Love, sorrow and undimmed stars: Part 2

It was rather evident to David that this was risky stuff. That much was clear to him after their date, as he stood on the sidewalk looking at her while escorting her into the cab that would take her home. He knew it was dangerous; his fascination with this woman. Yet he allowed himself that. During dinner, there were the moments of awkwardness, and clarifications, and the ‘I’m sorry you go ahead’ of people new to each other. But there was also a crackling; a sweet and sexy tap and tempo between them. And all I’ve done is talk to her, David thought, knowing that he was losing whatever deal he had struck with himself, allowing him to be there, having dinner with her.

Katherine was on a different page altogether. Second thoughts becoming third, she’d contemplated not pitching up as she walked the last block to where they’d meet for dinner - as she insisted. Feet slowed of their own accord. Her thoughts were muddled, logic wondering why she was doing this. And then, as she drew her coat tighter against the steely bite in the evening air, she decided she’d go ahead and meet David Burrows for dinner after all. It wasn’t naiveté-of-denial, but, she thought, it was just dinner. It couldn’t hurt.

So she went.

She enjoyed his company. And his ease. And the feeling that this didn’t feel like a date. It was just dinner, she happily thought to herself, as they left the cosy eatery.

But as she said good evening to him on the sidewalk, as he held the cab door for her, she saw something different in his eyes, yet unsure what that was exactly. They stood still in a strangely comfortable quiet while he continued looking at her, simply, as the night and cold enveloped them.

“Thank you… for this evening, and your lovely company” he said eventually, his tone soft though not a whisper. He inched closer, perhaps on instinct. And then saw that hurt in her eyes again – the same as in his office that first day. He also saw fleeting trepidation before she blinked it away. He stopped, definitely instinct then, even as unsure thoughts swirled. Instead, he slowly brushed away soft locks that had fallen maddeningly into her face, the same they’d done all evening, David momentarily wondering if her hair took special delight in taunting him so. The base of his palm grazed soft skin below her eye as fingers threaded in a delightful blend of hair and warmth. He drew closer, his gaze unreadable, and kissed slightly-tinged cheekbone, his senses assaulted by the enticing jasmine of her hair all while willing himself not to have lips linger too long on smooth, rosy skin.

To Katherine, he was hard to read. Plus, out of practice and unaccustomed to this, whatever this was, she was unsure of signals. But she was sure that a chaste kiss was no testament to raving passion.

This made her glad.

She had wondered if she could have a fling with this man, after she accepted his invitation. And when she did, bargained with herself that should that happen, she wouldn’t fight it. She could be cavalier if she wanted to be, even if he was much older than her. In fact, his age was actually one of the things giving her this confidence. But she also decided she wouldn’t push it. A fling is all things silly, and uncomplicated, and mindless. Un-fraught, she’d contemplated at the time, liking her made-up word while wondering if Lillian would ever let her get away with using it in a piece. His innocent peck on the cheek, however, was as clear a message to her - had it been a billboard dressed up in seasonal lights - not to push it. And there she’d leave it, refusing to be drawn into the fold of insecurities, of wondering why he didn’t kiss her, or if he’d call, or what he thought of her. Not a chance, she thought, not venturing down those pathways ever again. Not interested.

So when he called her again, wanting to take her somewhere special again, she was more than a little surprised. And then thought that perhaps a message was being sent to her to be cavalier? After all, no strings attached, him a man she couldn’t possibly consider having a relationship with knowing he felt the same; almost fifty and never married. Besides, she wasn’t interested in forming attachments with anyone. She was beyond that, having lost all faith in what passes between lovers’ hearts since the day Peter’s car crashed. So this would be a fun diversion from the fog that had settled over her for almost five years now. Just don’t over-think it.

She met him at the riverfront a week after their dinner-at-a-quiet-place. David wanted to be alone with her, away from the din of a restaurant, or the inopportunity to talk presented by a show or a movie. Sitting outside they tucked into the giant sandwiches and delicious warm hot chocolate he’d brought. Later, the November wind whipped about wildly as they strolled beneath a blackened sky while office lights rising high into the night dotted the view across the river. She hugged herself, arms sheltering body, coat weighty but still inadequate defence against the cold of winter settling in. Again at ease in his company, and David equally so in hers, they chatted freely while getting to know each other just a little bit more.

“Maybe I should take you some place else huh, out of the cold?” David asked, as they stopped close to the railings, his hand resting on one, concern playing on his brow.

“No, this is fine” she began, smiling, “I should get going soon anyway” the last words accompanied by her fishing for woollen gloves in large coat pockets.

“Oh.” he managed in return, wondering where the time had gone, and that surely she can’t go yet. “Ah, but you can’t” David quickly changed gears, filling the brief silence. Playfully flirting now as he smiled, eyes twinkling, as much to keep her there as well as cover his tracks – sure that the men she dated played it much cooler than he was. A glint firmly in place, he offered:
“You were going to tell me your thoughts on my taste in music; to cure me of my, how did you put it, ‘foolish love for mournful jazz and blues preventing me from knowing the true awe-inspiring qualities of the guitar riff?”

He was grinning fully now. Katherine chuckled softly in return, conceding with a tilt of her head his creative attempt to get her to stay as she remembered her opinionated musical ramblings on their first date.

God, she was so beautiful to him.

“How a man who grew up in the age of Led Zeppelin and the legend that is James Patrick Page is unable to appreciate the finer qualities of arena rock is beyond me” she volleyed back, “and more than that, you were around, you could have gone….” Distracted from continuing her own ribbing by a gust of wind grabbing whole locks of her long hair, blowing it about wildly, she moved her hands to tame it.

“No. Don’t…” he urged without thinking, his voice gravelled, thicker than it had been moments ago. He was instantly mesmerised by hues of brown as they moved in intricate dance about her, his hand going to hers, stopping her from taking away this loveliness before him, coming to rest in silky tresses once again.

And that is when she saw it.

The way he looked at her. His eyes drank in all of her. Lingering over her and every part of her face; eyes, skin, lips. Her lips. And mouth. His breath caught, his hand still enveloped in the velvety feel of her hair as her arms moved back to her sides, slightly startled by his actions.

Want. For her. Unmasked.

She noticed he had beautiful eyes, right then carrying everything in shimmer-filled blue. Meeting them, she saw him waver, beginning to look away, aware of what had passed between them right then. David willed his mind to search for something to say, something funny, anything, to hide what he was feeling. It wasn't working.

“Do you want to kiss me, David?”

His eyes shot up. Ears were in equal shock as a tentative smile made poor work of concealing a tremble on his lips. Oh God yes Katherine, how I do. Still staring at her, his mind reeled.

She said nothing more.

“Yes.”

It was a simple release. And all he offered. It was all he was able to manage, the word rasping in his throat as he gave it voice. A simple, unashamed fact. Yet he stood rooted to the spot as he looked at her, completely unsure what she wanted. Standing perfectly still, desperately wondering in that moment what she was thinking.

“Then kiss me” her voice was soft, still staring at him. It was almost a challenge.

He did.

He drew her close. The thumb of his right hand stroked slightly parted mouth as his hands moved to her face, feeling the warmth of her and a soft breath escaping her lips. His mind hurtling like a racer, so close now, he bent toward her eliminating the difference in their height, and gently brushed her lips with his own. He lingered this time. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound to him almost a deafening drumbeat. Yet something held him back. Unsure if she wanted him to continue as her hands moved to his chest, as if pushing him away, he tore himself from the sweet savour of her lips.

Katherine knew that if she was going to be bold enough to have this fling, this is when it counted, even as she adjusted to being in such an embrace, her first time in so long. She was slightly surprised when he broke their kiss though, and must’ve looked that way to David. Before she could act, and barely a second later, he gathered her back into his arms. He kissed with greater urgency then, as if this hopeless surrender could be snatched from him any moment. Lips tasting hers, hand gripping her waist as the other held her beneath her shoulder, holding her close, he gently sought deeper, and the full taste of her mouth. She let him. Her hands grasped him in response, feeling the wool of his coat as her hands traced the line of his arms, then the changed texture as her fingers found the skin of his neck, and then his hair, her hands now laced in surprising softness. He caressed her tongue, tasting hints of chocolate, then her. They drew closer in their embrace as they held on to each other, bodies pressed together.

It was in that moment, standing with him buffeted against the north winds, when Katherine’s mind clicked. Kissing him was so easy. She had feared awkwardness, and even wondered if she still knew how to kiss a man. There was none of that, she realised, and ascribed this to their ease and casualness; this is definitely ‘Fling’ material, she mused, as she told herself to stop thinking and just enjoy this new feel of his lips against hers, and her kissing him back.

*****

There were more dates. More frequently, with more kisses. And more kisses leading to alluring embraces, each time both Katherine and David pushing that little bit further, deeper. She knew herself well enough to know that falling into bed with him would be another matter altogether, even if this was ‘just a fling.’ There were the obvious reasons. And the less obvious ones. She also knew he assumed her still a grieving widow; it was those tell-tale markers in people’s interactions with her since Peter died that gave him away- at least he tried to hide it. She didn’t correct him, not wanting to answer the logical questions that would perhaps follow. But she also reasoned with herself that if this was indeed a fling, she couldn’t delay for much longer. The alternative would mean she was going into a relationship, taking her time, getting to know him. And let him get to know her. She didn’t want that. Nor he.

That was more than enough motivation she needed, leading him to his bed one night, another banter-filled evening of play behind them. She surprised him, she knew. If she was honest, she surprised herself too. No doubt he was an attractive man, even if he was so much older. Well, there has to be that at least, she reasoned. Never a romantic idealist, she nevertheless always equated sex with some form of affection, if not love. Naïve, she knew.

So she was pleasantly surprised, enjoying her physical encounters with David Burrows, a man she was not in love with, had no interest in loving, delighting only in the uncomplicated pleasure his touches and caresses brought and in simply being this woman with him. It was at once sweet and sexy in its simplicity, a blend of energy and gentleness, and surprising passion. And so different from being with Peter. She allowed herself to enjoy this even as she kept him at arms length, revelling somewhat in herself; that she could be that woman.

David, though, knew things were happening too fast. Oh, he had wanted her, no doubt. But he didn’t want this thing between them, this elusive thing whatever it was, to burn quickly and her inexplicable fascination with him die with faint murmur, nothing more than transience.

But he was powerless. If he knew he was beginning to fall even before he’d kissed her, he knew now that he was plummeting ever deeper.

He was unprepared when she took his hand in hers that night in his apartment as she stood so close, a look in her eye of sultry playfulness, asking which one his bedroom was, her forehead brushing his jaw as she nuzzled closer, breathing him in while planting achingly soft kisses on his neck, tracing a line with her lips from earlobe to Adam’s apple. He was perfectly unprepared though, for everything that came after. The way he felt, his quiet as thoughts grew clear, his need for her, the sensual touch of her caress, and the way she moved and held him, the feel of her in intimate embrace, and the loud clanging of his heart as it pounded long after, seemingly in unison with mind and soul as realisation beat down upon him: he was falling in love.

*****

David was never a fool. Even as a young boy, he quickly learnt to call people on their bull. An extremely helpful talent with a father like his, a younger brother in so much need of warmth and affection and a mother who made the mistake of losing her heart to a man who didn’t know how to be one, in a time when the fates open to all three were wholly determined by Samuel Burrows’s callous whims and fog of threats, not exclusively fuelled by the amber spirits of Tennessee’s master distillers. In that way, David was merciless. And more so with himself than anyone else. Of all the stupid things people tended to do, himself included, he couldn’t understand why anyone would lie to themselves. Unproductive. Utterly so, he always thought.

So with humility fully checked, he wondered if that’s what he was doing now, thoughts of Katherine distracting him when he should be lending a critical ear to Greg Unsworth’s annual report presentation. Was he deluding himself into thinking he was in love with her? Had he become the clichéd middle-aged man bowled over by the charms of a young lovely? Or was it that he was so used to, no, contentedly resigned to, being alone that the attentions of this fantastically brilliant woman affected him so? That much a fool that he thought he must love her?

All worthy questions, he conceded.

No, he never could lie to himself. Never any good at it. Which is how he knew all of these possibilities were unqualified bullshit. He was just short of two decades older, yes she was beautiful, more so each time he saw her, and younger, and yes he had been alone for some time now. But their age difference didn’t prevent them from verbally sparring, or her challenging him in a way no other woman ever did, or could. He thrilled in just being with her, looking forward to what always felt like too few hours together, enthused by her and everything about her. The way she stubbornly debated a ludicrous point just because she could, (only afterward catching on that she was playfully fooling with him), or when she got carried away listing the merits of the top five bands she had the good fortune to see perform live, or the way her face crinkled afterward apologising for 'going on an on’ about it. It was all of these and more. But it was also the very essence of her - something that grief and sorrow, even in all the power they held, could'nt rub out, couldn't diminish, couldn't steal from her. He wasn’t a lonely man seeking comfort with her. He was a man in love with her, realising that any lies he told himself now would be ones of denial.

It wasn’t a simple thing, taking this on, even as he tried unsuccessfully to hide the grin that filled his mouth whenever thoughts of Katherine occupied his mind. He had never been here before, after all. Yes there were a couple of long relationships with beautiful women, even going so far as to move in together once. But even then he knew it wasn't love. Well, not love in the way he thought it should be to commit yourself to another person, another soul. And why those relationships never held out, and why David was never truly affected when they eventually evaporated. He was also not a man who suffered whims. But the quiet awareness, the grasp of thought that she had come into his life and completely pulled the comfortable rug from it, he welcomed in all its serendipitous complexity, even as he was terrified to the core by it.

He was not such a man though, to think that she felt the same way. Most days he was still flummoxed that she gave him the time of day, wondering why the gods blessed him with such good luck, or her with such blindness. But his thoughts soon sobered whenever he caught in her the hurt glances of a woman who had lost it all, even as she tried to hide it – from him and the world. On occasion there was hollow sadness in her eyes, her mind seeming to drift to another place and time. Somewhere very far from him and now, to a place where Peter Sanderson was, undoubtedly. It wasn’t difficult to guess that she must have loved him so very much. What he knew of her told him so, knowing that when she gave her heart to her husband she must have done so fully, unreservedly, leaving him wondering at the love they must have shared. She was grieving still. And he would wait. If ever a day came when she could love again he could only hope…So if waiting was what he was meant to do, he would.

*****

“Okay Kate, so you’re just shagging him” Tom said, popping open the DVD rental they’d watch as soon as the pasta finished boiling, imagining her face mortified behind him. Katherine wondered then if his mac & cheese was worth this, even if delicious comfort food and a good flick was all she needed on this rainy, miserable night.

“Very much so, every chance I get” she responded matter-of-factly, knowing she’d surprise him. She did, seeing his shocked head spin ‘round from the DVD player to face her again as she smirked inwardly.

“Kate!”

She looked up at him, hands fiddling with the infernal plastic surrounding the block of cheese they'd need, failing miserably to find a weak spot, absentmindedly speculating whether precision lasers could find a way in.

“What! You expect me to get all coy and blushy? That’s not why I told you, or how this is. Plus, you started, with the ‘shagging,’” now shaking her head.

“Sure. Fine. Okay. But the gist is the same right? You’re telling me you’re just sleeping with this David guy. That’s all it is, no strings attached? For you and him?”

“Yes.”

Tom looked at his sister a long while before he said what he wanted. She was reaching for scissors, determined not to be outsmarted by vacuum sealing while he wondered if she meant what she said.

Older by five years it should’ve been a gap too far growing up, especially between a boy and girl and especially since before ‘Kit-Kat’ joined them he felt the family misfit; older sisters oblivious in their club for two and parents seeming to enjoy their post-child bearing bliss. A little too much he thought as soon as he knew better, their ‘happy accident’ eventually coming along. Thomas McGregor instantly bonded with the strange-looking pink bud Mom and Dad arrived home with one day, taking greater heed than perhaps intended of Dad’s throwaway words that ‘everything’s going to change, because you’re a big brother now.’ It did, the two of them growing up in their own, cooler world, and no one could tell them different.

“This isn’t you, Kate” he started, thoroughly concerned at his sister’s behaviour. Not only because it was out of character, but because of everything that had happened with Peter.

“I can’t just have a thing with a man, and have it be based entirely on sex?” Maybe big brothers and kid sisters shouldn’t have these kinds of conversations, but she always could say anything she was thinking to Tom.

“Hey, you’re laughing and joking, so I’m not going to complain too much. But you’re not made that way, you’re not made to-”

“Oh Tom, every woman’s made that way” she scoffed “all we need is to believe, and find it in ourselves!” ending her sentence with intentionally dramatic verve. She snorted, enjoying her send-up of women on mindless chat shows.

“Some day those crystal-loving, chakra-seeking, be-the-authentic-you ladies are going to hunt you down, and don’t you come looking to me to hide you. I will sell you out faster than a dirty Frenchman.” His words played along with her, but he wasn’t about to let this go. She knew that about him even without seeing it his face, same way she knew Peter was one of his reasons for not doing so.

“You’re worried about me, huh Tom, because you think that this must mean something because I’m sleeping with this guy?” She had finally won her battle with the plastic, readying cheese over the grater. “And soon you’re going to say that there are chicks that can do this, but I’m not one of them. And then, you’re going to ask me what sort of man he is, because even with what I told you, you want to make sure that I’m not getting all tangled up with some scary whackjob – which I love you for, by the way. Which is 'round about when you’ll get all serious and big brotherly before you pull out all the stops and ask if I’m not really going to be in danger of falling in love with him. Right?” Her voice was even-toned throughout while she continued making shavings of cheese.

“Well….yeah!” It was frustrating and infuriating the way she did this, Tom thought, the way she always took everything you wanted to say and threw it right back at you.

“Tom” her tone changed, his name almost a sigh, voice softening before she started again “can I be a terrible cliché and say that I’m just having fun?”

He sighed, staring at her as if he could somehow see whether the words she spoke were true, or if she believed them to be.

“So why did you tell me?” He saw her eyes narrowing and then continued “I mean, are we talking here so that by the end of it you’re going to decide you have feelings for him after all, and then rush out of here into the cold and the rain, arriving at his door completely soaked while you fall into his arms in a fiery embrace? Hmm?” He was challenging her now.

She broke into laughter, the picture of the scene he painted thoroughly hilarious.

“I’m kinda serious Kate. Is this where the girl talks it over and then with unsettling realisation dawning she figures out what she’s feeling? Is that what you need?”

Her eyes narrowed again, biting down her laughter.

“Stop doing The Eastwood with me if you value your life!”

“Okay sorry,” she began, tone serious, “I was just wondering when you stopped being my brother and started being my gay best friend. But its okay, apparently every girl’s gotta have one” her laughter breaking through fully then.

The daggers he shot were more than enough message for her though, knowing that her mocking wasn’t going down well with him.

“What do you want to know, Tom?” she offered then, knowing even when she’d decided to tell him that he’d have all these questions. So she let him ask everything he wanted – about ‘this David person’, why she was doing this-, putting his mind at ease with her answers while he made dinner, waiting for the one that would no doubt come. It did.

He asked after they dished up the pasta, after a long silence. He hesitated before he did. He wished so much they’d never need speak of this particular subject ever again, for all the pain it caused: “If I ask you if this has anything to do Peter, are you going to tell me it doesn’t?’

“No. That would mean I was lying to myself somewhat, wouldn’t it?”

He didn’t anticipate that response. And she didn't anticipate how honest she'd be.

She sighed and propped the bowl of cheese-webbed pasta in his lap where he sat on the couch, moving to sit down with him so they could start the movie.

“It has everything to do with Peter. And nothing.” There was another long silence before she continued. “I am having fun. It’s… un-fraught, Tom. And it’s brilliant because it’s just a physical thing with a man who wants the same from me,” she added, thinking back to the first time they kissed, how it happened. “I don’t want anything complicated, or serious, I don’t thinks that’s meant for me now, I don’t –“ she stopped herself. She could talk to Tom about anything. They always had that, always would. But this numbness, the daze she’d been in, still was in really, just took so much from her. And she’d rather not give Tom something else to worry about. With David Burrows, she could just stop thinking for a while. Not a solution, but a short-term fix.

Tom could see the heaviness over his sister and knew that she was telling herself then not to cry, feeling every bit a failure as a big brother.

She looked up at him after a pause, and then added:

“Plus, the sex? Mind-blowing!” wanting desperately for him not to look at her the way he was right then, waiting for the howls of shock that would come, wondering how much honesty Tom could take.

“Really!? With practically a pensioner?” he countered softly, surprising her, lacing his voice with as much faux-derision he could summon while mind still dwelled on words spoken before she tried to change the subject, wishing for what seemed his thousandth time that she'd never met Peter, unsympathetic and uncaring as that sounded. Bowl in one hand he propped himself on his knee and hooked his free arm around his baby sis, kissing the mop of hair on her head and squeezing tight.

“Does this mean we can finally watch Christian Bale going all broody, moody Dark Avenger now?” she asked grinning, Tom grabbing the remote to answer her question.

*****

It’s a funny thing how being in love blinds you. Clouds your every judgment in a way nothing else could. Had David Burrows been in love before, he might’ve been able to catch on. Might’ve known things weren’t right. Had he not been so utterly mesmerised by Katherine McGregor, he might have noticed sooner than he did - as it was, it took him almost an entire month from their first date to realise this may not be what he thinks. Each time his instincts perked up though, he stopped himself.

Cautioning, no matter how much he loved and wanted her in his life, that she would need space and time. The constant awareness of whatever pain she was in from losing her love more than enough to make him not ask the impossible of her. Not yet. He wondered then how much he would do for her, realisation hitting him that he was doing this unasked, and with frighteningly little questioning.

So it continued. Each request she turned down when he asked she join him at a work dinner, or realising, as four weeks became six, that she hardly spoke of herself, not really. Or that they hadn’t gone into much detail about friends and family. Each of these and many more met by David allowing her, and them, this. He knew that that were she not a widow, or were they at a point where he felt he could broach the subject of Peter Sanderson, he would have. Time, she needed time, that was all.

It took three different situations to truly open David’s eyes. And they came soon enough.

The first was when they accidentally ran into Lillian Carrick at a downtown restaurant they impulsively decided to visit. Katherine’s copy editor, who came over to chat when she noticed her colleague across the almost empty house, fishing for details like the seasoned journalist she was.

It wasn’t that Lillian wondered out loud why ‘Kate’ hadn’t mentioned him at work, clearly intrigued by his age and then her co-worker, fresh information resulting in older woman giving younger a once-over with new eyes. He could understand her reasons, he thought, even as it stung his pride a bit; clear that Lillian and Katherine were more than just boss and columnist. Nor was it when Lillian chatted eagerly about ‘next week’s awards do’, without subtlety indicating her pleased evaluation of the man her young protégé would have on her arm. That stung a bit more, awkwardly hurt that she hadn’t asked him nor, he guessed, would. Though he was more deeply bruised that she hadn’t even mentioned to him that she was up for one of the Young Writer of the Year awards, choosing not to share what must surely be an unmistakably satisfying accomplishment with him. But the part that really stung, hurt like hell, was how she made no move to explain anything, or even offer excuse. Still he reasoned it away, noticing Katherine’s discomfort in having Lillian think of him as being by her side, sure that in her mind that spot would in some way always belong to someone else.

The second was when they were having vats of coffee, sinfully sweet chocolate cake and brownies that would give you a headache just looking at them, seated in the lush red booth of a bustling coffee shop on the lazy Sunday afternoon before Christmas, daring each other into eating and drinking themselves to a state of sugar-addled stupor.

“You know,” David began after a normal lull, “I bake better brownies. And if you ask nicely, I’d bake them for you. Especially.”

“How much better?”

“So much, you’d mark time as Before Brownie and After Brownie.”

“Cheeky.”

“Perhaps” He paused for effect, “But you like cheeky, don’t you?”

“Hmmm….depends.” Her eyes were cast down into the dark pool of liquid in front of her.

“On what?” he was intrigued by her tone now and wondered if he could keep up in this game he’d started?

“On how good your brownies really are. Boys will say anything, you know.” She looked up at him, the beginnings of a grin taking shape on her mouth.

“Oh, they’re good. My momma taught me how.”

“We’ll see.” There was a lilting in her tone as the grin spread, smiling, eyes mischievously twinkling.

“Why Ms McGregor, are you trying to seduce me?” he countered innocently. He couldn’t resist, eager to hear her retort.

Katherine would’ve continued their silly repartee were it not for the voice of Lindsay shrilling her name from where she stood at the door, Tom shaking off beaten-up leather jacket right behind her, wondering what the hell just happened, and why his girlfriend was shrieking madly when all he needed was coffee, preferably in a cup the size of a bucket.

Before she knew what’d hit her, before she could give her brother a subtle but knowing glance to insist that he’d much prefer to be alone with his girlfriend, David, well-mannered as ever, invited Tom and Lindsay to join them.

From the bits he could scrape together when she spoke intermittently about her family, David knew she and Tom were close. Katherine was unaware that he was quite pleased by this turn of events, while David mused at his nervousness in meeting her older brother, bewildered at his sudden wish to make a good impression, the irony of this man, clearly younger than he, someone who could’ve easily reported to him at work but instead here holding so much sway over him, not escaping his awareness.

The triggers setting off alarms in his mind however, happened later. The longer Lindsay and Tom stayed, the quieter Katherine grew. She was uncomfortable, he noticed. It was also clear that Lindsay knew more about Tom and Katherine, and the rest of the McGregor’s, than he did, even though she had been seeing Tom not yet a full month, while by the middle of next week they’d have been together for two. But it was the way she brushed aside any of Lindsay’s questions on their relationship, the bubbly woman immediately fascinated in seeing ‘Kate’ with this older man, Katherine giving only curt answers while changing the subject time and time again. And the way he was surprised to find out, from the effervescent Lindsay of course, shocked amazement clear on his face, that Katherine was being pleaded to play lead guitar with her brother and his re-formed high school band now mucking about during free times and weekends. Something so trivial, explaining so much about her in that one welcome morsel of information, wondering what else he didn’t know about her, or what else she preferred to keep from him. How much of a closed book was Katherine?

All the while Tom straddled the tightrope that was curbing his girlfriend (without pissing her off) and at the same time helping Katherine change the subject to more generic themes. David noticed their unspoken communication, his apologetic glance to his sister as Lindsay and he began making their way, clear that the two of them understood something he didn’t, or refused to. Or more precisely, that Tom had understood exactly what was going on, more so than he.

He started replaying their brief relationship in his head as they too made their way, long winter nights ensuring thick darkness even as the clock protested an early hour. He pulled her close as they walked the short distance to his apartment, though he felt further away than ever. Quiet at first, but speaking freely the more distance was placed between them and the coffee shop, he noticed for the first time that she was only comfortable when alone with him. Did he embarrass her, he panicked? Forcing his mind to respond to the hurt and anger that rose within him, he knew it wasn’t that. He hoped he was right.

It was this distance, he then realised. It was always there, scenes playing out in his head. Never sharing things about herself, never letting him know what was happening in her life, or at work, or with her family and friends. For God’s sake, Lindsay knew that Angela, their second oldest sister, was trying to get pregnant again. It was so many things, he realised, unable to let his compassion for her grief caution him any longer. Distance permeated everything.

Everyone called her Kate, patent to him it was a privilege allowed to those that knew her well. This was the second evening he’d noticed that, wondering now if his use of ‘Katherine’ was evidence of how little he knew her, wondering why she had never corrected him. Did he not merit it, was he so unimportant to her?

Brain starting to reel, little things popped up all over his thoughts, as well as bigger ones. A hollow, dull pit formed in his stomach as he realised that beyond learning the things from her file what seemed like ages ago, he hadn’t really gotten to know Katherine Elizabeth McGregor any better than that, astounded at himself. Unlocking the door to his apartment, he was reminded that he hadn’t even been to hers, the simple thought crashing like a freight train into him. Nor had she spent an entire night with him, not letting herself fall asleep in his arms. She always offered that it was far easier to make her way from where she lived to her office, the traffic on the subways in that direction much more manageable. Were all of these evidence of things he chose to ignore before, comfortable in lies that he was telling himself, shocked that love could do that to him. To him? Did he fall so blindly, so hopelessly, that he could never see that? Or see that lately they had spent a lot of time indoors, almost a routine, at his apartment, her not wanting anything more from him it seemed.

He was unsettled. The dull pit became a sickening one as he made his way to his kitchen, grabbing the herbal tea Katherine liked so much. Busying himself with cups and spoons, trying to find some order with his hands to counter the chaos that raged inside, his mind continued to pose increasingly unanswerable questions of his heart. David was caught somewhere between the furious tug as feelings threatened to overwhelm, an excruciating lurching sensation so unfamiliar to him throbbing loudly in his breast.

He looked up at her. She was over at the cabinet, flipping through music on his audio system. The bright lights of the kitchen overhead served to train his eyes on her every feature, the shadows of the lounge’s dim glow exquisitely silhouetting her profiled frame, sock-covered feet on polished wood peeking out from too-long jeans.
His love.
His heart broke then; the way it tends to do even before the brain and mind and logic has caught up with all the details it demands.

And when the final piece fell into place.

“Katherine, what are we doing here?” he began, his voice heavy. His arms trembled and he sought leverage with palms pressed up against hard, cool marble of counter-tops.

She looked at him from where she stood, his voice pulling her from her task. His tone was unlike she’d ever heard from him before.

“Er…I think that ‘making tea and finding some nice music to listen to’ can’t be the answer you’re looking for, can it?” She was unsure what he meant and so tried to inject some mirth in her response.

He tried again, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer to the question he was about to ask.

“What am I to you, Katherine?

No answer was offered as she just looked at him, trying to make sense of him.

“You and me. What’s going on here?” he tried once more, his voice still heavy there was now a plaintive seeking in his questions.

“What?”

“I think you know what I mean.” A soft timbre.

She really didn’t. They had no reason to even discuss this before. It seemed perfectly understood. There was never anything more to what they had, clear to her in the way they started on that wind-blown night by the river a few weeks ago.

“It is what it is, David” A hint on confusion at his questioning, that they were even discussing this, was clear in her answer.

“Which is what, Katherine!?” There was mild anger now, a hint of frustrated pleading clear as his voice rose slightly.

What is going on, Katherine thought, trying to find some sort of explanation for David’s behaviour, surprised by it.

“It’s what it is” she repeated before continuing, “just a simple and uncomplicated friendship, we both know that.”

“With benefits?”

“Yes, David. You know this.” Her voice was calm, laced only with a suggestion of confusion at his inquiries.

“Dammit Katherine, I DON’T!” his voice exploded across the space between them. His hand skidded across the counter-top, pressure from emotion-laden arm involuntarily released, sending white mugs clattering across black marble. If being in love was a new occurrence for him, he certainly didn’t welcome this raw, wrenching hellishness he now felt because of it. His mouth made movements as if to speak, lips around hollow shape the only result. There was a long, agonising silence before he spoke again.

“So I’m just a fuck-buddy to you, nothing more?!” His voice utter dismay, saddened beyond bounds, he still hoped against reason that she would tell him 'no'. Angered and hurt in a way he had never known before, head immediately sore with a dull ache, he looked at her, challenging for an answer.

How is it possible that you can love someone so, that he can love Katherine so very much that it feels as this were killing him slowly? The trembling which began imperceptibly in his arms had now taken hold, mixed with anger and a slow burn of quiet rage; it made him feel out of control. His emotions were running ahead of him, away from him. The dull ache had grown louder into a splitting torment, throbbing in his head matched by blood coursing faster and faster inside of him. That is when something else inside of him broke, the sickening realisation pushing down on him, like gallons of icy water crushing him, crushing his senses. Filling his nostrils and filling his lungs with dread.

Was he so like his father after all? No different from the man that had given his mother so much anguish, so much pain. He hated what he’d become in that moment, images of the man he should’ve called dad right in front of his eyes, the debilitating awareness twisting venomously inside his soul.

“I think I should get going” Katherine answered the long silence, seeing the contortions evident on his face. She was taken aback by the sound of his voice when he raised it, standing still on the spot. And more so by the actual words that came from it. She watched him a moment longer before looking away; seeking winter boots and coat she took off mere minutes ago, when the world still made sense.

David continued his struggle, staring at hands in front of him which now looked so foreign. And then up to his right and back at Katherine, the whizzing-whistling sound of her zipping up a boot making him take notice, jolting him back to the present. Seeing her again, he rounded the corner made by cupboards separating kitchen from lounge, mind quickly jerking into place.

“Katherine…” he began, and then stopped. This time softer-toned, apology and regret noticeable as her name left his lips.

She looked up at him, her countenance expressionless, never neglecting task of squishing foot into shoe. She was never a coward, never the type to run from disagreement or argument. But this simple thing with David was now beginning to look very complicated. It was best she left, she thought.

“I’m sorry, Katherine.” David found his voice again, moving toward her where she sat in the armchair but still holding back, aware that something was different between them now.

“David…,” she began as she stood, task completed. Her voice was soft though caked with thickness, head still not understanding this dramatic swing. But she too struggled to find what it was she wanted to say. A long pause followed before she started again. “I think that…..it’s obvious by what just happened here that there’s…..that it’s different now. I don’t know …when things changed from where we began, but I – “

“It’s not different now. It never was. Not for me.” Three simple statements that came out quietly in resigned honesty. In their powerful brevity, they changed everything for Katherine making her understand finally what had gone on here. Her eyes widened in response to jarring information, startle and astonishment clear on her face.

There was silence again as they looked at each other, as they both tried making sense of everything. Two people who came together but each woefully misunderstanding the other, misinterpreting what they had, what this was. There were so many moments of silence between them from the beginning; from first day in his office, to first date. To now. But this silence was anything but comfortable.

“I am sorr….” Katherine this time, but the words felt hopelessly inadequate; she couldn’t bring herself to finish it, sure that David would want nothing so trite. Yet she continued:

“I didn’t want…..I - ….I am sorry David.” For someone who worked with words on a daily basis she was failing spectacularly to string a basic few together.

In that moment it seemed clear to David that everything was still the same. Even as his mind was still not clicking as it normally should, a mish-mash of thoughts and feelings raging around inside, he realised this. That while everything was different, it was still very much the same. The knowledge that she intentionally maintained her distance from him was still, in his mind, mitigated by everything she was.

Everything about her life.
Everything about her quiet strength and infinite beauty.
Everything about her.

She was still the same woman who had her life taken from her. She was still the woman that made him laugh even in spite of that, the woman who brightened his day, who brightened his life. The same woman whose voice seemed tuned to such a cadence that it sliced into his very being. Where he welcomed it.

She was still that woman. The woman he had fallen in love with. Nothing had changed.

“I’ll go….stop I mean….seeing you. Though that is obvious, I don't know why I….” Why was she not finding her words, her beloved words that had provided solace to her through so much? “Before this gets-“

“’Serious’…, Katherine?” His melancholy tone provided her with every answer even where there was no question.

She felt unquestionably horrible. Contemptible. When was it she became such a heartless bitch, she wondered? The girl toying with a man like this. She had to leave, breaking another stare as she headed for the door.

“I can only imagine…” David began slowly, broken and hurt. Yet he clung to hope even as it danced like a mirage in front of him achingly out of reach but daring him to dream, “no, I can only guess, wildly guess, what you and your husband must have shared. How you must have loved…” He moved closer to where she stood, slowly, tentatively, unable to tear his eyes from her knowing how these words would shock, not wanting to hurt her but knowing he had to say it.

Katherine turned around in disbelief, her hand on door handle. Peter!? Why was he talking about Peter? Her mind buzzed and reeled, two worlds colliding painfully. She couldn’t think, heart quickening and mouth drying in an instant.

“I see it. When it catches you off guard, taking you someplace far away,” he continued softly, his own voice thick with emotion, “I know enough to know that you must have loved him deeply. Sometimes it’s so clear, you can tell by just looking at you.”

He paused before he began again:

“And that Peter must have loved you. So very much. And it’s obvious I know, because….how could he not?” David’s voice rasped slightly then, cracking under weight of pressure on his heart.

Katherine seemed to fold in on herself, the pain of these unexpected, unwelcome words too much for her. Memories and thoughts and feelings and images from long ago flooded back. And now, here, in this situation, his complete misunderstanding of that, of everything, and all she had done to him. It was too much. But the trauma of this assault made her feet and legs leaden; she couldn’t move.

“I would never ask anything of you Katherine” he began again, faint words seeming to tremble as much as he was, “I would never ask you not to cherish your love, his love for you. Or that you not grieve for him still. I can only imagine how much Peter loved you."

Katherine winced, the pain of these words cutting ever deeper, daring her to face demons. David continued;

"I only ask…Katherine..." his voice slowing even more, eyes shining, "I only ask that you let me, too?”

Her mouth fell open, eyes widening even more than moments before, the ‘what’ of absolute shock formed on her lips but vocal chords refused to co-operate, the sounds trapped in her throat, a painful lump beginning to form. He moved even closer while Katherine’s head began to spin.

“I love you Katherine.” He paused. “Let me?” The final words were the faintest whisper, uttered as he closed the remaining distance between them. The door at her back and David so close, his hands moving to hold her, cupping her shocked face as eyes refused to accept his words and actions. His own were pregnant with emotion; burnished with unshed tears, mind no longer firing right, though he cared little. He knew he had to tell her.

She stood there in his arms unable to comprehend anything. Yet the way he looked at her, the words he spoke, his heart laid out for her to see, simply and without fanfare, she knew he did; she knew he loved her. She couldn’t dismiss them as that of a man who believed himself, talked himself, into loving her. He loved her. She saw that. In a way she had never seen before.

David struggled too, release of words followed by nothing, the love he had fallen into for this woman now unlocked from his heart. There was nothing more to say.

“You don’t know me, David. Not really. You don’t know a thing about me, so you can’t…” Katherine eventually managed, not strong enough to repeat his words to her; her words a caution to him even as she knew it would make no difference, while hoping logic would have to factor.

“I know.” His words were painful to admit. But he too, like Katherine, knew it changed nothing.“But you can let me find out more about you, can’t you? And you can get to know me better too?” his tone was lighter, hopeful against all odds while voice cracked as he somehow smiled, his love for her so clear as his words took her back to that day in his office when he first asked her to dinner. It was clear what he meant now as Katherine was tempted to succumb, to give in, and to try; this man who loved her asking so little of her. Surely she could.

He moved closer, and pressed his lips to her cheek, Katherine sure it was exactly the same spot beneath her eye he’d kissed almost two months ago. Lingering longer this time, the brush of his quivering lips conveying everything he had told her, and holding her close, breathing her skin while he trembled. Her mind clicked as tears formed within. With the subtle hint of aftershave and freshly-washed hair so close to her, she now understood; that the first time he kissed her like this was anything but chaste and innocent, closing her eyes with saddening realisation of all that had passed between them since.

“David –“ her voice was thick with emotion, her own tears coming ever closer. Her mind reeled from here in this Manhattan apartment to suburban streets where she and Peter hung out a llifetime ago, and then to all the pain of afterward, as she struggled with herself. She jerked back to the present, the overriding notion of not wanting to hurt this man declaring his love to her any more than she already has, pulling her out of her fog; the familiar numbness she thought she’d sent into exile in the last two months threatening to come back with interest.

He saw her pain, and it crushed him they way it always did. He would give anything to take it from her.

“You don’t know a thing about me, David” she repeated softly, protesting against this impossibility, willing her hand that still gripped door handle to twist and open. He was still holding her.

“Katherine…” he breathed, moving even closer, arms circling her as if to still her pain and sadness, wishing he could banish the hurt he could see on her face.

“I can’t do this David” Her voice broke as she lost her final hold on whatever composure she was clinging to, the latch’s soft clack releasing door from frame, obeying the movement of her hand’s command. “I can’t do this to you. You don’t understand. What you think, it’s not true….” Tears rolled down her face. And she hated herself for it, reasoning in her heart she had no right to the luxury of tears, not after this.

“Stay, Katherine. Stay with me” his voice was barely audible, a gentle plea breathed into her ears.

“I can’t.”

She opened the door enough to let herself through, dragging herself from David’s arms. He was powerless as she passed through, knowing that there was nothing he could do to make her stay. She was walking away.

This love that had come to him unexpectedly vanished through heavy wooden entrance, the soft thud of door returning to frame accompanied by a second soft clack of latch returning home marking its disappearance. It may as well have been a sonic blast; the sounds punctuating the silence were to David a knell signalling the exit of Katherine from his life.

Abject sadness enveloped him, the thought unwelcome, heart aching instantaneously. He stood by his door, weakened. He steadied himself, hand moving to hold on, head bowed. His heart was wrenched from him and he knew it. He leaned forward unconsciously, door becoming only leverage as shoulders slumped while anguished drops fell from his eyes, splashing on gleaming floor at his feet. Is this how it ends, he wondered? A simple click of a closing door, and hollow, deafening silence.