Nathan sleeps peacefully on the couch as it’s still dark out. I don’t want to wake him but I can’t stay in this bed, so I climb out and pad over to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. It does little to refresh me.
I sit on the closed toilet and rest my head in my hands, my hair falling around me in black curtains, shutting the world out and locking the pain in. Tears pool in my eyes and when I blink the first tear falls and then another. They sting my cool face. Another reminder that I’m a lonely mess with serious issues. My grief outweighs any of the good I’ve felt over the past couple of months, although that’s not saying much seeing as I’ve hardly felt any good.
The door handle is pulled down and the door clicks open. “Gwen?” Nathan says and I feel him squat before me. His hands go to my wrists and I’m blinded by light as he pulls my hands away from my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I inhale a deep breath, willing my emotions to settle. “I just need a minute.”
“Is this because of earlier?” He looks pained. “Because I am very sorry for…”
I don’t even want to think about that right now. “No. It’s… that’s not why I’m crying.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“I’m always crying, Nathan,” I admit and wipe my eyes with a piece of tissue.
Standing, I move away from him and stop in front of the sink, resting my weight on my hands which grip the edge of the basin.
“Talk to me,” he pleads and stands behind me. I look at him in the mirror through swollen eyes.
“I miss him.”
He takes a step closer and runs his fingers through my hair. It’s relaxing, soothing, but it’s not his hands I want. “Me too.”
“Why’d he die?” I whisper, my eyes still on his. “Do you think he fought to stay alive?”
“I know for a fact he did. Caleb wouldn’t want to leave you.”
“But he did.”
Nathan shrugs. “I know, and one day you’ll leave. So will I. It happens every day.”
“I know that, I know it happens. I’ve just… it’s just never happened to me before. I’ve never lost anybody that I love.” Touch wood. “And then I lost him, I lost the one person who made me feel like… he just made me feel. He was perfect.”
“He wasn’t perfect, Guinevere.”
I scowl at him. “To me he was and always will be. That’s what love is.”
“Blind?”
He just doesn’t get it. “When you’re in love, you learn to accept everything about that person and you love them for it, so even though little things annoy you, you know that it’s one of the many things that make them who they are. When you love them so deeply you can feel it in your bones, that’s what makes them perfect because you appreciate everything they are and everything they do.”
“I think you’re a tad naïve. If that were true then there wouldn’t be so many people out there battling alcoholism and gambling addictions and what not.”
I blink at his blindness. “That’s different.”
“But you just said…”
“I know what I said but that’s not what I meant. Those are conditions, illnesses. Those may shape a person but they aren’t who you are.”
“So, for example,” he clears his throat. “If I were to leave the toilet seat up and, hypothetically, you were in love with me, you wouldn’t care?”
“No.”
“But if I were to gamble or take narcotics you would?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the little things can’t harm you. The little annoyances can’t hurt you or hinder your ability to live a normal and hopefully peaceful life.”
He licks his lower lip. “And what about my condition?”
“That’s part of who you are. If you decide to speak to somebody about it that’s your choice and I’d support you, but I’d never force you to do that. It’s a part of you and if I were to be madly in love with you, I’d be in love with your quirkiness too.”
He frowns, his eyes narrowing. “I am certainly not quirky.”
“Whatever.” I wave him off, wiping the last few tears from my eyes. “Now do you understand what I mean?”
“Yes, if I ever fall in love I hope I’ll feel it, rather than just have a basic understanding of it.”
This makes my heart ache. “You’ve never been in love?”
“Not reciprocated love, not a lot of people enjoy my ‘quirkiness’.” His lips twitch