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Part 9

I waited at the table until I was sure that she had finally gotten into her car and left, which was thankfully enough time to calm me enough so I didn't throw my chair across the room. Walking through the restaurant doors without so much as an upward glance, I got into the car and started the slow drive home.

The entire ride was silent and seemed to take twice as long as it should have as I kept my head in a forced silence, trying not to think about the words I'd said. The roads were empty, but still I crept along, too tired to really care about getting home at a reasonable time, even though I wanted nothing more than to disappear in my bed. I didn't even know if there would be a bed upstairs when I got home, so for all I knew I might once again end up with my head crammed into the corner of the couch, with my legs hanging limply over the edge.

As I parked in the drive way, I just sat in the car with a glassy stare, no longer having the willpower to silence the critics in my head. I tried not to feel bad about the things I'd said to her, because even though I knew it was all true, I had always told myself she was trying her best. The truth was that she really wasn't, but if I admitted that, I'd be left with memories of childhood that were full of denial.

I had a mother who didn't appreciate me, and a boyfriend who thought I didn't appreciate him, and the longer I sat there with my head on the steering wheel, gripping it harshly, hoping it'd help me find some balance in my life, the more I began to wonder if I was actually the crazy one. I'd based a life changing turn of events on some crudely stitched toy that some girl had picked up at some convenience store. I was beginning to feel like I was looking for something, anything, that would give my life some kind of meaning that stretched farther than each daily argument.

There was a loud rapping on the glass and I peeked to my side, finding Brian's eyes as he leaned against the top of the car. Scratching my head idly, I tried to clear my head in the amount of time it took me to sit back and roll down the window. Leaning into the car, he kissed me and I tried to let it banish my thoughts, but I was too consumed.

"Bill just left," he said with a smile, but all I could feel was the cold breeze rolling into the open window and running along my face, "we managed to get the mattress upstairs without killing, maiming or breaking anyone or anything. Well, unless my pride counts for anything, because that was wounded pretty badly. I've gotten really out of shape."

"Cool," I said with a mirthless chuckle, looking up at him with a wince that I hoped could be mistaken for a smile. I thought it had worked, but when he frowned in response, I knew he'd caught on, so I mentally prepared myself, willing myself not to let this turn into an argument.

"What's wrong?" he asked and I let out an exhale, wanting to say that I didn't want to talk about it, but I knew that I didn't have any means of escape. The moment he knew he was right about my mother, he wouldn't want to give in, "what did she do this time?"

"She's just being insane," I grumbled, not even sure how to explain what she was doing wrong, because I was having a hard time separating what she'd said from what it had made me think. I knew it couldn't all be her fault, because some part of me knew she was right about something, even if I couldn't put my finger on it.

"You mean to say she was being normal?" he asked, and I pulled the key from the ignition, unbuckling my seatbelt as I unlocked the door, "she usually doesn't get to you when she's acting like herself."

"She was acting more normal than normal," I replied, making sure he'd back away from the door enough for me to open it, "she was just complaining about this and that. I'm tired, so I guess she just got to me."

"What was it about this time?" he continued, despite the fact that I didn't want to think about it anymore. Not only had my conversation with my mother got me thinking about my childhood, but it had also reminded me that I was turning out to be just as insane as she was. I just wanted to push everyone away and forget about everything. I'd be content just to forget about my problems with Brian, but now I just needed him to let me, "I'm guessing you told her about the job, then I came up, then she waved her fat paycheck over your head?"

"Something like that," I sighed, unlocking the front door and tottered up the stairs. Brian had no trouble keeping up with me, and he was the one to open the apartment door as I was busy rubbing my eyes agitatedly.

"It must really have you upset if you don't even want to rant about it," he said and I collapsed onto the couch, eyeing Jack who was partially hidden under the couch cushion. I didn't even want to look at the new bed because all it would do was remind me that things were still changing. But I knew I couldn't get away from it as I spotted my old mattress propped up against the living room wall, "if it wasn't me or your job, what was it?"

I really didn't want to say that it was because I was still miserable, even though I thought I'd fixed everything wrong with my life. I didn't want to admit that I knew as long as we stayed here, I'd stay just as miserable. And, most of all, I didn't want to admit that a stuffed animal had gotten me more upset than my mother talking about my lover, or my childhood, or the fact that I was getting four hour of sleep for a job I wasn't even sure I wanted. As I pressed my fingers into my eyes, I knew that the stupid lump of fluff was nothing more than a scapegoat. There were so many things I didn't want to say, so I stuck to blaming Jack, even if it reignited my destructive cycle with Brian.

"I've just been thinking about my childhood, then I got to thinking about everything else, and it all went downhill," I explained, trying to keep it as vague as possible, but I knew he wouldn't just let it stay.

"What got you thinking about your childhood? You've been visiting her for two years now, but this hasn't ever been a problem before," he said and I rolled my eyes, making sure they were covered with my hands. I really didn't see any way I could wriggle out of this; if I said I didn't want to talk about it, he'd think it was about him, and if I told him it was all because of a stuffed animal, he'd likely be insulted.

"I told her about the little girl giving me Jack, and she was just as heartless as she always is, and said it was just a stuffed animal. I ended up bringing my childhood into it; saying that most people give stuffed animals to make people feel better, and that she only gave them to me to stop me from hating her. I said that stuffed animals aren't meant to replace people, but sometimes they do a better job at being there for you than someone you'd hoped would be understanding."

A heavy silence instantly flooded the room as I realized just how much of it I also thought about Brian. As I continued to hide in my hands, too afraid to look up into his eyes and find him angry, I knew I wasn't ready to fight for everything again. I really just wanted to be done with it, because I was miserable wherever I turned. I just wasn't ready to face the fact that everything made me miserable.

I wouldn't have to admit that my mother had never been there for me, or wonder if she even care that I was her son, if I just made myself angry about her reaction to the little girl instead. I wouldn't need to accept that Brian and I were doing a twisted dance just because we were afraid things would never go back to normal if I could just let myself be bothered by the fact that he didn't like stuffed animals. It was petty, and childish, but it was all I had to make myself feel even a little better.

"Well, you're right, Kurt," Brian said softly, but he didn't sit on the couch next to me, so he was likely crossing his arms in front of his chest, acting insulted. He knew that this wasn't about Jack, but he also seemed to know he wasn't going to get the real reasons out of me, "but she's also right; it's just a stuffed animal. It's not even your stuffed animal. It's just some toy from some girl on the street. I could understand your attachment to it, or it making you reminisce about your childhood if it had been there when you were going through all those problems with your mother, but you don't even know the girl who gave it to you. She probably already has another one just like it because her parents didn't even want to make the drive back here to come pick it up."

"If it wasn't for the mass of cotton and fabric that everyone has deemed worthless, and if it wasn't for that little girl who everyone has decided is stupid, we probably wouldn't be back together in the first place," I grunted, looking up at Brian as my words hit him. As soon as they left my lips, I wished I could retract them and say something differently, but even if I could, I wouldn't know what to say to fix any of this, "so that's why I'm attached to him, that's why I like him, and that's why I'm thankful for that little girl. I thought I'd lost everything, but she actually helped me realize that I could do this, and that I could make things work between us, but it seems like you're the one that doesn't want to fix anything. It seems like you just want to go back to the way we were before, when we fought everyday about every little thing. Yes, it's a stupid stuffed animal, but I don't see why it bothers you so much that I care about it."

"Maybe I could try and fix things if you'd actually talk to me about anything. I always have to pull everything out of you, by poking, and prodding, and coaxing. I shouldn't have to do that anymore, we should just open up to each other. I've heard you, Kurt, you talk to that thing more than you talk to me. Three in the morning, when you should be asleep, you're telling it about your day, or about how stressful work is, but you won't even tell me these things," Brian pressed, closing his eyes and running his fingers through the fur on his head as he turned on the spot, trying his best to stay calm.

I just sat there, not knowing what to say. I wanted to reach out and grab Jack, to try to find some kind of comfort, but I knew that I should be wanting to reach out and touch Brian instead. But, sometimes he was just so infuriating. Did he not realize how hard it was for me to talk to him sometimes? Every time I talked about what was wrong, he'd assume he'd know the answer, but sometimes I didn't want an answer, because sometimes I just wanted someone to sit with me and talk with me about how much it all sucks. I guess that's just what happens when you put two stubborn people together; they both want to think they know the answer, but neither of them want to admit they're totally and completely clueless.

"Why can't you talk to me?" he continued, but I still didn't have the energy to argue. Perhaps I'd finally learned that making everything heated didn't ever help, or perhaps I'd just lost my desire to do anything. Right now, I just wanted to go back to working at the bar and pretend that I was happy with everything, "I've been here with you every step of the way. You were right when you told your mother that a stuffed animal can't replace a real person, but that's just what you're trying to do."

"Maybe it's because sometimes I feel like he'll actually listen to me without judging me, or looking disappointed, or making me feel like I'm not trying hard enough," I shot back, locking eyes with him for a long while as I felt my thoughts and words bubbling just under the surface, "sometimes you make me feel like I'm supposed to be Superman, or deal with it all and not break a sweat. Sometimes I feel like I'm not supposed to have feelings, but I do, Brian. They're stupid, and they're confusing, and most of the time they're wrong, but it's what I feel. And sometimes when I share those feelings, you make me feel even worse because you treat me like I can't possibly know what I'm talking about. Is it really so hard to just let me be wrong once in a while?"

"I -" he started, and I watched him vacantly, feeling my eyes go in and out of focus as I continually tried to push out the thoughts of just leaving again. I just wanted to get as far away as I could, just for tonight, just so I could see if I was mad at him, or if I was really just mad at myself, "I don't want to fight, Kurt. And I honestly don't want to make you feel bad, I'm just high maintenance, you know that. I know that it doesn't make it right, but I'm trying the best I can, just like you. I just want to feel like I'm doing something worth while, like I'm actually serving some purpose in your life other than being a roommate. I was just having a hard time dealing with the fact that an inanimate object gets more attention that I do."

"I'm not really talking to him, Brian," I sighed, standing up from the couch as he tried to decide where this was going. If I took off my coat, he'd knew I was going to stay, but if I put my hands in my pockets, he knew I was going to leave, "I'm doing it to talk to myself because I'm just trying to figure out what's going on. At least this way I don't have to risk sounding stupid, or hurtful, or - or weak, or something. I have a lot riding on me, and right now I just want to give up."

"I just wanted to make you feel better so we could spend the rest of the night together," he started, but stopped as he saw me put my hands in my jacket pockets. He didn't say anything about it, even though I knew he wanted to, "I told you seeing her would make this happen."

"I know," I muttered, and he sat down on the couch, my eyes following him the whole way, "and thanks for being so understanding, Brian, but I need to go for a drive to clear my head. I'll try to be back before dark. If not, you don't have to bother waiting up for me. I'm sorry, I just need some time alone."

"All right," he whispered as I turned around and walked out the door, standing silently in the hallway after I'd heard the door click shut behind me. I really didn't know what I wanted to do, or why I was even bothering to leave, but my mind kept getting drawn to the bar, even though it was my day off.

There was just something about it, maybe it was the air, or maybe it was the way it scrambled your priorities, or sometimes your entire mind. It was almost like nothing really mattered while you were in the dark confines of those old board walls, because the cold of the winter, and the creeping ice on the windows, and all of yesterdays thoughts stayed locked outside.

As I pulled into the bar, the lot only had two cars in it, but I knew it'd been open for a few hours. Joe was probably the one working, while Derrick was probably lounging at a table looking over papers or thinking by himself. He seemed to avoid going home more than I did.

Passing by the darkly reflective windows, I felt the cold begin to seep into my jacket just as I pushed open the door and was assaulted by the calming nothingness of the beautifully stale, yet aromatic air. The wood creaked weakly under my feet, and when I looked around, locking eyes with both Derrick and Joe respectively, I felt my thoughts fade away into nothing more than the remnants of an echo.

I didn't have to wonder about Brian, or our future. I didn't have to reminisce about my mother, or our past. All my thoughts, and all my musings about whether or not it'd be better for Brian and I to be apart and with someone who had more time for us were gone as I stepped up to the booth in the corner, beside Derrick.

The overhead light cast the wall in a fiery red glow, and as Derrick looked up from his papers, I got lost in the apathetic stare of his that he tended to adopt while not working. He smiled slightly, however, as I scratched my neck, wondering why I'd even come over here in the first place. As I continued to stand there silently, he put his pen down on the table, making sure it wouldn't roll away.

"You're not working today, you know that. Come here today out of your own will?" he asked, and I let out half a laugh as he smiled again. I figured this was why I came here, because there was just something about the intoxicating way he smiled, "knew you couldn't stay away for long. You have the perfect personality for this place."

"Is it all right if I sit down?" I asked casually, and he nodded before gathering up his papers, pushing them against the wall, so they were out of sight. I folded my hands on the table and he pointed his eyebrows curiously, making me look away and stare at the table.

"If you came to ask for Christmas Eve off, you can go ahead and ask, I don't bite," he said and I smirked, looking back up to him, watching the light give an ethereal glow to his eyes, "but don't be surprised if I end up calling you, anyway."

"No, it's not about that," I mumbled and he nodded with a sudden realization even though I had yet to say anything. I was a little confused, wondering if I'd told him something that I don't remember saying, but I remembered that he was a bartender and probably dealt with people like me a lot, "I just kind of needed somewhere to go to get away from home."

"How are we doing this?" he asked nonchalantly, and I was once again confused, but he seemed to know exactly what he was doing so I just studied him curiously as my head cocked to the side, "are you going to tell a story, then I tell a story, or are we just getting drunk and forgetting anything ever happened?"

"Don't see why we can't do both," I said with a smile, before realizing that I was actually talking to my boss and not an old friend. He always had the talent of making you feel like you were one in the same, "if that's all right with you. I don't want to intrude on anything. I can pay, of course... After I get my first pay check."

"Just think of it as part of your employee benefits," he said as he slid across the seat, making the booth creak slightly even though the building wasn't much older than myself, "I wouldn't mind getting to know you better, and it'll be much easier if you're drunk."

As he walked towards Joe, I saw that cat give him a furtive glance from his seat in front of the counter. They didn't even look at each other, but as soon as Derrick disappeared behind the bar, Joe's eyes went back to his book like nothing had happened, even if his back looked a little more rigid.

Watching Derrick pull out two glasses and fill them half way with ice, I wondered why I was hiding here instead of facing my problems like I knew I should be. What would avoiding Brian really solve? The longer I was away, the further we'd both try to push it from our minds, and the harder it'd become to solve.

I knew what Derrick was making from all the times I'd read that binder from cover to cover, testing myself on the most inane things. He was layering the drinks and I thought the name was rather fitting with the situation; Mind Erasers.

He treaded airily, but determinedly to the table, and by the time he set the drink in front of me, it hadn't mixed at all. I glanced between him and the drink as he sipped the straw lazily, his eyes resting on me, as if prodding me to try it.

"Where are you from?" I asked after I had taken a sip, hoping the drink would quickly do its job. I really didn't want to delve right into just how much I thought my life was in disarray, so I started small.

"Going all the way back, huh?" he asked, folding his hands over the glass, trying to coax me out of my shell with his unnatural tranquility, "I actually grew up here in this nothing town, believe it or not. Lived here my entire life, even after my parents left to find that perfect sunny spot on the beach. I've just always had a thing for the cold. You?"

"I grew up on that perfect sunny spot on the beach," I said, caught on the simple fact that no one was ever content with what they had, myself included. Everyone wanted better, even if what they already had was fine, "I moved here about two years ago because my mother did, and I've been struggling to get used to it ever since. I suppose it'd be like you moving into the middle of the desert; you'd get used to it as best you could, but you'd always know that it was sand beneath your feet instead of snow."

"That's why I'd never move," he stated confidently, looking into my wistful stare as he sipped slowly. I tore myself away from his eyes and took a bigger drink than I probably should have, "I grew up here and the cold make me feel at home. I'd miss the way it feels when snow falls on your muzzle just like I'm sure you miss the way the beach smells, or the way the sand feels beneath your feet. Why not move back if you don't like it here?"

"I don't know," I mumbled vexedly, watching the ice cubes turn, and hearing them clink against the glass as I mixed the drink with my straw, not thinking about what I was doing, but instead the first beach I remembered going to as a child. I used to think the water went on forever in one direction, like the opportunities were endless, but now that I'd moved here, I knew that warm weather eventually hit a wall of ice, "I've thought about it a lot, I just - it feels like I'd be running away."

"There's a difference between running away and running home," he said sagely as I sought some reassurance in his eyes, only finding all those warm amber sunsets I used to see from my front porch on those lazy summer nights, "I went to the West coast once, for a week, to see my parents and I knew instantly that I'd never like it there. And, when I got home, it was the best feeling in the world. It was like that blast of cool air you get when you walk outdoors."

"Money is pretty tight right now," I grumbled, frowning to myself as I traced my claw along the grain of the wooden table, intrigued by the way it entwined and then broke apart, only to come back together, "can barely afford the apartment I have here, and then I have bills, and a broken car, and then after all that, I'd have to pay to move."

"That's a long list of excuses," he said and I looked at him, wanting to feel insulted, but deep inside, I knew he was right. They were just excuses, "I'm sure you can find an apartment in the same price range, and bills will follow you wherever you go, be it here or across the country, and I'll talk to Joe, he's good with cars."

"I guess," I mumbled, running my hand through the fur on my head before taking another long sip, unable to think of anything to say to combat his logic, "I guess it just feels overwhelming."

"The thing about anxiety is that it makes everything seem so much worse than it really is, and burying yourself underneath excuses makes it even harder to face. If you stop seeing your problems as problems and as stepping stones instead, everything will seem simpler. Your money won't feel as tight if you have something to work for, because you'll know it's worth it," he explained softly, but I could only lean my head into my fist and deeply study the table, squinting my eyes almost painfully as I thought.

"So much could go wrong and I'd-"

"Have you never done something just because it felt right?" he chuckled. I looked at him, feeling a cold chill run down my back as I saw the same gaze that little girl had used to look right through me, "there's a long list of reasons not to do something while the only reason to do something is because it'll make you feel happy, or at the very least, content. Have you ever done something not because you're curious what you'll get out of it, or have you done something even though you knew everything you could lose?"

"I guess not," I sighed, not feeling distressed, or depressed, and I think he sensed that. He could tell I was forcing myself to sift through all the decisions I'd made in the last two years, and I realized that I'd done everything with one foot in the door. I always wanted something, or someone, to fall back on.

"When I was twenty-two, I decided I wanted to be a bartender, just because I was tired of being a loner, and now, about eight years later, I own my own bar. When you stop wanting something, and stop worrying about getting it, everything becomes easier because it's all about making yourself feel good. Do you have anyone to split the cost with?"

"I do, it's just that-" I started, but my eyes fell onto the straw again and my lips wrapped around it as I lost my words. I wasn't sure I wanted to tell him I had a boyfriend, but I really didn't know how I could gloss over it without being obvious. I wasn't even sure why I didn't want him know.

"Ah, got it," he mumbled, nodding his head while his lips pressed into his feebly curled fingers. I was beginning to feel that he was reading my thoughts and was learning the things I was thinking but was too afraid too say, "that's right. That's why you came here. Can talk about it, but I'm probably not much help. Relationships were the one thing I was never good with."

"We've been together for four years," I said, reaching the bottom of the glass with one long sip and looked at his which was still half full. I wanted something else to drink, even though I knew I had to drive home, but I didn't want to be pretentious, "things have just been harder to deal with lately because of all the other problems."

"And would I be wrong to assume that all your problems started when you moved here?" he asked, once again sliding himself out of the booth without comment after he caught me eyeing his drink.

"Somewhere around there," I answered softly, his lips cracking into a smile as my eyes traveled down to the arrowhead shaped pendant on his neck that sat in the open neck of his button down shirt.

He disappeared behind the bar, earning another curious, yet bored glance from Joe who was still reading his book distractedly. No one had shown up, which wasn't all too surprising since it was Sunday and the sun was probably just starting to set. I knew I'd told Brian that I'd be home before sundown, but I knew I'd rather go home content and late than cranky and on time. I had a feeling that Brian wouldn't even say anything if I did come home late, because he'd be too afraid to start another fight.

I looked at the single pint in his hand and frowned to myself, suddenly feeling like I was an imposition. I'd told Brian I was just taking a drive and brooding by myself, but here I was ruining Derrick's night as well. I knew why he'd only brought one glass, but I didn't want to say anything. I didn't even want to accept it because I'd feel even worse, but my hands thought otherwise as he pushed it towards me.

"I really shouldn't be putting this all on you," I grumbled, drinking from the glass without much thought, completely ignoring the words that escaped my lips. Derrick just watched me contently, completely unfazed by my panicky voice, "I'm going to have to drive home later, and you're my boss, and you don't need to hear about my boring life."

"I do, actually," he said mildly, folding his arms and leaning into padded back of the booth, making the vinyl groan agitatedly, "it might not be written in the job description, but I see it as part of the job. And, about getting home, don't worry about it; if you trust me enough with your keys, I'll drive you home then walk to my place."

"No," I groaned, letting my head hang, but as I heard his infectious laughter fill the deadened air, I had to look at him, "I mean, are you sure? I'd feel horrible."

"Perhaps it's too bold, but I consider you a friend, even if you're a new one. I like to think that you'd go out on a ledge and show that same trust in me that I've been showing you," he said, holding up his glass even though he didn't drink it. I clinked mine against his and took a drink, my lips curling into a smile along the rim of the glass.

"I guess this means I'll have to buy you a Christmas present?" I asked, placing the glass right back on top of the wet ring it'd left on the table.

"I'd like my binder back, if at all possible," he said, watching me slide the glass around the table, leaving wet streaks which I immediately wiped up with my jacket sleeve, "at least that way I won't feel like I'm the one keeping you up all night. I have to give you kudos, though, because the last person to memorize the book that fast was myself."

"I guess it just gave me something to do, or something to keep my mind off things," I sighed, my eyes glossing over as I got trapped inside of his concerned stare, "sometimes I just feel like I've said everything there is to say and it's just a waiting game to see who gives up first."

"Well, then stop saying things," he replied simply without so much as a blink, or a twitch, or an explanation. Instead, I was the one to perk my eyebrow, unsure if he was being sardonic or not. He was either so good, or so bad, at sarcasm, that I couldn't tell, "and just start doing thing. You were happy, then you changed something, and went to being unhappy, so wouldn't the most logical thing be to fix it by undoing what you did to break it?"

"I wish I could," I said, after taking a long break from talking to try to get my thoughts back in order, even if they seemed determined to stay lost in the murky pool of my mind. I knew there were only so many excuses I could make before I had to inevitably concede and accept that nothing would get done until I actually tried. I could sit in a bar pointlessly swirling the remains of my beer all I wanted, but my thoughts while doing so would always be the same unless I actively tried to right the wrongs; meeting Brian should have taught me that, "things have just changed so much and I'm wondering if there's even a point going back to all of it. I work nights, he works mornings, and I barely get to see him in between. We're both working forty hours a week and money is still tight. I have to cancel our phones, and the cable, and the apartment is always freezing. Everything is just falling apart."

Towards the end, I just collapsed with my face into my hands, too tired to cry even though I felt the overwhelming urge to, regardless of how embarrassing it'd be to break down in front of my boss, or my friend, or whatever he was. I was even too depressed to look up at his reaction to the fact that I'd finally let Brian's gender slip.

"Use more sweaters, cancel the cable, cancel your phone, live off of Ramen and come to work on time. Get rid of the thing you don't need and when you start to care solely about yourself and your happiness, he'll start to do the same thing. Self-confidence is very infectious, but I'm sure you saw that first hand when you started working for me."

I knew that in life, everyone needed a friend that would tell them what they needed to hear, regardless of what they wanted to hear, and regardless of what the person would think of them afterwards. Brian had been that person to me for the longest time, because he knew that no matter what he said, I'd still love him since I knew he wouldn't lie to me. And, for the longest time, I'd been the same for him.

Somewhere along the line, that confidence had fallen by the wayside and gotten replaced by doubt and fear. Somewhere between us moving here, and him accusing me of cheating, and him admitting that he had, we'd given up on each other because we were afraid that the other no longer felt that spark. But, I knew that I still wanted him more than anything, and maybe if I showed it, he could accept it. Maybe then we'd finally accept each other again.

"Why did you start working at a bar?" I asked, having no real reason other than curiosity and the fact that I didn't want to go home just yet. I knew if I kept drinking and Brian found out that Derrick had driven me home, it wouldn't end well, so I opted to just push away the half full glass, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"Like I said, I was desperately trying to change who I was," he said softly, unconcerned that he was opening up to me so readily. I just figured that working in a bar tended to loosen some of your personal boundaries, having listened to the countless woeful tales of people like me, "but I ended up realizing that I didn't really want to change, I just wanted to understand who I was. When I realized that, I ended up in a relationship I told myself I wasn't ready for and it ended up failing."

"Would it be improper to ask what happened?"

"We were friends for a while, and we both worked here under the last owner, then when I ended up buying the bar, they seemed fine with it. But, they weren't. We had been in a casual relationship for a while, but when he wanted to make things serious, and I said I didn't, all the unsaid feelings blew up in my face. Now I'm his boss, and he hates me, but won't show it."

I looked up at him, blinking with an inseparable mixture of confusion, and question, and excitement. I wasn't really sure why I was excited, but I hoped it was only because I could finally feel like I wasn't so alone in this empty town. As I looked his face over frenetically, he smiled and backed out of the booth, taking the glasses with him to the back of the counter.

All the bored and distracted looks that Joe shot at him made more sense, and even the way that they never worked with each other fit into the puzzle. As Derrick walked back to the table with a thin smile on his lips, I knew he was doing exactly what he had told me to do; he wanted to act content, and confident, and strong, hoping that the black mass of fur at the counter would want him back.

"Does that mean-" I started, dropping the sentence before I even finished it. His lips just drew even further back, adding a flash of white into his smile, making me sink back into the seat as realization dawned on me. Was I trying to cheat, just like Brian had been afraid of? Could I have been doing this all along without realizing it?

"I'm not gay, but my ex is," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he took my limp body as shyness, even though behind my veiled eyes I knew I was shocked with myself, "it took me a while to realize, which is why I started working here. I had hoped the girls would help me change my mind, but I met Joe, and that notion went out the window."

"I really think I should be getting home," I mumbled breathlessly, hoping he wouldn't pick up on my overwhelming nerves. He furrowed his eyebrows and bit his lower lip tentatively as he tried to read my thoughts once again.

"Let me walk you to the car, to make sure you're good enough to drive," he stated, his face falling back to normal as I slid from the chair lethargically while my head still swan with a fear I knew I had to be imagining. I'd never cheated on Brian, and I'd never wanted to, and I knew that, and he knew that, since he only brought it up because of the things he'd done.

This was what Brian wanted, wasn't it? He wanted me to wonder if I'd made any mistakes in the relationship, so I wouldn't make him feel horrible about the things he'd done. Derrick held open the door and the world outside was cold, and quiet, so we just stood in silence in the glow of the bar windows.

"Thanks for everything, Derrick," I mumbled, shoving my hands in my pocket, knowing that I was sober enough to leave, but not calm enough to go back home. I didn't think I'd ever be calm enough to go back home, "I don't mean to just leave like this, but I told Brian I'd be home before sunset, which didn't happen. He already thinks I'm cheating on him, so I guess the earlier I get home, the less he'll think I cheated on him again."

"Have you cheated on him?" Derrick asked, folding his arms across his chest in the cold, having left his jacket inside. He seemed perfectly content in the cold, like this was his element and something that he would forever love and enjoy. I missed that feeling, because I'd lost that security in just about every aspect of my life.

"No," I said, the words feeling like they actually carried some weight, even though I had all these conflicting thoughts in my head. I thought back to the first three months of my relationship with Brian, trying to think of how he had acted, or think of the things he had said. I scoured the last four years of my life, trying to remember another time I thought someone was cute, or looked at someone the wrong way, but I didn't find anything. I couldn't help but think that I had purposely purged those memories from my mind, just so I could preserve some lie.

"Have you ever thought of cheating?" he asked as I lost myself in the glow of the trampled snow, too afraid to look at him. I wondered if I'd come here because I subconsciously wanted to be with him, but I knew even that idea was absurd, since I'd just found out about him being gay a few minutes ago. I told myself it was just the alcohol making me think all these things, but I'd hardly drank anything.

"Not really," I mumbled, looking at myself in the tinted glass of the window, wondering if the person looking back at me cared about Brian the same way I thought I did. I loved him, and I'd only walked out on him tonight because I needed some time alone to unwind, not because I wanted to leave him, "but I guess I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about trying to find someone else."

I heard the deadened shuffling of feet and as I turned to look at Derrick, I felt his cold nose press against mine. With his lips brushing against mine, I could feel my eyes snap open in shock and my heart drop as the first thing I thought of was Brian walking by. Derrick locked eyes with me after that one, split second and even though he had nearly caused me a heart attack, all he could muster was a slight frown.

All it had been was one kiss, something completely meaningless, and pointless, and harmless, and more than a little cold, but I knew that he'd gotten through to me with the point he'd wanted, all the while sparing me hours of thinking and him hours of talking. My eyes hadn't closed, and there hadn't been an instantaneous spark of emotion, and right now, all I could think about was getting back home to Brian, so we could share that new bed.

In that moment, I knew that I didn't want to be over Brian, and I knew that I didn't want to be with someone else. Even more than that, I realized what Brian had gone through with his ex for those three months was nothing more than an epilogue to a short and stormy book. I was okay with it; I was okay with us.

"Feel anything?" Derrick asked, having gone back to folding his arms across his chest like nothing of importance had happened. I wanted to reach out and hug him tightly, for making me realize things that I was too stupid to see, and I wanted to search for that little girl whose insubstantial gift ended up meaning the world, but I didn't need to.

"Nope," I mumbled with a slight chuckle, digging my hands deeper into my pockets as the winter chill picked up. He let slip a coy smile and I knew that neither of us really cared about what had just happened, because it was nothing more than a lesson given in an unusual way.

"Good for you," he said, holding out his hand for me to shake it, and I conceded as I looked into his eyes but only saw Brian's as he sat on the couch, feeling lost and alone, wondering what else he could do to save us, "ask him to move home with you, and see what he says. When he answers, you'll know if you still belong together."

"Maybe," I replied as I took a step backwards and waved goodbye to him, feeling an air of warmth even though I'd left the bar a while ago. I unlocked the car and sat inside the cold interior, all traces of alcohol gone from my system as I backed out of the parking spot.