EXCOLO

After I spoke to Deputy Hollow yesterday I walked straight down the road to Mr Dorian's store, but the girl who works there - Winnie, I think? - told me that Glass wasn't in, or perhaps she was asleep. The girl seemed nervous, and whether that's her natural state or an agitation caused by her employer being missing I don't know, and so I left her alone and returned to the General Store. I planned to go over again in the evening, but I received a damaged shipment of fabric and ended up spending most of the evening sorting it out with the hardmouthed man who had brought it.

Today I once again put my CLOSED sign up early - my customers will be growing tired of my erratic lunchbreaks - and start walking down Silk Road, and I see a familiar face.

"Glass," I say, crossing over quickly. "I heard about Mr Dorian," I say when I reach her, because that seems more useful than asking her how she is. I think I can tell that by looking at her.

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Yes, aright, miserable times--but 'm still glad t'see Kate coming, and I stop as she crosses the street. Not smiling, exact, but a little more at ease.

"Meant t'come tell you," I say, "but..." I'm not sure what, exact. Monday was waiting at the store watching rain and hoping he'd come back, and yesterday I went by Iago's and didn't have the nerve t'speak t'him... no, that was Tuesday. Wednesday was nothing, again. Shake my head and continue. "'d you care t'go back to the Dorian's?" I say hesitant, glancing over my shoulder. "'r maybe the Miskatonic?" Miserable weather t'be standing outside, and I'm guessing if she came down Silk I was most likely the cause.

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Glass looks tired. No, more than that; exhausted. I wonder if she's eaten today, and so I say:

"The cafe? You look like you could do with some breakfast," I say, and we go back up the street together. It's quiet, too early yet for lunch, and it strikes me suddenly that Glass and I have hardly ever met in the morning - and when we have it's been for bad reasons. I remember looking out of my window and seeing the Apothecary door ajar... I push the thought away for now.

"I won't ask if you're alright," I say as we sit down. "But are you managing?"

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Dammit, 've I eaten yet? Realize I've not. Nod agreement and we head back up the street. Lowering sky, grey day... Shrug deeper into the coat she made me.

"I won't ask if you're alright," she says as we find ourselves a table. "But are you managing?"

"Doing well enough, I think," I say quietly, sitting. "Took Iago's wedding invitation t'him and left word that Dorian was gone, remembered I ought see to't that Winnie and Damien're paid. I've no mind for if he's coming back, but a week..." Sure it's too soon to give up hoping. Surely. "Not sleeping through the days, so I suppose it's going well enough." Tulzcha comes and we order, and I'm for tea rather than coffee again, and then she heads back and we're alone and I feel something rising in my throat.

"I'm--" and the word freezes in my mouth and mother's bones, you'd think I could say it-- "," I add very softly. And that brings on tired, afraid, alone, and feeling far more akin to my mam than I've done in years. Wonder if I ought apologize and I think not, but the worry's there. "I thought... took you for caring to know. How've you been?"

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I feel my throat tighten at the idea of Glass taking her wedding invitation to show her husband. There aren't really words.

I ask for a mug of hot chocolate when Tulzcha comes over - I think I've been drinking too much coffee lately, and my sleep has been disturbed as it is.

"I'm pregnant" says Glass very quietly, and I feel myself blink. "I thought... took you for caring to know. How've you been?"

"Glass," I breathe, and then Tulzcha comes back and sets down the cups in front of us and goes away. I reach across the table and take her hand. "Oh Glass. Congratulations." I realise I'm smiling. "Are you glad about it, despite - the situation?"

Edited Date: 2009-12-28 11:14 pm (UTC)

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Says my name and I don't say anything, only watch the table's Tulzcha brings drinks and leaves again, but look up again when she takes my hand, squeeze hers in mine a second. "Are you glad about it, despite - the situation?"

Oddest thing, but I'd not thought about it in that light at all. Glad. Start t'say something and find I'm lacking words again, and only nod instead. If I weren't... well. If I wanted the matter swept aside, it'd be a few hours at the most and I've surely had the time to spare. And find I'm bracing myself 'gainst even the thought of that, so...

"That's a word for't," I say after a moment, smiling a little. "I'd... didn't chase this, but'd not have it otherwise." Can feel the blood rising in my face and I look down and aside again a moment, try'n compose myself.

"'sides," I say, trying for something a little lighter, "'ve seen that a mother alone c'n raise a child well enough." Glosses over the matter of the next seven months'r so, but there's little enough I can do for those save travel through, a day at a time.

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"I'd... didn't chase this, but'd not have it otherwise."

My smile lifts at that. I'm so glad. After everything that has happened to Glass, I am so glad that she has this and that she is happy.

"'ve seen that a mother alone c'n raise a child well enough."

"You know you aren't alone, don't you?" I say quietly. "Even if - even if Iago and Dorian don't..." I clear my throat. "You won't have to raise your baby alone."

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"You know you aren't alone, don't you? Even if - even if Iago and Dorian don't..." and I can feel myself knotting up at that, and she lets it go. Thank you, Kate. "You won't have to raise your baby alone."

"Thought not," I say quietly, and oh bloody hell I am not going to be making a damn spectacle of myself, I am not. Blink once and look away a moment, and run fingers across my eyes, and my sight clears. Suddenly want to laugh, and I've no mind for why, and smile and touch her hand instead. What'd she say t'me once, what powers I have I give to you?

"It's been odd," I confess, and look for more words, and find the only thing comes to mind is "'m glad of you. 'm sorry, Kate, it's all been a touch overwhelming, the last fortnight."

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Glass runs her hand across her eyes, and I find I have to blink hard for a moment too. I smile back at her when she touches my hand.

"'m glad of you. 'm sorry, Kate, it's all been a touch overwhelming, the last fortnight."

"I can imagine," I say quietly, and then add - "no, I can't, I don't think. But what I can imagine of it is bad enough. If you ever need anything, you need only ask," I say. "And the news of the baby is pleasant distraction," I add. "It's been - an odd week for me, too." The smile I give her is a little shaky at the edges, I think.

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"I can imagine," she says and then she's resetting the words of that, but I've caught the intent well enough, and I nod. "If you ever need anything, you need only ask," and I think I always knew it but it's steadying t'hear it said. "And the news of the baby is pleasant distraction. It's been - an odd week for me, too," she ventures, and'm not quite at ease with her smile.

"You aright?" I say, tilting my head a touch t'the side. "What happened?" Other times I could've maybe made a guess at it, but this last week I think I might've missed hearing of it if the water tower burnt down.

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"What happened?" says Glass, and I don't want to tell her. Partly it is because so much has happened to her that makes this pale in comparison; partly it is because it almost makes me feel ashamed. Partly I find I'm worried about making Glass think badly of Tess, and I'm not sure why I should mind that, given what's happened.

I look at the table.

"Tess lay with Syl Thorn," I say, very quietly. Saying it is like trying to get a bone out of my throat. "Not - recently. Before we -" I pause and breathe out. "She told me how she - felt about me," I say, and I feel myself colour. "I told her I cared about her, but I - needed to think. I had a lot to think about. And while I was doing that, she... Went to bed with Syl." I look up. "I haven't seen her since she told me. I don't know what she - " I will not cry, not here. I glance away and back.

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See her stop and the words caught in her throat, and I feel a knot starting in my shoulders, my teeth getting ready to be on edge. I'd not see her hurt, and none of how she's carrying herself is setting me at ease. Fold my hands on the table as she begins to lay it out--

"Tess lay with Syl Thorn."

--and for a moment there's only a hard bright anger inside me, sharp as a burn. Draw breath in low and slow and listen as Kate goes on. Not while she and Kate were keeping company, then, and yet that it's not as bad as't could've been's not gentling my mood any. "She told me how she - felt about me," and the blood's rising in her face and I know how that feels, the raw miserable heat. "I told her I cared about her, but I - needed to think. I had a lot to think about. And while I was doing that, she... Went to bed with Syl."

Tess Thiess, you bleeding idiot, and I find I'm near t'showing my teeth. Think of the first time I spoke to Iago, and fine enough I'd not've been surprised if he'd taken up with another after that, he sure's hell wasn't telling me he cared for me that day. Wanted, yes, but there's a sea of difference there and I knew it. You care for someone and they ask you for time, you don't...

"I haven't seen her since she told me," Kate finishes. "I don't know what she - " and she's looking aside, back, eyes bright and face resolutely dry.

"'m sorry," I say. "She-- ah, Kate." Glance down a moment t'gather myself and give her a chance t'compose her face if she needs it. I can't quite see how Tess could've been so stupid, pettish careless cruel. Reach for her hand 'cross the table, and wishing I had some gift for words.

"She was a fool or worse t'do that t'you," I manage after a moment. Suppose Kate knows that, but it's true enough t'say regardless. Weigh it a moment, the sorrow of I don't know what she -, and try for words to set out the shape of that. "Take it you'd know more of her mind, then?" I say gently. Take it you still care?

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Glass doesn't say anything for a minute, and I'm glad of it. I swallow down the lump in my throat and it passes.

"She was a fool or worse t'do that t'you," says Glass.

"Her brother thinks a fool rather than something crueller," I say. "Johnny came to speak to me," I say, smiling a bit. "He seemed concerned for me because of what had happened. Tess told him. I don't know how she can tell him but won't talk to me." I shake my head at the senselessness of it.

"Take it you'd know more of her mind, then?"

"Johnny thinks she still - loves me," I say after a moment. "If she does, she's being a - a coward for not coming to see me," I say. "If she doesn't, well..." My mouth twists. "I'd rather hear it than wonder." I look down into my mug and wait until I can be sure my voice is steady. "I don't - care for women, you know," I say after a pause. "I don't think I do. I don't notice girls in the street, or..." I breathe out. "It changed a lot about the way I think about things, realising I - cared for her. I knew it wasn't quite the same for her, because she'd - cared for other women, but." My mouth turns down. "I feel like I don't know if she - if she loved. Loves me the way I thought she did."

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"Her brother thinks a fool rather than something crueller," and at least she's smiling a little speaking of John. Glad he did her that kindness, though I'd rather Tess'd drawn herself up and been the one t'talk to Kate. Nod and listen, and there's silence for a moment as the steam from our cups rises slow in the light. "Johnny thinks she still - loves me. If she does, she's being a - a coward for not coming to see me. If she doesn't, well..." Recall her naming what she felt for Tess love and how happy I was for her that she'd say that of someone. Forgotten how much it could hurt, for that moment.

"It changed a lot about the way I think about things, realising I - cared for her. I knew it wasn't quite the same for her, because she'd - cared for other women, but." Her mouth draws down and I wish sudden I'd asked her back to Dorian's, someplace where if she did weep it'd embarrass her less. Not that I think she's like to do that, but I can see her coming to the edge of it, hear the misery. "I feel like I don't know if she - if she loved. Loves me the way I thought she did," and my throat is aching at her words, can near to feel them like bones in my own throat.

Take my free hand from where it's against the base of my throat, over the weight of Iago's ring, and lay it against hers; both my hands there, then, and wishing I could set things aright. "'m not the one to lay out if or how she loves you," I say slow. I'd be if I could, if only so Kate'd know; the guessing at how much of it was true, how much was chance, how much of it's been thrown off... "But I'd swear you were no whim t'her, and she didn't take t'you lightly." Tess was trying t'mend things between Kate'n'me after Hollantide, making courtesies she'd no need to, and I know well enough that it wasn't for my sake. Asked after Kate's birth day, 's well, for wanting t'do her some kindness, I recall that.

"That she's being a coward not coming t'see you, I'm not arguing. Though--" My own mouth twists, and it's not Iago I'm thinking of now, nor Tess, but of Laurence coming t'find me, and the hissing curse burrowing through Kate's bones. "Know that finding you've hurt someone you care for can make cowards of the best of us, for a while." Got myself dosed on Green Vespers and told Iago what I'd done before I could find it in me to speak to her. Think I've maybe some mind for why Tess spoke to John but not yet to Kate, not that understanding quite quenches the anger. What she was thinking...

I've never been one to take sex for caring and bloody hell am I drawing from Dorian Gray's thoughts on the matter?

"'m guessing," I say after a moment, my voice low, "that Tess takes-- laying with someone to be something that's... that can matter, but that needn't. The matter of her and Syl. She tell you freely?"

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"But I'd swear you were no whim t'her, and she didn't take t'you lightly."

I nod, because it's kind of Glass to say it, and I trust her judgement more than anyone else's I can think of.

'm guessing "that Tess takes-- laying with someone to be something that's... that can matter, but that needn't. The matter of her and Syl. She tell you freely?"

"Mostly freely," I say. "I went over to the carnival to talk to Syl Thorn about - Iago," I say, "and when I got there Tess was there too, and since she told me she hadn't seen Syl in weeks I thought it strange." I decide not to mention the part about them being undressed; it's too humiliating, remembering how I felt, even if I believe Tess than nothing had happened. "I told her she needn't keep her friends secret from me just because I don't like them - I know Syl did me a service, but I haven't trusted her since what happened to Kaeli," I add. "And Tess blurted it out. And I told her how it - how it made me feel, and I haven't seen her since."

I look out of the window at the grey day, and take a swallow of my hot chocolate, then look back at Glass.

"How far along do you think you are?" I ask. "I'm sure you can take care of medicines and the like better than I can, but are you eating well enough? I'll restock your shelves if you're not in the mood to think of what to eat," I say.

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"I went over to the carnival to talk to Syl Thorn about - Iago," and I think of the note she left me, in spite of how this must've run through her when the wound was yet raw. "I told her she needn't keep her friends secret from me just because I don't like them - I know Syl did me a service, but I haven't trusted her since what happened to Kaeli," and I nod, as I'm still not thinking that was Syl but I'll set it aside now. "And Tess blurted it out. And I told her how it - how it made me feel, and I haven't seen her since."

Sunday, then, I'm guessing--may've been Saturday. And Tess still hasn't been t'see her? "Owes you an answer, at the very least," I say soft. The idea of stopping by to talk to her's coming to mind. Hesitating a little as I suppose if she's worked herself into a snit over all of this she might balk at talking to Kate when she's reminded of it... Still. Guessing fear's more likely, and think she's had long enough to deal with that.

"How far along do you think you are?" and it throws me a moment, I'm yet thinking of Tess. "I'm sure you can take care of medicines and the like better than I can, but are you eating well enough? I'll restock your shelves if you're not in the mood to think of what to eat." Smile a little at the sheer practical kindness of it, and count back days.

"'round six weeks, I think?" I say after a moment. Conceived in the month of slaughter. It's a passing grim thought, and I shake it off. "Could be as much as a fortnight less, but I'm not taking that for likely." Hesitate a moment. "Was getting ready for winter," I add. "I think the shelves're stocked well enough, but if you'd take a look and see what I may've missed, I'd take it as kindness." I think I'm well enough set. Hardly means I don't know that I could do worse than Kate setting her sense to things.

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"Owes you an answer, at the very least," says Glass of Tess, and I nod in agreement, but am happy enough to set the matter aside for now. There is not much more to be said if it doesn't come from Tess.

Six weeks, says Glass, and it suddenly occurs to me that this could mean it was Dorian's. I don't know why that hadn't struck me before... Never mind.

"I think the shelves're stocked well enough, but if you'd take a look and see what I may've missed, I'd take it as kindness."

"I will," I say, and then pause. "This is an awkward thing to ask, but.. Are you alright for money?" I say. With Iago gone back to his grandmother's house and Dorian who knows where, I don't know what Glass will be doing for her keep. I suppose if the shop can keep running without Dorian it will pay its own rent, and I won't let Glass starve, but I don't see her as wanting to take charity.

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"This is an awkward thing to ask, but.. Are you alright for money?"

Consider it a moment--food stocked, still some coin (not much, but I've managed well enough on less with less stored), and if the store carries on a place to live--and nod. "Think so. May be different if something changes, but I've rather enough to hand without borrowing trouble." Smile a touch at that, and then a thought comes. Mention of money did it, I suppose.

"As it stands," I say quiet, "you're the only one that knows. Iago--" Stop and start over. "Told Dorian on Saturday. I'd-- I know you don't gossip, Kate, but thought I ought tell you I'm not telling Alessandra." As it seems the sort of thing folk might do, and I could see Kate mentioning it if they ever crossed paths. "I'd rather not chance that Raphael hear of this." Add Wanda and the Shuck to the list of folk not to tell, then. Was meaning to ask Lucien whether Nu was good at his work, but he wasn't in yesterday--Tuesday--hadn't been in for days.

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"I'll not tell anyone," I say, because I wouldn't in any case, even if Glass's father in law weren't bad through and through. In my hometown it was thought bad luck to tell anyone aside from your family before the third month was finished. I think if I were to call anyone here family, it would be Glass, and the thought is a comfort. "And you know - if it comes to it that you can't stay at the shop, or you don't want to... It wouldn't be a burden to me at all to have you to stay." My last guest was with me for quite a while, after all. But I don't want to think about that time right now.

I finish up my hot chocolate.

"It's getting cold enough to snow, I think," I say, looking at the slate grey sky. "Winter's set in at last."

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"I'll not tell anyone," and that's one thing to ease my mind. "And you know - if it comes to it that you can't stay at the shop, or you don't want to... It wouldn't be a burden to me at all to have you to stay."

Look down a moment and find'm smiling again, in all of this. "I'll mind that," I say softly. Think it'd be odd--I've rather fallen out of the habit of rooming with folk since I came to Excolo (and they were different, Iago, Dorian)--but imagine it'd work.

"It's getting cold enough to snow, I think," Kate says, watching out the window. She looks tired a moment, way I'm not used t'seeing her, and I shiver. Nothing has quite the chill to it of winter light. "Winter's set in at last."

Murmur agreement; grew up with this the season we came to never knowing if we'd see the other side of it. Still count my age in winters lived through; this'll be the twenty-eighth of them. "Ready for it, at least," I say. "Hoping the snow doesn't come on quite as strong as the rain we had midsummer." Few stretches of days there it seemed as if the Pontarlier'd leapt its banks, and not in the manner of casting forth Leah.

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I'll go talk t'Kate. I just dunt know what t'say. I was thoughtless, I suppose, 'n I dint think how she'd take it right then, with all she knows bout sex.

I walk up Silk 'n then lookin' at the shop I can't quite go in, so I walk down t'the Miskatonic instead. Maybe it'll be better 'f I bring some food 'r have a coffee 'aforehand.

The bell rings as I step in, but then I stop. Kate's sittin' talkin' t'Glass, the two 'a them lookin' serious 'n tired too. I ain't spared thought fer Glass' troubles, but 'f the two 'a them are talkin' it'll help. I - I dunt want t'go over. But then Glass sees me 'n I can't step back out.

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"Hoping the snow doesn't come on quite as strong as the rain we had midsummer."

"There's not been a bad snow since I've been here, but of course that's not so many years," I say. I turn my head automatically when the door opens, because it's so quiet in here, and I feel my face go blank and my fingers curl into my palm.

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See Kate go still and follow her glance and oh, good day to you, then. Set my hands flat on the table and watch the look cross Tess's face as Kate's sitting there with less animation than if she were sleeping...

And neither of them're moving, and I see Tulz starting to look curious, and find I've gotten to my feet.

So much I want to say, and most of it'd be sharpening my tongue--think I could hurt Tess, if I set myself to it. But she's looking wretched, and whatever else that means take it for signalling the matter between her and Kate's not going t'be settled quick.

"You've something you ought say t'her," I say low and calm, reaching out to touch her arm. Not caring what it is so much as I am that she do Kate at least that much.

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Kate turns her head at the bell and I just can't move, watchin' her. "You've something you ought say t'her," and I start at Glass' touch on my arm. I dint even notice her get up. "I reckon yeah," I answer.

I take a deep, shudderin' breath, and step past Glass, stoppin' at the table. "Mornin', Kate," I say quiet.

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Glass gets up and says something low and quiet to Tess. I don't really hear it. All I can hear is blood rushing in my ears, and when Tess steps up to the table and says "Mornin', Kate," it sounds as if she is coming from a long way away.

I look down at my hand, and make my fingers unfurl. Then I look back at her.

"Tess."

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Kate's sitting there unmoving and looks down, unfolds her hand as if were a not particular engaging problem... a snarl to be unpicked in thread afore she could continue sewing, or something of the like. She minds me of Dorian in that moment, the whole world at arm's length and all of it small and cold.

Trust she has more sense t'her that he does.

Cafe's empty for the moment, but not sure how long it'll last. "Sit down," I say quiet to Tess. Three of us talking's no great matter. Tess standing there at loose ends with her face screaming misery and guilt's another thing altogether. Catch Tulzcha coming and wave her off.

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Fer a moment she dunt do nothin', just looks down at her hand on the table. Then she looks up. "Tess."

I search fer somethin' t'say, but then Glass is next t'me 'gain. "Sit down," she tells me, still half-orderin' me 'bout. I sit down. I dunt want her here, dint want t'talk t'Kate out like this, but I sit.

"I - ." I stop, 'n catch my breath. "I need t'talk with you, Kate."

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Glass tells Tess to sit, and I'm glad of it. I think otherwise I might just have stared at Tess. The rushing in my ears begins to subside. I see there is a bit of tea left in Glass's cup, and so I take a sip. I don't think she'll mind.

"I need t'talk with you, Kate."

"I've been thinking that for a few days now, Tess," I say quietly. "What made you realise that now?"

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"I've been thinking that for a few days now, Tess," she says calm 'n quiet, havin' a sip 'a tea. I dunt know how she can be so calm - my belly's achin' with worry just sittin' here. "What made you realise that now," she asks me, chidin'.

I blush hot, feelin' that guilt all anew. "I - I needed a couple days." I look down at the table, movin' my hands aimlessly, 'afore lookin' back up. "I'm sorry, Kate. I should 'a thought first, 'bout how it'd make you feel."

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"I'm sorry, Kate. I should 'a thought first, 'bout how it'd make you feel."

"I think that is the problem in general," I say, politely enough. I glance at Glass, then back at Tess. "We should probably talk somewhere else," I say. Although there's hardly anyone here, this feels too exposed. "Glass, I'll - catch up with you later?"

Edited Date: 2009-12-30 11:09 am (UTC)

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Spit and staunchweed, the air's cooling quite sharp. Thinking I ought get to my feet and excuse myself to the counter when Kate speaks for herself and Tess. "Glass, I'll - catch up with you later?"

"That'd be fine," I say softly, getting to my feet and touching her fingers light as I move aside from the table. "My best," I add quietly. Glance to Tess and there's still enough I want to say, but...

The short of it is, I ... love someone. Tess.

Leastways they're talking.

Head up to the counter, then, and settle for our drinks. Think I'll maybe linger in the library a little, see about going by the General Store afore I head home.

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"I think that is the problem in general," she says, in the exact same tone as 'afore. She looks t'Glass 'n then back at me. "We should probably talk somewhere else." I nod.

"Glass, I'll - catch up with you later?" Glass stands up and her fingers brush Kate's. "That'd be fine," Glass answers. I wonder 'f I should be jealous, but in light 'v everythin' that's foolish. Glass says somethin' else t'Kate 'n then looks t'me. She dunt say anythin' t'me though; she just goes.

"Where," I ask. "Your apartment?"

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Glass brushes my hand and I manage a smile for her, and then she's gone. I look back at Tess and feel very tired suddenly, like my bones weigh too much.

"Your apartment?"

I nod. I am almost tempted to tell her I have to get back to work, that she had best come back later. It would be a petty sort of revenge, but there might be something satisfying in it. But I don't, even though I do feel a little guilty for leaving the store closed for so long.

I see that Glass has paid, which is a kindness. We walk out of the cafe and across to the store in silence. I get the door unlocked and we go up the stairs. The living room is quite dark, though it's early; winter days like this the sun never really seems to come up. I flick a light on and drop my coat onto the back of a chair.

"You wanted to talk," I say at last.

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I follow Kate down the road, hardly darin' t'glance sideways at her. She dunt look angry so much as tired, and it's harder this way. 'F she was angry I could just get angry back and it'd be easy. But I can't - she's just so disappointed, but it's like she can hardly bring herself t'care.

Her apartment's dark with the winter, and I think I'd prefer it 'f she dint put the light on. There's somethin' 'bout electric lights that seems unforgivin'.

Kate tosses her jacket down. "You wanted to talk," she says.

I have a moment where I just want t'take her hand and kneel down 'n beg her fogiveness. This formal-seemin' quiet hurts. "What d'you want," I ask, my voice a bit raw. "My reasons? I dunt have any good excuses, but there's reasons. Apologies? I've bin sayin' 'em over 'n over in my head 'n dunt know how they'd sound out loud." I take a step towards her, still just wantin' t'reach out t'her. "I'm sorry, Kate. I dint give thought t'just how you'd feel, with how you see this sort 'a thing. But it dunt change how I feel 'bout you, 'r what I told you." It gets a bit easier as I talk, my voice growin' stronger, but all 'v it depends on how she answers me.

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"What d'you want," she says. "I dint give thought t'just how you'd feel," she says. There are other things in there, too, but those stick.

"What do I want," I say, and I feel my voice start to get unsteady, the calm I managed to find in the cafe coming undone, like pieces of ice shearing off a frozen pond. "You - tell me you didn't think how I'd feel and that doesn't change how you feel about me?" My voice is rising in pitch, and my hands are shaking. "Then I'm left wondering how much you felt in the first place," I say, and saying it out loud to her makes me feel like something gets dislodged from my throat or my heart or my eyes and I start crying, and not ladylike quiet tears but huge hot raining tears that make my shoulders shake.

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"What do I want," she asks, and her calm's comin' all undone. "You - tell me you didn't think how I'd feel and that doesn't change how you feel about me?" She's louder than I've ever heard her 'n her hands are clenched tight. "Then I'm left wondering how much you felt in the first place," she cries and then she's sobbin' so hard she's shakin', just standin' there with her hands clenched and tears streamin' down.

I just stand there. What the hell can I say? I just want t'cry but I can't, not now, and I want t'touch her but I'm afraid 'a her jerkin' away. I slump down on the arm 'a the chair, wrappin' my arms tight 'round my belly like I'm holdin' myself together. "I dint know how you felt, Kate. I dint think 'v it 'cause I never do. I never really had anyone who wasn't family that I cared how they felt. And it was nice workin' with Syl, knowin' so much that I dint, and I was lonely, physically lonely," I say, so quiet I dunt know 'f she even hears me through her tears. "And it came up 'bout the Tower and she understood so well what it was like, bein' swatted aside, and it was just comfortin'." My voice is practically raspin' with my effort not t'match Kate's sobbin'. "I dunt know how t'explain it in ways you'd understand."

I shake my head. "Every time I try it seems so - so inadequate." I look up at her. "I'm sorry Kate, love," and my voice is louder now, "I made a mistake and I can't fix it and I'm sorry." Fer a moment there's nothin' but the sound 'a her cryin'. "I'm sorry," I whisper again.

"I'll go if you want, Kate." I look up at her and reach out, not able t'stop from touchin' her, just light on her arm. "I'll go 'f you want but it ain't what I want, not now. I dream 'bout you, Kate."

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I hear her even though I'm sobbing. It stings when she says she was lonely, because wasn't she with me then? And I understand what she says about comfort, I do. I can see easier now, after what she and I have had, how going to bed with someone can be a comfort. Though it wouldn't be in me to lie down with someone I didn't love, I can see how it happens. But how does it happen when you care for someone else? When you think you might love them? How do you turn to someone else then?

She touches my arm and it feels like it burns me.

"I'll go 'f you want but it ain't what I want, not now. I dream 'bout you, Kate."

I rub the heels of my hands into my eyes, forcing myself to stop crying.

"I don't want you to go," I say thickly. I drop my hands. My eyes are still leaking, but not streaming. "I wanted you here and you weren't. You didn't try to talk to me for days and I felt like I couldn't breathe, all these days of having to work and talk to people and I couldn't breathe. Why didn't you come?"

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Kate scrubs at her eyes, her breathin' slowin' some. "I don't want you to go," she tells me, her voice still heavy, but somethin' deep inside 'a me uncoils and I feel like I can breath again. "I wanted you here and you weren't. You didn't try to talk to me for days and I felt like I couldn't breathe, all these days of having to work and talk to people and I couldn't breathe. Why didn't you come?" I swallow and pull out a cloth, handin' it t'her.

"I was scared," I tell her softly. "Terrified. That when I saw you you'd be so angry and hurt that you'd just tell me t'leave. And - " I hesitate, but it ain't like I can keep things from her, like this, " - I was ashamed. I - I never cared 'nough t'feel bad really, fer stuff I've done, and I've never hurt someone so bad that I thought they wouldn't forgive me." I take her hand, now, lookin' at the crease 'a her knuckles. "There's precious few folks I give much thought as t'wantin' 'em t'like me. I - I ain't used t'it."

"And fer a couple days I wasn't thinkin' too clear, neither."

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Tess hands me a cloth and I wipe my eyes and nose on it. I feel cleaned out, now, from the crying, and I can listen to what she's saying a bit more steadily. When she takes my hand I don't pull it away.

"There's precious few folks I give much thought as t'wantin' 'em t'like me. I - I ain't used t'it."

"I understand," I say quietly. "Or I think I do. I didn't have a family or friends for a long time, and I got used to managing everything myself. It took a while to relearn how to - really care about other people, after everything." I meet her eyes. "It feels like you - cheated. Even though we weren't - it wasn't quite - it still feels like that. It took a lot for me to be able to trust you - to trust anyone, really, in this way - and it felt like you just threw that back at me." I wipe my eyes again and look down at her hand holding mine. "I know you're sorry," I say quietly. "I need to know I can - I can trust you again."

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"I understand," Kate says, her face clearin'. "Or I think I do. I didn't have a family or friends for a long time, and I got used to managing everything myself. It took a while to relearn how to - really care about other people, after everything." She looks me in the eye 'n I make myself look back 'n not flinch away. "It feels like you - cheated." I flinch then, but I dunt look away. Even though we weren't - it wasn't quite - it still feels like that. It took a lot for me to be able to trust you - to trust anyone, really, in this way - and it felt like you just threw that back at me."

I nod. "I figured as much from what you said. It - that was what hit me, realizin' just how what I did hurt you so bad."

Kate wipes at her eyes. "I know you're sorry. I need to know I can - I can trust you again."

I squeeze her hand. "It - I think I can't just say it. I want you to, but trust..." I shake my head helplessly. "I know it's got t'be earned. So it'll take a while. But I know better now, and - it's different, knowin' I can hurt you so bad 'f I dunt think things through."

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"I know it's got t'be earned. So it'll take a while. But I know better now, and - it's different, knowin' I can hurt you so bad 'f I dunt think things through."

I nod. I'm glad Tess doesn't just say she's sorry, or that she won't hurt me. I'm glad she doesn't think it'll be easy. I look down at our hands, and after a minute I squeeze her fingers lightly.

"Alright, then."

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Kate just nods. There's a quiet moment, and then she squeezes back, light. "Alright, then."

We just sit there like that fer a few minutes. I wish I had Johnny's nose sometimes, t'know some 'a how folks are feelin', but right now I think it'd be too complicated t'figure out.

"You've got t'tend the shop," I say quiet, 'n I lean forward and give her a light kiss on her cheek, like when we first met. "Sh - Can I come by Friday, and we can make dinner?"

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"You've got t'tend the shop," says Tess after a minute, and I am not really in the mood to tend the store, but I know I need to get back to work, and I think we're both too drained now to keep talking.

She kisses my cheek, and my heart stutters a bit. But it's not a painful feeling.

"Sh - Can I come by Friday, and we can make dinner?"

"I'd like that," I say quietly. I brush a strand of hair out of her face. "I do love you, you know."

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