"You have to play your part, my dear.
I've written it all down for you.
It doesn't matter if the things you say to me aren't true.
Just do it, then I'll let you go.
Just say the words and say them slowly.
I promise I'll tell no one; yes, I cross my heart and hope to die."
~John Grant, "Where Dreams Go To Die"

December 1999-January 2000

Look, I know there isn't much time left before it becomes midnight, and people are eventually going to wonder where we are. I'm going to try to keep this brief, but there was no way I could say everything I wanted to while there were so many people surrounding us. I almost didn't come tonight, I almost opted for a New Year's Eve celebration alone in my apartment, because I knew that with everyone you had invited—or it might have been him orchestrating the whole thing, I don't know—we couldn't find time for each other, and I would be caught in the same predicament I was in at Thanksgiving. But this couldn't wait. I'm finally able to put everything into words, and I need you to listen to me. I hope I can remember everything. Even if I can't, there's no going back.

I know what I want, Karen.

I think, on some level, it's what I always wanted. It was a subconscious part of what drove me to kiss your cheek back in April, shamefully taking advantage of a situation that I shouldn't have taken advantage of. It was a subconscious part of why I told you to come by my place that night after you kissed me in the swatch room. And it's part of why I'm addicted to our encounters, although I was becoming more and more aware of it as the days go by, until it became the main reason for my actions. But I could never really think about it, at least not with every fiber of my being the way I wanted to, until you said something last month, out on Will's balcony. When you told me that you knew the fundamentals of our situation, but beyond that you were clueless, I knew that you thought about it. Maybe not as much as I do—it's constantly on my mind now—but you were still thinking about it.

And that made it okay to finally sit down and hash this out on my own.

Before I tell you this, there is something that I want you to know; I love the way you touch me. I love the way you move towards me with that smirk playing across your face that tells me that I'm in for quite a ride. I love when you plunge your lips into my skin, and I love the way you sigh when I return the favor. I wish I could tell you what you do to me, but to be honest, I don't have the words to express it, they aren't in my vocabulary. They're probably not in anyone's vocabulary; that's how much you rock me. And all I've ever wanted to do was to be able to make you feel even an ounce of what you make me feel. That's the reason why I keep asking questions, trying to get some clearer picture of you as a person, so I could navigate my way around what makes you tick and keep the things that make you smile, hold on to the things that thrill you. That's the reason I asked about the diary in the first place.

I got it in my head that what you were writing down in those pages was the key I needed to unlock everything I wanted to do. It was the secret I never wanted you to keep, even though I knew how logical the reasoning behind it was. It was because waking up to you at a desk with a pen in your hand, or walking into the room while you're feverishly writing had become more and more frequent of an occurrence, and the more often I saw it, the more I thought it had something to do with me. I'm going to drop it now; I won't ask of it, I won't speak about it, again. You're right; if it concerns me at any point and time, you'll show it to me. I don't want it to be a reason for this to end. I want to stay with you.

As long as you'll have me.

When you found me on the balcony last month, you told me that you had no idea what we were doing beyond the physical. I think that the physical was probably all that we had planned, or at the very least, all that we had planned on showing each other. We never talked about feelings, we never talked about connotations or insinuations. Frankly, we never talked about anything, and while it bugged me at times because I wanted to know what you were , thinking, I knew that if I wanted to keep this going, if I wanted to keep you, I would have to keep my mouth shut. And it worked, at least for a little while. But the novelty, while incredibly invigorating and exhilarating it still is to this day, has begun to wear off. I can't keep going like this. And something tells me you can't keep going like this either.

I could be completely off about that, but I have my reasons for thinking it.

Sometimes, when I think about what I want, I think that maybe it's too much to ask of you. After all, we went into this just to go into it, not because we had been harboring feelings neither one of us could control. And it makes me want to tell you that I almost don't care if you agree to what I have to say, only to bluff your way through it, to say one thing to me even though you really feel another. If I wrote down the things for you to tell me, would you say them, no questions asked? Or would you even need them? Would you feel the same way?

Wait. Don't answer that yet. I don't know if I'm ready for the answer yet, anyway. Just let me finish before you weigh in, that's all I ask of you right now. Of course, there's going to be more that I may ask, but for right now, this is all I want.

Do you remember when you took me to that hotel overlooking the Hudson on the Fourth of July? We stood on the balcony to watch the fireworks and your arms were around my waist, and it was something that I had always wanted but didn't fully realize until it happened. That was the moment that I started to think about all of this, even though I had no idea where you stood, and no way to know that, even if I figured it out, you would be on the same page. We never talked about any of it; how could I possibly know? And when I woke up in the morning only to find you at that desk, I couldn't help but be curious. I heard you whisper my name while the diary was still open. That set something off in me, and it consumed me. But I know that it won't clue me in to anything, no relationship is ever that easy, no matter who's involved.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said "relationship." That only applies to people who have a deeper connection than the mere physical, right? Which, to be honest, is the reason I took you aside tonight in the first place. I didn't realize until we got here that the room I dragged you to was the room you led me to that night I came by to apologize for starting something that you obviously wanted to start. I don't want Will or Jack to overhear; maybe they wouldn't care anyway. I don't want Stan to overhear, either; you keep saying that he's checked out of the marriage, but there has to be a reason why he's sticking around. But I wanted to tell you that I figured my part of it out. This is what I want.

I want something deeper. I want to feel like I did on the Fourth of July; I want to feel that all the time. I want you to be able to tell me things you can't tell anyone else, and I want to be able to tell you things nobody else knows. I want to feel like I'm with you, and while I know that what this is isn't just about the sex, I want to prove that. Obviously there's at least one giant obstacle in our way. And while it's not ideal to go into a relationship with someone who's married, it didn't necessarily stop us before, when we were in the swatch room or in the basement of the bookstore, or even in this room. I can deal with Will. I can sneak by him and maneuver my way around it all; I've been doing it all along. I won't tell anyone. I promise you this. I want to be with you. Whatever that means. I just want to be with you.

This is what I want, Karen.

Is it what you want too?


Karen stood in front of her, silent for a moment, and Grace at once thought that she asked too much. That was the dealbreaker. She braced herself, trying to prepare for the moment when Karen walked out the door, effectively ending any connection they had ever taken part in. She didn't take her eyes off of Karen; she was willing her to do something, say something, anything to break the silence that was weighing on her unlike anything else. No, if it was bad, she just wanted Karen to walk, she didn't think she could handle the reasoning behind why this wasn't going to happen. She wasn't moving. Why wasn't she making a move?

Just then, she heard the cheers of the Walkers' guests one floor below. It must be midnight. Was Stan wondering where Karen was? Was he waiting to give her that obligatory kiss? (If Karen knew the thought that just coursed through Grace's mind, she would laugh at her and set her straight; she hadn't had a New Year's kiss with her husband in years, and if she had to be honest, she didn't miss it.) Karen looked to the door, back at Grace, and made her move.

She brushed her lips against Grace's.

"Of course," she whispered into Grace's ear as she pulled away, only to bring her in closer, to feel the warmth of Grace's body against hers. She closed her eyes and smiled for the woman in her arms, who, a half hour ago, was visibly nervous in a sea of people she didn't know for reasons Karen wasn't completely aware of. It was only when Grace finally approached her that she started to get a sense of what was going on. But from the look on Grace's face before they went upstairs, she was expecting far worse than what she was given. The truth was, she was hoping that Grace would eventually come to this.

"Really?" she heard Grace murmur. It was quiet, and almost washed out by the sounds of the party below them, but it was there, and it fell into Karen's ear in the sweetest way that a small laugh escaped from her lips as she framed Grace's face in her hands and locked eyes.

"Really. All you had to do was ask." She glanced at the door quickly and sighed. "We should probably get back downstairs. Will's probably wondering where you are."

But instead of going for the door, Grace took Karen's hand and sat down on the bed and smiled. "What's the rush? I was just starting to get comfortable here."

Karen settled down next to her as Grace buried herself in her arms. They lay there in silence for a moment, listening to the crowd of people that Grace barely knew and Karen barely cared about carrying on downstairs.

It was the best way to ring in the New Year Karen had experienced in a long time.