Around Noon of Monday, September Fourteenth

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

I have apologized to Kate. Of course, I did it wrong--I always do. But I can't get it out of my head. The dream, which was far too real to me. The apology, which I felt was just...flat. The party, the party with its fear of death and then our departure, fading in the background and then walking her back like I always do. A faint kiss and a soft "goodnight."

The risk, the chance of her apartment is gone. The temptation, the fear of it. I think if we were to even sit beside each other alone at this point she might become terrified. How have I become this person so frightening and so obsessed with the flesh that I cannot relate to someone? To Kate for whom I would release all those things if I could.

I sigh and set down the hammer. The blistering heat feels good with the rain coming down outside, but I still feel a bit lost. My spot was rained out last night. I felt the ground slipping away beneath me. Perhaps it is a sign. Perhaps we should all simply move on.

[OPEN to Kate.]

Comments

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

I look away again and sigh.

"It was about you," I say. "You wanted--" I wince. "We--you--I--" I stop, not really sure what to say and definitely not wanting to elaborate. "Anyway, I--I'm sorry for thinking about you. In that way. It's not right."

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

"Anyway, I--I'm sorry for thinking about you. In that way. It's not right."

It takes a moment for it to fall into place.

"In what - oh. Oh.." Laurence is still not looking at me, and I'm glad, because I can feel a blush rising - not just in my cheeks, but from my chest right up to my hairline. Oh, indeed. I stand awkwardly by the counter, and will my colour to go back down. I feel the blood subsiding at last, thank goodness.

"Well," I say. "Um, it's, it's not a bad thing, I, I mean it's meant to be normal to, um, think..." I swallow, and force my voice to steady. "It's what people do." I look at Laurence, seeing how embarrassed he looks, and how hurt, and I feel my heart ache for him, that he can feel so guilty about - and this makes me almost blush again - wanting me. And I think, did I do this to him? Or is this how Laurence has always felt about... lovemaking? "You shouldn't feel bad," I say again. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's... It's not your fault if it makes me uncomfortable. That... That is all my own fears. Laurence, I..." I sigh raggedly. "I'm not sure how good this can be for you. Us." I feel my eyes prick. "It's not wrong to... to want someone you love. But if they can't... if they can't share that with you, and you just feel bad about how you feel... It's wrong." I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. I thought for a while that maybe Laurence and I could, I don't know, get by without that sort of intimacy. I'm not sure we can, but I'm still not sure I can ever share it with him, or anyone. I just don't know.

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

She leaves me and stands. I'm not surprised, but it hurts considerably. I shake my head while she talks. She doesn't understand what was so different about it, but I don't think I can explain that. Even when I have dreamt such things, I've never done anything about it and that is what makes this so uncomfortable. My body worked against me and "I woke up with my flail on my chest," I say under my breath. Then I look up at Kate, who just looks awful with sadness or embarrassment or something else entirely and what she's said sinks in. What I've thought,myself. I feel a lump rise in my throat.

My legs compel me to stand, but at the top of the motion I pause before going to her, my hand moving to touch her, but I hesitate barely inches away.

"What does one do about that kind of 'wrong'ness, Kate?" I ask. "Save oneself?" My heart pounds in my ears and wish that things were different. She deserves better than this.

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

"I woke up with my flail on my chest," he says quietly, and I don't know what he means, how it got there, but I do think I know what he did next - and I hate it, thinking of himself hurting himself because of how he feels about me. Everything about that is wrong.

He stands up and comes closer. I don't feel afraid, like I did when he seized my hand at the picnic, his face feverish. Now I just feel this terrible sadness.

"What does one do about that kind of 'wrong'ness, Kate? Save oneself?"

I take his hand, then, to give and receive the kind of comfort any human in pain wants.

"I don't know, Laurence," I say quietly. "You... You've changed a lot since you came to Excolo. You've given up preaching. You're living as... as an ordinary man. That's not a bad thing. But loving me... It seems to keep you somewhere half stuck between the man you were and the man you could be." I feel tears well up in my eyes now. "You should be able to marry someone, to have a family, to have someone love you... fully. The way men and women are meant to love." A tear slides down my cheek. I don't sob, and I don't try to hide the tear. "I keep thinking that maybe enough has changed for me that I can be that woman for you, but... I don't know if I can. It has taken me years to get this far." My chest is aching. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I can't be more to you than I am."

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

I feel a tightening in my chest as she takes my hand and when I tear rolls down her cheek, I wipe it away.

"You are everything to me, Kate," I say softly and kiss her forehead, feeling no lust at all for the moment. The hand that brushed away her tear cups her face then helps pull her to me. "You don't have to be anything you're not." Then a strange idea grips me, one that she'll reject and I'll fight to pretend never happened, but it won't let me go so finally I say into her hair, "Marry me, Kate?"

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

"You are everything to me, Kate," he says, and the dragging ache in my chest increases. "You don't have to be anything you're not." There's so much I want to be, Laurence, and so much I don't know yet... I don't know where I'm going. But I don't know how to say that and have it make sense, so I just let him hold me.

"Marry me, Kate?"

I stiffen in surprise as he murmurs the words into my hair, and I draw back slightly so I can see his face. This - this would not be how I'd imagine a proposal. A proposal of marriage should come from an overflowing of joy, I think. Not from grief.

"Oh, Laurence," I say, very softly. "I can't. I'm sorry." I draw back and put a hand against his cheek, and I am crying in earnest now. "I think... I think we need some time apart. To think. To work out where our lives are going, and if... If there's a future for us together in that." I give him a watery smile. "I... love you too, you know," I say. "Not in the way you want me to love you, but I do. But right now... That's not enough."

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

She's crying and I feel the corners of my mouth tug down into a frown even though I don't want them to. I look away, try so hard not to look at her, but then I look back and nod a little, then look away again.

"OK," I say even though it's really not. It's not OK at all and I feel like someone struck me with one of the cat's nine tails in my heart. I cross my arms over my chest and fight hard the tears burning my eyes. Just because she is crying doesn't mean I should. "I guess I should see you out," I say in a voice more controlled than I thought I could manage.

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

"OK," he says, and I can tell that it isn't okay, it really isn't. Everything is wrong today and I don't know how to make it right.

"I guess I should see you out," he says tightly, and I wonder if he is angry, or just unhappy like I am.

"Oh, Laurence," I say, my voice choked, because we can't say goodbye like this, formal and cold. I feel like if we do that it's saying goodbye forever. So I stretch my arms up and pull his head down, and I kiss him hard on the lips, my tears smearing across his mouth, and then I walk quickly out into the rain, leaving the pie and umbrella behind me, and that's okay. I want to feel the rain on my face.

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

The kiss shocks me and I want to hold her tight and not let go, but I don't. The wetness of her tears is all I'm left with after a moment. She's gone and finally then I let the tears come and I pick up a clay pot and turn it in my hands. I'm no good with fragile and delicate things, clearly. I toss it into the wall and listen to it shatter.

The old me would take the cat out and pray. The really old me would get dressed and head out. I choose first to go cry in my lean-to, before picking which me I'll be.