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Or at the very least, he could manage to not blow my mind.
‘OK, OK,’ he says, in such a simple way. We could be talking about him giving me a ride to the cinema, if it were not for his follow-up comments: ‘It’s just … You know. You drive me crazy. You’ve always driven me crazy.’
I think my mind is now all over the floor.
‘And you don’t think it might have been a good idea to maybe tell me this? I’ve spent the last ten years pining for you like an idiot, you idiot.’
It’s easier to say it with the two idiots in there. But it doesn’t look easier for him to accept. He stops laughing almost immediately, and then goes one further than that – his face sags, like one of my punches finally connected.
‘You’ve pined for me?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Don’t say maybe if the answer’s yes.’
Now he’s put me in a pickle. The safety of maybe is calling to me, but if I go with it the terrible expression on his face might deepen. He looks heartbroken, I think, and that’s what ultimately decides me. It’s like seeing myself over the last ten years, and wanting more than anything to erase all of those aching, lonely feelings.
I can do it, if I reach out now.
I can take them away from him.
‘Then the answer’s yes.’
‘You pined for me?’
‘Of course I did … Steven, you must have been aware, on some level, that this little doof following you around had a crush on you,’ I say, but even I don’t believe this now. He clearly had no idea, and even more frightening: I think he might have felt the same way, all this time.
In fact, I now know that he felt the same way, all this time.
It’s why the world revolves, and he is me and I am him.
It’s why he says things like this:
‘Honey, until you got mad at something I possibly implied I had no clue that anything I said had any effect on you at all. Mostly when I say things, you smirk, roll your eyes, or blank me.’
Oh God, it’s true. I do. But how was I supposed to know these reactions were bad? I thought it was of vital important to seem indifferent to him, at all times. If he’d found out that I secretly adored him, he might have … He could have …
OK, now I realise that he would have probably just dated me.
But the point is I didn’t know this before. I thought he was indifferent to me.
‘But then you got so mad and I thought … I don’t know. Maybe you did like me, kinda. And I wasn’t about to pass that up. I got tired of passing you up, for various probably stupid reasons: you seemed to hate me, your brother might kill me, I knew you when you were pretty young and that’s kind of creepy …’
I don’t want to tell him that those are probably really excellent reasons. He might take all of this back, if I do. And besides, I completely don’t hate him and I’ll kill my brother if he tries to kill Steven, so that’s two out of three.
The third is slightly weirder.
‘What do you mean, kind of creepy?’
‘Well … You know. You were just this little gawky kid and I was like your other big brother. And then suddenly … Suddenly you weren’t a little gawky kid any more.’ He hesitates, but this time I really hate him for it. Because I’m holding my breath, and any delay could potentially mean the end of my life.
And then he speaks, and all I can think is it would be worth it, to die on this note.
‘You threw me such a curveball when you turned into this amazing woman, overnight. I didn’t know what to do with myself around you, any more.’
I know what he did. He told a lot of fart jokes, and got me in a lot of headlocks. He played the fool for the better part of ten years, and worse: I believed him. I let him keep me at arm’s length for so, so long, just so I didn’t have to be scared of myself and how I look and what he might think of me.
And now that I know … Now that I know, I’m still too afraid to speak.
So I guess it’s good that he says it all for me.
‘But I think I have an idea, after all this time. At the very least, I know I should start by telling you that I’m not embarrassed to be with you. I don’t care who knows that I’m crazy about you, even if it’s your brother and he kills me. And most of all, you should definitely be aware of the one thing that made me come here – that always makes me want to come to the place where you are. I love you, Judy.’
Did he really say that? He can’t have really said that.
‘I love you so much.’
I think he did just say that.
‘I love you to distraction.’
He said it so hard that I really need to say it back, only I can’t because of the ten years and the catalogue of errors and my heart, which feels so bruised and battered I don’t know if it will ever beat again. I’m still stuck in Frank mode.
I can’t get into this gear, where I suddenly get everything I’ve always wanted.
Life doesn’t work that way, I think.
Until he takes my face in both his hands, and kisses me, kisses me, kisses me. He doesn’t kiss me with half of his strength, or part of his feelings, or with some tiny bit of something which is all I’m ever allowed. He kisses me with everything he’s got.
And I give everything I’ve got back.
I don’t have to live half a life, any more.
‘I love you,’ I say, with every ounce of strength I have. ‘I love you, Steven Stark.’
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