“But things are never right Brian!” I said beside myself. He just made everything harder.

Within his grasp, my fingers curled . Color, forced out by pressure, vanished from my knuckles. Feeling the bones beneath his skin, I looked up into his eyes, trying to detect any sign of pain. His face hadn’t changed at all. It was just as fervent and annoyed as before.

“That doesn’t make it alright for you to ignore when things go wrong,” Brian retorted smartly. We started to glower at each other. From our handful of fights before, I knew that after the “glaring stage” things could only escalate.

“So this is wrong?” I burst, knowing full well the answer, “And we shouldn’t ignore it? Ending it corresponds with both those ideas.” The gray in Brian’s eyes festered, on the verge of boiling. Instead of crushing my hand as he accidentally did before, he released it. I held on a second too long, feeling foolish and blushing scarlet, before withdrawing my hand as well.

“You’re manipulating my words, trying to change this argument into something else. I won’t let you,” He declared through gritted teeth. “You’re doing what you always do. You’re using Morgan’s happiness as an excuse. You don’t mean it and I’m tired of it. Just tell me once and for all why you don’t want to be with me.”

I swallowed a deep swelling urge to kiss him. Only my Brian could say it like that. Only he could be vulnerable yet on the offensive. That impulse died quickly, though, when I contemplated my reply.

“I …” want to be with you but I’m scared, I finished in my head but actually said, “think we need to be adults. You’re married. She’s pregnant and my half-sister. After this point, it will only get harder and harder until the shit hits the fan. Then it will be impossible. If we make a clean break now, it will hurt less.”

“By ‘it’ you mean ‘you and me’ or do you mean ‘break up’?” Brian inquired, sliding down into my bed, as if daring me to kick him out. I flustered briefly before expelling, “Both!” He raised one dark eyebrow patronizingly. One look at his superior glare made me want to smack him even before he continued on infuriatingly. “Because we all know it’s easier, if we aren’t clear and hide behind verbatim.”

“Why do you want to be with me, anyway? If I’m so …,” My words trailed ferociously before I battled on, “Am I really superb in bed or something? Is Morgan unable to satisfy you?” I replaced my plaintive tone with an acerbic air. It was a below the belt attack, only meant to distract him and he knew it.

“You didn’t answer the question,” He retorted, undaunted, ignoring my outburst pointedly.

I could see by the tension in his shoulders that his self-control was dissipating. One false step and the gloves would come off. I was not exactly handling the pressure at that moment excellently either. My nails created seashell indents across my flushed palms. At the edge of my mind, my bottom lip complained of its constant abuse.

“I … don’t want to be with you because … there’s just too much for all of us to lose. Would you rather lose one thing or everything?”

“That’s an extreme interpretation.” He said with laconic cool, somehow making it sound as if I was some sort of nut job. I matched my glare with a scowl. His jaw set.

“What would you lose if I left Morgan?” He demanded. I could see the blow before he delivered it and knew he meant it to hurt. “Your father’s reluctant attention? Your sister’s self-obsessed friendship? The privacy and supposed infallibility of your little cloistered life?” I swallowed as I felt my eyes turn glassy. Despite a film hindering my vision, I still perceived the acidic lucidity evident in his eyes. “Those aren’t everything. They aren’t even close.”

Instead of responding, I silently stared down at our hands imposed on the pure white sheet. My hand remained clawed, knuckles the color of the coverings. His was limp as if it had suddenly lost its importance. They were so close but so far away. Only a few inches of space separated them. However, they looked so disinclined to touch that distance did not matter.

My recollections distracted me from the fact that I had to respond. I had to justify, defend myself. I looked up into his simmering eyes, more silver than gray at that moment, almost for guidance. I found anger in its stead. How could he say those things to me or even about me?

“For a doctor, you’re acting pretty stupidly. I’m not the only one in this. How would you like a custody and divorce battle? And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” I spat. He flushed a shade of palest pink.

“You just want it to be easy,” He countered. I threw my hair over my shoulder in a careless aggravated gesture.

“Maybe I do,” I said almost to myself but continued to him, something strong in my voice, “So why do want to be with me, again?”

What followed was a condemning sort of silence usually heard after a blissful question without a blissful answer. Our eyes remained locked even though neither of us spoke. Flashes of thought reflected off his irises at top speed.

“I don’t think you would like whatever answer I would give you,” He said darkly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I threw at him, angry at his indecision. Suddenly I found myself wondering the very question I had at first asked, not out of curiosity but more out of insult. He couldn’t be in this just to sleep with me, could he?

“Let’s be honest. You’re breaking up with me. Does it really matter what I feel?” He said, sounding faintly desolate. A horrible guilty tendril wrapped around the chasm my heart supposedly occupied. I never thought about how he would feel. It never occurred to me that he could care about me. I had thought my heart would be the only one to break.

“Yes,” the low susurration came out almost child-like in the fading, twilight atmosphere. “Brian, if things were different …” The afterthought trailed, suspended by the following silence. Tears blossomed behind my eyelids.

“I understand,” he finally pronounced. I nodded, hating the part of me who wanted him to disagree, therefore despising more of myself than ever before. Yet I couldn’t deny myself one last wish. I brushed a light kiss on his lips. If I had surprised him, his face didn’t reflect it.

“One more time?” In one movement, he clasped my hand again.

Hours Later

We parted reluctantly with an extended kiss that made the regret settling in my stomach curdle. However, it, the kiss, the affair, the love had to end. So giving me a glance beyond words, he was out the door, traveling back into her arms.

A flash of red burst across my vision and for that moment I hated Morgan. Why did I have to give him up for her? Why did I have to feel the pain? Why was she so fucking special? I writhed in my bed, seething with bitter coiling jealousy. In an instant, despite its ferocity, the feeling was gone just like Brian. They both left me empty.

I laid in bed, listening to the thundering silence of my apartment. I didn't even have the heart to smoke.

Twenty-One Years Ago

“He left me a note! A fucking note to excuse his actions! Like that could excuse the affair or the child.” My mother practically screamed. She paced across the kitchen linoleum, deep within the throes of fury.

Both Aunt Silvia and I watched her vigilantly as she raked her nails through her sunset red hair as if to illustrate the damage done to her. She wildly gazed at us, her royal blue eyes oscillating between bone-dry rage and watery sorrow. In contrast, fear floated up in Aunt Silvia’s eyes. Her grip around my waist tightened. I squirmed in protest.

“Not in front of Liv,” she commanded sternly but continued tiredly, “Val, at this point, just bury your heart. Let Cal be your lawyer and get you the alimony and child support you deserve.” My mother continued pacing as if she had not heard. She stared through us unseeingly, her eyes glassy.

“Why ... I devoted my life … how am I going to pay the bills,” My mother’s voice faded into something small and distraught. Suddenly, the most awful thing happened; my mother exploded into tears. Without a word, sobbing horribly, she grabbed a pack of cigarettes and flew out the house.

Through the window, I could see her rushing to the white picket fence. She smoked peacefully for a while until, with a vicious swipe, she smeared ashes on egg-shell painted border. Giving me a worried glance, Aunt Silvia set me down briefly. She drew the blinds, taking one last regretful glance at her sister.

She returned and began rocking me. I heard her gently murmuring in my hair, “It’ll be alright. It’ll get easier. It’s okay. Just give it time.”

Even then, I didn’t believe her.

From outside, cigarette smoke wafted in.

Author’s Note:

I keep forgetting; Thanks reviewers. I revised all the chapters and honestly I am still a little red about the typos I found. I improved the timeline hopefully, showing when the flashbacks occur and when I skip forward in time. (Thanks Serako). And if any of you wanted a sex scene there I’m sorry but unless it comes up in flashbacks (which it may or may not) you’re just going to have to use your imaginations.