2
Meeting Halfway
Besides my problems taking strides,
it's only slight catastrophes.
Number all the outcomes,
and find out which ones are closest to me.
I said it might all be right,
right? Then can we begin?
I said it's probably all fine,
but you know me –
I'm unconvincing again.
To Tim's utter horror, Daisy burst into tears.
"Woah there, pickle," he stammered. "I didn't mean to shout so loud, just, just calm down, take a deep breath-"
"It's not that," Daisy sobbed, "I just can't do it!"
"Do it? Do what?"
"I can't write! I'm rubbish! I sit here and I sit here and all I do is fall asleep and eat half my weight in fucking Jaffa Cakes!" she howled, allowing her head to fall face first onto the keys of the typewriter. "Why can't I write anything?"
Tim paused to rearrange his thought processes to cope with Daisy's rapid change of subject. "Well, you… you haven't found the right inspiration, that's all. You're not motivated properly."
Daisy raised her head, a rivulet of drool coursing its way down her chin. "What do you mean?"
Tim stood from his beanbag chair and crossed the room to sit down next to Daisy at the table. "I mean, a lot of great artists draw on strong feelings to inspire themselves – sort of like what Brian does, you know? You can't expect to create something that will make other people feel things if you're not feeling those things yourself."
"Like your drawings of Sarah?"
Tim sat straight up from his slouched position. "Who told you about those?"
"Oh, I've seen you draw them around the house, you know, here and there," Daisy said evasively. "But is that what you mean?"
Tim frowned at her for a moment, but didn't pursue it. He hadn't exactly put much effort into hiding his drawings. "Yeah, sort of."
Clenching her fists, Daisy screwed her face up fiercely for a moment before it fell again. "It's no good. I'm just not as angry at Richard as you were at Sarah."
"Anger isn't the only emotion, Daisy," Tim pointed out sarcastically. "There's sadness, happiness, uh… Sappiness…
"But I'm not feeling any of those things, all I'm feeling right now is frustration and obviously that doesn't inspire me because if it did then I'd be able to write something!" Daisy lamented, and lay her head back on the typewriter.
"Then think of something else. Think of something that makes you feel a different way."
"I can't, I'm too frustrated," she groaned into the keys.
"Well... What about the flat? We've had a lot of fun here, this house makes you happy. Why don't you write about that?" Tim asked.
"I'm in the flat right now, Tim, and do I look happy?" Daisy's head shot back up so that she could glare at him.
"Yes?" Tim ventured. When Daisy's face darkened further he sighed and continued, "All right, no. But it's not like you're making much of an effort." Daisy's preoccupation with dramatics was one of the more tiring aspects of life on Meteor Street.
Daisy looked at him for a long instant before taking a deep breath and sitting back in her chair, squaring her shoulders. "Okay – you're right. You're right! I need to get out there and have a good time. We were losing the house, my birthday dinner was a fucking nightmare, Sophie left you – oh, sorry for bringing that up – very depressing, all of it. You're totally right."
He was? How often had Tim heard those words coming from Daisy's mouth? Something had to be up. "Right…" he said slowly, waiting for the punchline.
It arrived shortly thereafter. "I'll go find my shoes," Daisy told him decisively as she stood.
"What? What you want your shoes for?" Tim asked her in bafflement.
"Because I'll need them when we go out," she stated, like it was completely obvious.
"We?"
"Not that again, Tim," Daisy said tiredly. She went into her room and began rummaging amongst the piles of clothes within.
"No, I mean it – what are you talking about?" Tim demanded.
"You said I needed to have fun, to inspire myself. So we're going out." Daisy's voice came muffled from the back of her bedroom. "It was your idea."
Tim took immediate exception to that. "It was not my idea! I clearly said that I was going to stay in today!"
"It was, too, you were just saying how we needed to get out and have fun, be inspired…" Daisy's head stuck out her doorway and she held forth a yellow shirt for his perusal. "This look all right?"
He shrugged angrily. "Doesn't matter to me, since I'm not going," he told her as he strode quickly across the room and collapsed back in the beanbag chair. He really couldn't believe her sometimes. He wasn't going anywhere – he'd already made plans.
"Tim…" she started to whinge.
"Was there something you didn't understand when I outlined my day for you earlier?" Tim shook his head and picked his controller back up, determinedly fixing his gaze on the television screen.
Daisy must have gauged his obstinate mood and changed tactics accordingly, because she instantly went from pleading to confrontational. "You see? I knew it! I am always second best for you!"
He gritted his teeth and swallowed his immediate response, stubbornly ignoring her. Engaging her would only leave the door open for even more hysterics.
"It's always the same thing! Always! You don't want to go out with me, and then when you do you always want to do things your way!" Daisy huffed. "You told me to go out and be inspired, and friends are supposed to go out together, and now you're just sitting there like, like a lump, when I really want to spend time with you!"
"Daisy, what is your problem? Seriously!" Tim broke his short self-imposed muteness despite his resolve, unable to endure for the duration. "Why is this such a big deal?" He turned to look at her.
Under his scrutinising Daisy fell silent, not meeting his eyes. "I just want you to have fun with me," she answered lamely. "Nobody wants to go out by themselves..."
All Tim had wanted was to have a nice, relaxing day in the flat with his two best mates. Things had been going well enough until Daisy's writing frustrations had interfered. But he was used to that – she threw fits about her writing all the time. Her miniature breakdowns provided punctuation to the days and weeks, regular enough to be only slightly annoying. This seemed to be a more serious argument, though. Instead of the normal conflicts, something deeper had risen to the surface between himself and Daisy, and he didn't know why, what the problem was or how to fix it.
He did know that he needed to try. The previous days had made the stakes of his life quite clear.
"All right," he said, reluctantly surrendering. "Fine, we'll go out, and we'll do what you want to do. We did it my way last time so it's only fair."
"Really?" Daisy said, perking up. "You will?"
"Yes," Tim sighed, "I will. Just give me a minute to get ready."
Like a thunderstorm giving way to the sun, Daisy's anger evaporated and she smiled at him. Doing a giddy little jump, she rushed into her room for a change of clothes and then went into the loo to shower.
Tim stood where he was for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck, primarily feeling a great deal of apprehension. He knew he wasn't all that great at the emotional side of relationships, but he had come so close to losing Daisy, losing everything, in the last couple of days that he wasn't willing to take the risk. If there was a problem, and there did seem to be, they would just have to talk it out like the adults they (supposedly) were. It was a tough stance and in direct contrast to his usual methods of wilful denial and defensive belligerence, but Daisy was, well… precious to him, as sickening as that word was. He resolved never to use it again, even if only in his own head.
A knock at the door thankfully pulled him from his soppy soliloquy, and he walked over to answer it. The view out into the hallway revealed the smoke-wreathed visage of Marsha, who was looking surprisingly sober for one o'clock in the afternoon. Perhaps she had woken up late, as Mike had implied.
"Morning, Marsha," Tim greeted her, fixing a smile on his face that he was sure looked like more of a grimace. He was genuinely fond of Marsha, but at that particular moment he wasn't feeling very open to her meddling. However, there was still enough tension between them that he didn't feel comfortable trying to get rid of her.
"Is everything all right?" Marsha asked him perfunctorily, peering around him as best she could into the flat. "I heard you two were having a row."
"Oh. You heard that from Mike?"
"No, the floorboards." Marsha brushed past Tim and let herself in, settling into a chair at the table. "I hope it wasn't serious?"
"Ah, no, no. I think we've worked it out," Tim told her, trying to smooth things over.
"Well, good. It won't kill you to take her out every now and then, you know."
Tim supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Marsha was aware of the details. "We do go out sometimes, Marsha, but it's not like I have to take her out. We're not… together, after all."
"Yeah, I know that – now, anyway," Marsha said with a hint of rancour. "Doesn't change how she feels though, does it?"
"N-" He opened his mouth and took a breath to respond, and then realised he had no idea what she meant by that. He tried again. "Uh, I don't follow."
"I should think you ought to by now," Marsha scoffed at him. "I've already said it to you once, and it's not my place to say it again."
Whatever it was, Tim doubted it had been Marsha's place to say it to begin with. "Say what?"
"The answer to what you didn't follow." Marsha eyed him knowingly. "Think about it, and maybe you'll remember and come around."
Something she had already said about how not taking Daisy out didn't change Daisy's feelings? Tim blinked, totally confused. When had he and Marsha ever talked about going out, in any capacity? Never, as far as he could remember. He rarely had a real conversation with Marsha of any sort; most encounters were just listening to her with one ear and making affirmative noises at the proper intervals.
Marsha was still looking at him and he realised he should probably respond. He attempted to change the subject. "Yeah, well, thanks for the advice. Um, I'd offer you some tea, but I sort of need to get ready to go…"
"You really don't get it, do you?" Marsha sighed, shaking her head at him. "I was hoping after Sally chucked you-"
"Sophie," Tim interrupted. "And she didn't chuck me, she had a job offer." It was a very important distinction.
"Oh, right," Marsha said dismissively, clearly disinterested in anything to do with Sophie and her departure. "Anyway, I'll pop in to see you two later then – wouldn't want to cause a delay. Tell Daisy I said hello."
"I will, yes," Tim told her, doing his best to restrain himself from hurrying her towards the door.
"Bye-bye," Marsha said as she sashayed out into the hall.
"Bye!" Tim responded with as much cheer as he could muster.
As soon as the door was shut he breathed a sigh of relief. He could worry about what Marsha wanted from him later – right then he needed to get changed into something more appropriate for a day out.
It had been a strange morning in more than one way, but after tears and tantrums and unbearable frustrations, Daisy had got what she wanted. Sort of.
That wasn't to say that getting Tim out of the house with her wasn't a desirable goal, but rather that it hadn't even been an objective until he had given her advice about finding inspiration. His original idea had been for her to become inspired within the confines of the house, but she wasn't having any of that. She wanted to go out, and she wanted him to go with her. She'd experienced little enough of that when Sophie was around.
Her anger with herself for being unable to write had been released upon Tim when he had presented himself as a target, and then was just as quickly shunted aside for a greater opportunity. Daisy might have been happy enough to stay in and write (if she was able), but Tim's words about fun and motivation had set her to thinking. Insecurities could be a powerful thing, and in this case they had driven Daisy to give Tim a test.
And that was, after all, what this was all about – testing him.
In retrospect Daisy could see that her antipathy towards Sophie had been caused not by any personality conflict, but rather that with Sophie in Tim's life, he was often out of Daisy's. Over a year's worth of close friendship had meant more to Daisy than she had initially understood, and as soon as Tim began to fall behind on his end of it, jealousy hadn't taken long to kick in. Tim might not have been her boyfriend, but he was just as much, if not more, hers as anyone else's. So it had hurt when that had seemed to mean progressively less and less to Tim as Sophie monopolised his time and energy. Long nights of movie marathons, drinking games, Scrabble and sex noises had turned to long nights of Daisy staring listlessly at her typewriter in an empty flat.
But now Sophie was gone, bringing the ongoing test into the picture. She was no longer around to interrupt Daisy's life with Tim, ergo Tim should be more than happy to spend time with Daisy. It was very simple, at least in her own head. Putting that theory into practise had been a spur of the moment decision that hadn't immediately manifested the results that she had been looking for.
Sure, Tim had said that he didn't want to go because of his so-called 'plans' with Mike, but Daisy knew the real score. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but it seemed like the distance that had grown in proportion to Tim's involvement with Sophie was still in effect. The newly created gulf was troubling in its persistence... It had not closed in the absence of its original source.
Still, he had appeared genuinely bewildered by her accusations. Maybe that was reason for hope? Even more encouraging was his eventual acquiescence. Uncharacteristically, during the fight he had emerged from his protective shell of stubborn antagonism to consider her feelings. That in itself counted as a minor miracle with little in the way of precedent.
With some luck, they would have a lot of fun while they were out and Tim would remember the way things ought to be (Daisy and Tim: pub crawling best mates 4ever!) and go back to his old self. He probably still wouldn't want to go out very often, but at least when he did it would be with her.
Humming a hopeful little tune, Daisy turned off the water in the shower and dried herself. Stepping out the stall, she paused in front of the mirror to inspect her Asia-toned and tanned body. Not too bad at all, and, even with the weight loss, still bigger tits than Sophie, Daisy thought smugly. She put on the outfit she had chosen, including the yellow shirt she had never gotten Tim's opinion on.
After slipping slightly on the misted floor and banging her knee against the door frame ("Shit!"), Daisy made it out of the toilet without any further mishaps. Tim's door was closed, so presumably he was getting ready to go. At least, that'd better be what he was doing. With Sophie gone, perhaps he'd be unearthing all of his old Gillian Anderson wank material.
Daisy had originally been intent on a raucous night about town. Now that her enthusiasm had calmed somewhat, she was giving serious thought to the virtues of relaxing at the local pub with her best mate. She was, after all, twenty-six years old now – maybe she should try to be more mature, and settle for a quiet evening with a pint and some crisps rather than getting completely smashed. Of course, that would have to wait. It was only just past noon, and hardly the time of day to be spent in a dark pub. Perhaps Tim would be amenable to spending some time with her and Colin in the park? He could even bring his skateboard if he wanted.
Daisy was about to go do one last check of herself in front of her mirror when there was a knock at the door. She frowned. She could have sworn she had heard Tim talking to Marsha not too long ago – now who was it?
It turned out to be Brian, standing in the hall with his arms tightly crossed. "Oh, hi Bri!" Daisy greeted him. "How are you today?"
"Fine," he answered shortly, though not unkindly. "I was wondering if you had any cloth I could borrow?"
"Have you run out of canvas?" she asked him.
"No, I've cut myself, actually." Brian uncrossed his arms and held out his bloodstained left hand.
Daisy looked down at it, scrunching up her nose in disgust. "You're not dripping, are you?"
"It's all run down my arm."
"Over here, then." Daisy led Brian to the sink and handed him a clean towel from a cupboard underneath the counter. "Better hold over. I thought you stopped painting with blood ever since you had to have that transfusion?"
"I did," he assured her, gingerly wrapping his hand with the towel. "Just had a spot of trouble with some scissors."
"Well, I hope it's not serious because we're not going to be around tonight if you pass out, so you might want to tell Mike or Marsha you've hurt yourself."
"You're going somewhere?"
"Tim and I are going out today," Daisy happily confirmed. "Sort of a bonding thing, you know, flatmates out for a night of fun and excitement together, especially fun, even if it's not particularly exciting, since we've been most places already and all, but still lots of fun."
"Sounds… fun."
"Yes, I think so. How about you, Brian, what are you up to tonight?"
"I have an installation to plan. I'd like to base it around that banner I painted for Marsha – a moment of desperate, torturous honesty, forever frozen on a white sheet…" Brian's stare turned vacuous and fixed on a distant point somewhere over Daisy's right shoulder.
"...Well, good, good," Daisy said after a few blank seconds. "I'm sure you'll do great!"
"Thanks."
Both of them turned to look when Tim's bedroom door opened. "How do I look?" Tim asked Daisy, walking over to stand in front of her. Before she could answer he noticed Brian at the sink with the towel still wrapped around his hand. "Oh, hey, Brian. What'd you do to your hand?"
"Cut it."
"Bad?"
"No."
"I thought you stopped painting with blood ever since you had that-"
"He did, it was scissors," Daisy interrupted Tim, looking over his clothes. "You look good, fine – is that the same blue shirt that you…" she trailed off.
Tim raised his hands in a puzzled gesture. "That I what?"
"…Wore for Sophie?"
Tim regarded her silently for a long moment. "I'll change it," he said finally, making no other comment.
"I'll just pop out," Brian said following another moment of silence after Tim had left the room. "Can I bring the towel back later?"
"Yes, that's fine," Daisy told him. "Whenever you're done with it."
"I will. Good-bye," Brian said as he left, awkwardly closing the door behind him with his elbow as both hands were occupied with the makeshift bandage.
"Bye," Daisy said distractedly. Her mind was already reoccupied with plans for the evening.
Tim re-emerged from his bedroom wearing a red shirt that wasn't as nice as his blue one but that Daisy liked much better anyway. "Is there anyone we haven't had over today?" Tim asked rhetorically, straightening out his collar. "Seems like all we've done is answer the door."
"Tyres has yet to show himself." Daisy shrugged.
There was a knock at the front door.
Daisy and Tim looked at each other. "Well what the fu-" Tim strode over and yanked open the door.
It was Mike. "'Lo, Tim."
"Mike," Tim said in surprise. "I didn't think you were coming back."
Seeing Mike was something of a relief compared to the thought of seeing Tyres, who no doubt would have had some sort of plan for the evening involving loud music and dancing. Both of those things had their time and place, but for now all Tim wanted was a quiet night out so he could talk to Daisy.
"Marsha said you two had worked it out. I hadn't heard any shouting for awhile, anyway. Is the game still paused?"
"Yeah, about that..." Tim began. "We're actually going out now, sorry. It was her idea," he added.
"Out clubbing?" Mike asked, his eyebrows rising hopefully.
"No, just a pub sort of thing." Tim leaned in closer to Mike, lowering his voice. "Just the two of us, get it? I think I need to talk to her."
Mike nodded slowly, understanding. "Right you are, sir," he whispered back, winking at Tim. "You'll win her back, Tim-Tim, whatever was said before."
"Thanks, mate."
"You two have fun, then," Mike said more loudly, taking a step back. "I'll see you tomorrow if I don't see you tonight."
"Bye, Mike!" Daisy called to him.
"So long," he returned the farewell. Saluting Tim, he turned and went back up the stairs.
Tim closed the door and turned back towards Daisy, letting out a large breath and clapping his hands together. "So. What's the plan, then?"
"Well it's not really time to head out to the pub, is it?" Daisy noted. "How about we go out to the park for a bit of a stroll? We could take Colin with us."
Tim's shoulders slumped. "Daisy, tell me I did not just get dressed up so I could take Colin to the park."
"You got dressed up for later, and we're taking Colin for a walk now."
A brief internal struggle followed in which Tim ruthlessly suppressed his automatic reaction of arguing the point. It hurt, but he realized that he was just going to have to make some sacrifices if he was going to fix things with Daisy for good. Well… this thing, anyway. He was sure they would find something else to fight about in the future. They were good at that.
"Does he even need to go out?" Tim asked, making one half-hearted attempt to avoid the walk. "He's got that little door of his out back."
"But we were going to spend time together," Daisy said plaintively, "and Colin's one of the family, too. And we need to do something about that fence before he goes out there again, I don't want him to see that dog-pilfering, mad old hag anymore. She was all wrong for you, Colin!"
"Yeah, all right," Tim grumbled, surrendering. "Get his lead, then."
Daisy eagerly stood and started to gather up both Colin and his lead. Tim stood idly by and hoped, however unrealistically, that instead of blathering on about the dog, Daisy would talk about exactly what it was that was bothering her so much.
The really worrying thing being that he wasn't at all sure he would have any solutions when she did.
