I hummed in response to her sarcasm.
“I should… I should go,” she said abruptly as she turned toward the door.
But I grabbed her by the elbow, stopping her as she passed me. I wasn’t sure why I did it, but I needed something more than that. If she walked out now it would leave nothing but question marks in my mind that would eat at me. I needed a period, something definitive, something that would give me some measure of peace with her—if that was even possible.
“How’s this going to go?” I asked the question, staring at the side of her face. She’d not yet managed to look at me. She seemed to be avoiding it.
When she finally looked sideways at me, her big blue eyes were wide and terrified. She shook her head subtly.
“Do you want me to ignore you? Pretend you’re nothing more than some long lost acquaintance? Good to see you, but not much more than that…” I stared at her, refusing to look away.
Her lips were parted, and her chest rose and fell deeply as her breathing became pronounced. But she said nothing.
“Do you want to see me? Be my friend? Get close again? Rehash our darkest secrets?”
Her eyelids fluttered, and the blue of the irises suddenly shimmered in glossiness. I had no idea if they were tearing because she couldn’t seem to fully blink or if they were tearing for some other reason entirely.
“Do you want me to come onto you? Seduce you? Let you fuck me? Use my body? Hurt it?”
Her breath left her in a rush, and I could feel her trembling as I held her elbow. She licked her lips, looking at my mouth for a moment. But she glanced back at my eyes, and her jaw tightened. When she turned toward me, facing me full on, I was almost shocked. She reached for my stomach, letting her palm cover the four inch scar that ran from my navel off to the left side of my abdomen. It was her scar as much as mine, and she damn well knew she didn’t need permission to touch it.
She held her hand over the gnarled tissue, and when she dropped her forehead to the center of my chest, I exhaled. I ran my hand over her long auburn hair, smoothing it as I went. And when my hand traveled back up, it settled on the back of her neck.
“What do you need from me?” I asked.
She lifted her head from my chest, staring up at my eyes as her tears pooled on her lower eyelids. I waited, hoping she’d rise to the challenge and give me something. Instead, she walked toward the door, and my heart fell.
I suddenly felt self-conscious and grabbed my T-shirt that was still tucked into the waist of my jeans. I tossed it quickly over my head. I held my breath as my throat burned and my chest tightened. I needed her not to walk away from this, but she was.
“Please,” I begged, crossing my arms on my chest and stuffing my hands under my opposite arms as though I could somehow protect myself from all the hurt between us. I’d lost my sarcasm, I’d lost my bullshit playful attitude that could toy with her until she forgot about the things I didn’t want to deal with, because in truth I needed to deal with them desperately—even if I didn’t know how.
She stopped at the door, gripping the door frame with one hand as she paused, and I inhaled deeply in relief. She turned back slowly, and she sniffed her nose and brushed a tear from her cheek. “An apology. An explanation.” Her voice broke over the words.
The barely restrained emotion I’d been trying to suffocate broke free. My eyes teared as I watched her, but they didn’t fall.
“I needed you, and you left me. You left me in this place to deal with … everything on my own.” She cried freely, unapologetically letting her emotion show while I tried to hide mine. “I need you to let me be angry with you. I need you to let me yell at you…” She shrugged as more tears fell. “…forgive you.” Her eyelids fluttered. “Just tell me why?” she pled quietly. “Why?”
“I can’t,” I whispered, and then I lost the fight against my own emotion as a tear ran down my cheek. I brushed it away angrily, stuffing my hands under my arms again.
Her eyes closed for a moment, but when they opened, she scoffed angrily and walked out. I followed her, standing on the porch as she stalked to her car. But she didn’t climb in. She paused with her hand on the handle and she turned toward me, glaring.
“You can’t?” she asked incredulously. “We shared the worst… We share it still … every day,” she half spoke, half cried the words as her lips trembled. “And you can’t?”
I said nothing, but not because I didn’t want to. I wanted to say so many things, but it was as if they were stuck just at the base of my throat, and my body wouldn’t let them go. She yanked the car door open, and I clenched my teeth and watched, waiting for her departure to be over. But then she paused again, looking back at me once more.