If Only...

ANOTHER BITE OF THE CHERRY

My throat runs dry again, and just the sight of him brings back so many memories . . .

I try to shied them from coming through, but they don't stop.

Neither does he.

"Please, I know you don't want to, but just hear me out. Please."

He swallows, but I choose to ignore it. But can I ignore his presence? His sorrow that I feel so full on? The fact that he's finally here after all this time?

I take a tentative step back when he approaches, and he takes one back too.

What are we doing?

His doleful eyes set my brain off again. Obverses collide, and I come to a decision that I may have been ignoring the past one way or another, but that was no longer valid when he was a variable in the present equation. And a questionable variable, at that.

"Hey, why don't you guys go and fetch the car, huh? I'll just wait here." I materialize a smile, but Stella rifles through my face.

"I'll be okay." I give her another assuring smile and she nods, taking one look at Danny and then taking Rosie away from us, leaving a very thin layer of air, with enough emotions in it to combust.

His gaze follows Rosie as she is being carried away with a look that almost affects me. Almost.

No matter what happened, I had to stay strong.

"What?" I breathe and walk only the few thousand miles separating us to meet him midway, not meeting his eyes. I used to be a goner every time I did. Maybe I'm afraid that it still might work.

"Thank you . . ." He breathes, relieved, his eyes searching mine, coaxing mine.

Damn it.

Look away.

"What did you wanna talk about?" I shift my gaze to the gray wall behind him, crossing my arms. I have to stay strong. I have to keep this wall up. This isn't going to change anything. I'll give him a chance to explain himself and that will be the end of it.

But something deep inside me, started to oppose that already.

"God, I'm so sorry, Lexy--"

"You can't call me that anymore." I snap, and he takes a step back. I see that it has hurt him. A lot.

Clenching and sighing, I wiggle out of that muse and focus on now instead, like I had promised myself to. There was obviously no use in thinking about the past.

"Um . . . Okay. Alex, I . . . I'm so sorry. I know you're mad. You have every right to be. But my dad died, Alex. You've gotta cut me some slack. I was 18--"

"How old do you think I was when I--you got me pregnant? When my mom kicked me out because of it? When I wanted to kill myself?" I spit acidly.

"What?" He jerks his head up, and stares at me in utter disbelief. I try not to flinch at the poignant expression etched into his face. It has been there since morning.

"Yeah." I admonish, feeling a tinge of guilt, from somewhere deep in my belly, the same place that knew this wasn't the end.

"But. . . why would you want to . . ." He trails off, unable to say the words. His frown deepens, and he takes a step toward me.

I take one back.

"Why? Isn't that a little obvious?" I think I scowl, though my hands drop. It made me feel strangely vulnerable.

"But . . ." He chokes, his breathing hitched as he looks around himself, like he was looking for words to say. This is overwhelming for both of us.