You & Me

(A room lit by light that enters through a crack – yellow and bright but not enough to make the room light up fully. Two people.)

Edward: What did we do last night?
He is lying on his back looking up at the ceiling, spangled with rings of brown light.
Cynthia: Why? Don’t you remember?
She is curled up next to him, but on her side, speaking into the cold air just outside the bed.
Edward: I think I could.
He turns his head and looks over at her.
Cynthia turns her head towards him to meet his eyes. She is disappointed; not because of what happened, but because she was hoping he’d offer her some comfort or explanation.
Edward: I remember the circus and your mother getting wet, and a child I didn’t know.
Cynthia: Yea, I remember you spilled your soup on my skirt. It was the red corduroy one you hated touching.
Edward: Fat ribs give me the heebie-jeebies.
Cynthia: You don’t seem to mind reaching under it though.
Edward: Was that why the child cried?
Cynthia is now facing him. She placed a hand on his bare chest. He’s slightly damp from being asleep.
Cynthia: You never shared your toys when you were little.
Edward: I shared them with you.
Cynthia: Only when I came over with Taf or with Wham bars.
Edward: Remember when I puked blue?
Cynthia: Edward?
Edward: You never came over with Wham bars. There were other things. Things you liked poking me and prodding me with. You were a dirty little girl.
Cynthia: Edward.
She looks at him like he is being silly.
Edward: What? You were. The glorious Cyn in her teal dress with pink stockings. Your mother is color blind and I didn’t even think women could be.
Cynthia: I never had pink stockings. I never wore stockings. You have a bizarre memory.
Edward: But I’m not wrong about the closet am I? That happened.
Cynthia squirms gleefully.
Cynthia: That happened. That happened.
Edward: Yea.
He sighs loudly.
They are both quiet for a long time. Cynthia looks and him now and then, expecting him to talk about last night. She is disappointed he is taking so long. Maybe these memories are just memories. Things that happened, like Wham bars, they were ok then. It was ok to puke blue if you were eight.
Cynthia: Ed?
Edward: Yea?
Another two minutes pass. To Cynthia it feels like 20 minutes.
Cynthia: Ed?
Edward: I don’t know Cyn – I just don’t know… But I know you had pink stockings and I know that you beat me up once, and I know that you put the toothbrush down the wrong way before you put the paste on.
Cynthia: What does that mean?
Edward: How long ago did we wake up? How am I supposed to know already? Why don’t you tell me what you think.
In the dark Cynthia allows tears to well up her eyes and she reaches up to her face to contain the tears, and scratches her head a little so that Edward doesn’t look over.
He’s occupied, anyway. She sees he is still staring up at the ceiling. Running his hands through his hair over and over.
He’s elsewhere, clearly, thinks Cynthia. She thinks hard and deliberately about his shortcomings. His scars, his strange nose, his thin legs. But the tears well up again. Despite.
Edward: Cynthia…Cynthia…how long has it been since you learned you can’t fake tears for a head scratch. You might as well be turned over writhing and yelping. I am not saying anything at all – remember we take different amounts of time to process different things.
His words seem to make sense but she is already on her way to an all out bawl.
Edward: Plus when you cry the tears get all salty and then you turn red and break out the next day. After which I have to assure you that you are pretty – and tomorrow I have to go to Florida for a day trip and don’t know whether you’ll be willing to come along.
Cynthia: Really?
Edward: Yea, I told you so many times, if you need to get away, you can always tell me. I’m usually always going somewhere.
Cynthia: Mmhmm.
It wasn’t what she expected. She never knew where she was with Edward. He pulled her in, then let her out again. As easy as a deep spring breath.
Cynthia: I’m not sure I can go.
Edward: Ok.
Cynthia: I’d like to, you know. But I have to work.
She carefully runs a finger up and down a part of his shoulder. To test him. To see if he is really there.
Edward: Its ok, Cyn, I understand. Work is important.
Cynthia: But you know, I could be convinced.
She looks directly at him, trying to discern some flicker of happiness. Something. Edward.
Edward: Nah, I’m not going to push you. What time is it?
Cynthia: Its…..3:45.
Edward: aaaaarrrghh. Eary, but almost there.
Cynthia: The best part of the night.
Edward: mmhmm.
She notices he’s closed his eyes again and pulled up the sheets. Ready to fall back asleep. No part of their bodies is touching. She can feel the faint heat coming from him. But it is faint. She leans over and kisses his chest and he opens his eyes.
Cynthia: Why can’t I ever read your face? What is it that sits behind there?
Edward: There are a lot of things that I know about, that I am comfortable with, that I can work through, but they still play in my mind. And when I disappear think of it as me rolling a coin over my knuckles, knowing that it won’t help.
Cynthia looks away. She just wants to know. Once and for all. All the words in between don’t really matter.
Cynthia: Yea, I think I know.
She broaches the subject again, tentatively. It takes almost all her effort. She notices now how her mouth tastes: a little old tasting. It could be better. She notices her legs are in an awkward position, but she doesn’t dare move.
Cynthia: So, what happened last night?
Edward: You know just as well as I do Cyn. We’ve known each other, we know each other, and last night was about two people who know each other stepping over the boundaries and now the big question isn’t what happened last night but what are we going to do today.
Edward stays silent for a bit – he is nervous and finds himself feeling too much, caring too much, and wants to be certain it isn’t a conveyor belt.
Cynthia: I don’t know Edward. I never know what you are thinking or what you want. Well, I do. Sorry, I do.
She doesn’t want to anger him. She’s got him here. Next to her. What else does she want anyway? He’s unavailable. Even when he’s next to her, he’s planning his life. His thoughts are about his work and his next girl, or his new car.
Edward: Let’s do what we did last night and see if it works again…
Even as he says it – he realizes that she won’t receive it the way he thinks it. He wants her to lighten up – to realize that he cares but they have to go slow. That he wants the same thing she does, perhaps even more, but…
Cynthia stays quiet.
Edward: Look at me. Don’t think like you. Think like me. And not the way you think I think but the way I think. Lose your interpretations and watch my words. I want to be…
Cynthia: You want to do what we did last night?
Edward: Yea.
He jumps out of bed and to the telescope standing by the window.
Edward: Let’s see if they are up to something boring old fucks.
Cynthia: Oh. Yea, ok.
She was thinking that perhaps they would re-enact the second part of the night. Maybe he was sleepwalking. Words and elaborate plays didn’t fill in the space she wanted filled. She wanted him.
She got up and stood a foot away from him as he squinted into the scope.
Cynthia: So, is our happy couple doing the deed?
Edward: Nah, seems like they left some candles burning on the kitchen table and went to sleep.
Cynthia reaches around his waist and slips her hand into his boxers. She slides them down. She presses up against him as she slips in front of him and feels him slide up against her thigh.
Her heart is racing. What if he doesn’t want her? It’s a chance, but she forces herself to take it. She stands there, pressed to him, waiting for him to step back; to say no; to say “Cyyyyn” the way he does when he is done. Done for now. For months, for a year or two. Another surprise, he slides his hand down her side and says: “if you want it, take it, don’t beat around your bush.” She looks up at him and gives him the dirty look. He wraps his arms around her.
Edward: Just tonight, Cyn. Nothing more. Do you want it?
Cynthia: I see it now. You’re scared that you’ll make the same mistake here as you did before. That you will stop seeing me as me. You can’t be cold to me, you’ve never been before. There’s something more to it. You’re defending yourself.
Edward: Don’t be silly Cyn.
Cynthia: Call me Cynthia and stop looking at me like that. You love me.
Edward: Cynthia.
Cynthia: That’s better – now start acting like a man and take what you got. What you get- what you have. Here.
Edward: Cyn. Cynthia. We have a history.
Cynthia: Ok, Edward. Here it is. Here are my cards, and I don’t care if you never want to see me again, or if I ruin your memories and if you want to return my Greenbird bike with the training wheels still on them. I am in love with you. I don’t know why. Its not the familiarity, I thought it was. I tried 5 years ago when you first left. Then I thought it was just that you weren’t like the other guys I dated. You’re so…different from them. Matt, he had this dark hair and really big muscles. Or, like Frank who was so popular and so, I was so, just so many girls were jealous of me. No – what I’m saying is that I know your ugly bits and the things that made my run the past. But I can’t deny it. I just love you.
Cynthia looks down now. She is exhausted. She should just have said yes, and they would have been in bed right now, breathing hard. Feeling his hands on her. Even temporarily, they knew where to go. She could have broached his all later, maybe next summer. Or maybe when they were older.
Edward: I do too.
Cynthia: Do what?
She looks at him. He is standing by the window. His boxers a little askew. He suddenly appears a little unattractive to her. Is this who she really wants?
Edward: I want us too. I want this, Cyn.
Cynthia: I think I’ll go now.
She turns and walks out the door.
Edward: No, Cyn. Wait.
Cynthia: Why?
So that he can reject her again? At least this way, she was closing the door herself.
Edward: Just wait.
They faced each other in the dark room. The sun was edging its way up now across the horizon and a reddish glow lit up the corners of the room and edges of furniture they couldn’t see before.
Edward: Cyn, just wait.
Cynthia: Ok, Ed.
Edward: Cynthia, I was looking at your lips this morning and thought to myself, I would like if my children had those lips. Perhaps my chin, but they should have those lips.
Cynthia takes a step towards him. She feels the pinprick of tears starting again. She tries to control them. But then she just lets them fall. And Ed is just a few feet away.