What are you thinking? she asks.

Oh, *****.

Shes afraid that Im judging her, and I dont dare lie.

You said not for coke. I was wondering if you were addicted to something else.

What the *****? Have you ever seen me take any drug, other than alcohol, more than once?

That wasnt what I was thinking about.

Then what?

Oh, *****. ***** ***** *****. Shes just trusted me with the most tender and painful of her secrets, and Im ***** it up. But I cant lie to her, because shell see it all over my face. And I dont want to lie.

***** is an addiction, too. And I was wondering if that was your drug of choice at any point. *****. I swallow. Dont be mad-

***** you!

I wince. Brace myself for her exodus from my bed and house and life. But she just lies there, sitting up slightly, weight on her elbows. Her eyes are big and wild and she doesnt move. Its the last thing I expect.

Well, then, ***** me. You asked what I was thinking. I was just wondering, I say firmly.

Her gaze doesnt flinch, she doesnt look away, she just takes me in with those bottomless eyes.

I look away. Say quietly You asked me what I was thinking. When I first met you, you had this desperate kind of quality like you were running from something. I was wondering if… I sigh. This is stupid.

What? she says. Her voice has softened somewhat.

I was wondering if any of the times weve fucked, if its been an escape for you. Its stupid. Its a thought, okay, just an idle musing. And if it was, and actually Im sure it was, then thats fine, you dont need to have another reason, and you have never owed me anything, okay? Its just my neurotic mind, you know, and you asked what I was thinking in that particular second. That was what I was thinking. Im not judging you.

What do you mean, your neurotic mind?

Neurotic. Insecure.

She laughs. D, you are the least insecure person Ive ever met. I look at her, and it dawns on me. She actually believes that. She has no conception, no clue of the power she has over me.

No, actually, Im full of insecurities. You got my letter.

She nods. Neither one of us dares speak. The mere mention of that naked, revealing letter makes me anxious.

Im sorry, she says.

I turn and face her. Why are you sorry? I gently stroke back her hair, then quickly pull my hand back. She doesnt seem to have minded, however.

Im sorry I cant be more for you. she says, and my heart breaks. I turn away.

When I can breathe again, I clear my throat. I never asked you to be more, allright! It comes out sounding petulant and salty, petty and retaliatory, and I instantly regret it.

I didnt mean it like that. D, dont cry, I said it wrong.

I turn away, reeling from the sting of rejection. I cant look at her.

She moves closer to me, and strokes my face so sweetly I shiver and the tears fall out of my eyes. I didnt mean it like that, D. I meant, I wish I could be better for you.

Its not like that, and you know it, I say, knowing its a lie.

I wish it could be, she whispers, and kisses my shoulder. But Im horrible at this.

I could ask her if she wants it to be like that, but I cant. The resounding pain of what I thought was a rejection is still in me, and I just couldnt take any more.