I can feel Kerry watching me. It's like a sixth sense. She's always had this way of looking at me with nothing but compete and utter honest emotions pouring out of her eyes. I've often wonder if she looks at everyone like that, or just the chosen few. If I was going to get all maudlin, I'd wonder if she looked at Sandy that way, or whoever came after. But it's entirely too nice here, sitting on the patio with my legs up, basking in the sun with a cup of coffee in my hand. I'm just going to sit here for a minute longer and enjoy it, every last moment and detail of it. I know it'll be gone sooner than I know - I have work tomorrow.
Work.
San Francisco.
California.
It all seems like it's so far away, and if I'm honest, I like it being so distant from me here and now. I like that for a few moments longer I can pretend that Kerry's life is mine, that I can slip into someone's life as easily as they can slip into my hoody. I tug the sleeves of my hoody, tempted to take it back with me, I remember buying it after a long hunt for the perfect one. Christy thought I was insane dragging her from store to store; when she found out I let Kerry borrow it she was sure I was certifiable. I couldn't help it, I liked thinking of Kerry in it. When I left, I thought about asking for it back but couldn't bring myself to do it, I just wanted to get rid of everything she had ever touched, wore or liked. I wonder if she even - "You can take it back with you." She finally murmured, stepping out onto the deck and sitting down on the chair next to me.
"It's yours. I considered it a write-off years ago." I smile and hold up my cup of coffee to cheers with her. "This really is a beautiful place, you must love it."
"I do. I never thought this is where life'd end up..." She looks out at the ocean, following my gaze. "Sometimes I wonder how long it'll last."
"Still the pessimist I see?"
"Still like to see every possibility and prepare for them."
"Some you can't see coming, Ker." I say, only half thinking of our situation.
"You're right. You can't. You just do your best to go along with them. It's not always a bad thing." She takes a sip from her coffee. The air between us changes and I know if I don't make my exit, this conversation will veer towards heavy territory that I'm not ready to deal with. Call it the San Franciscan in me.
"How big's your water heater? Think you've got any hot water to spare?" I smile, lowering my legs off the railing and rising.
"Sit a while." She invites me, looking up.
"I'd love to - but I should head back to my hotel and pack up before my flight."
"Are you ok?"
"Great! I've had the best night's sleep that I can remember, I got to eat all the pancakes I want and drink all the coffee I want. I'm a woman of simple pleasures." I reach down and place a hand on her shoulder.
"I mean, are YOU ok?"
"I've been better." I admit, "I've also been worse. I'm still here, so that's saying something." And as I speak I can feel the conversation careening off the rails.
"You know, you're the age I was when we first met -" She takes my hand off my shoulder and leads me back to my chair where I flop down, bringing my knees up to my chest. "I know what it's like, looking around at everyone and wondering why they get to live these 'real' lives."
"My life's real..." I mutter, knowing a) that that's completely not the point and b) that she's right. She shoots me a look and continues. "You know what I mean. You wonder why they get to be paired off, but you're too exhausted to actually engage in that. Sometimes you wonder why no one falls out of the sky in front of you. Sometimes you think dying alone wouldn't be too bad of an option so long as you don't have a cat to eat your corpse when you die."
"I have a goldfish. Had. He died. You know you can overfeed them?"
"Right when you're ok with all this, the dead goldfish and the possibility of being single for all of eternity, someone comes in. They're this amazing, beautiful person who wants to spend time with you, get to know you and makes you laugh and do everything you'd forgotten how to do."
"And then they leave. Or you leave. It doesn't last."
"Your right, it doesn't. Not all the time. But you're a new person when it's over. Someone who remembers how to laugh and smile. It begins again."
"And then it ends it ends. Do you see the common theme here Ker? I appreciate what you're doing but-"
"I'm not the same person I was when you left." She says. It comes out so easily, so smoothly. I blink at her.
"I don't know what you're saying."
"I'm not the same person I was when you left." She repeats, looking at me, squinting in the sun.
"In some ways you are. And in some ways I'm not the same person I was when I left. In someways I am." I sigh. There hasn't been enough gin consumed to make this conversation even remotely possible.
"Then we'll work through it."
"Towards what, Ker? You're here. I'm in San Francisco. You have a child, I have a dead goldfish. You have a house and I have a sublet. Do you see where this is going? There's very little to work through!"
"There's you and there's me. There's still this between us."
"And what do you want me to do about it? Because there's not a whole lot of options I can think of." She's looking at me with those eyes - and I remember what it's like to be Weavered all over again. "You know, I can shower at the hotel." I say, too tired for all of this. I get up make my way to the door. In the reflection of the glass I see Kerry standing, looking at me as I'm walking away. This feels entirely too familiar. I can't seem to go in, but I can't seem to look at her so I stand where I am. Rooted in place. I close my eyes for a moment to gather strength for whatever's going to come next, and when I open them, Kerry is between the door and me. She places a hand on my hip as she steps close and raised the other to my face. I can smell the soap on her wrist and the shampoo from her hair. "Or you can stay?" She murmurs, bringing her lips to mine. It's not an earth shattering moment. We had kissed last night. Twice. But it was...peaceful and calm. There was a promise of something more in the way she ran her hand through my hair, but the distance of what could be the last kiss between two people. Everything we were and had spoken about was right there in our kiss.
I could stay, or I could go.
It was entirely up to me.
"Or I could stay." I murmur, deepening our kiss. We'll figure it out. We will. Because while we may still be the same stubborn and determined Kim and Kerry we were in Chicago, we're not. We know what's important, and it's not pride; or fear; or anger.
It's love.
