A week later…
She was doing better now. They'd settled back into the professional relationship they'd perfected. She avoided his eyes though he sought hers. But it was exhausting pretending she didn't love him. Someone had given them identical shifts for a month and working in the ER was hardly a low-impact job. But this past month it had been like she'd been acting the whole time. Every time she looked up she had to think what she SHOULD feel, what she SHOULD say, what she SHOULD do. She pressed the answer phone play button as she dropped her keys on the bench in her apartment.
"Hey. I know you probably don't want to talk to me. But I just wanted to apologize for pushing you away. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Just know I'm here for you. You don't have to tell me but you don't have to be alone either." She could hear his sigh down the line before it clicked off. The last thing she wanted to be was another complication in his life. Another worry. Another cause of pain. But somehow she'd become that and he deserved better. He deserved the truth and she couldn't give him all of it. But she could certainly give him some of it. It would be good to talk to him like old times. Maybe they could be friends again. Maybe she could just ignore loving him. Maybe…
She knocked on his door, thinking her heartbeat must be about the same volume as her knuckles on the hollow wood.
"Coming." He yelled from inside.
She took a deep breath, straightened her shirt and waited for him.
"Susan." He said, his shock evident.
"Hi." She wasn't sure where to go from there. "Um, I got your message."
"Oh. Right. Well, do you want to come in?"
"No lets have this conversation in the hallway."
For a moment he thought she was serious, "Oh, right." He stepped aside and she walked past him. There were cardboard boxes against one wall but they appeared empty. He'd finished unpacking but it didn't look like it. "Sorry about the mess. Do you want a drink?"
"Tea would be great." She turned to him and followed him into the kitchen silently.
Mark didn't know what to say. Every time he'd tried before she'd run away. He listened to the jug boil and poured their drinks.
"Mark, I'm sorry." She sighed. "You were just trying to help, I know that. And I haven't been fair on you."
"No. I shouldn't have pushed you. You're right, we have changed. I can't expect you to be the same as you were five years ago. I'm not. But you're still Susan." He shrugged, not sure what he was getting at.
She smiled.
"Do you want to sit down?" he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table.
"Thanks." She put her drink on the table, playing with the teabag. "I went to New York a few weeks back. Joe left Chloe… no surprise. She never deserved him. Anyway, she lost Suzie… and she was too high to notice."
"Oh my gosh. Is she okay?"
"Yeah, we found her and she's alright now. Chloe's in rehab… again. And they're fine – as much as ever. But that's why I was so… past it, last week. Well, that's part of it anyway."
"There's more?" he searched her eyes, desperately wanting to comfort her.
"Not really." She sipped her tea but found it still too hot.
"You don't have to tell me, but don't lie to me."
She met his eyes. "I'm sorry… I seem to be saying that a lot lately. Why do you bother with me?"
"Because we haven't changed THAT much." He smiled, taking her hand, trying to comfort her.
"I don't deserve that." She tried to avoid his eyes but he touched her cheek, demanding her attention.
"Yeah you do." He was looking her straight in the eyes with his trademark terrifying honesty. She couldn't pull away any more.
It wasn't till his lips touched hers that she realized what was happening and pulled away.
"I'm so sorry." She covered her mouth with a hand. "I… I, ah… I…"
"No, it was me. That was terrible of me. I…" he took a deep breath.
"I should go."
"No. Don't do that." He was stuck to the spot as she pushed past him. "Please." He said breathlessly.
She made the mistake of turning around. The look in his eyes was Union Station all over again. She'd kissed him and now she was walking away. But this time there was no train. She was glued to the spot, her body half-turned away. "Mark, I can't do this."
"Please." He'd said that already, "I never intended…" that was clear enough. "Please don't less the one thing ruin our friendship."
"I don't want it to. Really. I don't. but I'm so sick of pretending." Her eyes pleaded mercy, "I can't apologize for kissing you because I'd just be lying again and you deserve better." She let out a breath before she could say it. "I love you. It's why I came back. It's why I've been trying SO hard to be your friend and not hurt you or estrange you or mess it all up by doing something like this. I've been trying not to hurt myself but that was on the altar from the start. I just can't do it anymore." This felt like a eulogy, "Your friendship has meant more than anything. But I can't pretend I don't love you. I just don't have it in me anymore." She turned and walked slowly away.
When the catch on the door clicked shut behind her Mark sank into his chair trying to absorb what she'd said. All of a sudden her behaviour made sense. It came into stark clarity. Like a bright white that kind of hurts to look at. He had to decide if he was repulsed or enamored by it. Not her, but the prospect of her love. This thing that he'd wanted and yearned for, for longer than he cared to remember. Suddenly it was his for the taking. But he'd convinced himself she'd never loved him. When she'd said it in farewell it had been erased by five years separation. And when she'd returned, finally, he'd been married. But now… it was too soon. The divorce wasn't even finalized. And it was more complicated now. He had two daughters. Two ex-wives. With a failure rate like that… Susan deserved better.
But did he love her?
Always.
He couldn't ask for her friendship until he was ready for more. She shouldn't wait for him. He didn't have anything to offer her. But maybe one day… no he couldn't think about it. Timing was everything. And their timing was out. He was alone. So alone. He didn't want to be. But she deserved better than a lonely broken man with baggage and history like his. Something told him she knew all that and that hadn't changed anything. But he ignored it and finished his tea.
Susan looked out for a cab but soon gave up and just walked. She felt relieved in some ways. No more pretending. But what had she done? Everything would be different now. It wouldn't interfere at work, but he was more than a colleague. She couldn't even worry about work – she didn't care. She cared about Mark. She cared about the sinking feeling in her chest. She walked past a café playing an unfortunate song,
"I've looked at love from both sides now,
From give and take, and still somehow
It's love's illusions I recall.
I really don't know love at all.
Tears and fears and feeling proud to say "I love you" right out loud,
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I've looked at life that way.
But now old friends are acting strange, they shake their heads, they say I've changed.
Something's lost but something's gained in living every day."
She had it in her head all the way home. So much for self-preservation.
She was doing better now. They'd settled back into the professional relationship they'd perfected. She avoided his eyes though he sought hers. But it was exhausting pretending she didn't love him. Someone had given them identical shifts for a month and working in the ER was hardly a low-impact job. But this past month it had been like she'd been acting the whole time. Every time she looked up she had to think what she SHOULD feel, what she SHOULD say, what she SHOULD do. She pressed the answer phone play button as she dropped her keys on the bench in her apartment.
"Hey. I know you probably don't want to talk to me. But I just wanted to apologize for pushing you away. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Just know I'm here for you. You don't have to tell me but you don't have to be alone either." She could hear his sigh down the line before it clicked off. The last thing she wanted to be was another complication in his life. Another worry. Another cause of pain. But somehow she'd become that and he deserved better. He deserved the truth and she couldn't give him all of it. But she could certainly give him some of it. It would be good to talk to him like old times. Maybe they could be friends again. Maybe she could just ignore loving him. Maybe…
She knocked on his door, thinking her heartbeat must be about the same volume as her knuckles on the hollow wood.
"Coming." He yelled from inside.
She took a deep breath, straightened her shirt and waited for him.
"Susan." He said, his shock evident.
"Hi." She wasn't sure where to go from there. "Um, I got your message."
"Oh. Right. Well, do you want to come in?"
"No lets have this conversation in the hallway."
For a moment he thought she was serious, "Oh, right." He stepped aside and she walked past him. There were cardboard boxes against one wall but they appeared empty. He'd finished unpacking but it didn't look like it. "Sorry about the mess. Do you want a drink?"
"Tea would be great." She turned to him and followed him into the kitchen silently.
Mark didn't know what to say. Every time he'd tried before she'd run away. He listened to the jug boil and poured their drinks.
"Mark, I'm sorry." She sighed. "You were just trying to help, I know that. And I haven't been fair on you."
"No. I shouldn't have pushed you. You're right, we have changed. I can't expect you to be the same as you were five years ago. I'm not. But you're still Susan." He shrugged, not sure what he was getting at.
She smiled.
"Do you want to sit down?" he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table.
"Thanks." She put her drink on the table, playing with the teabag. "I went to New York a few weeks back. Joe left Chloe… no surprise. She never deserved him. Anyway, she lost Suzie… and she was too high to notice."
"Oh my gosh. Is she okay?"
"Yeah, we found her and she's alright now. Chloe's in rehab… again. And they're fine – as much as ever. But that's why I was so… past it, last week. Well, that's part of it anyway."
"There's more?" he searched her eyes, desperately wanting to comfort her.
"Not really." She sipped her tea but found it still too hot.
"You don't have to tell me, but don't lie to me."
She met his eyes. "I'm sorry… I seem to be saying that a lot lately. Why do you bother with me?"
"Because we haven't changed THAT much." He smiled, taking her hand, trying to comfort her.
"I don't deserve that." She tried to avoid his eyes but he touched her cheek, demanding her attention.
"Yeah you do." He was looking her straight in the eyes with his trademark terrifying honesty. She couldn't pull away any more.
It wasn't till his lips touched hers that she realized what was happening and pulled away.
"I'm so sorry." She covered her mouth with a hand. "I… I, ah… I…"
"No, it was me. That was terrible of me. I…" he took a deep breath.
"I should go."
"No. Don't do that." He was stuck to the spot as she pushed past him. "Please." He said breathlessly.
She made the mistake of turning around. The look in his eyes was Union Station all over again. She'd kissed him and now she was walking away. But this time there was no train. She was glued to the spot, her body half-turned away. "Mark, I can't do this."
"Please." He'd said that already, "I never intended…" that was clear enough. "Please don't less the one thing ruin our friendship."
"I don't want it to. Really. I don't. but I'm so sick of pretending." Her eyes pleaded mercy, "I can't apologize for kissing you because I'd just be lying again and you deserve better." She let out a breath before she could say it. "I love you. It's why I came back. It's why I've been trying SO hard to be your friend and not hurt you or estrange you or mess it all up by doing something like this. I've been trying not to hurt myself but that was on the altar from the start. I just can't do it anymore." This felt like a eulogy, "Your friendship has meant more than anything. But I can't pretend I don't love you. I just don't have it in me anymore." She turned and walked slowly away.
When the catch on the door clicked shut behind her Mark sank into his chair trying to absorb what she'd said. All of a sudden her behaviour made sense. It came into stark clarity. Like a bright white that kind of hurts to look at. He had to decide if he was repulsed or enamored by it. Not her, but the prospect of her love. This thing that he'd wanted and yearned for, for longer than he cared to remember. Suddenly it was his for the taking. But he'd convinced himself she'd never loved him. When she'd said it in farewell it had been erased by five years separation. And when she'd returned, finally, he'd been married. But now… it was too soon. The divorce wasn't even finalized. And it was more complicated now. He had two daughters. Two ex-wives. With a failure rate like that… Susan deserved better.
But did he love her?
Always.
He couldn't ask for her friendship until he was ready for more. She shouldn't wait for him. He didn't have anything to offer her. But maybe one day… no he couldn't think about it. Timing was everything. And their timing was out. He was alone. So alone. He didn't want to be. But she deserved better than a lonely broken man with baggage and history like his. Something told him she knew all that and that hadn't changed anything. But he ignored it and finished his tea.
Susan looked out for a cab but soon gave up and just walked. She felt relieved in some ways. No more pretending. But what had she done? Everything would be different now. It wouldn't interfere at work, but he was more than a colleague. She couldn't even worry about work – she didn't care. She cared about Mark. She cared about the sinking feeling in her chest. She walked past a café playing an unfortunate song,
"I've looked at love from both sides now,
From give and take, and still somehow
It's love's illusions I recall.
I really don't know love at all.
Tears and fears and feeling proud to say "I love you" right out loud,
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I've looked at life that way.
But now old friends are acting strange, they shake their heads, they say I've changed.
Something's lost but something's gained in living every day."
She had it in her head all the way home. So much for self-preservation.