2 days Until the Wedding
The sound on the door is loud, persistent, insistent.
You race to it, fling it open and barely have a moment to process before she is moving past you into your kitchen, blowing past you with little regard. She tracks across the floor quickly, turning only once she reaches the other end to the refrigerator.
She regards you with red rimmed and wild eyes, gapes her mouth for a moment before closing it and licking at dry lips.
"Holly," you're asking, arm outstretched but body locked into place.
And then her eyes have set and the lines of her face are harsh and angry and she's speaking swiftly, her tone sharp.
"So, what? You're just going to leave?"
Her arms are wrapped securely, defensively, around her body as if shielding herself against the coming storm.
You let the words settle for a moment before sighing, running your fingers through your hair.
"I have some time-"
"That's not what I asked and you know it!" She's growling and you're tilting your head, confused by the hostility.
"I- Holly, I can't."
"Can't what, Gail? Huh? Be near me? You- you hate me that much?"
And you're pinching your nose and squeezing your eyes closed because this is the last thing you wanted or expected for the evening and you just begin to speak, to the hell with the implications.
"You know that's not it. You know it, Holly. I could never- Jesus fucking Christ, Holly!"
And then you're not closing your eyes anymore, you're training them on her still stubborn form and bearing them down upon her, white hot and penetrating. The words snap out of your mouth, steam forward, poison laced and bitter.
"You're the one- you're one who came back here and had to tell me that you're getting married. You're- you're not mine anymore, Holly. And- your friends- your fucking friends- coming around to tell me how much I don't measure up, filling my head with bullshit stories- I can't do it anymore, Holly."
Her eyes are softening then, her demeanor changing a bit to wilt with the weight of it all.
"What did she say to you, Gail?"
You scoff, the sound humorless to your own ears.
She presses once more a moment of silence later.
"Nothing I didn't already know."
And she's looking at you then with so much anger and so much frustration and you almost buckle then but the anger is coursing through your own veins and not just Lisa's face and words are flashing through your memories but Sam's as well. Sam and her lingering glance at the bar. Sam and her biting words that morphed to pleas.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean- nothing I didn't already know? You don't know a damn thing, Gail. What did she say to you?"
And she is so angry and so adamant that you know you an answer is all that is going to end this moment. So, you speak.
"Look, Lisa didn't mean anything by it and hey- it all worked out in the end. I'm actually-"
But her head is whipping up and her nostrils are flared and holy fuck that isn't who she's talking about and her hands are gripping onto the kitchen counter so tightly that you're afraid she's going to break it or her or both.
"That's not who I'm talking about!" She yells, face an exasperated mix of anger and confusion and frustration.
"I- Sam came home drunk tonight. She gets a little- truthful. She spilled. Wouldn't tell me what she'd said, what she'd done, just that- that I had downplayed how gorgeous you were, how- smart. And I had to- I had to come and I don't know. Apologize? Make sure you were okay or something-"
A heavy silence, a labored, shuddering breath as those familiar words invade your senses, make you squirm.
But anger is racing white hot and fast within you, too. Your heart pounds as it floods every orifice of your body, and you fight the bitter taste of hateful words on your tongue. But you're embarrassed and exhausted of all of this and Jesus fuck this hurts too much and you've had enough of it.
When you speak it's cold and low and your eyes are closed so you don't have to look at her.
This is it, you think, this is the time to burn it all down.
"Look-I told you earlier- I can't do this. What about anything I said earlier screams 'show up to my home unannounced and drag me into your personal wedding drama'? I am done, Holly. Go the hell home. To your fiancé. She loves you so much."
And her hand is slamming down onto the counter surface and the sound jolts you, snaps your eyes to her almost panting body.
"Don't you fucking- don't you dare, Gail. You tell me. You tell me what they've said."
"No." The words are quick out of your mouth, spiteful. You turn your steely eyes upon her and adjust your body so you are standing ram rod straight, a challenge.
"Go home." Your words are strong even as your lungs are collapsing, your heart about to shrivel.
This shakes her. For a moment she stares at you, takes you in.
"Tell me."
And you're not budging but then again neither is she and you're at an impossible impasse, too stubborn and broken to do anything but stare.
"I won't so- I don't know what to tell you. Ask them. I didn't- I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't come to them. I have been so goddamn good about- all of it- and look where it gets me. I didn't even mean to and fucked with your relationship. So, there's your answer, Holly. Ask them and go home. Because I'm not good for you."
"Is that what- because you know. You know that isn't the truth, Gail. Goddammit. I'm sorry that I'm here, and that I… talked to you that way. I'm just- Gail, I'm sorry. "
And Holly's voice is soft and hesitant all of a sudden and you draw your eyes to her face, devastated and conflicted and so goddamn sad.
And you feel so terrible all of a sudden, feel so responsible for it all.
"Hey, no- Hol, look-"
There are 6 steps from you to her. You take them quickly and close the distance. But then you're there and so close and you have no idea what to do except to stand there and put a light hand on her forearm.
She looks into your eyes, watery and sullen.
A light touch turns into a heavy hand on her face as it brushes the tears there away.
"It's okay," you're soothing as she leans into you, "I'm gonna be fine. Hey."
And both of your hands are cupping her cheeks and you wait until she meets your eyes level with hers before you offer and slight, reassuring smile.
"I'm going to be okay, Holly. I'm going to- go. Stay on the beach for a while, travel the States maybe. And you're going to stay and get married to someone great and you're going to be happy and we are going to be fine."
And her face is crumbling still but her eyes are lighter and maybe a little hopeful as she asks the question.
"You think?"
The words are so heavy and uncertain and you know- you know that this is the moment that you could take her in your arms and profess all of your long held desire, tell her of every whim and every fantasy since she left- fuck, when she first walked into your crime scene- that she would shudder and surrender in your arms.
But you can't- you fucking can't as much as you want to and god you want to. The words burn and burst in your throat and you close your eyes, ready to fire the last shot.
"I know."
And you're kissing her forehead, her cheek, lingering. And she's closing her eyes and breathing so shallow.
You untangle yourself from her gently, offer a watery smile.
You utter words you mean with every inch of you as she's closing the door behind her to go.
"Please, be happy. If anyone deserves it, it's you, Holly."
She doesn't have a chance to respond, the door already on the downward swing as it closes behind her with a hard, final thud.
A long moment as the silence begins to seep into you. The loss strikes you then and your hand finds its way back to your blown out chest and the only thing you can do is bow in the ruin of your kitchen, trembling.
The loud thud of the door against the concrete wall startles the hell out of you and you turn and right yourself with only a moment to spare before Holly is back in your apartment and grasping desperate handfuls of hair and sliding open, wanting lips onto yours.
You moan and respond immediately, your back pressed again the hard surface of the refrigerator. She's kissing you so fucking desperately and moaning wantonly in your ear and aligning her hips with yours and raking the nails of her hands down rolling muscles, singing skin.
And you know it's wrong and the tears that were in your eyes before she burst in are still there and still rolling despite your current situation.
Or maybe this was a symptom of the encounter.
The kiss was desperate, smoldering in its intensity, flaring brighter and brighter with each passing moment.
But you know, even through tangled tongues and growling words of regrets and stinging clutches, that this isn't the beginning of anything, isn't a grand proclamation. You love this woman, you fucking love her and if that doesn't shred you to pieces every day that you wake without her.
But she has family and wants and obligations and she can't-
You let yourself savor the final pass, the final breath and break the embrace. Stroke warm thumbs over her cheeks when she opens glassy eyes and meets them with yours.
"I mean it, Hol. I do-"
"I know."
Her words are melancholy.
"But the idea- the idea of it, Gail. Of not seeing you everyday- I-"
"It's the best thing and you know it. I can't, you can't."
A small laugh bubbles out of your lips.
"You know the drill."
Another long look, a chaste kiss on your lips.
"You know I'll always-"
You wince, bringing a hand to her lips.
"I know, Hol- I just, please don't say it. I don't think I could if you did."
And you see something shatter in her then just as you feel it collapse in your own chest. Because she won't say it if you don't want to hear it but then again she knows that now, you'll never hear it. She'll never hear your response.
Yes, she knew. Holly knew with every part of her how she felt about the woman in front of her- the way that made people write tomes and tomes of sonnets and stupid fucking fairytales with happy endings and stories of frozen time and love at first sight, the stupid and savage and all-consuming kind of love.
"Be safe, Gail." She breathes.
And she nods, and takes a final look, and she's gone.
And leaves you to sink in the aftermath.
Angst. Yeesh. Let me know what you think!
Whit