Castles in the Sand (Stephen Colbert)

Chapter 13

He stood up silently, I thought he was going to leave and that weight in my chest pulled awkwardly. In a moment of panic I grabbed his pant leg.

"Don't..." barely a whisper, almost just an exhaled breath.

I knew he'd looked down, I could feel him watching me, but I was staring intently at my hand. How quickly it had moved. My fist tightened around the cloth. I thought I must have looked foolish; why was I always so fucking indecisive? I hadn't wanted to see him, but now that he was here I was afraid that he would leave. He stooped again, I watched his hand tentatively cup mine, the gentle caress of his fingers encouraged me to release him. Both his hands then held my one and he brought it to his lips.

"I won't," his face as soft as his voice, "I was just going to turn a light on."

I squeezed his hand gratefully and saw the corners of his mouth twitch into the smallest smile. He let go and tucked the blanket back around me, then went to turn the bedside lamp on. It cut through the gloom like a knife and revealed the full extent of my week alone. Strewn about the apartment were discarded empty liquor bottles, used tissues, dirty clothes and dishes. I shrunk shamefully against the wall, if only I could have disappeared through it. The place was an unkempt disaster, I was sure he would walk out in disgust. The tears I'd held back ran down my cheeks.

"Fucking hell.." he whispered, sweeping his fingers through his hair as he carefully surveyed the scene.

"I know, okay?" I sobbed, "I don't need you judging me on top of.."

"I'm not judging you. Jesus Christ, Lana, I'm worried about you." His tone was concerned but abrasive, "How? How could you just walk away without.." he stopped when I recoiled slightly and held up his hands apologetically. After a calming breath he continued, but still strained to hold back his emotion, "I don't want to lose you, and I just can't fathom the idea that I might have already."

The longing in his face and in his voice was too much. I thought I had done the right thing, but now I questioned my decision.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, "What do you want from me, Stephen?"

He took the tissue box from my bedside table and crawled towards me on his hands and knees, "A chance."

He slid the box over first and let me wipe my face dry. My skin felt raw and painful. When I was done he moved the box aside and with a look, asked whether he could come closer. I squinted in thought for a moment and nodded. I told myself his presence wasn't comforting, that I wasn't warmed when he curled himself around me, that I'd never missed his breath on my skin. He touched my neck, my cheek, his thumb brushed my lips tenderly and I was completely lost.

"You're freezing, you don't want to move to the bed?"

I shook my head and nestled against him, fully aware that we had reached the part I most dreaded, the conversation. My head rested on his chest and I felt him take a steadying breath. I bristled with anxiety.

"You weren't entirely wrong." His voice quiet and remorseful, "I have been coming to you for sex, because sex with you has been.. relief." I felt his hands tighten and relax where they rested on me. "Perfect, amazing, addictive relief." He added in a seductive purr, it made me blush and I was glad he couldn't see my face. "But.. I know I've been somewhat emotionally absent. I left you to drift and then didn't consider that you might feel.. used." He stroked my hair, "God, a warm body.."

He emphasised with disgust, the phrasing I'd used a week earlier. I cringed at the thought that he might be about to launch into an abusive tirade and shifted uncomfortably in his arms.

"It's not that I thought the sex was meaningless, it's just that's all there was." My quiet words disappeared into the blankets.

He didn't reply for a long while; I told myself he was figuring out how to best broach the subject. Even so, the waiting made me ill.

"I will take responsibility for using sex with you as an emotional crutch, it was thoughtless and I am sorry.."

I tensed at the looming "but".

"But, "that's all there was"? You haven't exactly been forthcoming with what you want, in fact you don't even seem to know. How was I supposed to approach that?"

He wasn't attacking me; quite the contrary, he was being calm and reasonable, but it still felt like a punch in the gut. My hands balled fistfuls of blanket as I fumed, defensive and irrational. He was right and I didn't want him to be, I wanted him to shut up. Then, as though he knew how I'd react, he wrapped me firmly in his arms, with his chin rested on top of my head until I began to relax.

"You've resisted forming even basic connections with anyone since you started this job. I didn't want to jeopardize what we had by asking for more than you were ready to give." His arms slipped away and I sat up to face him, "I'd already made mistakes so I wanted to be considerate, but then I wasn't doing enough?"

I dropped my gaze to avoid admiring how handsome he looked cast in the dim golden lamp light, but he tilted his head to follow my line of sight.

"I can't win, Lana.. or you don't want me to."

My eyes flicked up to meet his, "You're right," I began softly, "I don't want you to, and you shouldn't want to either. It's not what's best, can't you see that? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a good person to be around," I frowned, gesturing at my apocalyptic apartment, "and I... I can't be someone's mistake again."

At this he seemed to express concern or confusion, but I went on.

"I didn't mean to fall for you, I tried not to, but how could I resist? You pursued me, or at least the idea you had of me, so.. eagerly ." My face flushed, "It was flattering, overwhelming."

I sat up straight and looked him dead in the eye, I could feel the fullness in my chest and the tears building anew, "Stephen, whoever you think I am, whatever idealistic expectations you have of me.. I promise, you're wrong."

Stephen shook his head, the same bewildered look still on his face, "Where have you got this notion that I'm idealizing you?" He sighed "There's plenty I don't know about you yet, but I do know that for whatever reason, you're afraid. You've built a fortress of aloofness and bad habits, but that's not who you are."

His eyes were soft and dark, watching me in that unreadable, breathtaking way that I adored as much as I feared. He reached towards me and I flinched before his fingers delicately brushed the stray strands of hair from my face. The feather touch of his fingertips set my heart racing.

"You're very adept at keeping everyone away, but Lana, I don't want to be away from you." A hopeful smile accompanying his loving tone.