He ate and waited, then when she remained silent said, “Is there an actual question coming?”
She rolled her lips inside her mouth, trying not to laugh. “I’m working up to it.”
He responded with, “The night is young,” and the words came with an out of body experience. Did he really say that? He wanted to see her do that thing with her lips again, try to swallow her amusement. He wanted the night to get stuck on repeat and never end.
She turned her head and hit him with her laser beam eyes. “Well, listen to you. All it takes to loosen you up is a bit of chicken salad, some fizzy water and a three-quarter moon.”
No, that’s not what it was at all. It was sea spray and varnish, and God, she was so lovely to look at, and tonight for some reason he wasn’t afraid to see her. Tonight for some reason he was happy. It was an unwelcome thought, a storm cloud on a clear horizon and he pushed it away like Jupiter controlling the weather, and found his voice. He didn’t say I missed you, though those were the words sitting pretty in his mouth.
“And the question is?”
“The question is, if you can be like this, why did you lose it with me?”
She didn’t say I missed you either. What was wrong with him? He stood. He thought she’d ask about where he’d been, about why he’d come back. He needed the movement to gather his thoughts, then when she tensed, uncrossing her legs, folding her arms around herself, making herself small again, he sat back down. The words were in his mouth before he was ready for them to be said, but they came flooding out anyway.
“This was not supposed to happen.” He looked across at her. She watched him with none of her earlier amusement, with something of the fear he’d taught her. “You. You’re not supposed to happen. Coming here. Caring about me. It’s not allowed.”
He stood again, because he couldn’t be still. “I don’t deserve it. You, your attention. I’m not a good person and you are, so being here with me is bad for you.” He pressed his hand to his chest, where his heart was running laps around his ribcage. “I’m bad for you and I proved it by shouting at you. I wanted to scare you. I wanted to scare you so badly you stayed away from me.” He took a few steps away from the couch, away from her. “I knew you were stubborn, but I didn’t expect you to be so strong, so—”
She cut him off. “I cowered on the ground. I wouldn’t call that strong.”
He turned back to her. “You did everything you could to combat me. You made yourself small in the hope I’d stop feeling threatened. It worked. I came back to my head when I realised that. But I wanted to tear my own skin off for how I’d behaved. I forgot you wouldn’t know about the edge.”
He pointed at it, but kept his eyes locked on hers, alert for any sense that he was scaring her again. “I stand on that edge every day. I do it to remind myself to live. I needed that reminder, but I forgot how it might look to you. What I did that day was unforgiveable.” He dropped his arm to his side. He had to stop himself from dropping to his knees, “But you’ve forgiven me anyway.”
“I have.” Her eyes went to her lap and she relaxed against the couch back. “My mother would have something to say about that.”
He wanted to smile. “She wouldn’t approve?” He wanted her eyes back on his.
“You’re not exactly what she’d hope for me.” He got them and they were full of panic. She sat upright. “I mean. Shit. Shit, I don’t know what I mean.” She picked up their plates and put them in the plastic bag they’d come out of. Making herself busy, like she’d made herself small to get away from him. “It’s not like I’ve told her about you.”
She shook the bag at him. There was just enough of the daylight to see her face, flushed with embarrassment. “Why are we talking about my mother? I should go.”
He’d lost her and this time it wasn’t something he’d done. All he could do was watch as she slung the strap of her bag across her body. She faced him, ready to leave.
“You know there’s still too much heat on you for this place to be safe; duelling petitions, the damn resident action group still wants you gone. Can I talk you out of staying?”
“No.”
She snorted with annoyance. “Why is this place so special to you?”
“If you stay for some grapes I’ll tell you.”
“I don’t want grapes. I don’t want your bribery any more than you want mine. I’ve spent enough time on you,” she flung her hand out to encompass the cave, “on this.”
If he’d ever had a chance to make things right with her, it was gone.
He looked away from her anger. “I need to be here because it’s clean. There are no distractions, no illusions, no luxuries. I can stay focused, not get lost in all the noise. Not make bad decisions. It’s peaceful. It’s right.”
Another snort of frustration. “What happened to you?”
“What happens to anyone—life. Good and not so good. Easy and hard.”
“But not just anyone wants to live in a cave.”
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
“And if I ask the right one will you answer it?”