Penny looked up at the ceiling now, trying to keep the brimming tears from overflowing. "You should stick to your rules, David," she said with a sniff. "Rules are rules for a reason."
"No."
She nodded and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's like you just said..."
"What? What did I say? About the ants? 'Cause I was totally kidding about the ants."
"No. You said you made a bunch of rules so you wouldn't get attached to the wrong person," she shot back. "Well, I'm the wrong person."
"No." He turned toward her and put both hands on her shoulders, but she kept her eyes averted. "Look at me," he said.
"David, my life's a mess. You don't even know the half of it. I can't even apply to med school because my MCAT scores expired. And I was supposed to re-take it, but I couldn't find my pencils, and I had to cancel my score, and the web site won't let me reschedule because I don't have a credit card, and-"
She broke off with a sob. The tears had started running down her cheeks again. David reached an arm around her waist, and her body swayed awkwardly against him as she cried into his chest.
"It's OK," he said softly.
"Such a mess, David. That's not even all of it."
Somehow Penny's face had ended up back in the crook of his neck again. David ran a soothing hand up and down her back as he tried to compose his thoughts.
He understood her point. There was a reason he'd been fighting his feelings toward her for two years now. She was so young. Twenty-four. Her life was full of twenty-something problems. Just hearing her talk about it made his pulse start to quicken with anxiety. He'd always intended to wind up with someone more established - if not the same age, then at least at the same stage in life. That was the real reason for all the rules. And she knew it. She knew him better than anyone. How could he explain his change of heart to her, when he didn't fully understand it himself?
He leaned his face against her hair and inhaled, and the scent of it somehow calmed him. He was so tired, he suddenly realized. So tired. Exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to let his eyes drift closed. The inside of his lids felt sticky as he fought to keep them open. They should both sleep, he thought. They could finish this conversation in the morning.
Her face was still hidden, but he heard her gulp for breath as she struggled to control her tears.
"Shhhh," he whispered, stroking her back gently. "It's OK now. It's OK."
She must be exhausted too, he thought. She wouldn't try to fight him if he eased them both back down beneath the covers. He cast a longing look toward his bedside lamp. All he needed to do was reach out and flick it off....
But something stopped him. Some instinct told him that he couldn't leave the conversation there. He hadn't answered her questions - questions he'd been avoiding for two years now. He knew, somehow, if he tried to dodge them any longer, whatever they had between them wouldn't last the night.
No, he thought. No more dodging. No more running. He had explain it to her. Now. Tonight. But how? How could he find the right words now, when he could barely put together a coherent sentence?
"I don't know, Penny," he sighed against her hair. "Your life's a mess. My life's an empty desk drawer. I guess I'm just tired of being alone in here."
Penny's Desk Drawer
David's Desk Drawer
She kept her face hidden in his shoulder, and he couldn't quite make out her reply.
"What was that?" He gave her a gentle shake, and she looked up at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red.
"I said maybe you should get an ant farm."
One corner of his mouth quirked upward from pure reflex. "Don't be sarcastic." He tapped his index finger to the tip of her nose.
"What's wrong with being sarcastic?" she mumbled back.
"It'll give you wrinkles in your forehead."
He traced his finger up the bridge of her nose and ran it back and forth across the creamy skin. So young, he thought. All the worries in the world, and not a single crease on her face to show for it. Not yet. Not for years and years.
He watched as she rolled her eyes upward, trying to see for herself. Then she grabbed his finger and pushed it away. "That's my joke," she said with a sniff.
"I know." He put his hand beneath her chin and held it so she couldn't turn away. "I know all your lines, Penny. I have whole conversations with you inside my head when you're not here."
"You do that too?" Her mouth curved in a watery smile.
He nodded. "I do that too. You know why?"
"Because your life's an empty desk drawer?"
He smiled back and shook his head. "Because I love you."
He watched as a fresh pair of tears ran down each of her cheeks, but he didn't try to wipe them away. He needed to keep talking. He had no idea what he was even saying at this point, but maybe that was better. Maybe he just needed to let the words out, and somewhere along the way it might start to make sense to both of them.
"See, Penny, the thing is... I realized a little while ago that the desk drawer wasn't actually empty. All that time, I thought it was empty. I thought I was all alone in there. I didn't even realize you were in there with me. I didn't see you, somehow. Until you left. Then I realized you must have snuck inside there when I wasn't paying attention, and you'd been in there with me all that time. Because it felt like something was missing without you. Something very important had gotten out of place, and for the life of me I couldn't find it anywhere. I couldn't figure out how to put it back. And now it's back. Now I can see you there. I can see that's where you go." He pointed to the place beside him on the bed. "Right there. That's your spot. That's where you're supposed to be. And Penny, I swear to God," he said. "I swear if I have to spend one more night inside this desk drawer without you next to me, I'm going to lose it. I'm going to go out of my goddamned mind."
She put her arms around his neck and made a sound he couldn't quite interpret. Laughter or more tears? Somewhere halfway in between. "I think you're already out of your goddamned mind," she said.
"Probably."
"So you're saying you actually live in the desk drawer?"
"I don't know. Empty desk drawer... empty bed... empty life.... It's a metaphor."
She shook her head. "Just tell me what you're actually trying to say."
"I don't know what I'm trying to say," he answered. "I just-I'm trying to say that I need you. I kind of fell apart without you. You don't realize-Penny, you think my life's all nice and neat and organized, and maybe it was while you were around. But ever since you left, I keep-I keep yelling at people, and firing all my secretaries, and falling off treadmills, and mixing metaphors, and saying all kinds of things I don't mean, and not saying all kind of things I do mean, and-"
He broke off and swallowed, fighting down the lump that had risen to his throat. She'd stopped sniffling now. She laid a hand on his cheek as she waited for him to continue.
A moment passed.
He swallowed hard again.
"Are you OK?" she asked.
"No," he answered firmly. He took her hand away from his face and gripped it hard. "No, I'm not OK. That's what I'm trying to say. I'm not OK. I'm a mess. I've been a mess ever since you left."
"You have?"
"A mess," he repeated. "You think your life's a mess? Well, my life's a toxic waste dump."
"You hate messes," she whispered.
"I do. I can't stand messes. And I don't know how I'm going to clean it up without you." He held her hand in his, clasping it with all his strength. "It's not just that I love," he said. "I need you, Penny. I need for you to stay."
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