He grew quiet afterwards, a bit nervous and fidgety, but at least he seemed cured (at least temporarily) of his craziness. He paced the room, and then snapped out of his contemplation, saying, "The bed! I must clean the bed, wash the sheets, air the matrass! The smell of it, oh dear..."
As he said this Faye felt most of his juice seeping out of her, onto the bed. Sitting on her bare bum, only now did she notice the coarseness of the sheets and the ruggedness of the worn-out blanket, the matrass was hard and thin. Odd how it hadn't bothered her before.
It had all been over and done with pretty quick. He had apologized, and she had told him it was fine, and it really was. She felt good about it. It had been wonderful getting as close to him as possible, closer than close: partly occupying the same space.
She watched him fascinated, as he paced the room (and watched his tail, which so gracefully followed his every move), and her watching only seemed to make him more nervous.
"Get dressed, okay," he said, not comfortable with her sitting naked in his home, "and please get off the bed. I have to get all of this to the lake."
"Will your mother be home soon?"
"Soon? Ha, no, thank the stars! She'll be home at sundown."
"Maybe you just shouldn't bother about the sheets," Faye said, getting up and locating her bra, "let her smell my stink. My parents know about it, maybe she should too."
"Are you mad?" he said, looking at her like she was mad. He pulled off the sheets and blanket, and then carried the matrass outside. Faye didn't ask for a cloth to wipe herself with, and put on her panties, thinking she'll put clean ones on as soon as she gets home. (And leave these lying around on the floor for her mother to find, she smiled at herself, no, she couldn't...)
As he came back in, she told him she had some other questions when she arrived here, and had to think for a moment what they were again.
"Oh yeah, were you following me last night, after you left?"
He looked at the wooden floor and then said, "I'm sorry, I didn't know what would happen now that your father had found out. I just couldn't leave you completely on your own. So I waited around. No idea what I was waiting for, or what I was expecting. And then when I saw you come down the tree, I didn't know what you were going to do, or where you'd be going, or what was going on, so I followed you. Had to run pretty hard to keep up, actually."
"But why? Why didn't you talk to me? I was clearly looking for you, going to your home, to Old Man Williams..?"
"Because I couldn't get close to you, or something in my brain would short-circuit again! I didn't understand what was going on. I thought there was something wrong with me, with my mind, and I was scared!" He looked at her like he was about to cry.
Faye quickly told him, "Okay, it's okay! I understand. What I don't understand, next question, keep up..."
"I really should go and wash these sheets you know." He stood there looking helpless, with the sheets bunched up under his arms.
"In a moment," Faye said, fully dressed, in charge of the situation. "When you told me about New York, and this Brick character living there, why didn't you tell me the plan was for us both to go, and not just you? That that was what Pearly meant?"
"Well, because I didn't want to put pressure on you, like I was suggesting or expecting you to come with me, leave your family, your home, and I didn't want you to feel guilty, or sorry, if you chose not to, you understand? I wanted you to come up with the idea of joining me, I wanted to leave you really free to choose, you understand?"
"I do," she said. That was a pretty good reason. She stepped up to him and kissed his nose, and then his lips.
"One last question," she said, up close.
"I have one, shouldn't you be in school today?"
"No, school's fine without me. One last question. What is it you love about me?"
"Everything! That one was easy."
"Yes, but that's because you're in love with me, in truelove. You love my hair, but it's really no different from other girls' hair, you love my eyes... okay, they are pretty good eyes, I admit that, but all the rest of it, my breasts, my skin, my scent, my whatever you love, it's all just a trick love plays on you. You would love all those things about anyone you'd fallen in love with."
"But isn't the fact that I fell in love with you, and not anyone else, enough?"
"...I'm not sure."
