AN: The song is "She Will Have Her Way," by Neil Finn, but I might change it at some point.

I might be old but I'm someone new, she said
I'm so sore that I could cry always
in the night lay your tired arms

I wanted to believe that one day things might go back to the way they were between us. But keeping that hope alive really wasn't easy with the way our distance seemed to increase every time I saw her. Finally I stopped seeing her entirely except for at the shows, though it wasn't my intention or desire. Fi invited me over pretty constantly and I'd go for lack of anything better to do, and just maybe with the vague hope of seeing her, like maybe today might be The Day, whatever I wanted that to mean at the time.

But she made herself scarcer and scarcer, to the point where I genuinely began to worry again. I wanted to reach out, but I knew it would be foolish now since Fi knew and also seemed to be growing more attached to me by the day. I figured it was likely that she wouldn't have even wanted my sympathy anymore anyway. So I let it happen and I didn't fight what Molly seemed to believe was inevitable as we became strangers in a way we'd never been before. And maybe I took comfort in Fiona's attentions, I don't know. I certainly didn't want to admit that at the time, and I still don't, because to do that would be to admit that I took advantage of her affection just to feed the self-esteem that had been so severely battered by the one I still loved.

and she will have her way
somehow I will still believe her

It was the last night of June when my mother came in with not one or two but three bulletins full of joyful and cheery news. First, the Thelens were coming back to town. Second, since the Phillips clan seemed so cramped in Molly's new apartment, my parents had offered to house the visiting family for a weekend. Third, since Lisa Thelen was Molly's friend anyway, guess who was invited to a dinner celebrating her return to the U.S.? I tried not to let my expression betray my mounting dread as Mom fired these reports at me.

On the first day of July, the Thelens arrived in the morning, right on time. Annie hadn't changed at all, except she seemed to talk to herself a little less, which I supposed was a positive development, except that it meant she was more interested in having actual conversations with real people, myself included. I spent the day trying to come up with excuses to miss the "party," but each one sounded more ridiculous than the last. After dinner I hastily retreated to the kitchen, eager for a break from both the visiting family's oh-so-fascinating accounts of their latest travels and the uncomfortable tension between me, Molly, and Fi. Fi had been blatantly suspicious, taking note of every glance I might happen to dart in Molly's direction. Molly seemed resentful, which I couldn't quite figure out. She artfully avoided my glances, though she was atypically cheerful and conversational around the Thelens.

she's the life I've been frightened of, seems like
deathly silence and especially the dark, feels like
I am heavy and my spirit has died

I sat at the kitchen table trying to ignore the rising and falling voices from the dining room. It mostly worked until I heard one distinctive voice becoming louder and louder until finally she arrived in the doorway, looking behind her and laughing--I couldn't tell if it was genuine or forced. She was carrying a glass empty but for an inch or two of liquid sloshing around at the bottom. The cup went under the ice-maker in the freezer door, but she couldn't make it work. Frustrated, she banged her fist against the door a couple of times, swearing under her breath. I simply observed until finally getting up and taking the cup out of her hand.

She swore louder this time. "You scared me! Were you there the whole time?" She slid the kitchen door closed, in order to keep anyone from wandering by and seeing us together, I supposed.

"Yeah." I filled the cup halfway with ice cubes and handed it to her. She took it but I didn't let go.

"What are you doing in here?" Her voice became hushed, conspiratorial.

"You can only hear about South America so many times before it starts to get really boring."

"Yeah," she agreed.

Awkward pause.

and she will have her way
somehow I will still believe her
she will have her way
one day I will come back

"So how have you been?"

"You just saw me two nights ago," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but we haven't really talked since... you know, a while."

"I'm fine."

"No more dreams?"

"None at all."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

Awkward pause, part 2.

"I'll let you get back." I released the cup.

"Well, wait," she said, setting it down on the nearest counter.

"Yeah?"

She folded her arms across her chest and it really looked like she wanted to ask me something, but couldn't quite get it out.

I couldn't take the tension anymore.

still no end in sight
though I've traveled far and wide
and a dying man is doing time
thinker, soldier terrified

At first she didn't fight back--she welcomed it. But of course that couldn't last, not here, not now, not with everyone we needed to keep it a secret from sitting in the next room. She pulled back and said: "We can't--this is--I still--you can't--not with... Fiona. Jesus. Fiona."

I noted with amusement the way she had become so flustered that apparently forming complete sentences was a challenge. "What about her?"

"Don't make me say it," she said, actually physically pushing me away from her. "Let's just... let's just pretend--"

"Yeah, that's not going to happen, the pretending thing. I'm tired of that. I can't do it."

"But you're--and she--"

"Nothing's going on. Is that what you think? God, what kind of person do you think I am? Do you think I could do that to you? Or to her?"

"But I saw you."

"We're friends. It's all we've ever been. It's all we are. It's all we ever could be. Trust me." I wasn't sure whether I meant it as a request or a demand.

she will have her way
somehow I will still believe her
she will have her way
one day I will come back

This time it was her who closed the gap between us. I tried to burn images and sensations into my memory; it was impossible to tell whether this would be a new beginning or the last time we'd ever be alone like this. She withdrew a second time and bit her lip like she was punishing it for acting independently of her brain. "I can't," she said finally. "I still can't."

"Whatever it is, don't you think we could--"

"No. We couldn't. It's not about you. It's about me, but it's also about everything--everyone. Even if you think there's nothing going on between you, she loves you. Believe me, I know what that looks like."

"But I don't--"

"It doesn't matter. Even if it's not about her, it's about everyone else."

"I don't care about everyone else."

"I know. But I do."

"They're not here. They don't get to decide what happens."

"It's more complicated than that."

"It doesn't have to be."

"It does."

"No, it really doesn't."

I took what might be the last chance I'd ever get, pressing my lips against hers one last best time. It was encouraging that she didn't immediately resist--it felt like maybe I was finally wearing away some of her defenses. I moved my attentions lower, toward her neck and shoulders, but it didn't last long before she interrupted again: "I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"Carey, stop." I obeyed. "Seriously, I can't. Right now... It's too much. I need to get out of here. Apologize to Irene and Lisa for me, would you?"

She didn't give me a chance to respond. She was out of my sight before I'd gotten around to asking questions like "What the hell am I supposed to tell them?"

when the time has gone away
she will have her way
but not before time
she will have her way

No one seemed to be suspicious or even notice when I slid the door open and emerged from the kitchen alone. No one, that is, except Fi, who regarded me with enough loaded wariness to make a weaker man's heart stop. I leaned over and whispered the news of Molly's untimely departure to my mother, who seemed neither surprised nor distressed. She encouraged me quietly to sit at the table, but Lisa was in the middle of an undoubtedly exciting tale of life in the jungle, so I opted to return to my room instead.

I guess it was irresponsible of me to let Fiona think I could feel about her the way she so obviously felt about me. It was weakness; I needed to believe that someone could actually love me--I needed to believe that what happened wasn't my fault, that it was all about Molly's psychological battles and guilt issues and paranoia. I needed the reassurance that Fi's constant adoration provided.

Fine, I'll say it the way it should be said: I used her. I hated to think of myself as the kind of person who could do that to someone who really cared, and more than that, someone who cared unconditionally, despite what she knew about my moral shortcomings. That just wasn't what I wanted, and I was really getting tired of having to deny and hide and pretend.

I'll admit that maybe that night I wasn't as concerned as I should have been about the way my behavior would affect her. I knew what she still wanted. I knew that she thought I could provide it for her, despite the many times I'd assured her nothing could ever happen between us. Still, I shouldn't have been so completely focused on what I wanted or what I was feeling. I should have tried to care more. I should have been more sensitive. I should have known what would happen next.