Concessions

He asks her if they can talk for a minute. He stares straight ahead as he speaks. Headlights twist past the trees scattered along the road. The sign pronouncing the last street flashes green. Go. If he didn't say it now, he never would. She shifts her hands smoothly to mirror the wobbling pattern of the dark road. She asks what about. The “out” is drawn out on her lips. Timid or oblivious? Which was worse?

His hands are shaking. The small car suddenly seems terribly hot. He sighs to force away the shuddering and tells her she knows what. He gives her the look he always gives her, the one that makes her smile mischievously. She does smile. But it isn't the carefree smile he expects. There’s no hint of the conspiratorial glint that usually colors her eyes.

Timid.

He raises an eyebrow, feigning exasperation as his heart sloshes uncomfortably.

She sighs, long and deep. They pull into his driveway. She forces the reluctant car into park. She leaves the key in the ignition. Nervous or unwilling?

After the longest of seconds, she looks up at him. He hopes she will start. She doesn’t. Just waits patiently for him to begin.

He says she already knows what this is about.

She nods with her eyes closed.

Before he can lose his nerve, he spurs forward. He announces he doesn't understand why it hasn't happened. He senses her argument. He can see it rising in her lungs, growing in her face. He rushes on, telling her all the reasons he had been repeating to himself for months.

She listens intently as he speaks. She listens like no one else. She doesn't always look at him. He knows she listens still. Its almost as if he can see her ears soaking in his words. He can also see them twisting and turning and reversing in her mind.

He says his piece, confident towards the end that his points are undeniably valid. She swallows, staring at the airbag light on her dashboard. She brushes the long fringe of her hair back behind her ear methodically. He remembered when she had chopped that hair into bangs, now stubbornly refusing to grow longer than the edge of her chin. She hated it, but it was beautiful, the way it twisted around to frame her face. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it with a grimace. She won’t meet his eye.

Unwilling.

But he had made a fair argument. She would have to refute every claim for him to give up.

She takes a deep breath and begins to speak. She knocks down his first point, then his second, slowly ticking past everything he had said. His heart seems to shrink with every word. She is not unkind. But she is thorough. Once she covers his part, she moves on to her own, giving new reasons he had never considered. Perhaps he just didn't want to consider. Did it really matter if he knew what he wanted?

When she finishes, she waits in silence. She twists her hands unhappily. He can tell he expects him to concede. He always does. Its infuriating. He loves her for it. She is sad to win this argument though. At least, he thinks she is. He knows she would never hurt him intentionally.

In a final effort he whispers, he can make her happy.

A tear slips from her closed eyes as she shakes her head. It sticks to her eyelash. He wants to wipe it away. He clenches the seat beneath him.

She tells him he already makes her happy. But if she isn't making him happy as they are, she won’t make him happy if they become anything different.

He wants to argue, but she looks up at him, and he can see it in her eyes. There will be no convincing her. Maybe he knew from the beginning. Maybe he had seen it before, and ignored it. Unwilling to see it.

She asks if he wants time. He wants it with her, but he knows that isn't what she means. He says no. She unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs from the car. He does the same, walking around to meet her. She opens her arms, and he pulls her in. Her head just touches his shoulder. Their shadows twist into one line, pushed down the sidewalk by the glare of her headlights.

She pulls away first, gently. She doesn't apologize. She thanks him for always being her friend. He smiles halfheartedly. Her hand flashes in a wave as she drops back into her seat. Her hair flips as she twists to buckle her seatbelt back in place. He backs toward his door. He waits for her to leave, but she sits and watches him with wide eyes. Waiting to make sure he gets inside. He waves his hands for her to leave. She shakes her head and smiles slightly. He concedes, taking the final steps to the door. He watches her disappear as the door swings shut.