Perception
Maura stared at the reflection in the restroom's mirror. Other women came and went, some glancing at her curiously while others kept their eyes averted. She heard the water splash in the sinks, the garbling of conversation, and, of course, the flushing of toilets. Metal stall doors opened and clanged shut. It could have been three minutes or an entire half hour she stood there, mind blank, transfixed by the green depths of her own eyes. To move meant peril, risking the tenuous control she still held. Carefully blank, her mind focused on the reflection. Nothing stayed with her, not the noises, the faint movement of air around her, or the silent spectacle she was making of herself.
Yet, her heart still found a way to pump blood, her lungs still partook of oxygen. The shock of it all was, inevitably, slinking off from whence it came. In its place, anger simmered, thawing the icy immobility encasing her body. Hairline fractures appeared and brought forth small wisps of hot temper. Maura became aware, felt each blink of her eyes, the rise and fall of her chest with every breath. Slowly, large pieces of her self returned and began forming the whole. A deep-seated pain rushed forth, the epoxy which prevented the parts from floating away.
Devoid of gesticulations and vocal tirades, Maura's turmoil was hardly detectable unless one knew her well. Many noticed her immobility but spent no time attempting to decipher it. Nothing indicated she was in a distressed state other than the eerie transfixion in front of the mirror. Strangers were content that altruistic measures above a fleeting sympathetic glance were misplaced. Indeed, it was hard to justify involving the police or restaurant personnel simply due to a woman's prerogative to 'collect oneself' in front of a mirror. A fundamental gesture or word seemed entirely too intrusive given Maura did not display the classic signs of an upset woman. They left her to own devices.
She inhaled a shuddering breath, the sound like a swimmer's gasp when breaking the water's surface. Gradually her features became more animate, muscles releasing tension. A small tear formed in the corner of her eye. Surprised, she smoothly brushed it away but another came to take its place and yet another until a rivulet traveled down her face. The ache in the back of her throat intensified. Life was coming back to her in a rush. Hurriedly she wiped her face and checked to make sure nothing was amiss. Constricted, her chest tried to fully expand but a deep breath was beyond her. She extended her arms, splayed her fingers on each hand and observed such an unlikely thing as temporal tremors.
There was no help for it. Maura's shoulders sagged under the weight of all that had transpired. She looked at her watch and grimaced. Gone no longer than fifteen minutes, she was bitterly disappointed Jane hadn't come to search for her but when she thought about how that particular scene would unfold, Maura exhaled with relief. The last thing she wanted was Jane's pity.
"Are you alright?"
The sink was suddenly mesmerizing, its black shiny surface beaded with water. Maura did not look up. "Yes, Jane, of course. My stomach is upset."
"Oh, sweetie, you don't have to stay, if you don't feel well." Jane cooed, rubbing a palm down Maura's back. "Mitch will understand. We'll all go out another time okay?"
The mention of his name created a swell of nausea to roll in her stomach. Maura leaned forward, away from her best friend's touch and grabbed the counter, locking her elbows. She concentrated on the burnished gold faucet.
Concerned, Jane drew near and turned Maura away from the sink to face her. Gently she lifted the damp tendrils from Maura's temples. "C'mon, Maur, I'm taking you home." Warm and soft, Jane's hands clasped Maura's bare upper arms. She sunk into the loose embrace, quite unaware
She should have protested, vigorously, but, her need far outweighed her want. Without directly looking at her friend or saying anything, Maura yielded and felt the sting of self-loathing. Jane offered solace and safety, branches the drowning Maura wanted to grab with both hands. Nothing else mattered, especially her flailing sense of self-preservation.
Walking to the table with Jane's hand protectively grasping her elbow, Maura steadily looked straight ahead, dreading each step that brought her closer to Mitch. Yet, she managed, rather gracefully, to act as if nothing strange had just occurred. For excusing herself in the middle of dinner was a strange thing for Maura to do. As close as Jane was to her, however,Jane hadn't sensed anything wrong other than the information Maura provided. It nettled her that her friend could be led so easily astray even though it was in Maura's best interest that she had been. The feelings and thoughts swirled in her head like a corpulent whirlwind. Nothing settled, leaving her adrift in confusion. Suddenly, it seemed, her life had become more abstract and less objective.
Maura sought out his face, finally. To avoid it would show a weakness she wasn't prepared to reveal. So she did what she could, what she thought she must and met his eyes. Did her distaste show? Could he see her resentment? Did he know? The questions bumped up against one another, rattling Maura's nerves. His smile was genuine, friendly. She understood why Jane liked him. In a way, Maura liked him as well. It would have been so much easier had Mitch been a jackass.
"Maura's not feeling well. I'm gonna drive her home in her car." Jane spared a charitable glance in her friend's direction, then smiled widely at her boyfriend. "Mind following us?"
"Jane." Maura's voice came out scratchy. She cleared her throat. "I think I can manage. In fact, I know I can. Please, both of you, finish dinner."
Mitch stood, consideration softening his chiseled features. "You look a little pale, Maura. We really don't mind."
It was the 'we' that reinforced Maura's decision to leave alone. The casual use of the pronoun emphasized the exclusivity it inferred. Her stomach lurched sideways. When Jane's smile conveyed an easy intimacy, Maura bit down on the inside of her cheek.
Cold sweat broke out on her forehead. "Honestly, please stay. I'll text you when I get home, Jane."
Maura's insides felt as if they were congealing with each second it took for Jane to respond. The pressure mounted. A droplet of perspiration skidded down Maura's neck. Jane's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You'll text me as soon as you walk through the door?"
Gratitude didn't rush in, magically untangling Maura's entrails because Jane decided to acquiesce. If anything, her best friend's genial attitude was like a slow-motion punch to the midsection. In conflict, her feelings played a game of tug-o-war. She averted her eyes, least she telegraph what she wished to remain hidden. The need to vent burned in her chest. Frantically Maura stuffed it back into the shadows since it was neither the time nor place for such a display. Still, it clung to her, this need like a hundred centipede legs skittering across a glossy leaf.
Maura stared down at the parquet floor. "Yes. Of course." Her voice was gruff.
"Alright, Maur, be careful, sweetie."
All she had to do was turn away and walk off. People accomplished it every day Rooted to the spot, Maura helplessly kept her eyes lowered and wondered what the next few minutes would bring. Move, leave before it's too late…
Jane edged nearer, peering at her best friend as if nothing else mattered. When Maura looked up, unable to bear the silence any longer, she regretted it because warm, brown eyes regarded her with gentle concern. Maura was lost. Despite her very best intentions, despite how deeply she loved Jane, she could not walk away. Without making a cognizant decision, Maura released all pretense. Exposed and slightly defeated, she thought the words she might have said.
"Oh, Maura." Jane's low murmur was rift with pity.
Mitch stood up, caught between the impulses to help and to bail. Clearly, a mysterious riptide was sucking the pleasure out of dinner. He looked at Jane, question marks popping in his eyes like bubbles.
"We need a minute." Jane smiled with reassurance then solicitously took hold of Maura's elbow. "Maura, sweetie, come with me, okay?"
The low, compassionate tones emitting from Jane's mouth should have put Maura at ease. They were off-target. Instead of empathy, Maura found an arrogant assumption hidden in the words. Self-righteous anger sprouted, weed-like. She pressed a hand against her stomach as Jane silently escorted her out of the restaurant. The cool night air reduced the heat in Maura's skin. With a moist palm she rubbed her forehead as they walked around the building. Jane slowed her steps when they reached the edge of light cast from the overhead streetlamp.
"Take some deep breaths."
"I'm fine, Jane. Please, just let me—"
"Sweetie—"
"Will you please stop calling me that?!" The anger in Maura's voice took Jane by surprise.
"Maura—"
Clenching her fists, Maura vehemently whispered, "Why didn't you just let me go when I wanted to?"
"You're not in any condition—"
Maura folded her arms across her chest. "You don't get to make that decision, Jane." The words were a chilly warning, delivered without hesitation.
"I know you're hurting—"
"Hurting?" Maura bit off the word, making it sound like an accusation. "Tell me, Jane, how do you come by that particular assessment?"
Frowning, Jane took a step closer to her best friend. "You want me to say it, Maura, fine…" She paused, as if giving the other woman an opportunity to retract the question. When Maura thrust out her chin, Jane sneered, "We had sex, one night, and I'm getting pretty tired of you walking around like a victim because I didn't—"
"Victim?! Victim?!" Maura lowered her voice then took aim. With admirable marksmanship, she hit her target when she said, "You act as if you didn't love what I did to you. We both know you begged for it…repeatedly."
Jane raked her hand through the tangled swath of hair that had fallen over one eye. The smile she dispensed was cruel. "And yet, it was only that one night." She cocked her head slightly to the side. "Why do you think that is, Maura?"
Every truth was customized through the eyes of the viewer. Past experience, logic, and emotion were a few filters that sieved it, passing along parts while withholding others. In the end, what the viewer believed was the only truth. With a scientist's impartiality, Maura applied the Scientific Method to Jane's challenge. Her brain clicked and hummed, rifling through the obvious but when the obvious was dealt with, an upsurge of emotion abruptly blocked the path.
Lacking heat, Maura's rejoinder was no less evocative as she stepped into the other woman's space. "You couldn't get enough. We were up all night." The memories flooded Maura's consciousness. Her body began to tingle. The last thing Maura wanted was for her body to reawaken. Ruthlessly, she ignored it and shortened the space between them once again. Dark eyes glittered back at her. "And you ran out the morning after like some silly sorority girl." Maura's need to make her point was great. She leaned forward, outraged and dismissive, her nose mere inches away from Jane's. Her voice was soft, low, almost seductive. "You ran into the closet and locked the door behind you. You're a coward."
Jane gritted her teeth and lurched away, arms akimbo. "That is such bullshit, Maura. You're so fucking diluted!" Rising, her tone was harsh as she paced a few feet away. "Here's the truth—and I want you to really pay attention!" Jane faced her, eyes crackling with anger, jaw set. She emphasized each word by pointing her finger at her best friend. "I gave it a shot and threw myself into it…it was great sex…some of the best I've ever had but…and this is the part you need to focus on, Maura…" Jane squared her shoulders, apparently gathering the 'right' words.
Maura saw the destination, anticipated the impact but…despite bracing herself, her body betrayed her and began trembling uncontrollably.
"…you could have been anyone…understand?"
She was convinced her face remained impassive because she felt her insides set like concrete. Perhaps it was shock, despite knowing the gist of what Jane was going to say. Whatever paralyzed her, the seconds expired, a countdown of sorts, an intermezzo between instrumental and aria.
Jane was breathing rapidly, frustration plain on her face. She inhaled deeply and held it, eyes fluttering closed. Maura watched, sensing a fissure developing somewhere beneath her heart. Once it began, it gained momentum. Panic began to erupt within Maura, a deluge of conflicting feelings breaking out of her control. Jane expelled her breath, opening her eyes. Maura saw the regret and commiseration. It was enough to galvanize her into action before she exploded.
"Thank you for finally saying it out loud." She moved to walk away.
"Maura!" Jane grabbed Maura's arm then quickly released it when she saw the expression on her friend's face. She wrung her hands. "Please, please…you're my best friend. I can't…" Jane stopped, a teary gasp leaving her mouth. Placing a hand over her mouth, she closed her eyes, brows furrowed in pain. "I can't lose that, Maur."
It sprang to her mind without premeditation and fell from her lips empty of feeling. She looked directly into her friend's anguished eyes. "I could have been anybody, Jane."