Author's Note: Does anyone know where this story is going? I can't find it on the new chapters or the new stories list and I'm wondering how you all are reading it. The only way I can find it is if I click on Cuddy Cabin. Can anyone tell me how to get the story on the new chapters list? Thanks for all the reviews so far.

Chapter Three

By Thursday I felt like I was a walking zombie; a person with no feeling, only a destination. My mission was to get through the rest of the week without Faith and I havin any more blowouts. The last three days working with her had been like a trip to the dentist: long, drawn out and very painful. We hardly spoke to each other the entire eight hours we were together, which probably was better than fighting but the silence was enough to make me want to scream. I could feel the tension between us; the silence as thick as the smog that covers our city and it made me feel like I was about to snap.

I've known Faith for almost fifteen years; we've had a lot of fights and I do mean a lot. We have argued about everything from sex to drugs to kids and marriage. Little things like behaviourial habits; mostly mine (never hers) down to where we were gonna eat our supper that night. I knew we'd been through a helluva lot together but this was the first time that something was wrong that I could not fix. I'd always been able to go to her about everythin. It didn't matter what it was. She always listened and sometimes gave advice (which I never followed and ended up regretting it later) and I always knew that no matter what happened in my life that I could always bounce it off of her.

What was I to do now? Tell her that the reason I told Sean she was a lesbian was because I was secretly in love with her and wanted her all to myself? Tell her that the very thought of some other guy dating her, touching her, making love to her, would make me want to throw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge? That would go over real well, considering that she made it clear that she was in to Sean and apparently had no interest in me whatsoever. Not that I hadn't wondered by times—there were a few moments here and there that I thought I saw something more than friendship in her eyes but then again, I'm not the best judge of women. Not in that way. I'm more of the 'pleasure' giver, not the intellectual 'what's goin on in that head of yours?', kind of guy.

I left the locker room in a real huff, totally ticked off. Faith was in a real good mood for some reason (that started the minute she got out of the squad and away from me) and was talkin to someone on her cell phone. Every time I'd glance over at her while I was changin she would give me a dirty look and then go back to the conversation she was havin. The last time she caught me starin she turned completely away from me. As if it was really that big of a deal that I happened to look in her direction. She laughed real loud and hearty so I knew that who ever she was talkin to was tickling her funny bone. Faith has a real great laugh when she thinks somethin is really, really funny. Kind of like a high pitched squeal that she would try and cover up because it was so loud, but for the fact that she's caught off guard by the very thing that made her laugh in the first place.

So, when she laughed like that, I knew that she really was amused. I couldn't help but feel a little jealous about whoever it was on the phone. She didn't laugh like that for many people. I zipped up my jeans and jammed on my black boots and threw on a tight black t-shirt and my leather jacket and glanced back at her in the mirror as I was adjusting my hair. She was back to me, so she didn't see me staring. Good grief, she was looking pretty hot in her tight jeans and black turtle neck sweater. She had one hand in her back pocket as she talked, the other holding the phone. She leaned her shoulder on her locker and giggled again. That's the last thing I heard as I left the locker room.

I desperately needed a drink to get that memory from my head. Who the hell was she talkin to?

So, after my uneventful, boring and stressful shift, I decided to go over to my ma's bar and see what was goin on. My ma always knew that when I came to see her it was because I had somethin on my mind. I never said a word, she just always knew. She'd come over and pour me a shot of whatever she was workin on herself and tell me to spill.

As soon as I got inside and took a seat at the counter, she sashayed over to me, her pale eyes lighting up. She wore too much makeup, her shirt was too low cut for my taste, and she was drunk as a skunk, but I was still glad to see her. She always gave me the kind of attention that I'd never got as a kid. It was years late, but I still loved her and needed her, not that I'd ever repeat that, though.

"Hey baby, how you doin tonight?" She asked while reaching over behind the bar and grabbing two shot glasses, a lit cigarette hanging precariously from her full red lips. "You want one?"

"Ya. Thanks." I said, picking up the tiny glass and downing it in one gulp. I clanked it down and pointed at the bottle. "Keep em comin."

Her eyebrows raised and she gave me a look that was a mix between motherly concern and plain nosiness, which was typical of a bartender. "Maurice? What's goin on with you?"

I sighed and licked my lips, contemplating what I should say. I looked down at the counter, hoping that the answers would just come out of the shiny polished wood and hit me in the face. I felt her fingers under my chin, lifting my jaw so that I was eye level with her.

"Maurice? Are you in some kind of trouble?" She asked, setting her smoke in the ashtray and then her eyes widened and her hands came up around the base of her throat. "It's not your brother, is it? Don't tell me something happened to Michael—"

"No, ma. Nothins wrong with Mikey. I saw 'em last week. He's still livin with dad and workin construction." I said wearily, runnin my hands through my hair.

"Then what is it?" She asked, lookin visibly relieved, picking the butt up again and taking a long drag.

"It's...well...it's nothin...really." I mumbled, trying to find the words. Dammit, I was never good at expressing how I felt, especially when I was put on the spot. I turned the shot glass around with my hands, liking the feel of the cool glass on my palms.

"Maurice, I'm your mother and ya know what?" She asked, a small smile coming across her face.

"What?"

"I know you, baby. This is about a woman, isn't it?" She asked confidently, her head nodding slowly. "Isn't it?" She asked again, when I didn't answer.

"Ma, it's—it's complicated." I said, sighing. I pointed to the bottle again and she refilled my glass with a knowing look.

"Isn't it always? Ever since the days of Adam and Eve, men have been chasing women and vice versa. It's what makes the world go round, baby."

"Ya. Probably." I agreed.

"So, who is the lucky lady?" She asked. "Anyone I know?" She said and winked at me.

I scoffed and looked down again. "There is no lucky lady, ma. It's just a personal problem I've been havin at work 'an—"

"With Faith?"

I looked up at her and groaned. I should have known that she'd automatically bring Faith into it. She always did. "With Faith...ya." I said quietly, resting my chin in my hand.

"You two have a fight?"

"Lately, all we do is fight. She's changin, ma. She's not the same person she was when she was married."

"What do you mean?" She asked, raising her eyebrows quizzically, while reaching to pull another smoke out of her pack.

I picked up the lighter and held it up to her while giving her a dirty look. "When are you gonna give up that filthy habit?"

"Ahh." She said, waving the smoke away from my face. "You always did like to worry about me...but I don't want to talk about that right now. I want you to tell me what's wrong with you and Faith."

I took a deep breath and tried to put what I felt into words. "It's just that she's changin and I don't like the way that she acts sometimes. I don't know how else to explain it."

"You mean she's movin on. Since her divorce?"

"Kind of."

"She's gettin out there, meeting new people and you don't know how to handle the fact that she doesn't need you as much as she did?"

"No. We still do lots of stuff together. We watch movies and go to dinner and stuff...it's just that she's not the same as she used to be."

"So, what you're trying to say is that she's interested in someone else, other than you?" She asked perceptively, giving me a sad smile, like she felt sorry for me.

"No!" I objected hotly. "That's not what I meant!"

"It isn't?"

"No—it isn't."

"So why are you so upset then?" She questioned me, her eyes all glassy. Even in her drunken state she still knew me like the back of her hand.

"I'm not upset." I said uncomfortably. The conversation was just too much for me at that moment. I mean, I wanted to be at the bar so I could see my ma and just shoot the shit. I knew she was perceptive, but hell, I didn't want to talk about Faith in that way at that moment. I hadn't even figured out everything that I was feelin yet. "I just don't want to talk about that right now."

"Of course you don't. You're just like your father that way. Never wanting to talk about how you feel and then it's too late."

I narrowed my eyes, the alcohol starting to make me feel a little drunk. "What?" I demanded. "I'm nothing like him!"

"No. Not at all, Maurice." She said. "Listen, baby. If you're in love with Faith you need to tell her—"

"Ma! I didn't say—"

"Don't sass me, Maurice!" She snapped, obviously intent on imparting her knowledge on me. "You've been in love with that girl since the day you met her. And you wonder why it bothers you now that she's gettin out on her own? When she was married you knew that she wasn't happy with him, that he didn't know her the way that you did, didn't understand the bond between partners. And you never went after her then because you knew that even if you couldn't have her that no one else could either—but now—" She said, her eyes opening wider and growing more serious. "Now she's divorced and she is startin to find a life of her own and you can't handle it."

I blinked over and over again, trying to digest what she had said. Was it true? I mean, I knew that it was very possible that I was in love with Faith, but hearing it from someone else was like getting hit in the face with a bucket of cold water; it was stinging and surprising and very, very unexpected.

So, what was I supposed to now?