Chapter Seven – 21:26

He is already waiting for you on the door steps and you have to admit that you are actually grateful for that. Every additional second spent in that biting cold is just a second too long.

"Hey" he states simply as you approach the door. "I didn't expect you for another 10 minutes. You shouldn't have driven that fast with the roads being that bad. Actually you shouldn't have driven at all." But if things go wrong it's always easier to leave then to ask someone to leave, isn't it? That's why you are here. And if you are actually true to yourself you have to admit that you wouldn't have known what to do while waiting for him to arrive. This was easier.
And why does he start with the roads again? You have talked this through over the phone. The roads are fine.

He steps aside and the warmth of the house welcomes you as you enter.

"I was at home and you know that it is usually just a 45 minutes drive so actually I'm a little late." He seems to be surprised. Obviously he was under the mistaken impression that you had been at the office.

"I see." He says and closes the door to keep the cold out. "Let me take your coat." As he helps you out of your coat you can feel his right hand touching your shoulder and even though it is through the fabric and only for a split second, your heart seems to go just a little faster than it probably should.

"Would you like some coffee or tea? You must be freezing." He motions you to step ahead into the kitchen.

"I'm fine, thank you." Actually you are still a little cold but you are sure that caffeine might not be a good at that moment.

He beckons you to have a seat and you sit down at his large kitchen table. You choose the chair opposed to the one he positioned himself next to. A little distance might not be the worst. "Are you sure?"

It is not the same tone of voice as it was back then,yet it triggers a memory:

"Are you sure?" "Yes, I can't leave here now.."

It's time to cut the small talk.

"This isn't exactly Costa Rica." Oh my. There is no possible way you could have expressed that thought even more stupid, is there?

"You're right." You take a quick gaze around his kitchen. It is more than obvious that you are right.

"Weren't you talking about going away?" You are still feeling stupid. You know the answer to that question, yet you are asking anyway. What is the point?

"I was." He sits down and watches you closely.

"But you are still here." You cross your legs and you can feel how you are getting impatient. If this "talking" continues that way you will be home sooner than you expected.

"I am." Okay, he wanted to talk and you were willing to but this isn't talking, this is stupid.

Even though your impatience is growing with every passing second you try to sound calm: "This isn't exactly how I pictured this conversation to be like." You cross your arms in front of your chest as you lean back.

"I know." You can't stop your eyes from rolling: It is just unbelievable.

This time you are not going to be the one who breaks the silence. Now it is his he has got something to say or to talk about then now is the right time.

"I'm sorry." As these words shatter the quietness you look up and you simply stare at him. Even though you really appreciate these words, you can't help but wonder what it is he is sorry for.

For not talking?

For not calling?

For making you choose between him and your firm?

What exactly is he sorry for?

"For?" You just have to ask because he doesn't seem to be willing to continue.

"First of all for ambushing you like that in the courthouse today. That wasn't.. right."

You feel like someone just emptied a barrel with cold water over your head. How can he say something like that? If he hadn't ambushed you in court today you wouldn't be sitting here. Is that what he is sorry for? That you are here?

And this was only "first of all"... If the second point is that he is sorry for making you drive out here in the middle of the night than you might actually yell at him.

"But I wanted to talk to you." Okay, better, you can feel your agitation decreasing. "I've done a lot of thinking over the last two weeks. And I'm sorry for holding that gun to your head. It was wrong of me to just walk away."

You are still staring at him, trying to process what he just said. You can feel your anger vanishing into thin air.

He was sorry for walking away.

Not for proposing, not for wanting to go away with you but for leaving when you told him that you had to stay here.

Some part of you tells you that this is enough. That you don't need to hear more, that you should just let it rest and move on.

But another part of you feels unable to let it go.

"Then why did you do it?" You make sure that it doesn't sound like an accusation, try to show that you would just like to have an explanation.

"I thought I hadn't much of a choice." He thought what? Does that make any sense?

"What?" You probably should have just let it go. But now it's too late.

"Your job..." This is not happening is it? You feel anger rising up inside of you and you just can't do anything about it.

"My job?" you intervene harshly and jump up from your chair, "I can't believe it! It's about the Arkin deposition, right?" You just cannot believe that he is actually bringing that up again! You have talked this through, you have moved past it.

At least that is what you believed.

At least that is what he made you believe.

"It's not about that." His voice is still calm, how can he be so calm?

"It is not? Then what is it about, Kurt?"

"You remember two weeks after that? When we were going to spent the weekend here at my place and you got buried in work?" Why is he bringing that weekend up again? That was nothing.

"That kind of things happen if you have a job like mine." He can't have meant that as he said "Your job...", can he? The nephew of a major client got arrested and faced to be charged with double-homicide. You had to work that week-end. You just had to. How can he blame you for that? He has to know that this is who you are. "You can't blame me for having a busy schedule. That's who I am and you should know that."

"You didn't even call to cancel." As he speaks these words he is looking right into your eyes and you feel like someone just slapped you.

"That is not true." You hold his gaze but your voice doesn't sound so angry anymore. Why doesn't your voice sound so angry anymore?

"You're right. I'm sorry. You called at 3 when I expected you to be here at 12." You can't hear any trace of anger in his voice and his words don't sound like an accusation but rather like a stated fact. You turn your head a little because you know that he is right. You were just... busy.

But you called!

"And two weeks after that, remember?" He continues and you feel unable to reply anything as you sink back onto your chair. You know where this is heading and you don't like it. And how can he actually be that calm? Shouldn't he be upset or something?

"When we were supposed to have dinner that Friday night? And you just didn't show up?" That is not fair, you decide.

That...

is...

not...

fair!

"It was an emergency, I told you that." A business-emergency... Your voice is no longer angry but sullen now.

"That's not the point." He states yet again and you already knew that. You were just hoping...

What were you hoping for?

That this stupid line would just make everything right?

Would prevent the following sentence from being spoken?

"You didn't even call me."

Still not fair. You had no reception. You told him that... didn't you?

You remain silent as stare at the wall.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might have been worried about you?"

"And that's coming from a man who didn't call me after he came back from Florida? Isn't that a little hypocritical?" Offense is the best defense, isn't it?

"Well, you didn't exactly call me either, didn't you?" And yet another verbal slap.

He has to be kidding, right?

He said he would call when he got back and now he is blaming you that you didn't call him?

That is ridiculous.

"For all I know I could have dropped from the edge of the world and you wouldn't have even noticed."

Suddenly sadness seems to fill every inch of you:

Isn't that what he did? Just disappear from the face of the world?

And you noticed his absence.

Yes, you noticed!

You have been starring at your phone for hours, days, even weeks for God's sake!

How can he dare to blame you that you wouldn't even notice?

The anger is back: "Oh, I would have noticed. And you know why? Because I actually did notice that you just disappeared for months."

"And how am I supposed to know that?"

He is right, isn't he?

You never picked up the phone and checked...

You were too proud to call.

This revelation hits you hard.

It feels like someone just punched you in the stomach.

You're in pain now. Plain and simple.

"You're always busy and buried in work. Your job seems to be the only thing you actually care about." Why can't he just stop it?

"I love my job." You try to pull yourself together. You are being weak. You hate being weak.

"I love my job, too. And being dedicated to a job you love is one thing. But not giving a damn about anything else is a completely different chapter."

Slap.

That is so not fair.

You give a damn.

Would you be sitting right here right now if you didn't?

You feel sick.

This conversation wasn't supposed to go this way.

"I'm not..." you start but you have no idea how to continue.

Your mind is empty.

Blank.

A deep dark hole.

There is nothing there.

Just darkness.

Cold darkness.

And it starts eating you up.

You take a deep breath and try to fight that blackness but you don't seem to stand a chance. It's everywhere.

"Is that what you want from life, Diane? Running from one appointment to the other?" His tone has changed. It is more gentle now but you can't bring yourself to appreciate it.

"I..." You don't know. Neither the answer nor how to continue. Or do you? "I don't."

"But that's what you're doing, you realize that? Just running from one meeting into another?

You always have some appointment. And it always seems to be more important than.. than us."

"I didn't even know that there was still an us." You still feel deserted. There seems to be nothing left inside of you. You're speaking without actually thinking about it and you are still staring at the wall. Is this actually happening?

"I'm surprised you used the word "still". That means you actually realized there was an "us" at some point along the way." And yet again it doesn't sound like an accusation but rather like a matter of fact.

"Of course I did."

"But you were always doing a pretty good job not to let it show. You seem to be so fixated on not letting anybody close that it's hard to tell if you actually want someone to care about you. You're always about showing how well you can do on your own. Like tonight. You insisted on coming over even though the roads are a mess and I offered to stop by your place. But well, you insisted on meeting here and again I spent an hour worrying for your safety."

You turn your head and finally look at him again. What is the point of all this? "So you wanted to talk about.. what?" You shrug helplessly, "The fact that you worry about me but you wish you wouldn't?" It doesn't make any sense. At some point the conversation must have taken a wrong turn or you missed something.

"No" he replies and looks down at his hands. "I wanted to talk to you about what went wrong." He looks back up to you: "I thought we could sit down, move past the mistakes we've made and see if we could make it work somehow. But I didn't even get started and you were already talking about that stupid deposition again. So I'm not sure you actually want to move on and leave these things behind. Honestly? I'm not sure you are actually able to do that."

You close your eyes because you just can't stand it anymore...

So you ruined it. You and your damn pride. The truth feels cruel. Devastating.

You should have let him finish his sentence,

told him that you cared,

appreciated him worrying about you,

let him care about you.

You should have let him love you.

"I'm sorry." You know that these words are not enough but they are the only ones you can find right now so you say them again: "I'm sorry."

"Diane." You startle a little because suddenly his voice is right next to you. His tone has changed. It is now soft and tender, warm. He gently touches your right hand. It starts to burn immediately in a way only he makes your skin burn and you open your eyes just to stare at this hand.

He carefully pulls you onto your feet and you are not sure your legs can carry you right now. You already felt exhausted before you even got here. Now, after all he said, after all you said, you don't even feel up to the task of standing anymore.

"Look at me." You slowly lift your head. As your gaze meets his your knees seem to start trembling and for a moment you actually fear that you might fall...

But the next second you feel his arm around you. You are not going to fall. If your knees give in, he is going to hold you. This feeling is reassuring.

"It's not about blaming or accusing. It's about the question whether or not we can make this work. If we both want to make this work."

"I.. I understand." And you do. But you are wishing that he had said these things earlier. Or did he say it earlier and you didn't listen?

It doesn't matter now. Right now there is just one question that is important to you:

"And... Where do we go from here?"

In a moment of deep silence you try to find the answer in his eyes.

"I don't know." You have no idea what you expected him to say but that wasn't it. This answer just causes more pain... "Where do you want us to go?" You can feel how a heavy weight suddenly falls from you. From all over you. From your shoulders, your heart and even your soul.

You don't have an answer to his question. You know it's neither "Costa Rica" nor "away".

You want to stay in Chicago,

stay at your firm,

stay with this man.

Is this too much to ask for?

Your mind is a mess, you are trying to form an answer but the words just keep on failing you so you just lean forward to kiss him.

The pain and the cold inside of you seem to vanish the moment your lips touch.

You feel his right hand on your cheek, his left on your back, his lips on yours and it just feels right. You close your arms around his neck. That's how it is supposed to be...

When he slowly pulls back, you refuse to let him leave more than a few centimeters.

"I really hate you right now." You whisper without thinking about it.

You don't know if it is true or not, you don't even know if you mean him or if you are talking to yourself. It is a little bit of everything, you'd guess.

"Does that mean that you wanna leave?"

You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of that question. It feels good. After all that has been said it feels good to laugh. It sets you free.

"So I guess no one is going anywhere..."

He says and before his lips banish every concern, doubt and thought from your mind you can hear a little voice whispering from far far down in the dark:

"At least not tonight."