Romance 4

We finished without so much as a gasp.
I rolled over and stared blankly at the ceiling.
"What now?"
As if I was supposed to know. We used to just lie in bed after sex, our bodies still entwined, gazing into each other's eyes or dreaming. Always dreaming. Looking back, that's what it must have been. And now I had woken up, with the bleak white ceiling to greet me.
"No suggestions? Should we read poetry? Go for a midnight walk? I know, let's curl up on the couch together and talk about all the wonderful things we'll do in our lives. I'll start. When I grow up, I want to have a boyfriend who periodically crashes into despair and promptly proceeds to fuck my best friend. It's your turn, sweety, what do you want to do? Oh, excuse me, who?"
"Oh give it a rest. How many times and ways do I have to say I'm sorry? What do you want me to do to make amends?"
There was a pause. I didn't dare look at her, but I knew she was simmering.
"Was she better than me?"
"I don't know. I can't quantify that sort of-"
"Was she?"
"No, she wasn't. I don't love her."
"But you do love me?"
I knew it was a trap before I said it.
"This isn't about her, is it?"
"You didn't answer the question. You didn't answer the fucking question."
She was trying to keep her voice firm, but I knew she was crying.
"I-... I don't know. I don't know what I feel anymore, about anything."
"It's not that hard. Yes or no."
"Alright, yes. I do."
"Well you've got a pretty fucked up way of showing it."
She spit the word at me, so full of anger and spite. The double meaning made it all the worse.
"Hey, don't make this all about me. I've seen you, flirting with all those stuck up bastards at-"
"Don't turn this around, I ne-"
"Never what? Flirted without even the decency to wait til I'm out of the room? Eyed another man and wondered whether he'd be able to make you scream like you used to? I bet you didn't stop at wondering, did you? You've probably fucked a score of anonymous cocks without even learning the names that go with them."
Her silence was enough of an answer. We were both simmering now, faces coated in tears, rage close to bursting from our heaving chests.
She started sobbing. As I listened, my anger was slowly replaced by guilt, my rage with sadness. I propped her up against the bedrest and cradled her in my arms.
"I'm sorry, darling, I shouldn't have... I... I'm sorry."
Another pause. The sobs had subsided, but the sorrow on her face remained.
"Where did we go wrong, Dylan? When I first met you, I felt so alive. Every moment of every day was exciting and new, and I felt so beautiful and ... young. And now, I just feel ugly and old and worthless. I don't like feeling worthless, Dylan, I don't."
"You're not worthless, certainly not to me."
"Then what am I? A trophy? An old habit? An easy cunt?"
"No, damn it! No."
"Then what am I? To you?"
"I ... don't know."
"When's the last time we laughed? With each other, I mean. We used to laugh so much... It just seems so hard, now. Such an effort to be cheerful, to smile. What happened to us?"
"Maybe we just got bored."
"If you'd told me I would get bored of you when we met, I would have laughed and laughed... Now it's all I can do to keep from sobbing my lungs out."
"We'll work it out. It'll be ok."
"But what if it's not? What if we can't?"
"I don't know. I really don't know..."
We stayed there, her in my arms, watching as night turned to day as the sun rose to fill the room.