Bwah, okay. So, obviously I won't be finishing this before Christmas. But I'm done school until January, so expect at least one more update before I disappear again. Anyway. Enjoy! :)
"Are you sure you're okay?" Perry asked, slowing to a stop beside my building.
"Yeah," I told him, reaching for the handle. "Thanks for the ride, Perry. I'm sorry about tonight." I tried to smile. I wasn't mad at him. I was mad at the world.
Perry seemed to understand this. "You're welcome. And don't worry about it. Shit happens, right?"
I gave him a distracted nod and got out of the truck. "Night," I said and shut the door sharply. I had barely taken a step before I turned around and pulled it open again, catching Perry about to drive off. "Do you want to come inside?"
Perry took the key out of the ignition. "Of course."
He followed me inside, and the minute we sat down at my kitchen table, I slumped forward, my forehead resting on the cool top of it.
"So," Perry said after a while, "mind telling me what that was all about?"
"Mmmph," I said into the table, and he laughed. I brought my head up. "His mom hated me, Perry. I honestly think she must have literally hated me."
Perry didn't look surprised, and that bothered me. He shrugged. "You can't worry about that. As far as I know, the only person you have to worry about impressing is Johnson, right? If she can't see how great you are, then that's her problem."
I lowered my chin to the top of the table. "And she told him that I was unfriendly. He didn't even listen to my side of the story. That's what bothered me. It was like he didn't even care what actually happened, just as long as he didn't upset his mom."
"How is it that you're even still with him?"
Perry probably didn't mean to sound as harsh as he did, I tried to tell myself. I shrugged. "You don't get it, Perry. Apparently his mom coming just screwed everything up. It'll be fine once she leaves."
He shook his head at me. "Do you have coffee?"
I nodded, and he got up and busied himself making some. I had a feeling that he was only doing this to hold himself back from saying what he actually wanted to. Neither of us said anything until he returned with two steaming mugs.
Unable to restrain myself, I said, "I'm sorry that you and Mark don't get along."
Perry said nothing and took a long drink of coffee. I propped my chin up on my fist and stared at him. He glanced up and met my eyes. "What?" he said, shrugging. "What do you want me to say to that?"
I shrugged back at him. "Nothing. I was just saying that to be saying something."
It was the most awkward conversation I'd ever had with Perry.
A few more minutes passed and we both jumped as we heard a car horn honking outside. I got to my feet and walked to the window, seeing Mike Eruzione's car driving away, leaving Mark standing there by himself on the sidewalk.
"Of course," Perry said, surprising me by being at my side. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No," I said firmly. "I'm mad at him, and you're my guest right now. He can wait. If he really cares, he'll just have to wait out there."
"His ride left," Perry said, but I shook my head.
"Nope. Come, sit. Drink your coffee."
He reluctantly went back to the table and I followed him, throwing one more glance at the sidewalk, where Mark was walking slowly in the direction of the door, staring up at the window because he likely saw us standing there.
We heard him make his way down the hallway and up to the door, knocking softly at first, and then louder when I didn't answer.
"Vic?" he said quietly. "Vic, I saw you in the window; I know you're in there. I just want to talk. He can stay if you want."
The last bit made my temper flare. "How nice of you, Mark," I said snidely, not moving from my chair. "Allowing Perry to stay. You're so great."
"That came out wrong," Mark said, his voice sounding kind of desperate. "Please, Vic. Just let me talk to you."
I stood up and walked briskly past Perry who was sitting awkwardly in his chair and pounded on the door. I heard Mark jump back. "You can talk to me from out there. You don't deserve to be in here tonight."
"I can leave, you know…" Perry began nervously.
"No," I said firmly and turned my attention back to the door. "Well? Talk!" I was being immature and stupid, and I knew it. But I didn't care.
I heard Mark sigh. "Look. You know how I feel about you-"
"No, I don't," I said, cutting him off. "Start by talking a little bit about that, because I'm not exactly sure right now."
There was a long pause before Mark spoke again. "You keep me sane," he said. "I don't ever say it, but sometimes living the life of a hockey player is really hard. Sitting on a bus for hours just to have to turn it right away for a game right after you get off, the inspired-by-ham sandwiches that we have to eat after the games because we can't get reservations to a restaurant, and getting home at four in the morning just to wake up for a bag-skate a few hours later, it all sucks, but I keep myself from coming unglued because I know that I'll be hanging out with you sometime, Vic. I don't want you to worry but I rely on you more than you'll ever believe." I heard him pat the door lightly.
I looked over at Perry. He shrugged and shook his head. "Why didn't you stand up for me when your mom said those things?" I asked after a moment.
"I honestly thought she'd love you, and when she told me that she didn't, I didn't know what to do or how to react. I plan on talking to her and telling her exactly how amazing you are. Honestly, though, Vic, I wouldn't care if she thinks you're rude or late or whatever other stupid, wrong thing. She doesn't know you, and when she gets to know you, I promise you she'll regret saying any of that stuff." He patted the door again and I put my hand where I thought his was, thinking.
Perry was suddenly beside me. "I'm gonna go," he said, squeezing my shoulder. "I'll talk to you later, alright?"
"Okay," I said, pulling the door open and revealing a surprised-looking Mark. "Just letting him out," I told him, allowing Perry to leave. As Perry passed him, Mark raised a hand and clapped Perry on the shoulder. Perry looked back over his shoulder, his face impassive as he disappeared down the hall.
After he'd gone, Mark and I stood staring at each other in the doorway for a long moment before Mark shrugged and said, "It might not seem like it, but I'm trying really hard not to mess this up."
"What are you doing next year?" I heard myself asking the question before I could stop myself. Mark looked slightly surprised, so I continued: "Wade said that you were going to be in Pittsburgh, and I want to know why this has never come up before if I mean so much to you."
Mark opened his mouth to say something, but before he could a woman stuck her head out of one of the apartments across the hall from mine. "Could you two please take your argument inside? My kids aren't particularly interested in hearing about your problems."
I gaped at her while Mark nodded curtly and took a step into the apartment, lightly closing the door behind him. He leaned against the door and gave me a long look. "Okay. Honestly, I didn't want to talk about this before I knew exactly what I was doing. I'm talking to people from the Penguins about possibly playing there next year. We've been talking since May, way before I met you."
"What are you going to do?"
He shrugged. "I don't know yet. You have to know that this is making the decision a hundred times harder. Look, what I want more than anything is to be playing in Minneapolis, but I just don't think that can happen. I should just be happy that I'll have a contract. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, Vic."
I folded my arms. "You're making it sound like you've already agreed to something."
Mark shook his head. "No, I haven't. When I find out, I promise that I'll let you know."
"What are we going to do?" I asked, and Mark looked confused. "If you go, I mean."
"We'll work through it," he said confidently. "I'm not worried about us having problems then if we work through the issues when we get to them. If I have to go there, I'm not going to expect you to want to follow me. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
"Why do you hate Perry?"
The question, and my abrupt changing of the subject, surprised Mark. He blinked. "I don't hate him. I…" he stopped short at the look on my face, and his voice took on a defeated tone. "Okay, fine, I don't like him."
"Yeah, I know. Why, though?"
He took a long moment to think his answer over. "I don't know. I guess it's because I know that if I'm not spending time with you, there's a good chance that he is, and that gets to me. The two of you seem to get along so well."
"We do," I said thoughtfully. "but I don't think of him that way. He's like Terry."
"Except he's a nice guy," Mark said, tilting his head to the side. "It's the same thing as when you get defensive when anyone brings up Leslie."
"That's far from the same thing," I told him. "I've never slept with Perry. We haven't been friends for years. It's so different."
He shrugged. "If you say so." We were quiet for a long moment. "Are you still mad?"
I regarded him seriously. "No," I said finally. "I'm not."
"Are we okay?"
"We will be," I said, nodding. "I don't want you to feel threatened, okay? I'm not going anywhere."
"Alright," he told me. "You either, about Leslie. I can't help how much my parents like her."
I rolled my eyes. "More than me."
He laughed, but only after he caught the smile on my face that gave him permission to do so. "They'll love you, I promise. My sisters and Peter seemed to like you, though. I think they got that you were nervous better than my parents did."
I understood right then that we were going to be okay. Every couple had to deal with their first fight, and we didn't seem to have any devastating war-wounds from ours. Perry was right, I thought. I needed, more than anything, to worry about Mark understanding me before I ever worried about his mother. Like he said, we would cross that bridge when we got to it.
