AN: The song is "Fast As You Can," by Fiona Apple.
I let the
beast in too soon
I don't know how to live without my hand on his throat
I fight him always and still
oh darling, it's so sweet, you think you know how crazy, how
crazy I am
you say you don't spook easy, you won't go
but I know and I pray that you will
I wasn't asleep. I had pretended
to be in order to ease Irene's mind enough that she would sneak
out after a while. She did. It wasn't long after she left that he
crept in quietly, though for different reasons, of course. He
closed the door gently and whispered my name. I was tempted to
remain silent, let him think I was sleeping too, and maybe find
some peace and quiet for the first time all day. But the prospect
of a long quiet night was more terrifying than appealing, so I
answered quietly: "Yeah."
"How are you? Feeling any better?"
There was an odd tone to his voice that I couldn't quite
identify. "A little, yeah."
He walked into the room a little more and ended up sitting at the
end of the bed, his face turned toward me. It was too dark to
read. "Mom went home to get some sleep, and Fi went to bed a
while ago."
"Your mother told me she was here. I can't believe I forgot
to tell anyone else she was coming. It's just been kind of hazy
for me lately. Was she upset?"
He shrugged. "Hard to tell. She was acting kind of
strange."
"In what way?"
"Just in general," he said quickly. "So what were
you guys talking about all day?" He was trying hard to sound
casual.
fast as you
can, baby
run, free yourself of me
fast as you can
I sighed. "Your mother
thought I was drinking again."
"I know," he said, and sounded as if he wanted to say
more.
"I told her the truth."
"Did she believe it?" Now the voice was almost bitter,
placing the accent on the wrong word.
"I guess so." When I told her, it was dusk and the
light coming in through the window was fading fast. She had
simply looked at me as I told the story, her face falling into
deeper shadows until the light was gone. Then I could see nothing
though I strained to see any kind of reaction at all. Silence. I
think she did believe that I wasn't doing what she thought I was.
I don't think she believed that there was any real threat, but I
think she at least believed the dreams and my suspicions about
them and my sleep deprivation were all expressions of some deeper
psychological problem that she just couldn't help me with.
Finally she had said, "I'm so sorry." She had stretched
out on the bed and taken my head into her arms, stroking my hair
in the dark. Irene had always had the amazing capacity to play
many different roles in my life, and sometimes, when I needed it
from her, she could be the kind of mother that my own mother
could never be.
He shifted gears. "Are you still throwing up?"
"No, not for a while."
"You're sure you're not pregnant?" God, the sound of
that word coming from him in this context was so unnatural.
"Yeah."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I can't be."
"Oh."
I may be soft
in your palm but I'll soon grow hungry for a fight
and I will not let you win
my pretty mouth will frame the phrases that will disprove your
faith in man
so if you catch me trying to find my way into your heart from
under your skin
fast as you can, baby, scratch me out
free yourself fast as you can
Finally I decided to give him a
little more of myself and explain. "There was another one
after Fiona. I didn't have it. Now it's impossible, and I don't
believe in miracles, so..."
"You didn't have it? What, like--"
I took a deep breath and interrupted him: "Right after Rick
died, I did some things that I shouldn't have. I was horrible,
irresponsible. I honestly didn't care what happened to anyone,
least of all myself. If there weren't people around me at the
time who did care, I don't know what might have happened to the
kids. It's the reason why your mother and the others were so
quick to assume that. And, as a result of some of the things I
did, I lost it. And after I lost it, I found out that it would be
impossible to ever have another."
It was easier than I had expected to keep an even tone. I really
didn't feel anything at all when I talked about it now. It had
been different back then. I think I cried for three weeks
straight, day and night.
"I'm sorry," he offered lamely.
I smiled, though the gesture was futile. "I don't know why
you would be."
"I just... I had thought... I mean, after--yeah. I don't
know. I just am."
"Okay."
It was his turn to stretch out beside me now. He lay there like
that for so long that it was easy to forget what I needed to say.
"So if that's not what this is, and if it's not what
my mom thinks it is, don't you think you should go see a
doctor?"
"No. I know what it is."
"What is it?"
"Well, part of it was sleeping the other night. Letting my
body rest after I had deprived it for so long just threw things
off completely. I should have expected that would happen, I
guess."
"Jesus," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Hey, I'm a big girl," I teased gently. "I made
the choice." I hadn't, really, but it seemed pointless to
blame him.
"Yeah, but--"
"Seriously, shut up. It's not your fault. I don't blame
you."
Another long silence. "What's the other part?"
"What?"
"You said part of it was sleeping. What's the other
part?"
sometimes my
mind don't shake and shift
but most of the time it does
and I get to the place
where I'm begging for a lift
or I'll drown
in the wonders and the was
I thought long and
hard about what I had planned to tell him. It was the last thing
in the world I really wanted to say, but I knew that in the long
run it would be better for everyone involved. Not just him, but
Irene and Fiona and everyone else around us. So I took a deep
breath and plunged ahead. "We can't do this anymore. We have
to just pretend it didn't happen. We have to think of it as a
mistake."
As much as I tried to convince myself that it was a noble thing I
was doing, I couldn't stop the voices in my head from screaming
about their hatred of me. They whispered nasty truths about my
true motivations and I tried desperately to distract them and
shut them up. Suddenly the only thing I wanted was to pretend I
hadn't said the things I'd said. Maybe if I said something
nonchalant now he'd think he just made it up, that he had
hallucinated, that I'd only said those words in his own head. But
my mouth refused to move and my vocal cords remained stubbornly
still.
It was a long time before he said, "Why?"
I had expected the question but never thought of an answer. My
voices volunteered suggestions: I don't know why! Never mind! I'm
crazy! Ha ha! Just kidding! Because I'm self-destructive and
addicted to pain! Because I need to leave you before you can
leave me...
"Spending the entire day with your mom just made me feel
terrible about what I was doing to her, and in time you'll start
to feel terrible about it too."
He didn't respond at all.
"Doesn't it feel a little strange being with someone who's a
couple of months older than your mother?" What did I want
him to say? No?
"I don't care about that." I could tell his teeth were
gritted. "We can't talk about this until you're
better," he said decisively. "I refuse to believe that
this is you talking. I refuse to believe that you aren't just
saying this because of the way you feel physically."
and I'll
be your girl if you say it's a gift
and you give me some more of your drugs
yeah, I'll be your pet
if you just tell me it's a gift
'cause I'm tired of whys, choking on whys
just need a little because, because
"It is me," I said,
although it was beginning to feel as if my voice was entirely
divorced from my mind.
"I refuse to discuss it."
"You can't do that."
"Yet, look how easily I am."
"I need you to be serious."
"I am being serious."
"Well, so am I."
"Whatever."
I let the
beast in and then I even tried forgiving him
but it's too soon so I'll fight again, again, again,
again, again
and for a little while more I'll soar the uneven winds
complain and blame the sterile land
but if you're getting any bright ideas
quiet dear, I'm blooming within
I was just too tired to fight.
The voices rejoiced like a demented Greek chorus but putting it
off only depressed me more, because it just meant that
we'd have to have this entire conversation again later, and it
would be harder the second time. I don't know, maybe the sleep
had sharpened my mind a little, maybe my sudden need to get out
was because of the way this really looked and sounded. The
reality was hitting me hard and fast and I couldn't believe I had
let this happen.
He could deny the inevitable end as long as he needed to deny it,
but what did he really think this was going? Where had I thought
this could go? Where were we supposed to end up? If it didn't end
here, where would it end? Marriage? Not likely. One morning he
would wake up and notice lines on my face he hadn't seen before
and then reality would do a number on him, too.
I was doing us both a favor by putting a stop to it, whether he
allowed it to stop this second or if it had to wait until
tomorrow or next week until he would take me seriously when I
said he had to go. It was really for the best. Wasn't it?
He was quiet for what seemed like a long time as my mind raced. Finally he reached for my hand, a familiar gesture from him now.
I didn't resist.
fast as you
can, baby
wait, watch me, I'll be out fast as I can
leave me
let this thing run its route
fast as you can
fast as you can
