SquidgeWorld Archive

Both Ends

By ScarletFBL (scarletfbl@yahoo.com)

Pairings: B/OMC, J/B

Rating: R

Summary: Jim cheats on Blair. (Blair‘s POV)

WARNINGS: MalexMale relationships. Bad language (which earns this the R rating). I do weird things with Blair’s POV, and the story’s pacing, so don’t say I didn’t warn you. OOCness.

Disclaimer: I own nothing: Not Jim, not Blair, not even the chimpanzee.

It’s been six months since I first found out that Jim was cheating on me. I can’t say that I suspected it, even in hindsight. I’ve heard people say, once they’ve been cheated on that there were signs that they ignored, signs that indicated that their significant others were unfaithful, but there were no such signs with Jim. We still had sex regularly, Jim never came home at odd hours of the night unless there was a stakeout, and even then I was usually with him. There was no scent of someone else on him. I know I’m no sentinel, but I know all of the Jim-Smells like the back of my hand.

No. I just came home early one day and found him in bed, in our bed, with a woman I had never seen before. After the woman had left (sans her underwear, I later found out), the resulting fight between us even makes me flush to this day. I said some pretty harsh things. So did Jim. I even slapped him somewhere during the whole thing, but he didn’t hit me back. I could tell that he wanted to. At the time, I didn’t know what kept him from following through. I almost wanted him to, so that we could fight like two strangers on the street, and I could vent all of my anger with every punch. Jim would probably pulverize me in a hand-to-hand fight, I know, but I still wanted to do it. In the end, it was Jim who stormed out, with a bag of his clothes (to stay with her no doubt) leaving me in our home, sobbing.

When my sorrow was over, my emotions quickly turned to anger. I think I broke every dish, a few pans (don‘t ask me how I managed to do that), a couple of chairs, and put a few holes in the wall. It was when I broke one of my tribal masks hanging on the wall that I seemed to snap out of my rage. I cleaned up the loft. Numbness took over.

I didn’t show up at the precinct for a few days. Simon called on the second. There was the usual gruff greeting, and enquiry into how I was, and why I hadn’t drug my ass to work in two days. When Simon finally got around to why he was actually calling, I almost lost it again. Jim was being a total ass at work. He’d even gotten into a fight with an officer. I couldn’t believe it. Who was Jim to be mad? I was the one who had been betrayed. I was the one who had walked in on the man that I loved fucking a woman in our bed. I told Simon that we’d had a fight. A HUGE fight. Simon got worried. He’d even asked if Jim had hit me. That made me laugh into the phone. I think that Simon thought of me as the one who needed protecting in my and Jim’s relationship. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that he thought of me as ‘the woman’ because I’ve proved that I can be as tough as any of his other officers. What Simon said was amusing to me because I always thought of Jim as the vulnerable one with his senses and his repressed emotions. I told him that Jim didn’t lay a hand on me, and that I was actually the one to hit Jim. Simon sounded shocked at that, and a little relieved. What did that mean, anyway? How was me hitting Jim less offensive than Jim hitting me? I didn’t want to look too closely into the reasons behind it.

When Simon wanted to know what the fight was about, I told him that it was between me and Jim. I could tell that Simon wasn’t happy with my answer, but he let it go at that when I promised to show up within the next couple of days.

When I showed up at work, I swear that a collective sigh of relief sounded as soon as I stepped in the door. Jim must have been more of a handful than Simon had let on. I saw that Jim was sitting at our desks. He looked up when I sat down, though I’m sure that he must have heard me as soon as I entered the building. He tried to talk to me, but I gave him the cold shoulder all day. People began to whisper as the tension between Jim and I became so thick you could cut it with a knife. If they had known that Jim could hear every word they uttered, I’m sure they wouldn’t have said half of the things they did because Jim was getting angrier and angrier, and I’m sure it wasn’t only at my silence.

When I got home, Jim was already there. He wanted to talk again, but I wasn’t feeling it at all. He kept trying to get me to talk until I finally gave in. He wanted me to forgive him for sleeping with that woman. When I told him to go to hell, he threw up his hands and asked me what I wanted from him. Was I really that opaque? I wanted a faithful partner that I could trust! I asked him how long he had been sleeping with that woman, and he told me. About two months. Two months, and I hadn’t suspected a thing! Things just went downhill from that point. I just couldn’t handle the information he was feeding me. We argued, I threw a book into the television set, and another chair got broken, this time, by Jim.

In the end, Jim asked me if I wanted to break up. I was so angry that I said yes, instantly regretting it. I wasn’t going to take it back, though. No way. Jim actually looked sad. I felt a tug at my heart. He asked me if I wanted him to leave and I said no. I would be the one to move out. After all, the loft was his home; I was only a temporary resident. I packed my car with as much stuff would fit in there, which wasn’t much, but then, there wasn’t much that I owned. Most of the things that wouldn’t fit were artifacts that had somehow found their way into the loft. I told Jim that I would be back to pick them up. He was fine with that.

I drove to a friend’s house. Deacon was a classmate of mine. He was a few years older than me; my classmates usually were. When we passed the course, we kept in touch and remained friends. After telling him what had happened between me and Jim, I asked him if I could crash at his place. He told me that I could. Deacon knew that I was gay and was fine with it. He was one of the first people I told when Jim and I first got together.

Staying with Deacon tested our friendship and made it stronger than I ever thought a friendship could be with myself and someone who wasn’t Jim.

Work was still a tough thing. I had requested that I be moved to another desk, and Simon agreed with not a little worry. Jim and I were still partners, though. I knew that Jim still occasionally had problems with his senses, and despite how I felt about him now, I wouldn’t want him to get hurt because I had a grudge. Even so, Jim and I hardly spoke unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then it was stilted sentences.

A few weeks after I moved out, I overheard that Jim was seeing a someone. The officer described her. It was the woman at the loft. Her name was Francesca. Well.

Things became even more tense after I heard that little piece of news. I avoided Jim like my life depended on it. If people were discussing anything Jim-related, I would leave the room, or I would tune them out to the best of my ability.

I wasn’t totally miserable, though. Deacon, a fellow anthropologist, opened his whole life up to me. We had a lot in common, not only because of our shared passion for our field of study, but we enjoyed a lot of the same things. Even things I thought that I didn’t like, Deacon taught me to look at in a different way. Things that held no appeal to me suddenly became fascinating, especially with Deacon at my side. I had become part of Deacon’s family, or at least that’s what his mother said. Being the only Caucasian man she had ever known personally, I think that I was a bit of a novelty to Deacon’s little sister, Tracey. She loved to do my hair, saying that it was softer than her dollies’. Deacon, who is from an African-American family, was a bit put off by his sister’s fascination with me, but I told him that it was fine. I didn’t mind it at all. I actually thought it was adorable.

About a month into staying at Deacon’s, I found a place to stay that was in my price range, and close enough to the school that it wouldn‘t be too much of a commute. I told Deacon and he asked me to stay. He said that I didn’t have to go. He liked me staying at his place. I didn’t really believe him, since our staying together hadn’t been smooth sailing so far, but I took him at his word. I agreed to stay for a little while longer.

It’s been six months.

I put down the book that I wasn’t reading and stood up, stretching. Deacon said that I looked like a cat when I stretched. A furry cat. The resulting mock-wresting match and laughing fit had us rolling on the floor for an hour. It was when I remember that Jim had once said something alone those lines that all the humor drained out of me. I hated those moments. Even when he were apart, Jim could still have control over my happiness.

I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. I settled on warming up one of Deacon’s mom’s muffins. They were delicious and really hit the spot on an empty stomach. I settled back on the couch and turned on the television. There wasn’t anything interesting on at this time of the day, but the people who direct infomercials must be trying a new tact because one actually held my attention for the whole thirty-minute slot. Five minutes into the next one, my attention was already waning. I heard a noise behind me.

Deacon shuffled in. He was wearing boxers and house slippers. I remember making fun of his slippers. He never once left his room without the things on. He told me that he wore slippers all the time because he grew up in a home with old wood floors. He learned that it wasn’t wise to walk around the house barefoot. The habit had stuck with him. He wore them even in his carpeted apartment.

“Blair, what‘re doing up?” He rubbed at the lines on his face. Must be from his pillow.

I shrugged. “Couldn‘t sleep.”

He plopped down on the loveseat and sprawled out. Well, as much as a man his size could. He was well over six feet tall, and he wasn’t a waif by any means. He was pretty well muscled. He would fit right in with the guys at the precinct. “You been thinking too hard again?”

I shrugged again. “Maybe. I couldn‘t get to sleep, and my brain isn‘t helping.”

He yawned. “Jim again?” He leaned over and picked up my plate, beginning to eat what was left of my muffin.

I wasn’t even put off at being so easy to read. Or had I just become that predictable? “Yeah, but it‘s more than that. I was thinking about everything that‘s happened in the last six months.”

Deacon sucked on his thumb to get at the last of the muffin that stuck there. I felt my mouth open, and my tongue working. That was odd. I shut my mouth.

He put the plate down. “Do things look any different now than they did six months ago?” He asked, looking at me.

I nodded. “To be honest, yeah. I don‘t even know how….” Didn’t I? “But things are…okay. No, better than that.”

Deacon smiled at me, his eyelids blinking slowly. I could tell that he was ready to go back to sleep, but he was trying to stay up for me. It was pretty endearing. I couldn’t help but smile at him.

“What?” He blinked.

My smiled widened just slightly. “Nothing. You‘re just a really good friend, Deac.”

Deacon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I take in feral cats all the time. The next tomcat in need that comes my way-- BAM! --You‘re outta here.” His smile bellied his declaration.

“Yeah, yeah. You love me, and you know it.”

“Do not.”

“Do so.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Not really.”

“Kinda.”

“Okay.” He rolled his eyes.

I smirked. “Told you so.” I picked up the plate and went into the kitchen. As I passed, I briefly ran my hand over Deacon’s scalp. He wore his hair too short for me to really run my fingers through, but the combination of smooth skin and soft bristles left my hand tingling in a pleasant way. When I returned, I sat back on the couch. I turned to Deacon to tell him that he should go back to bed and get some sleep, but he was already dead to the world. I chuckled softly and went to get his blanket from off of his bed. I laid it over him and settled down to watch television until it was time for me to get ready for work.

When I arrived for work, I noticed that Jim wasn’t there. He was always at his desk before I arrived; there, trying to act like my ignoring him didn‘t bother him when it was obvious to everyone that it did. I pushed the worry out of my mind and concentrated on my work. That worked for a few hours. I finally broke down and asked Simon if he knew where Jim was.

“Jim‘s…Jim’s out with Francesca.” Simon looked uncomfortable. I knew that he felt odd being in the middle of this thing with Jim and I, but he’d gotten over it somewhat. What was different, now?

“Is there something you‘re not telling me, Simon?” I’d long gotten used to being required, really required to call him ‘Sir,’ but I slipped back to being more familiar than was appropriate sometimes. Like now.

Simon sighed, chewing on his cigar. “Sandburg, this is not really the place to be discussing this.” When he saw that I was about to interrupt him, he hurried and continued. “And it‘s not my place to discuss things that are going on in Jim‘s personal life.”

I crossed my arms. “Oh, yeah. I forgot that I‘m no longer qualified for that distinction. How silly of me.”

“Blair, don‘t take it harder than how it was meant. You know that I can‘t discuss Jim with you any more than I would discuss you with him.”

Damn. I knew that he was right. “I know. I‘m sorry I’m acting like this. I was just worried.”

Simon nodded. “It‘s fine. There‘s nothing to be worried about.”

I put my hands in my pockets and nodded.

“Get back to work, Sandburg.”

That night, I invited Deacon out to dinner at a fancy restaurant that I knew he would like. At seven, he arrived dressed to the nines. It didn’t escape my notice that my friend was gorgeous, but knowing that he was dressed up for a dinner with me, no matter how innocent, made my heart flutter in a way that I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was then that I realized that I had fallen in love with Deacon somewhere in these past six months. This isn’t good. I valued our friendship too much to dilute it with my lust and feelings that he didn’t return.

Deacon noticed my discomfort immediately. “What‘s wrong?”

“N-nothing.” Crap. Sound more not convincing, will you, Blair? “Have a seat.”

He raised an eyebrow, but sat anyway. We both picked up our menus. He laughed. “What?” I asked.

He looked at me over his menu. “This must be a really snazzy place. I can‘t pronounce half the things on this menu; the other half, I can‘t understand. My mother told me that I should have learned a language that is still in use today. Who knew that French would be my downfall?”

I smiled. “We‘ll survive. I know enough French for the both of us. We‘ll make it through this ordeal of dinner in one piece, Deac.” Deacon laughed again, and I felt like I had accomplished something big. Oh, I have it bad.

I ordered for the both of us, and we both enjoyed fine French delicacies. We weren’t served enough food to fill our bellies to capacity, but the quality of the food more than made up for the quantity.

I was just about to sigh the check when a couple was being led past our table to their seats. The woman’s large, pregnant belly caught my attention. I looked up and felt like reality shattered. The woman was Francesca, and standing next to her was Jim who looked just as shocked as I felt.

To my surprise, it was Deacon who broke the silence.

He stood and extended a hand to Jim. “Hi. It‘s been a long time since I‘ve seen you. I‘m Deacon in case you forgot.”

Jim jolted and tore his gaze away from mine. He took Deacon’s hand. “Yeah, it‘s been a while. I remember you. You were one of B-Blair‘s friends, right?” He stumbled over my name like it was a word he hadn’t said in a long time and had forgotten how to pronounce. My heart constricted.

“That‘s right.” Deacon turned to Francesca. “And who is this lovely lady you‘re with?”

“I‘m sorry. Where are my manners?” He put his arm around the blond woman and pulled her forward. Shit, she really was a beautiful woman. The kind of woman that would have been out of my league when I still dated women, but perfect…for Jim. “Deacon, this is Francesca, my fiancé.” I must have made a noise because three heads turned in my direction. I clenched my jaw to stop myself from…what? Exploding? Imploding? Causing a scene? I think that the first two would have caused a pretty good scene, but there’s other ways to cause a scene: Like jumping from a fancy French restaurant window and running, screaming into the night.

When their attention was drawn away from me, Jim’s jaw looked pretty tight. He introduced his, I can say it, fiancé, to Deacon before turning to me.

My hand shot out, almost of its own accord. For a second, I thought that I was going to punch Jim, but my hand opened and veered to the left. “I‘m Blair, but you already know that. We saw each other at the loft, and you were…in a very compromising position.” It was a childish, but I was entitled to some pettiness, damn it.

She had the grace to blush. She took my hand. Or, she stuck her stiff, sweaty little hand next to mine and I clasped hers. She quickly withdrew it. She didn’t speak. I smiled.

“Well, we were just heading out. I hope you both have a nice dinner.” Jim looked like he wanted to say something more, but I turned and scribbled something resembling my signature on the check and got out of the restaurant as fast as I could. I was nearly to the car when I was grabbed by the arm and turned around. It was Deacon.

“Blair, you--”

I held up my hand. “Save it! Let‘s just go home. Please.”

Deacon sighed, releasing my arm. He walked past me to his car. His slamming door sounded like a gunshot.

On the drive home, not one thought of the previous events passed through my mind.

When I arrived home, Deacon wasn’t in the living room. The place was pitch black. I turned on the hallway light, and then found myself standing in from of Deacon’s door. I knocked.

“What?” Man, Deacon sounded like he didn’t want any company. Maybe I should just….No. I wasn’t going to be a coward.

“Can I come in?”

“Whatever.”

I opened the door. A soft light was cast on the room from the lamp by Deacon’s bed. Deacon was sitting against the headboard of his bed, still dressed in his clothes with his dress shoes kicked underneath the bed. One socked foot was on the bed, while the other was on the floor. Even upset, the man is still beautiful. Probably even more so. I don’t think he would appreciate any of the thoughts I’m having right now.

I sat at the end of the bed and poked at Deacon’s foot. Not a toe moved.

“You were an ass, Blair.”

I closed my eyes for a moment before opening them again. “I know.” I glared at his foot like it held all the secrets of the universe.

“You left me floundering in that restaurant with your cheating ex and his fi--”

“Pregnant fiancé!” I looked up at Deacon, not caring that I could feel tears forming in my eyes. Not caring that they might eventually fall. “They‘re going to have a baby, Deac! They looked so happy together. Until they saw me, of course!” Shit, there they go. I leaned over and rested my head against his knee. I was really trying to hold it together.

“Oh, Blair,” Deacon said softly. He reached over and caressed my head, running his fingers through my hair. That made it a little harder. Jim used to do this, caressing my head, after we’d make love.

Deacon took my face in his hands. He made me look into his eyes. “Blair, you do not judge your happiness by the opposite of his. Jim may look happy, he may even be happy, but you can be happy, too. You have everything else in your life: Your job, your friends, me. You don‘t need Jim. Really, you don‘t.” He leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips. When Deacon pulled back, he looked shocked at himself.

“I‘m sorry, Blair. I‘m not trying to take advantage of you. I just…shit!” He let go of me and got off the bed to pace.

I stood up and stopped him in his tracks by bringing his head down and pressing my lips to his. After a tense moment, his arms went around my waist, pressing me even closer to him. I opened my mouth under his and his tongue began to do wonderful things in my mouth. I tried to return the favor. I think I succeeded judging by the moans coming from Deac, or maybe it the way I was rubbing up against the taller man. I could be mistaking my own moans for his. His thigh had wormed it’s way between my legs.

“Blair,” he moaned when we paused to breathe in between kisses.

I kissed him again. “Yeah?”

“I think we might….” He hissed as I brushed up against that lovely bulge framed nicely by his trousers. “Are we…going to…?”

I kissed him again, this time, to put my answer into his very being. “Oh, yeah.” I bit at his lips.

“Before….Blair, I want you to know that I love you,” Deacon said. He looked into my eyes in that intense way that he has.

“I love you, too.” I grabbed his hands and pulled him over to the bed.

That night, I made love for the first time in over half a year with someone I love.

The morning after was much different than the night before in that when we made love for the second time, there were familiar parts of our bodies, aspects of ourselves that were one unknown and now familiar. We rocked slowly to a tumbling orgasm. I was too sore from the night before to do anything more vigorous, but I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

After a quick shower, Deacon and I parted ways. Deacon had morning classes, and I had to get to work.

I admit that I probably had a new spring in my step, but the number of heads that turned when I walked into the bullpen was kind of ridiculous. When I sat at my desk and took a look around, most people turned back to their work. One person who didn’t was Jim.

Even Jim couldn’t knock me off my high right now. I got out my stack of paperwork and began to diligently work through them. It’s surprising, the amount of paperwork that I have even when I’m not a cop. Simon had barely been permitted to create a new position for me, so that I could accompany Jim as his partner. I wasn’t required to carry a gun most times, only in certain instances.

Only moments after I started working, a shadow fell over my desk. I knew it was Jim before I even looked up. “Hello, Jim.”

“Blair, can I talk to you?” That was the Jim I knew. Straight to the point, no time for pleasantries. Those were saved for when we were in bed. Not the thing to be thinking about right now, sleeping with Jim. I pushed that thought out of my head and stood.

“Yeah, sure, man. Where?” I asked.

“Can we take a walk?”

“Sure, if we can O.K. it with Simon,” I said.

“He‘s already O.K.-ed it.”

I frowned. “How were you so sure that I would talk to you? I could have easily said no.” And told you to go screw yourself.

“But you didn‘t.” Sure bastard.

I followed him as he walked a determined path away from the precinct. It took me about half of the trip to realize that we were headed to a café that we used to frequent back when we were a couple. I wanted to suggest going to another place, but I felt that would have been more telling that I wasn’t over Jim if I couldn’t even stand to visit the places we used to enjoy each others’ company.

We got a table and Jim ordered for me before either of realized what he was doing. He paused and looked at me. “If that‘s okay with you, Blair.”

It almost wasn’t. “Yeah, that‘s fine.” We waited in silence until our coffees and my pastry arrived. I took a sip of my coffee. It tasted different from what I remembered it tasted like. It showed on my face.

“Is something wrong?” Jim asked.

I shrugged. “No. My coffee just tastes different.” I looked down into the mug.

“It‘s made exactly the same way. Same spices, same amount of coffee.”

“I guess that my tastes have just changed.” Jim was quiet for a long time. When I looked up, Jim was looking over my shoulder. At what, I don’t know. “Jim, can you just talk to me? That is the reason that you brought me here, right?”

Jim took a sip of his coffee before looking at me. “Are you happy with him?”

“Excuse me?”

“Deacon. I can smell him all over you. You‘re obviously sleeping with him,” Jim said.

“That‘s none of your business, Jim.”

“I know. I‘m sorry. I just…I noticed, that‘s all.”

“Why did you ask me here?” If Jim is going to just sit there and state the obvious, then I am going to walk out of here right now.

Jim pushed his cup aside and placed his folded hands on the table. “I wanted to apologize for what happened the other night. That isn‘t how I wanted you to find out.”

I felt myself getting angry. “Your fiancé looked about ready to drop, Jim. When were you going to tell me, when your kid graduates high school?”

“No,” Jim shook his head, looking sad. “I just didn’t know how to break the news to you. I broke your heart; I cheated on you. How could I tell you that the woman I cheated on you with was now pregnant and we‘re getting married?”

I leaned back from the table. “Don‘t give me that, Jim. You could have found a way if it was important enough to tell me. If I was important enough to tell.”

Someone dropped several pans in the back room of the café and it was a horrid sound for someone with normal hearing. Jim jerked in his seat and looked a little pale. I leaned forward and placed a hand on top of his. “Are you okay? Are your senses acting up?” I whispered, conscious of where we were.

Jim nodded. A little color returned to his face. “Yeah, I‘m fine.” He turned his hands over and held my hand in both of his. “You are important enough to tell. Don‘t ever doubt that you are important enough for anything.”

I pulled my hand from his. “I don‘t. I meant important enough to you, not that it matters anymore what you think of me.”

“I don‘t want it to be like this between us Blair,” Jim said, looking slightly defeated. I almost feel sorry for him.

Almost. “You don‘t get to choose how it is between us. You lost that right when you slept with that woman.”

Jim closed his hands into fits, but I knew that he wasn’t angry. He did this when he was going through something emotionally. He always showed emotion better physically instead of with words. That was one reason why the sex was so good. A lot of the time, he was trying to hash things out with his body.. “I know. If I could take it back, do things differently--”

“Do you love her?” I asked, cutting him off.

“Love…Francesca?” It dawned on him.

“Who else?”

He paused. “Yes, I do.”

I crossed my right arm over my chest and grasped my shoulder. I don’t know if it was a subconscious gesture of self-protection. “Then you wouldn‘t change anything.” I stood up and threw a few bills on the table. It was more than my share. “I’ll see you around, Jim.”

And we did. More than the just because our jobs demanded it, but on a social level. Jim offered to take me out to coffee again. He said it was because I paid for both of our coffees, so he owed me one. We both knew that it was more than that. He was trying to drudge up and salvage what was left of our friendship. I refused his offer several times until I felt like I could accept what he was really offering.

Our friendship did mend somewhat over the next month. Deacon and Jim managed to get past the posturing stage, somehow, and became friends as well. They probably wouldn’t admit it, but they had a lot of things in common. I don’t know how I could have handled this whole thing without Deacon. He is my rock. My best friend. My lover. My everything. His family has become a part of my life as well. Tracey spends nearly as much time at our place than she does at home. She did grow out of thinking my hair was the best thing since sliced bread. I feel better knowing that she loves me for me, and not my hair.

Jim’s fiancé had their child. Jim was on cloud nine for a long time after he made the announcement that it was a boy.

His joy was suddenly gone one day. I tried to get him to open up and tell me what was bothering him, but he would clam up every time I asked. One day, Jim showed up at Deacon’s apartment, drunk to the gills. It was Deacon who opened the door. He put Jim in the extra bedroom, that was once my room. Deacon and I now share his room.

I didn’t know that Jim was there until the morning. Jim woke up with a monster hangover and a lot to get off his chest.

Apparently, Francesca had slept with someone else while she was seeing Jim, who had still been seeing me at the time. Not only that, but the boy she had was not Jim’s. Jim had gotten suspicious when he heard Francesca talking on her cell phone as she sat in her car downstairs from the loft. She was arguing with a man who demanded to see their child. Jim confronted her, and she confessed to having slept with another man whom she still saw off and on. There was a possibility that the son she bore was not Jim’s. Jim demanded a paternity test. He finally got the courage to read the results the night before. He was devastated. He’d gone to several bars to drown his sorrows. He’d lost his keys to the second bartender, and had walked to the other two bars he visited that night. Instead of going home, he had gone to the only place that managed to surface in his liquor-coated mind. Our place.

Jim lazed in the living room while I made a meal that wouldn’t upset his stomach. It was a Saturday. And neither I nor Jim had to work, but Deacon had a morning class. He was in the shower.

“I‘m leaving her.”

At first, I didn’t understand what he meant. I slowly put the pan on a cold section of the stove. “I won‘t do it.” I said quietly.

Jim looked at me. “Do what?”

I turned off the range. “I won‘t be that person that tells you whether you should stay, or whether you should go. That‘s the person you want me to be, right?”

Jim opened his mouth to deny it, but he closed it quickly. “I‘m sorry. I didn‘t even realize that‘s what I was doing.” He frowned.

I wiped my hands on a towel. The food could wait a while. I came and sat next to him on the sofa. “It’s okay.” We watched television for a few minutes before I got up and turned it off. I stood in front of Jim. He looked like a defeated man. “I shouldn‘t be the one you ask, Jim. I would be too biased.”

“You, Blair? Biased? I doubt it.” It’s sweet that he thinks that.

“Oh, but I definitely would be. I may have come to realize that our friendship was more valuable than any satisfaction that I would get from trying to make you pay for cheating on me---” Jim paled. Hit a little close to home, didn’t I, Big Guy? “--But it doesn‘t erase the fact that I‘ve still got issues with you and your betrayal that I haven‘t worked through. I probably would have never had been able to be in the same room with Francesca without becoming extremely angry.” Looks like I might never have to be. “I‘m not as strong, nor as fair as you think I am, Jim.”

Jim looked like he wanted to cry. I was kind of taken aback. This big strong man was getting emotional over something that I said?

He smiled a watery smile. “I think you‘re stronger than even you think. I‘m just hoping that one day, you‘ll be strong enough to forgive me.”

I stepped closer and placed my hands on his knees. I smiled. “I already have.” I truly did because now he knows what it feels like at both ends.

THE END

Monday, April 7, 2008: 2-o’clock-ish(AM)-- Tuesday, April 8, 2008: 10:46 (AM)

7 ½ hours.

Music: Fiona Apple- “Tidal”