Fear. This was what Rhea was experiencing. Where it came from or why it came at all escaped her. Maybe it was that hanging feeling you get when you think that something's too good to be true. Whatever the case, all she wanted to be sure of was that it didn't interfere with her and Curt. But, she questioned herself more often—Wasn't fear the heart of love? And then she'd answer herself the same way always—No, not when only one person has it.

It was after four months now. It had already been months since Curt and Rhea met, and forever since that testy period of trial. Compared to then, they were at the peak of their relationship, at the mark where they can finish each other's sentences. Curt's sporadic breakdowns occurred less. Even so, there was something skulking behind the feeling of soundness and security. Curt was more stable, but also more sullen. He held no grief, but also no elation. Had he just gotten worse?

(---------------)

After an outing, one afternoon, Rhea was unexpectedly stricken ill. Curt, never having any of the basic necessities at his flat, sent himself on an errand. He went to the nearest drug store he knew of, a family-owned pharmacy. When he arrived there, he stood befuddled at the counter. He left the apartment right away and didn't really inspect Rhea for her symptoms. Feeling aloof, he simply bought every given treatment: one for colds and coughs, one for fever, and several others for stomach problems. As he pointed to the clerk for the medicine, he caught sight of the holes on his arm. His three-quarter sleeve pulled back as he stretched, and he remembered the jacket that he had forgotten in his haste. Nobody else saw the breaks in his skin, but he returned his arm to his side quickly.

(----------)

On his way back, one other thing gave Curt a start. He saw Mandy again. And this time, she didn't see him. He watched her for a bit as she slightly fumbled by a payphone. She was fidgety and looked like she didn't want to be noticed. While Curt risked to inch closer, he could see her hovering a hand over the mouthpiece end of the receiver, keeping her lips partially out of view.

Just when Curt was becoming comfortable on the soft sod he stood on, Mandy turned around, blinking rapidly. Curt walked ahead before she caught him in her field of vision. He hurried on, even when he was well past her and wondered why he had done so. Why didn't he want her to see him? It wouldn't have been a big deal, even if he was still a little sore about what she said to him.

(----------)

Harboring an indescribable emotion, Curt went up the stairs of the apartment building. Ready to be met with a weak, yet full hug from Rhea, he pushed through the door of his unit. What confronted him was a normal scenario, but it would turn into the most distressing happenstance yet.

Not a creak was produced by the hinges of the door as Curt opened it.

"No, he's not." he heard Rhea say, still delaying his entrance at the mouth of the flat.

She stopped on the verge of speaking another word when he made the door swing fully open.

"Bye." Rhea uttered dryly and hung up. "What do you have there?" she asked Curt.

"Stuff for you." He went to push the door closed and then positioned himself in the middle of the room. "Who was that?" he posed, wishing away what distrust was beginning to form in his mind.

"No one." Rhea said creakily.

"Why aren't you in bed? I thought you had something."

Rhea closed her eyes for a second, perhaps in defeat. She had forgotten to return to where Curt left her. She was about to say something to salvage her situation, when Curt made his way to the armoire that she leaned against.

He felt her forehead. It wasn't hot, or even warm; not sweaty, clammy, or anything characteristic of sickness. Something clicked in Curt's head.

"Who were you talking to on the phone?" he asked once more, in his dangerous monosyllabic tone that Rhea had grown to look out for.

"Um…just. It was…."

"Who was it?" Curt inquired again, his voice sinking deeper to threat. He hadn't realized, but he had placed a hand on his waist, waiting in aggravated anticipation for the identity of the caller.

"Nobody you know." Rhea answered, almost speeding out of the room shortly after. She didn't even know where she was going or what she was going to do; maybe to the bathroom to lock herself away, before Curt threw a fit.

Curt looked at the area-rug, where Rhea's slippered feet had been planted, and breathed heavily. He prodded the toe of his boot into the floor, as if to kill the sparks of a cigarette.

"Rhea." he called out.

Rhea didn't lock herself in the bathroom, but retreated to the bed. The sheets and comforters were pulled over her all the way up, so that she looked like a rising mound from the mattress.

Curt had made his way into the bedroom before Rhea could afford to cry in solitude, like she wanted to do. She struggled to suck it up and kept her head down.

"Who was it?" Curt asked yet again, returning to his frighteningly low voice. He could hear stifled sobs coming from his girlfriend.

At a situation like this, benevolent Curt would have climbed into bed with Rhea and hushed all her tears away even if it meant reducing himself to "goo-goos" and "ga-gas." Right now, something was off, and flustered, insensitive Curt had taken over.

He moved from the foot of the bed and towards Rhea, ripping the sheets off her furiously. He reached out and pulled her up, jerking her from a fetal position.

Rhea had given in and was starting to cry like mad. Curt jumped back to his cross-examination as soon as she was upright and seated.

"Tell me who was on the goddamn phone."

Whimpering was all Rhea was capable of, but this would not satisfy Curt.

"Who!"

"I told you." she said helplessly.

"You're lying to me. You can't be fucked up like this, telling me the truth. You can't even look at me! Now just tell me. Who was on the fucking phone!"

"It was Mandy, alright! That's who was on the fucking phone."

"I knew it. What did she tell you, huh? She tell you to leave me? She telling lies about me again?"

Curt was walking back and forth, and Rhea was beginning to have trouble following him with her eyes.

"She couldn't leave me alone. She couldn't leave us well enough alone. I'm gonna go to her. And so help me…. I'm gonna—" he pattered, in a self-created atmosphere of soliloquy.

"Curt, don't. Don't do anything to her."

"Why not? Why are you trying to protect that bitch? All she's done is try to ruin us!"

"She's my mother, for Christ's sake!"

Curt's mouth hung agape and his blood curdled to the surface of his skin.

"What!" he shouted.

"It's true. That's true—I'm not lying anymore."

Curt became silent. His weight was stably settled on his right foot but he felt like he was losing balance. Everything struck at him at the same time from all angles.

"That means…the bookstore, even the park. All this time you were just fuckin' playing with me!"

"No!" Rhea yelled, disintegrating into tears for the third time.

Curt gave a short, heartless chuckle. "Was this some sort of plan you had?"

"There is no plan. There never was! But that's not all." Rhea sighed, hanging her head low.

"What? What else have you kept from me? No wait—don't tell me. You're really a man, aren't you? Cause no woman can suck me off that well." Curt bombarded. He could care less if he was turning into an asshole.

"Brian's my father." Rhea said meekly, but clearly.

"Brian? Slade?" Curt asked, hoping that the disbelief would never leave him.

"Yeah." Rhea mumbled with eyes frozen, desperately wishing that the blood keeping her alive had no traces of the Slade family-line.

That was it. The wick of Curt's patience had burned out.

"Why? Why, Rhea? You knew how much I've wanted to see him!"

"Because he already had his chance and he fucked up. I wanted mine!"

"And lying straight through your teeth was the way to do it!" Curt questioned crossly.

"No! God…. Look, I know how you feel. You didn't know my reasons so you're hating me right now. You—"

"Fuck-no. You can't even begin to imagine how I feel right now!"

Curt toppled a lamp with one swift motion. Then he took a candle-holder that was on the same table with the lamp and started to beat the wall with it. Angry tears seemed to heighten his distressed vision instead of blurring it. He hacked fiercely into the defenseless plywood and left the scuffed candle-holder wedged among the damaged layers.

"Curt…." Rhea attempted to make vocal contact. She braced herself and tried to approach him. "Please stop." she said, her false bravado peeling to reveal her fright. "You're scaring me baby. Talk to me, and we can fix things up, like we always do."

"I don't wanna fucking talk to you! I don't wanna fix things up! And I don't wanna scream at you anymore." Curt said, starting with rolling thunder and ending with a muted rumble. "It all just ends the same way, over and over and over."

He kicked every available object as he repeated the word.

"What can I do then?" Rhea appealed, when the worst of Curt's bitter outburst had subsided. "If you can't love me anymore, at least forgive me."

Curt pushed away from the wall he had his hands up against and trudged in the direction of a windowsill.

"Take me to Brian tomorrow."