The Truth of the Matter

6. The Beginning in the End: Truth

September 2013
"Heart Attack" by Demi Lovato
"Believe" by Mumford

"Want to go and walk around Union Station?" Quinn asked me one night, a few days before Labor Day and the beginning of the school year.

We had become hermits and stayed at my house most nights watching television, reading, and having sex, so when he asked me to go I figured it was probably time to get some fresh air.  

We rode the metro into the city, his right hand resting on my thigh, dangerously high, tracing semi circles. We had settled into our relationship in the eleven months that we had been together and I didn't feel the need to always talk and fill in any spaces where there might be silences. His hand was distracting me, toying with me when I thought I had a grip on my emotions.   

We strolled into the station, which was filled to the brim with people of all different races, cultures, and languages. I could sit on a bench all day, thinking about people's stories and where they may have come from or what they are doing now. Quinn held my hand while we walked and occasionally bent down to kiss my cheek. 

We eventually made our way outside to the ground level and tried to warm up in some sunlight in the early fall air. We sat on a bench, sharing some popcorn from a vendor. Sensing a shift in his body language, my neck prickled.

His legs were relaxed before, now they were crossed at the ankles. Shoulders tight and straight across. There was some unaddressed tension between us, I was waiting for him to bring it up because I wasn't sure what it could be about.

"Truth, how are you doing?" he asked me curiously, it was an open ended question, meant to dig for more information in a tactful way.

I shot him a look because it wasn't a random question, he was trying to get an answer out of me and he didn't want to ask outright. His voice lowered with an undertone of condescension.

"Fine?"  I replied, slightly irritated at his unwillingness to ask me a straight forward question.

He sighed, obviously annoyed.  It was a common move, something that I had learned to ignore because it led to a fight.

"What, Quinn?  I thought that we were having a nice day. What do you want me to say? What do you really want to ask?"

Fed up with his lack of initiative, I rolled my eyes. He always said things without completely saying them. Letting the gaps do most of the speaking. Afraid to be definitive. I was tired of filling in the gaps where he didn't want to be assertive.

"Truth, do you understand what's going on here?" he turned to me and stared into my eyes, forehead creased

I thought for a second, and then decided to answer honestly

"No, I don't."

He shook his head in disbelief. I tried to put my hand over his and he abruptly stood up. He didn't want me touch him. Furrowing my brows, the panicky jolts began pulsing through my lips and face. He was mad. I hadn't seen that before.

Confrontation was high on my list of things that I avoided. I'm a natural peacekeeper, or conflict avoider if I'm being honest. I often rationalize against my own needs to keep things flowing and calm.

"Let's go back to your house" he said, sounding detached; starting to walk towards the train. 

I could feel my temper starting to rise as I followed him in silence. He did this when he got frustrated with something, he would withdraw and ignore me until he had decided he was over it. Never leaving me space to discuss or interact. Not that I probably would. But I would prefer the choice. It was a gigantic waste of time.