Perception

Part Three

Jane, drained and confused, did the only thing that felt right. Gently, she coaxed Maura into an embrace, bending slightly to accommodate her friend's smaller frame. At first, Maura didn't respond, merely stood within the pliant, warm circle of Jane's arms. Part of her experienced a profound affinity, a homecoming that was so strong she wondered how Jane didn't feel it too. Perhaps, she did, after a fashion. The other part of Maura stiffened with rebellion. She'd rather endure Jane's contempt than her pity. Despite her lack of response, Maura didn't presently disallow Jane's proximity.

"We'll figure this out, Maur. I promise."

It was the wrong and right thing to say, compelling Maura to turn aside, ending physical contact. The use of 'we' carried so many implications. Maura's greedy heart kept grasping at the elusive 'we', the compilation, the 'lifetime we'.

"No, Jane, I'll figure it out."

"What do you mean? Don't I have a say in this?"

Maura grunted, crossing her arms. "You think…" She began angrily but modulated her tone because the next words she was about to say were important. Maura wanted Jane to understand her words, not react to her hurt. Deeply she inhaled and held it. When she felt the tension ease, Maura gradually allowed her lungs to empty. "This isn't your problem to solve, Jane."

Jane's brows slashed downward, communicating displeasure. "It's about me, isn't it?"

"No!" Maura replied harshly. "It's about my feelings, Jane."

"But your feelings are for me, damnit, Maura!" Jane grabbed Maura by the arm and yanked her closer, eyes glittering with suppressed anxiety. "I'm sorry! I should never have—"

Maura wrenched her arm free. "And that's the difference between us, Jane. I'm not sorry." Trembling, she nevertheless allowed everything she felt to transform her face. "And I'm glad-glad I had sex with you. It was…it was the closest I ever felt to another human being." Her revelation gained momentum and the words began tumbling out of their own accord. "You made me ache, Jane, until I thought I was going to break." Something of that night appeared across Maura's face. "Then you satisfied it…filled it. I don't know how to come back from that."

Jane whispered, "It was just sex, Maura. Our friendship—"

"Just sex?" Maura's question was wrapped in layers of misery, anger, and bitterness. "It may have been for you—"

"Did you fall in love with me, Maura? Is that what you're trying to say?" It was clear from the scorn in Jane's tone she didn't want to hear anything else. "Or maybe you just want to fuck some more?"

Maura didn't flinch but that was more due to shock than testimony to her control. A curious lack of sensation invaded her. Her green eyes latched onto Jane's face. Minutes scratched by, the air turning thick like smog during rush-hour, clogging their throats. Jane was swallowing, turmoil and denial expressed by her features. Maura idly regarded the subtle changes which shaped the landscape of Jane's profile. The vulnerability around her eyes and the willful bent of her mouth had once elicited protective instincts within Maura. Now, she could only marvel at her lack of response. She harbored a suspicion that her psyche was purely delaying the inexorable consequence of emotional amputation so that she may continue to stand, dry-eyed and breathing. For what, Maura couldn't fathom. Of their own volition , her eyes flicked upward and met vivid dark ones and like a pretty butterfly pinned to a piece of cardboard, she was ensnared. An invisible thread snapped somewhere in the back of her mind.

Jane exhaled then cautiously approached Maura. Her hands, gentle and soft, lightly clasped Maura's arms. "Are you in love with me, Maura?"

"We're done here." She hadn't planned on making such a statement but once uttered, it felt true.

"No, Maura, you are not doing this! Not this time." Jane barked. "You can't just decide to take off because it's hard."

Maura shrugged then turned away, intent upon departure but Jane jerked her back, pushing her up against the wall. "Don't think for one second I don't know what you're trying to do, Maura." Jane's words were like tiny icicles piercing Maura's defenses. "That night…it was incredible." Black locks fell against Maura's cheek as Jane leaned in further, her lips brushing against Maura's ear. "I can still feel you inside of me."

Maura turned her head away, hating the muted groan humming past her compressed lips. Memories assailed her, of taste and texture and clamping muscles. She tried to squirm out of Jane's hands but they held fast. The heat emanating from her body, the smell of her shot through Maura like fireworks, awakening every nerve. Unlike that night, however, self-hatred accompanied the passion. Even as excitement rushed between her legs, a voice inside her head whispered taunts.

"Don't." It was a cry, a plea falling from Maura's lips. No matter how hard to she fought, her body strained toward Jane, knowing only how close it was to the unique pleasure Jane could bring. Tears slid down her cheeks.

"Isn't it what you want?"

"Why are you doing this?"

Jane's body relaxed, melted into Maura's. "Look at me." When she refused, Jane's fingers threaded through her hair and her thumb pushed up Maura's chin.

Their lips were so close, bodies pressed into one another. Green eyes were half-slit, focused on Jane's lips.

"Look at me." Jane ordered again, an uncompromising edge in her voice.

Helpless and defeated, Maura raised her eyes and her stomach immediately plummeted. The hunger in Jane's turbulent gaze was like the firm press of teeth on hypersensitive skin. Body thrumming in acute need and dismay, Maura didn't move, looked at the ground and barely breathed. Time drifted past with Jane's hot breath on her cheek and neck, the heat from her body invading her own. The pounding in Maura's ears and chest intensified, nearly breaking her will. When her taut body began teetering toward capitulation, when surrender seemed imminent, Jane abruptly released Maura and took a few steps backward, fists tightly held against her sides.

"It's never going to happen. No matter how I feel." Jane's pained expression was partially hidden by wayward locks. She endeavored to clear her throat but the hoarseness endured. " Maura, you and I can only be friends."

Body fraught with unsatisfied hunger and the agony of rejection, Maura did not adjust gracefully. The silence lengthened as she attempted to concentrate and regain control. She lifted her face to the breeze, seeking a respite for her flushed skin. By degrees, the unrest abated, enough so Maura's brain began to process what she heard.

The only thing she kept thinking, she voiced. "Why?"

"I don't want a serious relationship."

"What would you call our friendship?"

Jane grabbed air then crouched in frustration. "Damnit, you know what I'm trying to say, Maura!" Putting her fingertips together and bringing them to just underneath her chin, she took a second to proceed. When she was ready to speak, Jane lowered her arms. "I don't want everything that comes with a serious relationship. All the drama and emotional crap is draining!"

Inside, Maura was a mess of jumbled things. Thoughts, half-formed and impetuous, whirled around until she felt lightheaded.

"Let me see if I understand you correctly, Jane." Maura paced a few steps, gathering her thoughts. "You don't want to get sexually involved because it would have a preordained negative impact upon our friendship?"

Frustrated beyond her endurance, Jane shouted, "I like my life just as it is, Maura."

"And how many women have you had sex with?"

"It's not the simple, damnit! It doesn't matter you're the only one."

"Are you saying I was no different than the men in your life?"

Jane gritted her teeth, on the verge of pulling her hair out. "Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?! See this right here is exactly what I'm talking about, Maura, right now. We're standing outside arguing, a freaking sideshow for anyone who walks by."

"Every relationship has a certain amount of drama, Jane."

"Friendships don't. They're easy." Jane loudly exhaled. "And if they're not, you stop being friends."

"If they're worth it, you don't stop, Jane." Maura retorted sharply.

"What do you want from me, Maur? I don't know how else to explain it."

"It sounds like you're making excuses." Maura proceeded to carefully hold Jane's wide shoulders, pulling her near. "How much do you want me?"

It bubbled to the surface, the force that tethered and drew asunder. The distance between them faded although neither moved. Eyes searched in the depths of the other, not exactly knowing what had been lost. Jane was the first to breach the silence.

"Not enough, Maura."

The steeliness of Jane's demeanor, arms crossed and chin up, was so effective, Maura backed off. Despair caused her shoulders to slump. The truth, finally, came to pass. A deep sadness stole over her, heavy and expansive, dulling the sharp edges of her broken pieces. There would be time, later, when Maura was alone, to begin to fit those pieces back together. For the moment, for this moment, she welcomed the vacancy inhabiting her body. Numbness took over again.

"I…understand." Hesitantly Maura licked her bottom lip then tucked it between her teeth. "I appreciate your honesty, Jane."

"Let me take you home, Maur."

"That's not necessary."

Jane sighed heavily, messing up her hair with shaky hands. "I'm not going to let you leave like this, alone—"

"Let me?" Maura said automatically, the vehemence missing from the timbre of her voice. Collected and dispassionate, she continued, "I'm leaving. Without you. I'm sure you'll be able to find a way home. Good night, Jane."

"Be reasonable. Please."

Maura merely looked through her then turned around and walked away. Jane's strident voice followed, but she neither hurried her steps nor slowed them down. The warmth of the breeze wafted through her hair as she turned the corner, Jane's angry cries diminishing into the shadows. She handed the valet the parking voucher, hands no longer trembling. Not one thought of what had taken place a few moments ago entered her head. For all apparent observation, Maura was a woman who simply waited for her vehicle to be brought around after having a meal. No one would have suspected, least of all her, that she had just lost the most important person in her life.

The drive home was concluded free from the snarls and snares often associated with the severance of the ties that bind. Possibly the shock was too great, the body innately defending itself against a vanquishing opponent. Whatever the reason, the absence of wretched tears was a relief. Maura almost felt normal as she exited the car and walked up the brick steps to her front door. A lone cricket chirped in the hushed air, sounding louder than one cricket had the right to be. Maura glanced over her shoulder. The dark green lawn was freshly mowed, drops of water still clinging to the shorn ends from the sprinklers. It was a very pretty and tidy lawn, one she was rather proud to have designed. The tall hedges separating her property from her next door neighbors' were thinning a little as summer was ending. Along the walkway, a dozen or so muted lights illuminated the walkway. It was a quiet neighborhood, a good neighborhood, a place to raise a family and Maura suddenly hated it.

Resentment curled her fingers into fists, nails sinking into tender flesh. She experienced an irrational urge to wrest the purple and pink flowers from their mulched beds. Ugly slithered into her stomach. The longer she stared at the flowers, the same flowers Jane had insisted she buy, the deeper the ugly dove. Maura grabbed the door knob, aiming to put as much space between herself and the cursed blooms but she just couldn't make her other hand insert the key. In the space of a minute, the flowers morphed into a representation of all that was wrong. Bitterness exploded into her muscles, spurring her into action. Heels plunging into the soft grass, she walked to the circular flowerbed around the tree. She plopped down on her knees, heedless of inevitable grass stains on her skirt. One of her shoes slipped off. Angrily she kicked off the other and began to tear up the flowers with a precision worthy of her profession.. Clods of dirt and mulch were haphazardly flung here and there as the clumps of flowers were usurped from their earthen moors.

A neighbor from down the street walked by, hesitating while his dog strained against the leash, highly interested in the objects being tossed in the near vicinity. The man watched Maura, his face scrunched in concern and indecision. She gave him a cursory glance, then returned to the last few blossoms yet safely planted. Rich, damp earth wedged underneath her manicured fingernails and cuticles. Palms stained with pungent soil, the hem of her skirt irrevocably ruined by grass smudges, Maura resumed the mission without a care in the world. The man quietly induced his dog to obey and left, casting one last puzzled look her way before being enveloped in shadows.

When the last flower had been plucked and carelessly thrown, Maura wiped the sweat from her brow and stood. Joints cracking and muscles protesting, she bent to retrieve the dirt-caked heels. She rubbed her nose and surveyed the devastation she wreaked. A strange satisfaction pumped through her veins, spreading throughout her body. Breaths rattled from her chest, escaping her open mouth. For the first time that evening, it felt good to be her.

Maura let herself into the house, locked the door behind her and headed straight for the liquor cabinet in the dining room. The selection of hard alcohol was sparse but adequate. Usually preferring wines, she nonetheless stocked a few bottles of Cognac, single malt scotch and Gentleman Jack. It was a scotch type of night. Carrying the bottle, she went into the kitchen and dropped her shoes somewhere on the tiled floor. Next, she liberated a crystal whiskey glass with a tapering mouth and wide bowl from the rack. She unceremoniously splashed some water into the glass and opened the bottle. It wasn't exactly the 'correct' way to taste the scotch but it was the only way she was going to do it. The neck of the bottle clanged against the rim of the glass as the sound of liquid being poured played in her ears like a sibilant promise. The first drink was about an ounce. Forgoing the customary swirl and sip, Maura downed it. The burn was exactly what she needed.

Leaning over the counter, elbows supporting her weight as she lightly rolled the empty glass between her palms, Maura's mind filled with the night's events. When her memory stuttered over the dinner scene with Mitch, she straightened with a huff and poured another drink. Save for the low drone of kitchen appliances, the kitchen was quiet. Most of the lights were turned off except for the small accent one over the sink. Grabbing the bottle, Maura walked over to the breakfast nook and sat down on the bay window seat. She set down the single malt decisively, not because she was done but because she wasn't. Close by, Jane's muted ringtone emitted from her phone, reaching Maura's ears. She turned her face away. With a quick flick of her wrist, she knocked back the last swirls of her drink and refilled the glass. The initial burn began to subside leaving a dull sensation in her stomach. Another call from Jane and Maura shot out of the seat, bottle and glass in her hands.

All she wanted was distance, as far as possible from the damnable phone. Heeding the impulse, Maura unlocked the French doors that led out to the veranda. The backyard was just as pretty as the front. Her eyes roamed from end to end but little pleasure was derived from surveying the fruit of her labor. She poured another drink then looked up at the sky through the silhouette of tree branches. Stars, faint but visible, dotted the night and she looked upon them without thought. When the strain in her neck became too great, Maura slowly made her way to the patio glider. The large contoured seat could accommodate two adults, a feature Jane had deemed necessary when purchasing patio furniture. The glider no longer held its appeal. Maura downed the scotch in her glass and started to sway unsteadily as she crossed the veranda to sit on one of the lounge chairs. Just as she wiggled into the confines of the cushion, she recalled they had been a birthday gift from Jane.

Maura upended the bottle, swallowing an impressive amount of its contents.