April decides to surprise Ann at her house because surprised Ann lets her tightly-controlled Ann mask slip, lets April work her way in just enough so that she can rip it off and leave Ann all flustered and a little confused.
When Ann opens the door she looks upset already. Her eyes are a little puffy, a little red. "Why have you been crying?" she asks, not letting Ann try to hide it or ignore it.
"Hi, April," Ann sighs, moving to the side to let April come in. April steps inside. Ann's lame house smells like vanilla and cinnamon and there's some stupid movie with some guy with huge teeth playing on her TV. There's a box of tissues on the table and a little pile of crumpled tissues lying next to it. "God, who died?" April says.
Ann sighs and and says, "We need to talk."
April rolls her eyes and replies, "Can we just make out instead?"
"No! April, god," Ann says. She sits on the couch, collapsing against the blanket draped over the back. "That's. That's what we need to talk about, okay?"
"I thought we already did talk about it. You decided making out with me is great and that we should keep doing it."
"Okay, pretty sure I didn't say that -"
"You totally did."
"- but even if I did, I'm out."
"You've said that too."
"Okay, well I'm really done this time."
"Why?"
Ann stutters for a minute, like she just can't believe what April's asking her. "Because - because we just can't do this, okay?"
"That's not really an answer, Ann."
"Then it's because this just isn't good. I'm on the rebound and I'm hurting and I'm not totally convinced this isn't just some grand April game. And you're married and you're younger than me and every time I see you we're fighting and then we're making out but I'm starting to like you anyway." She stops talking, sinking into the couch, her eyes closed and god, April hopes Ann starts crying again. "And that just ... I can't, okay? I don't know whether it's because it's you or if it's because Eric just dumped me or ..." Ann's voice cracks and that's it, she's crying.
April sits down next to her. Her whole body is rigid when April scoots right up next to her and slides her arm around her back. "You're like, way overthinking this," April says. "Some dumb game would be way too much trouble just to have someone to make out with."
Ann lets out this choked little sob, this really ugly sound that makes April's head hurt a little because it's not like fun Ann crying or anything. "Ann?" she says, but Ann doesn't say anything back, just keeps crying. "Listen, um -"
"What the hell is going on?" she finally says, her voice all muddled with tears, and April knows that hot twisting feeling in her throat and her skin is kind of burning, she kind of doesn't want to sit still but Ann's holding onto her now, is gripping her hand like April's the life line and not the quicksand. April freezes. "I don't know if anything I'm feeling is real, like have I just been wasting all my time my whole life in every boring relationship or are you just -" After that, April doesn't understand anything she's saying, everything just one long wavering sound that makes April want to disappear into the cushions more and more every second.
She's pretty sure this Ann is not her favorite. She's never seen her like this before, like every trace of annoying chatty Ann is gone. All that's left is tears and every insecurity nobody but April ever sees, that Ann hides really well from everybody else with all that fake niceness. It's hard to look at her or listen to her but she's so there, something April can't ignore but that she really doesn't want to see.
She doesn't know what to say or do. Normally she'd say something mean but Ann is having all these feelings and it would just be like kicking a puppy and she hates people who hurt animals even more than fake annoying Ann.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she hears Ann whisper and it's like she's cracking now, like Ann is crushing her and her bones are splintering. Her tongue is thick and still in her mouth, her brain a fog and Ann's words echoing in her skull, no sound coming from her lips to meet them. Ann feels boneless against her now, her grip on April's hand faltering and fading.
She could tell the truth right now, leave Ann alone and never say anything to her again. But it would be like every mean thing she'd ever said to her put in a glass bottle and set on fire, thrown at a building that's already been burned down and gutted. This isn't fun anymore. Ann's no fun unless she's being mean right back but this Ann doesn't have anything but sadness and like twenty different insecurities that she's not bothering to protect now.
She rubs Ann's back, her hand trailing down soft fabric, moving over the ridge of her spine, her fingers dipping into the valleys between each bone there. "I'm sorry," she says, and it's even kind of the truth and Ann just holds on tighter and neither of them say anything for a long time, the credits of the stupid big-teeth-guy movie rolling and then the screen is black. April's hand hurts from Ann's man grip but she doesn't move even though she still wants to be anywhere else but at least Ann isn't crying anymore.
Ann sniffles again, and finally says, "I told Leslie."
"What?"
"I wasn't really planning on it." Ann's voice is stuffy and raw, her eyes even redder and her face pained. "It just. Happened. I can't really keep anything from her for too long, I guess."
April moves her hand up and down Ann's back again because she doesn't know what else to do. "What did she say?"
"She said ... sometimes you get into things with people that are a little over your head." April can tell that it's not exactly the truth. It's obvious in the way she says it so carefully, choosing her words so it's not quite a lie but not quite the truth either.
"What did she really say?"
Ann fidgets a little, runs her fingers over April's knuckles. "Sometimes you mess with people. And then take it too far. And then you don't know what to do."
It's exactly the truth but April can't let it be. She feels like Ann's kind of known all along, all the things she's said to April over the past few days, like she was right on the edge of it, looking right at the truth and then looking away."So why didn't you just tell me that?" she asks.
Ann looks at her like it's the wrong question to ask or at least not the one she was expecting to hear. "I don't know," she replies, "I guess I ... didn't really want it to be the truth."
"It's not." She hears Ann draw in a breath, quick and sharp but quiet, a little gasp that sounds hurt and hopeful at the same time.
"I told Leslie we would stop this. I would stop this."
"Well, don't."
Ann shakes her head and her voice sounds a little stronger now when she says, "We have to. April, it's just ... whether you mean to or not, you are messing with my head. Okay? I can't keep being around you and not knowing what to expect. It's making me paranoid and I just lost my mind today when Leslie asked me about you. I can't keep something like this hidden and it's not good for either of us."
Ann is giving her an out. She should feel relieved because her stupid little game can be over and she doesn't have to sit here and with her skin crawling and this creeping vine in her chest strangling her slowly.
But she doesn't. She feels even worse than she did when Ann was crying and she feels like something is being taken away from her and she just wants to dig her claws even more.
She thinks that whatever is here can still be salvaged, thinks about kissing Ann again but then Ann says, "I think you should go," and April can't come up with a good reason why she shouldn't. She drives back to her house, tries to distract herself by watching Andy play X-box, tries to forget about kissing Ann as she's kissing Andy, tries not to think about Ann when they're falling asleep in their bed, his hands wrapped around hers.
