A/N: To those of you who don't know sports or Philadelphia, the Sixers is the Philadelphia 76ers, our NBA team (basketball). Allen Iverson was their star player who was traded about a year ago (don't quote me on when). Very talented, but lots of attitude, like someone else we know and love.
I'm being kind to you with extra chapters. Be kind to me and comment!
Chapter 55
Since the break-up with Marianne, House had tried to avoid Wilson as much as he could, fearing what his friend would say to him. He was miserable enough about it, he didn't need someone lecturing him. And he knew exactly what Wilson would say:
"You're a fool!"
"Why can't you let yourself love someone?"
"You don't have to spend your life alone."
Blah, blah. He didn't want to hear it. Because none of it was true. He wasn't a fool. He knew exactly what was going on and why. He could let himself love. The part that was impossible was someone loving him. And, yes, he did have to spend his life alone. There was no other choice for him.
So when he heard the knock on his door, he tried to ignore it. But then he heard a voice call out, "You might as well open it. I still have a key and I'm coming in either way."
He sighed and made his way to the door and opened it. Wilson held up his hands to display what he'd brought. One hand held a six pack of beer. The other, a pizza box.
Indicating the pizza, he said, "It's from Gino's and it's loaded."
House stared at him silently. Wilson added, "Sixers are playing the Bulls."
House opened the door and Wilson stepped in. He put the beer and pizza on the coffee table and picked up the remote. He turned on the game, picked up a slice of pizza and sat back on the sofa.
House watched him as he ate the pizza and drank some beer. He was waiting for the lecture, for the advice, for …something. But Wilson's only comments were about the basketball game.
Finally House took a slice of the pizza himself and settled back on the sofa. They watched and ate in silence for awhile, then House said, "No way they'll beat the Bulls."
"I don't know." Wilson said. "You have to have faith in your team."
"Doesn't matter. They can't beat the Bulls."
Wilson looked at his friend. "If you go into the game thinking that, you're guaranteed to lose. A winning attitude means a lot."
"A winning attitude doesn't help if the other team is playing way above you. You have to face the facts."
Wilson shook his head. They didn't speak for some time more. Finally Wilson said, "You're in love with her."
"I know."
"Well, if you know…"
"Doesn't matter. She's not in love with me."
"House, you have to stop thinking that no one can love you! That's bullshit!"
"It not about that. SHE doesn't love me."
"I've seen her with you. She loves you. She glows."
"You didn't see her in New York. She didn't just glow, she glittered."
"What does that mean?"
"It's another world. She belongs there."
"If she wanted to be there, she never would have come to Princeton or stay as long as she did. She wanted to be with you."
"She felt obligated to be with me. I'm Michael's father."
"What are you talking about?"
"She convinced herself that she loved me because of Michael. And for thirty years, that was just fine and she could have gone on living her life happily. Until she actually saw me again. Then she had to make herself believe that she was in love with me. It validated everything she did. She wasn't a woman who'd had an illegitimate child. She was part of a great love that never ended. But it did. And the sooner she faces it, the better."
"Did you tell her this?" Wilson asked.
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
"She said I was wrong, blah, blah. What did you expect her to say?"
Wilson was amazed. "You just told me that you love her."
"I do."
"Did you tell her that?"
"No. I told her that I didn't love her, that I never did."
"You lied to her? Why?"
"Because if I told her that I loved her, she would have stayed."
"Well…"
"And it just would have ended badly anyway. But it would have been long and drawn out with her feeling guilty and afraid to leave me. This way she can get over it and back to her real life. And her old fiancé."
"House…"
"Leave it."
Wilson opened his mouth to speak again, but the look that House gave him made him close it again. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the basketball game.
When it was over, House said, "I told you the Sixers would lose."
"They don't always lose. They used to win a lot when Iverson was on the team."
"Iverson was a jerk."
Wilson looked at his friend. "Sometimes jerks can get the job done."
"Yeah, but in the end, they get traded."
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Later that night, long after Wilson had left, House lay in his bed. He couldn't sleep, but then, he hadn't really slept since he'd broken up with Marianne. It was dark and deadly quiet in his room. He closed his eyes and as he did most nights, he saw her face in his mind. He could imagine her lying there beside him, her beautiful body naked and ready for him.
He took his hand and touched his penis. As he manipulated it, he imagined it was her hand, her lips, her body on it. He could see her face contort in pre-orgasm joy, could hear her moans of pleasure.
In a townhouse in New York City, Marianne lay in her dark and lonely bedroom. Sleep would not come tonight again. She saw a pair of blue eyes looking intently at her. She reached down with her hand and touched her body as he had touched her. She imagined his fingers, his tongue, his cock there.
Both felt the release at the same time. Both turned over afterwards to hug their pillows. Both felt the tears run down their cheeks.
