You think you know yourself. What makes you tick. What doesn't. And then somebody goes and points out something so obvious it ought to be stamped on your forehead. And you have to rethink everything.
I was cranky enough over the abuse I'd taken all night, but this thing with Davis was just the last straw. I knew she didn't mean anything by it; it was just an innocent part of the game we played with each other. But after everything else, especially Faith, it set me off. I should have taken the walk to cool off before I opened my mouth. I shouldn't have taken it all out on her. And it was probably something I should have just let her figure out for herself instead of throwing it in her face.
But she'd had to make one more comment about Davis.
I had just finished washing out the last of the coffee mugs, rinsed it and set it aside. Radio on, kitchen window open as usual.
Maurice was in a mood. I'd thought the evening had gone well, so I wasn't sure what his problem was, but there definitely was one.
At that point he shuffled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, peering inside.
"No beer. Figures." He slammed the door shut.
"Are you okay?"
"Fine."
"Well, I had a really nice time today. They're all so great. Faith is fantastic. Sully's wonderful, and Ty is just – " I searched for the words. "The nicest guy I've met in a long time. A gentleman."
"Yeah. He's a real nice guy. He'd love your whole Sister Mary Catherine thing."
"Oh, so we're back to that." I said. That statement, and his sarcastic tone really pushed my buttons. "I'm really tired of the comments. It's a personal preference. You go do your thing, I go do mine, okay? I haven't judged you, so don't you dare judge me. I don't even know why the hell it bugs you so damn much!" I threw the dishtowel on the counter, and pushed past him roughly out into the living room.
He said quietly, "Because you're not being honest about it."
I stopped short. "Excuse me?" I whirled around.
"You're not being honest about it." He repeated, walking toward me slowly, hands in his pockets, body tense.
He had a look on his face almost like he wanted to be provoked, so I kept my mouth shut and waited for it.
"You call this a 'personal preference'?" His voice was low, even and tight. "Well, maybe it was. When you first settled on it. But I'm pretty damn sure this whole 'off limits' thing has everything to do with what that guy did to you three years ago."
I took a step back and he stepped right up into my personal space anyway, with that finger pointing in my face.
"This isn't about hands off your body; it's about hands off everything else. You're using it as an excuse not to let anyone in. You're afraid to get close here." He jabbed his finger just below my left collar bone. I wanted to step back again, but I refused to give any more ground.
"That's what 'bugs' me." Now, he was just angry.
"That's not true." I whispered, wishing I was right.
"Oh," he said, adjusting his expression to mockingly look as though he believed me. "Fine. Show me one person in this city in the last three years who knows more about you than how you like your coffee."
"Apparently, that would be you." He was absolutely, undeniably right, and I didn't know where that left me. It made me wonder why he'd chosen this time, and this manner to reveal to me something that hadn't even occurred to me. Why it felt like a personal attack.
I hadn't seen this guy since Friday night.
"Then you're screwed. Because you already let me in."
"Honey, you just let yourself out." I shoved him out of my way and went back into the kitchen, filling a glass with water and draining it quickly. I wanted to hurl the empty glass at the wall, but words were my thing. I set the glass on the counter and faced him.
"You just told me that I use sex as an excuse not to let anyone in."
"Surprised?"
"You do the same thing."
He got a little wary. Didn't say anything.
"You just use the 'hands-on' approach." I noted. Oh, yes, this was going to turn quickly. He frowned a little bit, not sure where I was going with this.
"I want you to stop me when I'm wrong, 'Cool Hand Luke'. ..Let's see: the only woman you can risk loving is Mom and she breaks your heart." I paused. He said nothing.
"The only woman you can trust with your whole self – the good, the bad, the ugly – is your partner. She's the mother that doesn't disappoint you. She's your compass." He looked away.
"Everyone else is incidental. When a relationship gets too close, you push the person away. You cause the problem but do it in such a way that you can tell yourself it's the other person's fault."
Maurice looked back at me, fuming silently.
"You tell me I avoid sex to keep feelings out, but you use it to keep feelings out. You think if you have an intimate relationship in there," I gestured at the bedroom, "you can avoid having one out here."
I was through.
He glared at me for a long time, then said abruptly, "I'm going for a walk."
I could use some air myself.
"You can't run away from yourself." I called after him.
Believe me. I know.
He'd been gone about two minutes before I decided what I really needed was some roof time.
I took one of the sticky notes from the fridge and wrote 'Upstairs!' on it, so he wouldn't flip if he came back and found the apartment empty.
I'd thrown my red hooded sweatshirt overboard, so I borrowed one of his. A grey, hooded one with a little 'NYPD' on it.
I made sure the door was locked after me. If I came down from the roof before he returned from his walk, I could just sit in the hall. No big deal.
I ran up the stairs. At the top I noticed a light switch. So there was a roof light. We just hadn't needed it with the moon.
I opened the door slowly and silently and stepped out onto the roof. The pizza box and empty beer bottles were right where we'd left them.
There was a 55-gallon drum at the front right corner of the roof that served as a garbage can, so I cleaned up our mess. Then I went to the front of the roof – again, the place with all the lights, the sounds, the life – braced myself against the wall and turned my face up to the night sky, breathing deeply.
After about ten minutes I heard the door open quickly, with a squeal.
"That was quick." I commented.
The second he put his hands on me, I knew it wasn't Maurice.
"Long time, Katie."
"Not long enough, Evan."