The Space Between Us
“Wow. You’re being a brat.”
“Yeah? Well, you bring that out in me.”
“Oh, I do?”
“You absolutely do.”
“I should just put you over my knee.”
“You’d have to catch me first.”
“You think you’re fast enough?”
“I know I am.”
He sighs. “Why are you being so immature?”
She shrugs, a little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Because you’re an asshole.”
He goes quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Maybe I am.”
She crosses her arms. “Maybe?”
“Okay. I am. Happy?”
“No,” she snaps. “Because you’re still doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Acting like you get to decide how this goes.”
He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to control anything. I’m trying to make it work.”
“Work for whom?”
“For both of us.”
She lets out a sharp laugh. “Funny how ‘both of us’ always seems to look exactly like what you want.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?” Her eyes flash. “You want me in your life. Great. So do I. But only if I stay in this neat little box where you’re comfortable.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
“I said I can’t do this the way you want.”
“And I can’t do it the way you want,” she fires back.
Silence stretches between them.
He looks at her like he’s trying to memorize something he might lose.
“You think this is easy for me?” he says quietly.
Her voice softens for half a second. “I don’t think it’s easy for either of us.”
“Then why are we standing here acting like enemies?”
“Because,” she says, exasperated, “you’re asking me to accept half of you and pretend it’s enough.”
He swallows.
“I’m asking you to stay.”
“On your terms.”
“They’re the only ones I have right now.”
She shakes her head, frustration flickering across her face. “That’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“You think caring about you means I should be willing to disappear a little to fit into your life.”
“That’s not what I want.”
“It is, though,” she says softly. “Even if you don’t mean it to be.”
He looks down at the ground, jaw tight.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“Then stop trying to keep me in a way that feels like losing myself.”
He meets her eyes again.
“And if I can’t give you what you want?”
Her expression falters, just a little. “Then we’re stuck,” she says, “again.”
They stand there, neither of them moving.
Neither of them leaving.
And neither of them giving in.
“And neither of us is walking away,” he says quietly.
She looks at him. “That’s not exactly a solution.”
“No,” he admits. “It’s not.”
Another silence settles between them, but this one isn’t sharp. It’s tired.
He takes a step closer.
“I’m not trying to shrink you,” he says. “You know that, right?”
“Sometimes it feels like it.”
“I know.” He rubs his jaw, frustrated with himself. “I’m just… trying to hold on to what I can handle right now.”
“And I’m trying not to feel like I’m begging for a place in your life.”
“You’re not begging,” he says immediately.
She lifts an eyebrow. “Feels a little like it.”
He studies her face, the stubborn set of her mouth, the hurt she’s trying to pretend isn’t there. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”
She huffs a quiet laugh. “You bring that out in me.”
He hints at a smile. “Probably.”
She looks down, then back up at him. “I don’t need perfect. I just need honest.”
“You have honest.”
“Then be honest about this.”
He hesitates, then says softly, “I’m scared if I open the door too wide, I’ll mess everything up.”
“You’re already messing it up,” she says, but her voice is gentler now.
“That’s encouraging.”
“It’s true.”
He sighs, then finally reaches out and takes her hand. Tentatively, like he’s not sure she’ll let him.
She does.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he says again, quieter this time.
“You won’t,” she replies.
“That sounds very confident.”
“It’s not confidence,” she says. “It’s stubbornness.”
He lets out a small laugh. “Of course it is.”
She squeezes his hand. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe not today. Maybe not the way either of us pictured.”
“But?”
“But I’m not going anywhere,” she says.
He searches her face.
“Even if I’m an asshole?”
“Especially then,” she says, rolling her eyes.
He finally smiles, the tension easing out of his shoulders. “Good,” he murmurs.
“Why?”
“Because you’d be really hard to replace.”
She bumps his shoulder with hers. “You’re impossible.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Yeah,” she says, leaning lightly against him. “Here I am.”
“Yeah? Well, you bring that out in me.”
“Oh, I do?”
“You absolutely do.”
“I should just put you over my knee.”
“You’d have to catch me first.”
“You think you’re fast enough?”
“I know I am.”
He sighs. “Why are you being so immature?”
She shrugs, a little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Because you’re an asshole.”
He goes quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Maybe I am.”
She crosses her arms. “Maybe?”
“Okay. I am. Happy?”
“No,” she snaps. “Because you’re still doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Acting like you get to decide how this goes.”
He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to control anything. I’m trying to make it work.”
“Work for whom?”
“For both of us.”
She lets out a sharp laugh. “Funny how ‘both of us’ always seems to look exactly like what you want.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?” Her eyes flash. “You want me in your life. Great. So do I. But only if I stay in this neat little box where you’re comfortable.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
“I said I can’t do this the way you want.”
“And I can’t do it the way you want,” she fires back.
Silence stretches between them.
He looks at her like he’s trying to memorize something he might lose.
“You think this is easy for me?” he says quietly.
Her voice softens for half a second. “I don’t think it’s easy for either of us.”
“Then why are we standing here acting like enemies?”
“Because,” she says, exasperated, “you’re asking me to accept half of you and pretend it’s enough.”
He swallows.
“I’m asking you to stay.”
“On your terms.”
“They’re the only ones I have right now.”
She shakes her head, frustration flickering across her face. “That’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“You think caring about you means I should be willing to disappear a little to fit into your life.”
“That’s not what I want.”
“It is, though,” she says softly. “Even if you don’t mean it to be.”
He looks down at the ground, jaw tight.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“Then stop trying to keep me in a way that feels like losing myself.”
He meets her eyes again.
“And if I can’t give you what you want?”
Her expression falters, just a little. “Then we’re stuck,” she says, “again.”
They stand there, neither of them moving.
Neither of them leaving.
And neither of them giving in.
“And neither of us is walking away,” he says quietly.
She looks at him. “That’s not exactly a solution.”
“No,” he admits. “It’s not.”
Another silence settles between them, but this one isn’t sharp. It’s tired.
He takes a step closer.
“I’m not trying to shrink you,” he says. “You know that, right?”
“Sometimes it feels like it.”
“I know.” He rubs his jaw, frustrated with himself. “I’m just… trying to hold on to what I can handle right now.”
“And I’m trying not to feel like I’m begging for a place in your life.”
“You’re not begging,” he says immediately.
She lifts an eyebrow. “Feels a little like it.”
He studies her face, the stubborn set of her mouth, the hurt she’s trying to pretend isn’t there. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”
She huffs a quiet laugh. “You bring that out in me.”
He hints at a smile. “Probably.”
She looks down, then back up at him. “I don’t need perfect. I just need honest.”
“You have honest.”
“Then be honest about this.”
He hesitates, then says softly, “I’m scared if I open the door too wide, I’ll mess everything up.”
“You’re already messing it up,” she says, but her voice is gentler now.
“That’s encouraging.”
“It’s true.”
He sighs, then finally reaches out and takes her hand. Tentatively, like he’s not sure she’ll let him.
She does.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he says again, quieter this time.
“You won’t,” she replies.
“That sounds very confident.”
“It’s not confidence,” she says. “It’s stubbornness.”
He lets out a small laugh. “Of course it is.”
She squeezes his hand. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe not today. Maybe not the way either of us pictured.”
“But?”
“But I’m not going anywhere,” she says.
He searches her face.
“Even if I’m an asshole?”
“Especially then,” she says, rolling her eyes.
He finally smiles, the tension easing out of his shoulders. “Good,” he murmurs.
“Why?”
“Because you’d be really hard to replace.”
She bumps his shoulder with hers. “You’re impossible.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Yeah,” she says, leaning lightly against him. “Here I am.”
51-55, F
