I've never been the kind of girl who finds the
tied-to-the-railroad-tracks Dudley Do-Right fantasy appealing, so
unfortunately his look of concern was far more irritating than
endearing. He just gaped. I squinted at him, still in
a Unisom haze, and repeated myself. "I said, what are
you doing here? It's... I don't know what time it is, but
it's really late." I pulled the sleeves of my pajama
top over the palms of my hands and stared him down.
"No, I haven't been attacked by some crazy
arm-stabber, and it's not anything like it looks. So unless
it's a matter of life and death, would you mind restricting your
visits to normal business hours?"
I could see the exact moment when the little wheel in his brain
started running again. "I thought it *was* a matter of
life and death, obviously, or I wouldn't have pounded and yelled
and unlocked the door without a key."
"Whose life? Whose death?"
"I called Jack a couple of hours ago. He said he'd get
back to me in a few minutes and I never heard from him
again."
"That's probably because he and Annie are out on a
date."
"A date?"
As if he were a young child, or an imbecile, or partially deaf:
"Yes. A date."
"So that explains..."
"Where she was, too."
"And then your door was locked, and they were gone, and it
was... well, you can't blame me, can you? All the weird
shit that goes on around here. For all I knew, you were all
in here hanging from the ceiling fan."
"Okay, so, now that it's been established that Jack and
Annie haven't been hung from anything tonight, at least not in
this house, and certainly not in this room, do you think you
could come back later?"
Instead of simply smiling goofily in his usual manner and maybe
apologizing for the door thing and the panic and leaving, like
I'd hoped, he sat down on the bed instead. And it's
gonna be another long one tonight...
"Tell me what it is if it isn't what it looks like."
"It's just a thing, a thing I do. I don't expect you
to understand, but I do expect a little discretion on your part
after I assure you that it isn't driven by any real desire to
harm myself and certainly not the desire to harm other
people."
"So what is it driven by?"
"I don't think I have to explain myself to you, Carey."
I regarded him sourly. In hindsight, perhaps I should
have treated him more kindly. He was concerned, and concern
can be sweet.
"No, you don't have to." But he didn't make a
move to leave, like I had expected. By this time maybe I
should have started getting accustomed to the idea that what I
expected of him would almost always be a mistaken impression.
He just sat there, staring at me, and it created an
uncomfortable tension. I looked all around the room, at the
fan, the desk, the door, the closet. Anything to keep from
meeting that stare.
"Nothing ever turned out like I planned," I finally
said. "Even before I started making real plans, life
had no intention of treating me kindly. When I was about
Fi's age, it was a way to calm myself down whenever events
conspired to build up my inner rage, or whatever. Ignored
at home, deserted by friends, mistreated, underestimated.
It was personal and harmless then and it's personal and
harmless now."
"I don't think it's harmless."
"Then you clearly don't understand."
"No, I don't. I think it is harmful on a psychological
level, and you should stop, because there are a lot of people
around here who care about you and would be very upset if they
found out about this, and I'm one of them. I think that
whyever it is that you're doing it now, you should get that out
of your life."
"It's not things in my life that make it so
attractive these days. It's the things that have left my
life and won't be coming back, or won't be coming back in the
same way. But I... you know, I never would have burdened
you with this. This is my own thing to carry around, not
anyone else's, and I don't enjoy talking about it. So
please keep this between you and me, and maybe I will try to get
back on the straight and narrow soon," I promised
insincerely, flashing a joyless smile. "And it is
late, so do you think now that we've discussed this and you know
everything's okay with Jack..."
"Yeah, I'll pack it in. I'm sorry about waking you
up." And there it was, that trademark smile I'd
expected, only it was a little wearier, as much of an empty
gesture as my own. He headed for the door and closed it
quietly behind him.
"Finally." I flopped back onto the bed and made
an unpleasant face when I remembered the knife was still lying
there, somewhere underneath me now. I pulled myself up
again and looked around in the sheets until I found it. I
was headed for the bathroom to rinse it off when the door swung
open again. "Hey, I'm sorry, I just wanted to let you
know, in case you were concerned, that Jack and Annie are outside
in the car making out, I saw them as I was..."
I started and froze in position for a second, annoyed by the
second intrusion, although the news was a bit comforting.
He dove at me, knocking the knife across the floor, which
is where we also landed. Seriously pissed off now, I fought
and slapped at him. He loosened his grip on the offending
wrist and gave me a look so heartbreaking I could have cried.
It was the look of a wounded puppy who doesn't understand
why its adored master persists in whacking it on the nose with a
newspaper.
For the second time in one evening, my question was: "What
the fuck are you doing?"
"What the fuck are you doing? I thought I'd
actually gotten it through to you that you shouldn't do that
because everyone here loves you and--"
"And I thought I might have gotten it through to you that
it's not about being 'loved' and that's beside the point anyway
because I wasn't doing anything, which isn't your business
to begin with--"
"How can it be beside the point? How can it be
anything but the point?" The argument of a
child, really; an innocent. Yet I ceased the struggle and
softened my own expression. And despite the warning alarms
in my head increasing their own volume exponentially, I decided
not to defend the temple when the intimacy of the moment overcame
him and he kissed me.
Fast slow, fast fast slow.
