In Love and Diplomacy

Chapter Twenty-Three: He Owes Me Nothing

"Don't know where I am with you
Forgetting time and space with you
Oh, I wish we had a common view
You see my red as blue
I don't belong in your universe
For better or for worse"

- Sigrid, "Dynamite"

Chapter Twenty-Three

The car was silent. I stared dully out the window, watching the trees race by as we left behind the fireflies and the safehouse. The symphony was left behind, the orchestra continuing to play even as its audience slipped away.

Neither of us knew what to say. Though whereas I had no words, Reed couldn't seem to organize his. His eyes occasionally blinked in my direction, hesitation clear in the dim light of an aging evening. Every time he looked away, as if unable to find a beginning.

Until finally, he did.

"I owe you an apology."

The sober words floated through the car. I ignored them, keeping my eyes on the dark skies and haunted trees. His words still kept on.

"I let myself get too comfortable. That's never happened before and... well, I was unprepared."

I didn't succumb to the temptation — yet I unwillingly waited for more. I chided myself silently for listening, for waiting to see what would follow.

"I said things I didn't mean. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten close."

The windshield wipers jumped to life as a soft pattering of droplets joined his words, disrupting and washing away the last remaining dredges of quiet.

"You were right, I didn't notice it until Simon pointed it out. I lost sight of what I needed to, but it won't happen again."

No, it won't. I won't let myself do it again.

"Avery? Are you listening?"

My finger traced a falling droplet on the window. The effort to push words up was monumental, almost more than I was able to provide, but I shoved them out. I forced my voice to disrupt my own quiet. "What would you like me to say?"

Droplets chased each other, some joining together and forming new paths as they raced to the bottom. Silly bets began as I tried to guess which droplet would make it to the bottom first.

"I want you to be honest," he admitted.

"When have I not been honest?"

His silence was louder than his words.

"You said I wasn't helping," he finally said. "What can I do?"

Like all of our other times together, he pushed me away and simultaneously offered a hand; shirking from emotion as he played with mine.

"You don't have to do anything," I wearily responded.

My droplet lost the race.

"I'd like to help," he repeated.

You don't get to apologize for our time together then offer me comfort. You don't get to offer me anything — especially not your regret.

"Okay."

The rain got harder, beginning to pound on the roof with watery fists of belligerence. It was harder to focus on droplets as they raced faster than I could keep up with down the paned glass. I abandoned the races, and the universe cackled as it took another thing away.

"That's it? You were just screaming in the driveway, and that's all you have to say?" Angry fingers tapped the steering wheel, harmonizing with the tapping from the rain. "We need to talk about this."