard he had to fight against his craving to comfort her.
It's okay. We're just a few blocks away.
His focus was so directed toward fixing the immediate problem that he was oblivious to the intent of her comment, but the way she lifted her eyes to meet his, the pain that flowed freely from her at this point, it conveyed the meaning.
His hand reached for her, fingers to be buried in her hair and thumb to wipe away the tears falling from her face, but instead, he let it fall midair. He would wait; he would try to give her what she truly needed, time.
Or so he thought.
She abandoned the safety of the wall, colliding with him and burying her face in his shoulder. His hands instinctually found their home, one around her waist and the other, as earlier intended, buried in her hair. He pulled her close and whispered his love to her; neither were willing to accept space between them in the moment, as if to say nothing could break their oneness.
They held one another for a while. Two people who were designed to love one another despite the adversity of life. He kissed her forehead and reassured her that no matter how difficult, they would find their way.