Chapter 6: One
Did I disappoint you
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without
Well, it's too late tonight
To drag the past out into the light
We're one but we're not the same
We get to carry each other, carry each other…
You say love is a temple
Love a higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter, but then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on to what you got
When all you got is hurt
"One" by U2
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I lay across the couch, still in my work clothes, staring into my empty apartment. I'm tired, but I'm not sure why. I had a great day at work, and did a little flirting on the side with a former coworker. A great day. On the other hand, there's the person I'm talking with, and I think I know why I'm so tired. "You haven't changed," I tell him over the phone, a small smile on my lips, "still asking me where all of a sudden."
His voice is disturbingly clear over my connection, as if he's in the living room with me. "I'm sorry," he says, as if he doesn't mean it.
I frown, startled by his admission. "That's strange," I say lightheartedly, as if he just didn't do the impossible and apologize. Amon never admits mistakes, he never shows emotion, he'll never change. Or so I'd always thought.
"I haven't slept because of this case," he goes on, as if he hasn't said something completely out of the ordinary, "a case from two years back. While I should be thinking of this case, instead I'm thinking of you."
I almost drop the phone. Long ago, this would've sent a thrill through my heart, but instead, it sends a shudder of fear. I want to ask what's wrong, but instead, I say calmly, even teasingly, "It's odd, you never say things like that."
"We shouldn't see each other again," he finally says.
I close my eyes. So it's come to this, I think. Finally. "I wondered when you would say that," I say after a beat, thankful I'm already lying down. Not that I'd fall over from anything this man says, it's just nice to know I don't have to be on my feet. "I have a question," I say, my voice still strangely calm, as if I'm standing away from the scene. As if I'm him, and I'm not sure whether that disturbs me or him more.
"What is it?" he asks, as if we hadn't just broken up. As if we hadn't spent the last how many months in bed together. As if we were complete strangers. The barely perceptible strain in his voice tells me he's not alone, and I steel myself to keep my volume down. Robin, I think, and then I know. I know the nail in the coffin isn't me, but her.
The question I want to ask is, Are you really such an unfeeling prick? Do you have a heart in that body of yours, or is it made of stone like the rest of you? Why are you dumping me for a teen, you pedophile? None of them will give me the answers I want, and he will never lie to me. That's the worst kind of answer sometimes, the truth. Finally, I ask in an admirably calm, even concerned tone, "Do you, are you all right?"
He seems startled, but answers after a beat, "I'm fine."
I nod, as if he can see. "I see," I say instead. I know she's still there, perhaps standing politely away so as not to hear the conversation. He is a careful man, but he was never this careful with me. Or caring with me.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he clears his throat. "I," he pauses, "I'm sorry." And he hangs up.
"I believe you are," I say softly to the dead connection before turning my phone off.
Then I throw it across the room, not caring that the neighbors should hear or if the phone should break. I should've known. I should've known his fear of emotions would prevail, as usual. I should've known that his work would come between us. That, perhaps, even Robin would come between us. I never would've thought -- but she's his coworker, she sees him more than I do. And they have something in common that I don't -- their taste in dramatic dark clothes. Okay, I admit, it hurts that he chooses her, a slip of a girl, over me. He knows me intimately, but he's never touched her. I'm fairly sure of that, since she would behave much differently, having known a man that way. I know I changed after my first time.
The irony that I lost to a nun isn't wasted on me. I exhale loudly, pulling my long-sleeve top away from my chest. Because of my work situation, I can hang out with the girls, but I don't feel comfortable sharing my love woes with them. The office ladies being what they are, versus my status, they'd probably say I should be unlucky in love, if not in business. Dammit. It's not the first time my lack of close friends sucks, but I don't wallow.
Instead, I pull out a business card from my purse and start dialing from my miraculously unharmed phone. He picks up after the second ring, and I find myself smiling when he answers. "Hi, Seiichi? This is Touko." After a few pleasantries, I end up asking him to reacquaint ourselves at a bar. Pulling out a receipt from my purse, I scribble down the bar he proposes, and after another brief round of flirting, I hang up. Even if it doesn't work out with my former coworker, at least I'll get a decent drink, and smile a little. I may be alone, but I don't have to be lonely.
Episode 10: "Separate Lives"