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"So," she called out from her kitchen. "How was London and my boss?"
I was a bit startled at hearing her call him her boss, even though that was exactly what he was to her.
"His name's Lucien," I said, and she glanced back at me.
"You're on a first-name basis with him now?"
I was surprised to hear this. "You aren’t?"
"I mean, I am, but if I can avoid it, I don’t call him by his name at all. And you'll find out if you try that this is incredibly easy."
She was right in that it wasn’t very difficult to omit someone's name when trying to avoid the awkwardness of a title.
"So..." she said, pulling me back to the present. "How was it?"
"There's no new development from what I told you back in London," I replied.
She had her back to me, and the tap slightly ran to fill the can to make the soup for me. She dumped it into the pan and turned the stove on. Afterwards, she came over and sat on the couch right next to the bean bag.
A few seconds later, the blanket that I had buried myself under was being pulled away. I groaned, but knowing she wouldn’t relent and she wanted some kind of reassurance, I turned and faced her.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Are you alright?" she asked, and I was a bit surprised at her question.
"What do you mean?"
"I know I've harassed you a lot these past few days. But I was thinking today about how you are suddenly thrust into all this for my sake. I know it's been very difficult and stressful, so I'm concerned if you're okay."
It wasn’t strange hearing her concerned and caring because it was just in her personality, but it was a bit startling because she had been less of all of the above these last few days.
"I’m fine," I replied and shut my eyes once again. "You're the one that I should be asking."
"I’m fine," she replied. "It's just that my eyes are a bit clearer now."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"The more time I spend with myself now, the more I realize that I truly neglected myself and my well-being for so long, and it just makes me feel so sad.
"You put him at the center of your world for too long, right?" I asked, and she sighed.
"I didn't put him there; time put him there. I was happy about it for a while, and I'm not complaining, but I just realized now how much of myself I'd ignored and thrown away just so that I could be who he thought he wanted. And then when he really needed someone, I guess he realized that what he had more or less molded me into wasn’t what he needed. I just feel used and discarded, and I guess it's my fault for picking a weak man.”
“It's not your fault,” I told her. “You didn't choose a weak man. You chose someone that you loved, and he turned out to be weak. Why should any of the blame come on you for that?”
At this, she sighed and nodded. “I know,” she said. “Some relationships work out and most just run their course, but in this case, it hurts. I'm doing better though, and when he came by yesterday, I was so angry that I was able to tell him no. He still didn't know what he wanted, but he thought I would be easy – the bastard – and so he came over.”
"Complete…" I said but didn’t complete the insult. She gave me a look, then she sighed.
“Now about you and my boss.”
“Again?” I complained, and she smiled.
“Yes, again. Another reason for my crippling anxiety, and while I still cannot rest, is that you're setting the bar for a difficult arrangement that I don’t necessarily want any part in by the time you leave.”
“Yeah,” I replied, my heart saddened as the reminder of the stark difference between the way we’d interacted the previous night and then later on the plane. “You don't have to worry about any of that. We’re done. I mean, it’s done.”
She seemed quite concerned about this as well. “Did you two… was there a fight or something?”
