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Ava, Chapter 57: Kylie
Reply to AlsikePosted to Fanfiction.net June 27, 2004
Sometimes a cup of coffee is just a cup of coffee, but sometimes it's a double cream latte, and you drink in that extra milky richness until there's not a drop left and you feel so good and so bad for it, because it's so luscious and so fattening and you don't care, but later the guilt comes and you skip dinner, but you can't live without eating forever, so you venture downstairs, and sneak into the kitchen, pull the door of the pantry shut behind you and gorge, fucking like teenagers on the floor, your back picking up the grit, your arm driven into the canned food... And when you wake up you want to vomit, want to wash away your sins, but you can't, it's too late, you have already begun to digest, and your soul is being drawn towards hell, and when you look at her, and she looks at you her wide eyes terrified with the thought that you might go, you feel the tug of sins forbidden, and say, well, just one more chocolate chip cookie, but then it's bread and water, mister, bread and water for the rest of my life.
Ah, the joy of the extended metaphor.
Why did I do it? why couldn't I just have said no, just have said, I'm not up for this right now, maybe later, but no, we had coffee, and we talked, and it was so nice, so comfortable that I forgot why I was so scared of restarting out relationship, so I kissed her, and right after I did I remembered, and fled, and hid, and cried, and tried to scrub the taste of her lips off my mouth. I remembered how much I hate being in love. It never works out for me, never has, never will, even with her, especially with her. Idiot, why didn't you push me away? But why would you want to push me away? Besides the fact that I'm a neurotic time bomb who had to lose you because you thought too well of me, because you thought I was so wonderful you thought I was going to leave you, so you left me first, the crappy end to the six hundredth crappy relationship that ends in breaking my heart, and I hate you, because look at you, I killed you, I drained your confidence until you're a slavering dog waiting for instructions, heel. But god, the way you yanked Leo out from under the sink, the way you're starting to take charge again. Who am I to get off on that? But I do, so much. I've been alone since you left me, I've had to find out who I am for my self, I've had to be strong for me, and get what I wanted for me, make decisions and do all of that difficult stuff. I'm not mad that you left me. I didn't want you to stay. You were losing the things that made me love you. But it's not that simple, now or ever, and I shouldn't have been there, I shouldn't have been so ready, so wanting it at that time of night, when I followed you into the kitchen, supposedly for hot milk, and you smiled at me and I pressed you against the counter, and you pulled me into the pantry, our tongues parried and thrust like foil fencers, and it was like we were home again, nineteen again and unable to resist the lust that spread from one look, one word. I said how I was in the morning, bruised and sticky and disgusted with myself. I called the airline. I needed to go home. My vacation was over; I had to get back to work. And I had to get away from her. It was stupid, pointless, and impossible. She wasn't going to come back to New York and I wasn't moving out here, putting wood on the fire won't stop it from dying. But I had to apologize somehow, but I couldn't lose my nerve. I said goodbye, I kissed her long and hard and sweet, and then ran outside in the rain to the taxi. I won't say I didn't cry, but I never doubted I was doing the right thing. She was the one who left. If she could be the one who came back, but no. It isn't going to work. She isn't strong enough or confident enough to hunt me down. I'm not going to hope for anything. I just have to be strong enough to live my own life.
It's a long airplane ride, but I have books, and I'm looking forward to my next assignment. Love is nice, but it's optional.
Continue to Chapter 58
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