I'm getting pretty damn sick of this.
"Greenlee, let me in." She doesn't answer, but I hear her sobs ratchet up another notch. Not to sound like a martyr, but really, how much more of this am I expected to take?
I've known Greenlee for a number of years. She's always been very unique, and unapologetically so. But I can't remember her ever being so distant, so isolated, so manic. And once again, my mind tries to stop this thought process, attempt to contain the realization that I've drawn nearer and nearer to in the past while. But it's something that has become harder and harder to ignore.
"Sweetie, just-I just want to know what's wrong. Just open the door and tell me what's wrong." It's as if my words are being carried off by an imagined breeze before they can reach her ears. All I want is some sort of reaction. Any sort of reaction that isn't tears would, at this point, be tantamount to success for me. I decide to choose my next words carefully. "Honey...is it Leo? Are you thinking about Leo?"
She quiets abruptly. This is unbelievable. I want to congratulate myself but know it is too soon. I have to proceed very carefully.
"Because, if you are...we could-I mean, I know that I would really like to talk about him. He was like a brother to me, Greenlee. We can talk...would you like that?" I hold my breath. Then I hear her feet padding across the floor and I inwardly rejoice. I can do this. I don't need David's help dealing with Greenlee. Besides, he wasn't home when I called.
She wrenches open the door and I'm ashamed and embarrassed that her wide- open eyes are on some small level frightening me. The gauntness of her face really emphasizes their largesse. I gingerly cross into the room and sit down on the bed, motioning, perhaps unwisely, for her to sit next to me. There's no telling what someone can do while in a delicate emotional state. Having been in such states numerous times myself and having done numerous regrettable things while in such states has given me a certain amount of authority on this subject.
"I miss him too. And it's okay, you know, if you want to talk about him. Because I want you to be able to talk to me. I love you and I want you to be happy." I mean everything I'm saying. Really. I just want things to be like they were before, when she wasn't crying all the time. Maybe because that way it was easier to pretend that nothing was wrong with her. I put my arm around her and draw her close, holding her tightly, feeling her sharp bones. She's bruising me, has been for a long time.
"I know you do." She's silent for several moments, not reciprocating my physical closeness, but not moving away either. "But I don't want to talk about Leo." She looks at me then, stares up at me, her eyes still wide, still wild. She wraps her arm around my neck and kisses me, harder then I remember her ever doing before, but I don't care. I rise up slightly, still holding her, my mouth fused to hers, reveling in her slightly jagged teeth and ashy tasting mouth in the way that I've wanted to. I don't really know for how long, though. I hate myself for doing this, for not stopping, but my mind's feeble and faint protests are no match for my body's overwhelming, pounding need.
I want to have sex. I want to fuck someone who isn't tall, who isn't as thin as a whisper, whose hair is straight without the slightest hint of curl. Greenlee can help me forget.
She's not the only one who can be selfish.