Madeline

30. Why?

30. Why?

Madeline
"Why didn't you tell me about Eric?"

"It wasn't my story to tell."

"He tried to kill himself. Don't you think that's something I should have known?"

"Why, so you could yell at him again?"

"I didn't yell at him."

"I guess that was just you speaking to him in a naturally loud voice."

"He's been through so much. This isn't something he needs in his life right now."

I put down the knife that I had been using to slice the tomato. "What is it with you two?"

"I'm not following."

"You're acting like you're his father."

"I'm definitely not that."

"Stop trying to control him. He's an adult. If he wants to off himself he should be able to do so in peace."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"Do as you wish. Listen, Eric isn't my favourite person, but instead of trying to force him to live let him decide to live on his own. Show him that there are things worth living for. You say you care about him. Show him you do. Maybe then he will stop trying to go off into the unknown."

"It's not that simple."

"Nothing with him ever is."

"He suffers from severe depression."

"Why are you telling me this? It's not my business."

"I'm telling you because I know you'll keep it to yourself. I'm afraid he'll try to harm himself again."

"He won't," I said immediately.

"You can't be certain of that."

"Neither can you be certain he'll try to harm himself again. Look, from what I've gathered, you're the person he cares most about in this world. What that means, I have no clue. In some ways he's still like a child. He wants your attention. He wants your approval. He's afraid of disappointing you, which is why he didn't want to tell you what happened in London and told me not to tell you either. He thinks you'll be disappointed in him."

"That's ridiculous."

"I do agree that it's ridiculous, but that is no business of mine."

"So you keep saying."

He eyed me suspiciously. I ignored him. He didn't leave. I picked up the knife and resumed what I was doing. He still didn't leave. His presence was bothering me.

"What," I asked without looking at him.

"I like having you in my kitchen."

"And?"

"And, nothing. I just like having you in my kitchen. Of course I'd prefer if you were in my bed, but I'll take what I can get for now."

I didn't respond. I had no right to.

He leaned against the counter and crossed his legs.

"How long are you going to make me wait?"

"Are you that hungry? Dinner will be finished in about twenty minutes."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

I did know what he was referring to, but I wanted to ignore it.