A devilish ray of light peeked through the crack Maureen had left between the curtains of her bedroom window and fell across her face. She moaned and rolled over, looking for a position that would let her escape the light and fall back to sleep. She lazily opened her eyes and found Mark leaning against her doorway, a small smile on his face.
"Mark, you scared me," she mumbled. "I'd forgotten you were here."
"I'm sorry," he replied softly, moving to sit on the edge of her bed . "I just wanted to say Merry Christmas."
She smiled and rubbed her eyes, beginning to wake up. "It is Christmas isn't it? I guess I should wish you a happy Chanukah."
"I guess you should. Now, promise me you won't get excited."
"What?"
"It's no big deal," he cautioned. "I just saw it and thought of you."
Mark pulled out the little box he had been hiding behind his back and held it out to her. Her eyes widened with surprise and the delight of a child, and he smiled when she promptly snatched it from his hands. Of course, when he had bought it, he had envisioned waking up beside her and slipping it into her hands, but when he discovered it in his coat pocket he figured he might as well give it to her anyway.
She sat up and tore into the wrapping paper hastily. After she threw off the lid, Maureen lifted the small black and silver butterfly on it's delicate chain out with trembling hands. He watched in genuine surprise as her eyes filled with tears.
"God, Mark..."
He knew the moment he saw it in the store window that it belonged around her neck. Maureen's mother had died of cancer when she was fourteen, and Maureen had always insisted that she was a butterfly, beautiful and free. Whenever she saw a butterfly in the park or on television, she would wave to it and say "Hi Mom!" Mark knew that they had been close, though Maureen rarely talked about her mother.
"I can't believe you did this," she said, looking up to meet his eyes. "It's beautiful, thank you."
She pulled him to her and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. She blinked back tears, mentally chastising herself for being so emotional of late, and laughed softly.
"I didn't get you anything," she said, pulling away and looking down at the necklace again.
He smiled. "That's alright. I don't think it's customary to exchange gifts with your ex."
Her expression clouded for a moment, but then she looked up and smiled.
"Would you.. fasten it for me?" she said, holding up the necklace. "I'm such a klutz."
"Sure."
He took the necklace, and she gathered her hair together. He leaned forward to fasten the clasp around her neck, struggling for a few seconds with the small hook. When it came together he glanced up at her face, surprised to realize how close it was to his own and even more surprised to find her eyes fixed on him. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither moving, until Maureen leaned down and pressed her lips against his.
Her kiss was sincere and clingy, maybe even a little desperate. Mark was too surprised at first to react, but after a moment he twined his fingers into her hair and pulled her closer, never wanting to let her go again. He had forgotten how warm she was and how she could make him feel so safe and so exposed at the same time. One of her hands lingered around his neck and jaw while the other rested on his chest, where she could feel his heart racing.
"Stay with me Mark," she whispered as she began to pull him tighter against her, leaning back onto the bed.
That broke the spell; speaking always seemed to be the downfall of their relationship. Mark suddenly realized what was going on. With great effort he pulled away from Maureen and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He rested his head in his hands and exhaled slowly.
"Damnit, Maureen," he whispered, his eyes closed.
She swallowed difficultly and held a hand to her lips. Sitting up, she leaned forward to lay a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off.
"Please, don't touch me right now," he said. He turned to look at her. "I can't keep doing this. I can't just let you kiss me and pretend that everything is alright. I've done it too many times."
"Mark--"
"No! What about Joanne? Hell Maureen, I know that loyalty has never been your strong suit, but..."
"That's so unfair," she whispered. "How can you say that?"
"How can you use me like this? I'm sorry that you're feeling lonely and vulnerable right now, but just because I'm still in love with you doesn't--"
He stopped short, realizing what he had said. He knew that she had already known it, but saying the words out loud made it too real. They both stared at each other, neither knowing what to say or do that could bridge the gap between them.
Mark finally turned away, seeing no other alternative and realizing that the longer she stared at him the more angry he became.
"I have to go," he said. "Merry Christmas."
He turned to leave, and Maureen jumped out of bed to follow him after a second of thought. He was in the living room, pulling his sweater over his head and bending down to tie his shoe laces.
"Mark, you can't just leave.. where will you go?"
"I don't know," he said, grabbing his coat and his camera from the closet, "but I can't stay here."
He turned involuntarily to look at her and softened somewhat at her hurt expression. She really couldn't help what she did sometimes.
"I'll be fine," he said quietly. "Try to remember to water your plants."
He hesitated a moment before walking toward her, not quite trusting himself to keep
his resolve with her looking as vulnerable and beautiful as she did. She stared up at him wide-eyed as he approached and closed her eyes when he leaned forward shakily to kiss her forehead. He rested his brow against hers for a long moment, squeezing his eyes shut, knowing that this was the last goodbye. When she moved to put her arms around him, he pulled away.
"Goodbye Maureen," he said, and closed the door behind him as he left.
"Mark, you scared me," she mumbled. "I'd forgotten you were here."
"I'm sorry," he replied softly, moving to sit on the edge of her bed . "I just wanted to say Merry Christmas."
She smiled and rubbed her eyes, beginning to wake up. "It is Christmas isn't it? I guess I should wish you a happy Chanukah."
"I guess you should. Now, promise me you won't get excited."
"What?"
"It's no big deal," he cautioned. "I just saw it and thought of you."
Mark pulled out the little box he had been hiding behind his back and held it out to her. Her eyes widened with surprise and the delight of a child, and he smiled when she promptly snatched it from his hands. Of course, when he had bought it, he had envisioned waking up beside her and slipping it into her hands, but when he discovered it in his coat pocket he figured he might as well give it to her anyway.
She sat up and tore into the wrapping paper hastily. After she threw off the lid, Maureen lifted the small black and silver butterfly on it's delicate chain out with trembling hands. He watched in genuine surprise as her eyes filled with tears.
"God, Mark..."
He knew the moment he saw it in the store window that it belonged around her neck. Maureen's mother had died of cancer when she was fourteen, and Maureen had always insisted that she was a butterfly, beautiful and free. Whenever she saw a butterfly in the park or on television, she would wave to it and say "Hi Mom!" Mark knew that they had been close, though Maureen rarely talked about her mother.
"I can't believe you did this," she said, looking up to meet his eyes. "It's beautiful, thank you."
She pulled him to her and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. She blinked back tears, mentally chastising herself for being so emotional of late, and laughed softly.
"I didn't get you anything," she said, pulling away and looking down at the necklace again.
He smiled. "That's alright. I don't think it's customary to exchange gifts with your ex."
Her expression clouded for a moment, but then she looked up and smiled.
"Would you.. fasten it for me?" she said, holding up the necklace. "I'm such a klutz."
"Sure."
He took the necklace, and she gathered her hair together. He leaned forward to fasten the clasp around her neck, struggling for a few seconds with the small hook. When it came together he glanced up at her face, surprised to realize how close it was to his own and even more surprised to find her eyes fixed on him. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither moving, until Maureen leaned down and pressed her lips against his.
Her kiss was sincere and clingy, maybe even a little desperate. Mark was too surprised at first to react, but after a moment he twined his fingers into her hair and pulled her closer, never wanting to let her go again. He had forgotten how warm she was and how she could make him feel so safe and so exposed at the same time. One of her hands lingered around his neck and jaw while the other rested on his chest, where she could feel his heart racing.
"Stay with me Mark," she whispered as she began to pull him tighter against her, leaning back onto the bed.
That broke the spell; speaking always seemed to be the downfall of their relationship. Mark suddenly realized what was going on. With great effort he pulled away from Maureen and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He rested his head in his hands and exhaled slowly.
"Damnit, Maureen," he whispered, his eyes closed.
She swallowed difficultly and held a hand to her lips. Sitting up, she leaned forward to lay a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off.
"Please, don't touch me right now," he said. He turned to look at her. "I can't keep doing this. I can't just let you kiss me and pretend that everything is alright. I've done it too many times."
"Mark--"
"No! What about Joanne? Hell Maureen, I know that loyalty has never been your strong suit, but..."
"That's so unfair," she whispered. "How can you say that?"
"How can you use me like this? I'm sorry that you're feeling lonely and vulnerable right now, but just because I'm still in love with you doesn't--"
He stopped short, realizing what he had said. He knew that she had already known it, but saying the words out loud made it too real. They both stared at each other, neither knowing what to say or do that could bridge the gap between them.
Mark finally turned away, seeing no other alternative and realizing that the longer she stared at him the more angry he became.
"I have to go," he said. "Merry Christmas."
He turned to leave, and Maureen jumped out of bed to follow him after a second of thought. He was in the living room, pulling his sweater over his head and bending down to tie his shoe laces.
"Mark, you can't just leave.. where will you go?"
"I don't know," he said, grabbing his coat and his camera from the closet, "but I can't stay here."
He turned involuntarily to look at her and softened somewhat at her hurt expression. She really couldn't help what she did sometimes.
"I'll be fine," he said quietly. "Try to remember to water your plants."
He hesitated a moment before walking toward her, not quite trusting himself to keep
his resolve with her looking as vulnerable and beautiful as she did. She stared up at him wide-eyed as he approached and closed her eyes when he leaned forward shakily to kiss her forehead. He rested his brow against hers for a long moment, squeezing his eyes shut, knowing that this was the last goodbye. When she moved to put her arms around him, he pulled away.
"Goodbye Maureen," he said, and closed the door behind him as he left.