The World On End
The holidays passed quickly - thanksgiving flowing into Christmas into New Year's like one long river. Though my thesis work still called my name, between semesters there were neither classes to attend nor papers to grade, and it seemed that I had all the time in the world to spend painting, reading, and spending time with John. Brian had given Shawn an engagement ring for Christmas and the two of them had been inseparable ever since, so John and I spend most of our time together either out or at his place.
I was falling everyday more and more in love with him: we were kindred spirits, you see. I adored him, and, it seemed, he adored me, though I was never quite sure why he felt the way he did - I didn't feel that I deserved to be with such a wonderful, intelligent, and genuinely good man, albeit with a somewhat rough exterior. Shawn and Brian, however, seemed to feel the opposite and told me time to time as much. In general, though, that winter was the happiest time of my life.
One night late in January, while John was working late on some particularly frustrating case - he never gave me many details, and I never asked, especially since I heard enough about it in the night - I stayed home with the two of them.
"Actually hanging out with someone your own age?" Shawn teased, gently.
"About time. I've barely seen your face in months," Brian added, giving me a grin that would have been creepy if he hadn't been stoned. "Have a hit," he offered.
I hadn't toked out since highschool, but for whatever reason I took the pipe from him - Baby was its name - and lit it. It wasn't too long, then, before I was lit too. I should have known better: I did know better. But it was night out, though at home: a night without my cop boyfriend and no matter how I felt about him a night with the college kids was much appreciated.
"Have another," Brian said, packing Baby up again. Dave Matthews Band wafted around the apartment, dancing with the silver and blue smoke from pipe and cigarette. We danced too, first the two of them and when Shawn collapsed just Brian and me. The beat mellowed into Portishead and we joined her on the couch. "My two favorite girls," Brian said, as he put his arms around us. I had class the next morning, but in that moment this was perfect. I started falling asleep right there on his shoulder when there was a knock at the door.
"Hey John," I heard Shawn say, loud enough so that I could hear.
He strode into the room a moment later, a knowing glint in his eyes. I knew he could tell what we'd been doing the moment he walked in the door. "It's okay, kids, he's not vice!" I giggled, slurring ever so slightly.
"Having a nice evening, honey?" he asked me, taking in the whole room as if he were still on duty. Of course, there wasn't a whole lot I could do about the green smell of pot, or the ashes and seeds spread out shamelessly on our coffee table. He bent down and kissed me, but it felt wrong somehow. I realized Brian's arm was still around me and shrugged it off, forcing him to detach from me and go into the kitchen with Shawn.
"How's the case going?" I asked John as he sat in the armchair across from me. He answered, but I didn't listen. "Wanna go in the other room?" I offered, already feeling his hands on me.
"I don't think so." There was definitely something wrong. This was not how he acted with me, so businesslike and cold. I was supposed to be the warmth in his life. But there was nothing I could do about it in that moment, as messed up as I was. "Have fun."
Then he got up and left without a word more. Eventually, Brian lit up another and I quickly forgot why I was feeling so conflicted.
~*~*~*~*
The next day, I got a phone call interrupting my afternoon painting. John again: could I meet him for drinks after he got off work? I got cleaned up and took the subway out.
I was already on my second drink when he walked in the door. He took the seat next to mine and just looked at me for a minute. Deep down, I think I knew what was going on, but was too scared to admit it.
"So, getting stoned last night," he said in lieu of hello.
I sighed, trying to find the strength for this battle. "It was stupid, I know."
"You know I'm a cop. Do you think I can just turn a blind eye whenever you decide to act like a little kid?"
That was like a slap in the face. "I thought we weren't going to go there."
"Well I lied. I can't go on with this," he said. "I felt like your dad, like I have to take care of you." Then he paused again and muttered, introspectively: "I knew there were too many years between us for this to work."
"So." I stammered, not yet able to accept this.
"It's over." I said his name, I think, in an attempt to plead my case, but I knew there was no way out. He must have seen the tears forming in my eyes, because his voice suddenly softened and he touched my hand. "It's not that I don't care about you. This is just indicative of a larger problem between us. I think it's better for us to end it now before it gets worse."
I couldn't find the words to express what I wanted to say - how much I wanted to beg him to take those words back, to swear that I loved him, to tell him that it would kill me to have to leave this now. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me. "I . I'm gonna go. I'm just . gonna go ."
He nodded and I got up and left. I walked the whole way home, knowing how much he hated it when I did that. The tears froze on my cheeks and I was grateful: there's nothing worse than crying in public. Shawn wasn't home when I got there, so I took a shower and climbed into bed.
I blamed her for a few days and outright refused to talk to her: I don't think she really noticed, though. Eventually, I reminded myself it was my own fault for not turning her down, and for not telling John to come over. I was mad at John, too, for the harsh things he had said, but I kept telling myself he was right, and the pot incident was only proof of that. Anyway, Shawn usually spent so much time with Brian I don't think she even knew John broke up with me until Saturday, when I came out of my room for a sandwich.
"Damn, girl: still in your pajamas?" she said. She was sitting on the couch with Brian, watching some awful movie. "Why aren't you painting, or researching, or something?"
"I can't get the colors to match anymore," I said, quietly.
"What was that?" Brian asked.
"I can't get the colors to come out right. I don't know, I'm off my game."
"Shouldn't you be out with John then? You're never home," she said.
"We broke up," I said, loudly enough for them both to hear.
She paused. "That's too bad. I had no idea. I'm sorry, honey."
Don't call me that, I wanted to scream. Instead, I just sat down beside her at her invitation.
Brian looked at me with some unreadable expression. I had never known him well enough to figure him out. "You need to get out, Cara. That guy was too old for you. One of my friends is always trying to get me to fix him up. You know, Shawn, my friend Matt? I'll give him a call."
I was too tired to really argue, and it sounded like a good idea. Brian set us up to go to dinner that night: I told him I wasn't ready, but he just replied that Matt was already planning on it. So I got dressed and done up and was waiting for him when he came by.
Matt was a nice enough guy. He wanted to go to Michelangelo's for drinks before dinner, but I told I wasn't really in the mood to deal with that quite yet. All evening, in fact, he offered to get us a bottle of wine - I guess Brian told him to cheer me up. He walked me to the door of my building and tried to kiss me goodnight, but I just excused myself and went upstairs. I felt bad about that, but I couldn't imagine kissing him. It was still too soon. He seemed a little upset by that, but he said he'd call me.
I took a shower and went to bed around one. The apartment was empty - I guessed Shawn was at Brian's for the night. It was hard to fall asleep with so many thoughts pouring through my head, so many "should have's" and "could have's" and voices in my head that I was still was awake when I heard Shawn come home around two.
But it wasn't Shawn, I realized when the door to my room was opened and the frame filled with a man I didn't recognize.
The holidays passed quickly - thanksgiving flowing into Christmas into New Year's like one long river. Though my thesis work still called my name, between semesters there were neither classes to attend nor papers to grade, and it seemed that I had all the time in the world to spend painting, reading, and spending time with John. Brian had given Shawn an engagement ring for Christmas and the two of them had been inseparable ever since, so John and I spend most of our time together either out or at his place.
I was falling everyday more and more in love with him: we were kindred spirits, you see. I adored him, and, it seemed, he adored me, though I was never quite sure why he felt the way he did - I didn't feel that I deserved to be with such a wonderful, intelligent, and genuinely good man, albeit with a somewhat rough exterior. Shawn and Brian, however, seemed to feel the opposite and told me time to time as much. In general, though, that winter was the happiest time of my life.
One night late in January, while John was working late on some particularly frustrating case - he never gave me many details, and I never asked, especially since I heard enough about it in the night - I stayed home with the two of them.
"Actually hanging out with someone your own age?" Shawn teased, gently.
"About time. I've barely seen your face in months," Brian added, giving me a grin that would have been creepy if he hadn't been stoned. "Have a hit," he offered.
I hadn't toked out since highschool, but for whatever reason I took the pipe from him - Baby was its name - and lit it. It wasn't too long, then, before I was lit too. I should have known better: I did know better. But it was night out, though at home: a night without my cop boyfriend and no matter how I felt about him a night with the college kids was much appreciated.
"Have another," Brian said, packing Baby up again. Dave Matthews Band wafted around the apartment, dancing with the silver and blue smoke from pipe and cigarette. We danced too, first the two of them and when Shawn collapsed just Brian and me. The beat mellowed into Portishead and we joined her on the couch. "My two favorite girls," Brian said, as he put his arms around us. I had class the next morning, but in that moment this was perfect. I started falling asleep right there on his shoulder when there was a knock at the door.
"Hey John," I heard Shawn say, loud enough so that I could hear.
He strode into the room a moment later, a knowing glint in his eyes. I knew he could tell what we'd been doing the moment he walked in the door. "It's okay, kids, he's not vice!" I giggled, slurring ever so slightly.
"Having a nice evening, honey?" he asked me, taking in the whole room as if he were still on duty. Of course, there wasn't a whole lot I could do about the green smell of pot, or the ashes and seeds spread out shamelessly on our coffee table. He bent down and kissed me, but it felt wrong somehow. I realized Brian's arm was still around me and shrugged it off, forcing him to detach from me and go into the kitchen with Shawn.
"How's the case going?" I asked John as he sat in the armchair across from me. He answered, but I didn't listen. "Wanna go in the other room?" I offered, already feeling his hands on me.
"I don't think so." There was definitely something wrong. This was not how he acted with me, so businesslike and cold. I was supposed to be the warmth in his life. But there was nothing I could do about it in that moment, as messed up as I was. "Have fun."
Then he got up and left without a word more. Eventually, Brian lit up another and I quickly forgot why I was feeling so conflicted.
~*~*~*~*
The next day, I got a phone call interrupting my afternoon painting. John again: could I meet him for drinks after he got off work? I got cleaned up and took the subway out.
I was already on my second drink when he walked in the door. He took the seat next to mine and just looked at me for a minute. Deep down, I think I knew what was going on, but was too scared to admit it.
"So, getting stoned last night," he said in lieu of hello.
I sighed, trying to find the strength for this battle. "It was stupid, I know."
"You know I'm a cop. Do you think I can just turn a blind eye whenever you decide to act like a little kid?"
That was like a slap in the face. "I thought we weren't going to go there."
"Well I lied. I can't go on with this," he said. "I felt like your dad, like I have to take care of you." Then he paused again and muttered, introspectively: "I knew there were too many years between us for this to work."
"So." I stammered, not yet able to accept this.
"It's over." I said his name, I think, in an attempt to plead my case, but I knew there was no way out. He must have seen the tears forming in my eyes, because his voice suddenly softened and he touched my hand. "It's not that I don't care about you. This is just indicative of a larger problem between us. I think it's better for us to end it now before it gets worse."
I couldn't find the words to express what I wanted to say - how much I wanted to beg him to take those words back, to swear that I loved him, to tell him that it would kill me to have to leave this now. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me. "I . I'm gonna go. I'm just . gonna go ."
He nodded and I got up and left. I walked the whole way home, knowing how much he hated it when I did that. The tears froze on my cheeks and I was grateful: there's nothing worse than crying in public. Shawn wasn't home when I got there, so I took a shower and climbed into bed.
I blamed her for a few days and outright refused to talk to her: I don't think she really noticed, though. Eventually, I reminded myself it was my own fault for not turning her down, and for not telling John to come over. I was mad at John, too, for the harsh things he had said, but I kept telling myself he was right, and the pot incident was only proof of that. Anyway, Shawn usually spent so much time with Brian I don't think she even knew John broke up with me until Saturday, when I came out of my room for a sandwich.
"Damn, girl: still in your pajamas?" she said. She was sitting on the couch with Brian, watching some awful movie. "Why aren't you painting, or researching, or something?"
"I can't get the colors to match anymore," I said, quietly.
"What was that?" Brian asked.
"I can't get the colors to come out right. I don't know, I'm off my game."
"Shouldn't you be out with John then? You're never home," she said.
"We broke up," I said, loudly enough for them both to hear.
She paused. "That's too bad. I had no idea. I'm sorry, honey."
Don't call me that, I wanted to scream. Instead, I just sat down beside her at her invitation.
Brian looked at me with some unreadable expression. I had never known him well enough to figure him out. "You need to get out, Cara. That guy was too old for you. One of my friends is always trying to get me to fix him up. You know, Shawn, my friend Matt? I'll give him a call."
I was too tired to really argue, and it sounded like a good idea. Brian set us up to go to dinner that night: I told him I wasn't ready, but he just replied that Matt was already planning on it. So I got dressed and done up and was waiting for him when he came by.
Matt was a nice enough guy. He wanted to go to Michelangelo's for drinks before dinner, but I told I wasn't really in the mood to deal with that quite yet. All evening, in fact, he offered to get us a bottle of wine - I guess Brian told him to cheer me up. He walked me to the door of my building and tried to kiss me goodnight, but I just excused myself and went upstairs. I felt bad about that, but I couldn't imagine kissing him. It was still too soon. He seemed a little upset by that, but he said he'd call me.
I took a shower and went to bed around one. The apartment was empty - I guessed Shawn was at Brian's for the night. It was hard to fall asleep with so many thoughts pouring through my head, so many "should have's" and "could have's" and voices in my head that I was still was awake when I heard Shawn come home around two.
But it wasn't Shawn, I realized when the door to my room was opened and the frame filled with a man I didn't recognize.