Love
Brian fumbled with the keys. He's so distracted…so sad. He opened the door.
"Can I come in?" she interjected. She thought how awkward, how forced it sounded.
"Sure." He didn't look at here. He slowly turned, but didn't look at her. He flailed out a tired gesture. She walked in. He closed the door behind them both.
She looked around, then turned to him. His gray-blue eyes were brimming with sorrow.
"What's wrong?" she asked. It was a sincere question, one of the most sincere uses of the tired expression she had ever spoken.
"Tired…tha's all."
She shook her head.
"You know that's not it. Tell me. Are you…sad, again?"
He winced and bared his teeth slightly. He let out a hissing breathe; his self control deflating. He shook his head.
"I…I know I have no reason. I…"
"Shh. Brian. No one understands. I know. But I do. Please, if all I have is you, what good are you if you close yourself away? If I'm the only one who understands then let me in, don't shut me out!"
She opened her arms. He repressed a sob. She held him, and he rested his head on hers, his hand twirling a lock of the hair on the back of her head.
"I just…whenever I'm at a concert, or a carnival or party even, I just…all the people, bouncing around in that great sea of humanity…It just reminds me of how alone I am."
He looked into her blue-blue-blue eyes. The understanding was without words. She had felt that way. But no more. And he needn't feel so lonely anymore. She half-puckered, then stopped. He doesn't like kissing, she reminded herself.
"No," he answered. He leaned in. They kissed. He started, fast, but slowed, and they reached a slow tempo. They broke away slowly, simultaneously. She let out a contented sigh. He grimaced and looked to the side.
"Shall I stay with you tonight?" It was a question she would have never asked of him when he was her teacher. It would have been beyond inappropriate, scandalous. Even after that Autumn, when he quit his post and began working on putting a band together, it still would have felt wrong. But now they both knew it an appropriate question. They were both too far drawn into each other.
Objections flew about his mind. Its an occasion of sin, if not a venial sin…giving cause for scandal…leading to the fall of another…betraying your quest to save her… And then another voice came in. Since when was it your mission to save this thing? She's beyond help. You know it. If she won't let Him in, then He won't go in; The Enemy is like that, you see. He's claims to want to save you pitiful humans, but doesn't even give half an effort. Then another voice, shrill, accusatory. Like you have any right to worry about her! Look at you! Having an affair with a student! A girl five years younger than you! And does she even suspect what you've done? Those long, lonely nights…
"Shutup! Shutup! Shutup! You don't own me! I am master of my fate! You don't own me any more!"
"Brian!"
He found himself on the ground, hands over his ears.
"Brian…?"
"Don't leave me…"
She knelt down and cradled him.
"Why, Lisa…why?"
"Shhh…"
They stood up together, clinging to each other, kissing desperately.
That night, they lay side by side, holding the other like frightened children. They did nothing, said nothing. Lisa remembered how once, as a child, she had a horrible nightmare about a terrible monster under her bed. She had run, crying, to her parents' room, and they let her sleep with them. She remembered how she still felt afraid that the monster would return, and how she clung to her father's back. Now I'm the one comforting. And he's still afraid. Just like me, the monsters are only in his head! She looked at him. He was sleeping, his breathes rattling in his lungs. She pulled her head up, and felt a slight twinge of pain. She untwisted his fingers from a lock of her hair. She smiled and shook her head. She got up and brushed the creases from her shirt. She was still in the clothes she had worn at the concert. So was he. Looked at his face again. She frowned. He looked so old. He looked so tired. She went to the bathroom.
She undressed absent-mindedly. She ran a warm bath while she read through one of the songs she had written, and then checked the accompaniment Brian had written for it. She threw it all aside, the papers sticking slightly to the steam-dampened floor. She went and stuck one toe into the waters, testing it. It was just right. She slid slowly in. she let out a long sigh. It was a bit of an indulgence, yes, but a simple, honest one. She just felt the warmth permeating her, soaking into her flesh, slowly untying the knots. She sang "For A Dancer" by Jackson Browne.
"…Until the dance becomes your very own,
no matter how close to yours
another steps, you have grown,
in the end there is one dance you'll do alone…"