With apologies to Maud and Walter for the chapter title.
"Hey Eddie. C'mere a sec." Theresa leaned in the entrance to the kitchen, gripping the corner of the wall apprehensively.
Eddie looked up from his ice cream. "Huh?"
"That thing? I wanted to show you?"
He looked confused. She wanted to scream.
"You know." She gritted her teeth in a smile and inclined her head towards her room.
"Oh, right," Eddie said, getting it. "That thing." He picked up his bowl to carry it with him, past Arturo's questioning look and Ryan's blank one.
She had barely closed the door when his ice cream bowl was on her dresser and his arms were smothering her, his mouth at her face, closing her in between the door and Eddie. She kissed him back briefly. It was a strange sensation, being the center of Eddie's physical world. She let her hands quickly rub up and down his back before she stopped, pushing him away.
"I can't take this," Eddie said. He was breathing too fast.
She bit her lip. It was wrong. She'd kissed him back. She couldn't say it now. Could she?
"We need to talk."
"But I don't wanna talk." He took his ice cream bowl and plopped down on her bed. Like a pouting child. He shoveled a spoonful into his mouth.
"Uh huh. I can see that."
"What are we doing? Look, I love you." The words hit her as a roaring train. He had never said them. She knew he had never said them. Not to her. Not like that. Not ever. And here he was, so matter-of-fact. "And you love me, and c'mon, it's the easiest thing in the world."
"It's not." Why did she want to cry? "It's not easy. God. Damn. Eddie."
"Why can't we just say it? So he'll be pissed. So what? Better to tell him now. Get it over with."
"Eddie..."
"I mean, this is working. You and me. It's right. Enough of this bullshit."
She shook her head, fighting back the tears that were stinging her eyes. "I can't."
He blinked, as though he didn't hear her. "What?" The ice cream bowl fell to the side, propped up at an angle on the bedding.
"Can't do this. It's not working. Not right."
"No, baby," and he stood, concerned, moving as if to hold her in his arms. "No."
She shied away. "I'm not a baby. Sit down." He obeyed. "It's not – I'm not-"
"No," he said, resigned. "I'm not."
"Eddie-!"
"What was it? Did I, you know, talk too much? No, I'm too dumb. Too tall. That's not it. Too fucking nice?" He slammed his hand on her nightstand, and both she and the music box jumped at once. "I get it, all right?"
"No," she said, and the tears were threatening her even closer. "No, you don't, it's not, it's not you, it's me-"
"Fuck that!" he hissed.
"You've been-" She wiped at her eyes. "Great. Perfect. Eddie, I don't deserve you."
He ran a hand through his hair, which now stood at wild angles. "Damn. You got that right."
She already was unsure of her choice, but now it was too late.
"Eddie, I-"
"Too late." He reached for the door. "Don't worry. Your – our 'secret'? Is safe." He was so scornful, but she could hear the pain. She wanted to stop him, but there was no time. He threw the door open, storming for the front.
She took a deep, ragged breath. It was done. She'd decided.
She glanced down at her hand, the purple prize ring around her pinky. She slid it off slowly and frowned. It had left a ring of purple dye on her finger where it had rested all day. It wouldn't go away, it wouldn't disappear. Even taking the ring off didn't make it go away. It was ironic, in its own way.
Theresa stared at the purple ring for a moment before crossing to her dresser and pulling open her top drawer. She shoved aside underwear and bras and socks, digging for the things she knew were in there. She pulled out a small lip gloss and an amethyst crystal and shoved the door closed.
She crossed to the nightstand and sat on the bed. She reached for the music box and opened it. The music had run out and the lovers were frozen in time.
Carefully, she set the three things out – lip gloss, crystal and ring - displayed like sacred treasures on the worn pink felt insides of the music box. For a moment she regarded the three objects with almost a holy reverence. They represented everything - everything. Every reason, every emotion. She blinked and shook her head. It was just a rock and a piece of trash and a tube of badly flavored wax. That was all it was. She was being ridiculous again. She did that a lot. It wasn't a good thing.
Ryan appeared in the hallway with a quizzical expression. "Everything okay?"
She slammed the music box shut. "Yeah, sure," she said, dismissive.
He watched as she set the music box back on her nightstand. "Okay. Cause Eddie looked-"
"Family stuff," she said. "Don't worry about it." She moved to block the nightstand so he wouldn't notice or ask her about it.
He nodded. He accepted this excuse much too easily. "We're gonna watch some NASCAR, if you want..."
She didn't want to. But maybe she deserved something unpleasant right now. "Okay," she sighed. "Who's playing?"
Ryan wrinkled his nose at her as she reached for Eddie's unfinished bowl of ice cream, and shook his head at her as she pulled her door shut, hurriedly wiping her eyes clean of the last of the tears. For now. She could finish them later.
It was hours later, as Theresa sat curled up in her bed, her face buried in the pillow, her arm wrapped protectively around her music box, that she heard a soft knock at the door. She didn't say anything, but after a moment, the door opened and she heard a voice. "And?"
She moved her face to wipe more tears on her pillow. She lifted her head slightly at the sound of her mother's voice. "And what?"
"Which one did you choose?" Eva pressed gently.
"I – I didn't..."
"Oh, Therese." There was so much disappointment in her mother's voice, and it shamed her.
"It hurts, Mama. It hurts to feel this much, I want to be alone. Go away. Please?"
"No," came the quiet response. "No, nobody really wants that. Feeling is good. Even bad feeling. It connects us to each other. And sometimes yes. It does hurt. But it is worse not to feel at all."
"It can't feel worse than this."
"Yes, it can. Feeling nothing is worse than anything in the world. You don't know that because you feel too much, you feel too strongly. You don't know what it's like, not to feel anything."
"Mama?"
"Mmm?"
Theresa struggled to sit up, wiping at her face a little. "That doesn't make any sense."
"That's because you are young."
"You always say that."
"That's because it's true."
Theresa tried to smile and she couldn't. "It still hurts, Mama."
"Yes. I know."
"You always know everything, Mama."
"Yes. I do."
"That does it. I'm quitting."
Theresa slammed her register drawer shut and turned to Lily. "Um. Excuse me?"
"I can't take this anymore. It's hot and loud, and I'm so stressed out I've chewed my fingernails to pieces, look." Theresa looked. She had. "Gary keeps yelling and the customers are rude." Lily shook her head.
"Lily – no. I'll be all alone if you quit."
"Oh, come on. Like you care. You want me gone and you know it."
"I don't." Theresa paused. "Goddammit, it took me a month to get you in line. I'm not starting from scratch."
"You'll be fine."No. No, she could not do this. Not today. Not after the week Theresa was having. "Shit. No."
She was cut off by an explosion from the corner of the dining area. The napkin stand on the table had leapt a foot from the impact of Trey Atwood slamming the table down. Becca, across from him, looked terrified. Theresa felt the same.
"Then why the fuck did I even bother?"
"You tell me!" Becca screamed back.
The other lunch customers looked petrified, and from the fury on Trey's face, Theresa didn't blame them one bit.
"This is over!"
"What? Trey, what did we ever have that's fucking over?"
"Cunt!" he spat. Theresa winced. From the corner of her eye she saw Lily look away.
"Ass!"
Gary emerged from the back, wiping his hands on a towel and looking around with a worried expression. Theresa glanced back at the dining room only to see Becca burst in to tears.
"You can all go to hell!" Trey roared at the staring bystanders before storming off, leaving a hysterical Becca in his wake.
Theresa instinctively started for the dining room, then stopped. Lily had started, too, before stopping. They glanced at each other.
"You go," Theresa whispered, resigned. She made a quick gesture to motion Lily away. "I'll cover the registers."
Lily nodded a quick thanks and Theresa watched her move around to take a weeping Becca by the shoulders and escort her out of Pizza King.
"Where's she going?" Gary demanded.
"Gary, it's fine. I got it." She shook her head at him.
It wasn't her place to assuage Becca's drama any more. She was long past that. In fact, with Eddie out of the way, maybe she was done with drama. With feeling. For a little while.
That, she thought to herself as she watched Lily consoling Becca outside, just might be a nice change.