After she closes the door I finally bring myself to look at Banky. He's staring at the floor with his head in his hands. I wipe my eyes dry and gently sit next to him on the couch. I feel like I'm approaching a strange dog that could snap at me at any second.
"Banky?" My voice is quiet and a bit raspy. I'm emotionally drained, but this conversation can't wait. We've both waited long enough.
"You shouldn't have done that." He whispers. I was expecting yelling and cursing. Then again the conversation is just beginning.
"Which part?" This makes him raise his head and stare at me with disbelief.
"Which part?! All the parts you fucker! How could you do this? How the fuck is any of this even happening! FUCK!"
Now full of energy he's up and pacing the apartment yelling obscenities. He's good at yelling. He's good at a lot of things, but he really has expressing his rage down to an art. I act annoyed at his angry ramblings, but most of the time I'm fascinated by how and why he reacts so passionately to the small supposed injustices of the world around him. His rants, while fun to witness, are not usually about anything important. Never has it been about anything vital like it is now. I've never before had to worry about calming him down. Whatever inane thing it was that pissed him off, I always knew that he would get over it. This time it isn't inane. This time I don't know what he'll do.
I'm up with him now, standing close, but not too close. I want to stop his pacing. I want to grab his arm, pull him against me, hold him and never let go. I want a lot of things, but this isn't about me right now.
"Banky I'm sorry. I can't say I'm sorry enough. You're right it was all wrong and just so stupid of me to suggest any of it. I wasn't thinking."
"YES YOU WERE! YOU WERE THINKING ABOUT YOURSELF JUST FINE!"
He stops his pacing and looks at me. "Do you really think that of me? Do you?!"
"What do you mean?"
He rolls his eyes and exhales in annoyance. I just keep feeling shittier, but there can't be anymore misunderstandings or dancing around the subject. Everything needs to be out in the open once and for all.
Banky takes a few steps closer to me, looks me in the eyes, and in almost a whisper asks, "Do you really think that I'm in love with you?"
"Yes. Yes I do."
"Was there…I don't know…ANY OTHER TIME YOU COULD'VE TALKED TO ME ABOUT IT?! WHAT THE FUCK HOLDEN?!" He's walking away from me now scanning the kitchen counter for something as he keeps throwing at me all the words he needs to say.
"WITH HER HERE! SITTING ON THE COUCH WITH ME! LIKE I NEED HER AS AN AUDIENCE IN THE FUCKING FRONT ROW TO WITNESS THE FUCKING DISASTER THAT IS MY LIFE."
"Your life isn't a disaster!"
"WHAT THE FUCK ELSE WOULD YOU CALL IT?! I WAS GOING TO GO THROUGH WITH IT HOLDEN! I WOULD'VE DONE IT! FOR YOU!"
He finds what he was looking for, cigarettes of course. He takes a small time out from yelling to light one up and I take this opportunity to say what I should've said a long time ago.
"I know and I love you for it. I love you Banky."
That stops him in his tracks for a minute. He's just standing there staring at the ground, slightly shaking his head, and taking the occasional puff of nicotine. I decide it's not enough to just tell him how I feel, I need to show him. However, I also don't want to act like a selfish dick again. I gotta do it right this time. He's too important to fuck this up. So I'll take it slow. As I walk towards him I say it again, "I love you."
He still won't look at me, but at least he starts to talk to me again. "No you don't."
I'm an arm's length away and I try to reach out to him, but he jerks away and starts to walk across the room again.
"Yes I do. Banky, I know I fucked up, and I'm sorry. I hurt you and I'm so sorry. But, if all this shit is what made me realize how I truly feel then I'm glad. Because I love you Banky. I lo-"
"STOP SAYING THAT!"
He's staring straight at me now and his brown eyes are brimming with tears.
"YOU WERE GOING TO USE ME TO GET THAT DYKE TO TAKE YOU BACK NOT FIVE MINUTES AGO! THAT'S NOT LOVE!"
"DAMNIT BANKY I WAS WRONG! OK, I WAS WRONG. BUT I'M TRYING TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT…FUCK BANKY I CHOSE YOU! IF I TRULY WANTED THE 'DYKE' I COULD'VE HAD HER, BUT I DON'T! I WANT YOU!"
"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT!"
The tears are flowing freely down his face and I'm too confused to respond. 'Shouldn't have done that' ? Those words make no sense. Of course I should have. Fuck, I should've done it ages ago. How could me finally realizing just how deep my love for him goes upset him like this? As if he's a mind reader he begins to answer me. No longer yelling, but speaking through the tears in a sad defeated voice. I prefer the yelling.
"It would be one thing if you had got tired of her bullshit on your own. But to...give her up. To choose me over her? When I know what she meant to you. How happy she made you. You were so close to that fucking fairy tale happy ending, that I know you've wanted your whole life. And you gave it all up. For a closeted fuck, who doesn't have a damn clue of how to make you half as happy as you make him. Who has to follow the legacy that will always be Alyssa fucking Jones. It's too much pressure in an already fucked up beyond belief situation. How the hell can anyone even begin to live up to that?! HOW?! I know I can't. It's just too much. All of this is just too fucked up and I can't handle it. I'm sorry Holden, but I just can't deal with this. I gotta get out of here."
He's beyond crying now, but I can't seem to care. All I care about in that whole fucking tirade is, 'I gotta get out of here' They way he said it sounded so...final. Is he planning on leaving? He can't be! But there he goes, into his room and slams the door shut behind him. Out of nowhere this large lump appears in my throat and I try to call out to him, but nothing comes out. I start rubbing my face with my hands in an attempt to make the tears stop. I'm trying to stop my mind from racing, trying to stop the panic that's building up inside me. He can't leave. I can't lose him. I can't.