John and Marlena (Finally) Get a Q!

Chapter 49 - A Roll of the Dice

John turned into another street that he hadn't driven through for years. When the twins were little, sometimes he had taken them driving, just to calm them down. In doing so he had come across places he had never seen before, or since. Even during his long hours on stakeouts, he had never seen half of these areas of town.

It wasn't long before he found himself up on the hill overlooking Salem. It was where all the kids parked, he remembered. It wasn't all he remembered. Once he had brought Marlena up here. It had been late, and deserted, just like this. The twins were with their grandparents, and he hadn't told her where they were going until they had reached Lookout Point. When he had turned off the engine, Marlena had giggled and asked him what they were doing there. He had told her that they were parking. She had laughed again with embarrassment and told him that they were not teenagers. He had laughed back and asked why that mattered? She hadn't taken much convincing, and they had ended up laughing and making love in the back seat of the car, just like a couple of teenagers.

He winced. The memory had been too painful to dredge up, but it seemed wherever he went right now, she was there. Memories of their life together, of losing her, of the mistakes he had made.... He pulled the gold strawberry out of his pocket and rubbed it distractedly against his lips. The pain and despair were almost overwhelming. He needed her in his life so much that it was almost like she was a vital part of him and she sustained him, keeping him breathing and healthy.

He so desperately wanted to see her. To touch her, to hold her and to make love to her. He didn't know what to do, his need for her was so consuming. He couldn't stop thinking about her and it was only getting worse.

******

Eugene covered his face with his hands and groaned inwardly. He couldn't believe he had just made such a huge blunder. He couldn't even bear to look at Marlena's face. The pity and rejection he knew he would find there was too much for him to take.

Instead, he just sat, immobile on the edge of the bed, mentally flagellating himself for being so *utterly* stupid. Inside, he felt as though he was about to die. Of course, he thought, perhaps dying would be preferable to just about any other outcome of this scenario. He could feel her disdain emanating from across the room and he desperately wanted to get up and run as far and as fast as he could. But he was stuck here, his heart pounding, and feeling more miserable than he ever had.

Marlena stood stunned, across the room as it all became suddenly clear. Why he had behaved like he had and why he hadn't been able to tell her. And she suddenly felt very foolish. Foolish not to see what should have been so obvious. And foolish to have been so wrapped up in her own troubles that she hadn't seen his. And the fact that she was the cause of them. That was soon replaced though, by concern for Eugene. And by something else.

It suddenly occurred to her exactly what he had done for her. He had spent all this time, trying to help her with her own shattered love life, while ignoring his own feelings. In his effort to help her deal with her emotions, he had put his to one side and he had never once let her see the true extent of his struggle. Because he would have known instinctively that it must change their relationship. It would have to, there was no way the footing they had established in their long friendship could stay the same now.

She looked at the hunched figure sitting on the bed and knew that he was absolutely distraught at what had just happened. But like she had been, he was blaming himself for something he had no control over, and she couldn't bear to see him in such pain. Especially knowing that she was the cause.

She castigated herself for not realizing. She should have known. Perhaps she had known, but she had chosen to ignore the knowledge, lest it complicate her life even more. But she knew now, that had not been fair on her part. Those had not been the actions of a real friend.