Nine-tenths of the Law

by L. A. Witt

  “I-” He stopped, his breath catching.

  “Did you think I was lying to you?” I asked, not sure if I was more hurt or angry.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, you weren’t answering your phone, you-”

  “I was working.”

  He glared at me. “That’s never stopped you from picking up before.”

  “I called to tell you I’d be working late, didn’t I?”

  “Funny,” he said. “Jake always did, too.”

  My blood turned to ice. “So you did come down to see if I was lying.” It wasn’t a question.

  “What did you expect me to do?”

  “Oh, gee, let me think about this,” I snapped. “I don’t know, maybe…trust me? For once?”

  “So I’m supposed to just ignore the things that seem suspiciously similar to things he did?”

  “Are you accusing me of being like him?” My temper boiled just beneath the surface and it took everything I had to keep it in check. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, Nathan, but he didn’t just cheat on you, he cheated with you.”

  “So since you’ve been through it, too, you of all people have got to understand why I’m so fucking paranoid about it.”

  “Nathan, I wouldn’t cheat on you,” I said, my voice wavering. “And I wouldn’t lie to you. We’ve been through this. I have a business to run. Long hours happen, no matter how much of a cheating bastard our ex was.” I shrugged apologetically. “It can’t be helped.”

  He was silent, looking at me but not speaking. I wasn’t sure if he was contemplating his next move or waiting for me to continue.

  I searched his eyes for…something. Anything. Just as I did every fucking time we argued, when I’d defended myself and done everything I could to convince him that he could trust me. And yet wasn’t I the one who’d had reason to call his trust into question tonight?

  But there I was, defending myself. Again. As always.

  Even after I thought we’d come a long, long way the other night. I thought things had changed. But still he didn’t trust me, and once again I’d gone from the accuser to the accused.

  I let out a breath and dropped my gaze, grinding my teeth as anger swelled in my chest. I’d been patient. I’d bent over backward to prove to him that I was trustworthy, even though I’d never given him a reason to doubt me in the first place.

  But now I was tired.

  Tired of fighting.

  Tired of being on trial.

  In fact, I was exhausted, and in that moment, I realized that this wasn’t how a relationship should be. I loved him more than I could even tell him, but I couldn’t make him trust me, and after trying to do just that for all this time, I was fucking exhausted.

  I shook my head. “I can’t do this.”

  Nathan blinked. “What?”

  “This.”

  “This? What do you mean?”

  I gestured at him, then myself. “All of it. Us. This fighting, this-” I shrugged, shaking my head again. “I’ve done everything I can, but you refuse to trust me. I don’t know what you want from me, Nathan.”

  Something straightened his posture, his shoulders tensing and eyebrows lifting as if in alarm. “Zach, what are-”

  “You don’t trust me,” I said. “And I can’t make you.”

  “You know I-”

  I put a hand up. “We’ve been through this. We’ve been through this too many goddamned times.” I let out a long breath. “I’ve apologized for what happened with Jake even though I was as much a victim as you. I can’t make you trust me, but I can’t stay in this relationship if it’s nothing more than one long apology for a crime I didn’t commit.”

  “That isn’t true. It’s not, you’re not.” He paused, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “It’s not like that.”

  “Then what is it like?” I shifted my weight. “You waited outside the theatre tonight. Why? Because you wanted to see me, or because you wanted to see who I was with? See if I was even there?”

  He dropped his gaze, swallowing hard. For a long moment, he was silent, chewing his lip. A lump rose in my throat even as anger swelled in my chest. I wanted this to work, but I couldn’t keep giving, giving, giving, if he wouldn’t take it from me, and I hated him then for not taking it.

  As much as it hurt, I had to walk away from this. I’d given him everything I had, and there was nothing left for me.

  I picked up my jacket. “I’m sorry, I-” I stopped myself. “I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for this time.”

  “Zach, wait.” He touched my arm. Didn’t grab it, didn’t try to hold on to me, just touched me. Trying to bridge a divide that wasn’t going to get any narrower.

  “I have waited.” The ice in my voice hid the ache in my throat. “And I’m done. If you don’t trust me, there’s no reason for me to stay.” I swallowed hard. “What was it you said the night we met? That possession is nine-tenths of the law?”

  “Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair and staring at the floor between us. “Yeah, I did. Why?”

  “I’ve given you that much. And more.” I willed my voice not to crack. In spite of the cold façade I showed him, this hurt more than anything had ever hurt before. “But you won’t give anything in return. If possession is nine-tenths of the law, then I have the same thing I had that night.” I shrugged enough to pull my arm away from his hand. “Nothing.”

  “That’s not true,” he said quickly. “You know it’s not true.”

  “No, I don’t know that.” I took a step back, separating us a little more. “I don’t know if you’re still angry because of what happened with Jake, or if you still want him or-”

  “I do not want him,” he said, his voice sharp.

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I want you.” The sharpness left his voice and he was closer to pleading now. “Don’t go.”

  “What reason do I have to stay?” I said. “Time and time again, we go through this same bullshit and I…” I shook my head again. “I just can’t. I don’t want to own you, but I need a bit more than a tenth.”

  “You have more than that,” he said quickly.

  “Do I?” I said through my teeth.

  He took a breath. Swallowed hard. “Please…”

  I shook my head and took another step. Now I was closer to the door than I was to him. I had to go. If I didn’t leave soon-now-he might convince me to stay. This had to end before I lost the will to end it.

  “Zach,” he said, his voice cracking with what I assumed to be desperation. “Please, stay. Let’s talk. Please…”

  “No.” I put my hand on the doorknob. Something in his eyes, in the sharp upward flick of his eyebrows, bade me to continue, but it was all I could say. Maybe it was cold and callous, but so be it. There was nothing more I could say without either hurting him more than I already had, or giving him more opportunity to beg me to stay. And stay I would if he pleaded enough, so the less that was said, the better.

  “Don’t go,” he said in a hoarse whisper. I wondered if his voice was as close to cracking as mine. “You’re the one I want, not him.”

  “You want me?” I didn’t want the anger to seep into my voice, but it was either that or let him know how close I was to tears. Anger won. “You say you want me, but I can’t figure out how else to show you that you have me. I give you every reason to believe you can trust me, and you don’t. I’ve given you every bit of myself, and the only things I’ve ever wanted in return are your trust and-” I stopped myself. If I went there, if I told him that all I wanted was his love, I’d fall apart.

  “Zach-”

  I put my hand up. “I’ve given you everything I can think to give, done everything I can think to do, and you won’t take it.” I swallowed hard, willing my composure not to fail me now. “I’m tired of holding on, so what else can I do but let go?” I opened the door, looked at him one last time and said the words I was tired of saying but seemed to be the only thing I could muster
just then:

  “I’m sorry, Nathan.”

  He started to speak, but the click of the closing door cut off the sound. My knees threatened to give out as I headed down the porch steps, and I murmured a prayer over the sound of my thundering heart that the door didn’t open again. I’d walked away from him. I didn’t know if I could do it again.

  The door didn’t open. I made it to my car, breathing a sigh of relief even as my throat ached with emotion.

  I turned on the car, backed out of the driveway, and it was over.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  At the theatre the next day, I barely spoke to anyone. Rarely left the office unless I absolutely had to. Didn’t bother making my usual rounds. Just generally didn’t give a shit. I couldn’t even muster the energy to put my feet up on my desk as I always did.

  Dylan gave up trying to shoot the breeze with me, and our employees avoided me like the plague. I hadn’t snapped at anyone, but they must have sensed the change in my demeanor. Even some of the less perceptive employees got the message quickly enough and got out of the office as fast as they could.

  I wasn’t usually one to let my personal life interfere with my professionalism, but everyone has their breaking point. Like anyone else, I had been known to buckle when the weight on my shoulders became too much.

  Ironically, I couldn’t really describe it as a weight on my shoulders. If anything, it was a weight off my shoulders, and that realization just made it hurt more. Knowing that I was better off without Nathan didn’t make it any easier to let him go.

  I loved him, but love doesn’t do anyone a damned bit of good without trust, so I had to take my leave. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. It was a relief.

  But damn if didn’t hurt like hell.

  The day crawled by, but was mercifully uneventful. Dylan took care of firing our resident thieves. He handled it partly because I’d fired the last person, and partly because he knew I simply lacked the energy to even engage an employee in a stern conversation, let alone terminate them.

  The cursed projector managed to keep the reels turning all day without a problem, and for that I was especially grateful. Not only did I doubt my ability to concentrate enough to fix it, but doing so meant going into that room. For the first time, I regretted fooling around with Nathan in there, and wondered how long it would be before I could go into the projector room and ignore his ghost.

  After the last showing cleared out and the theatre was cleaned and ready for the next day, everyone clocked out and left. I stayed behind, reconciling some ticket-sales figures in the box office. It could wait until tomorrow, but it gave me an excuse not to go back to my empty apartment just yet.

  Someone knocked on the glass, and I glared at them through the opaque shade.

  “What part of ‘closed’ don’t you people understand?” I muttered, keeping my voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry past the window. I shook my head and focused on the papers in front of me, ignoring a second and third knock on the glass. They’d get the message sooner or-

  Clip-clap.

  The metallic sound sent a shiver down my spine and my head snapped up. I stared at the drawn shade as if I expected to suddenly gain X-ray vision and see right through it. But I didn’t need to see through it.

  Like the match being struck on the stage at Epidaurus, the sound of that Zippo lighter took my breath away. Never had a sound so small echoed so loudly through my consciousness. In my mind’s eye, the flame flickered to life, and something deep inside me did the same.

  Clap.

  With my heart in my throat, I reached for the pull on the window shade. I opened the shade and couldn’t breathe when sight confirmed what all my other senses already knew.

  Nathan.

  His back was to me, but he must have heard the shade, because he turned around, the cigarette stopping just inches from his parted lips. Our eyes met through the glass and the silver glow of the streetlights. His Adam’s apple bobbed once, then he took a drag off the cigarette and watched me through the thin stream of smoke he exhaled.

  I pointed toward the door beside the box office and stood, giving him a give me a second gesture before I stepped out of his sight. As I shut the box office behind me, I leaned against it for a moment, eyeing the door I’d indicated to Nathan, trying to decide just why my heart pounded so fucking hard.

  Part of me wanted to be relieved and thrilled to see him.

  Part of me wanted to hate him for showing up after I’d left.

  I don’t want to see you again. Thank God you’re here.

  And why? Why was he here?

  “Only one way to find out,” I said aloud. Taking a deep breath, I went to the door and turned the lock.

  He dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and crushed it with the toe of his shoe, kicking it into the street before following me into the theatre. I locked the door and faced him. Standing just a few feet apart, we looked at each other in silence.

  Aside from the faint glow from the box office and the cool fluorescent lights behind the concession stand, the lobby was dark. The only sound was the buzz of the refrigerators behind the counter.

  The tiny lobby suddenly seemed huge, the empty space around us practically begging me to step away, to widen the narrow void between us. But I didn’t move.

  “Nathan,” I said, saying his name as if it somehow made this situation more unnervingly real than it already was. A faint echo carried my voice into the shadows and the room was again silent except for the buzzing refrigerators.

  He shifted his weight. “Got a few minutes?”

  Get the fuck out of here. I wet my lips. For you, I have all the time in the world. “Yeah. Yeah, I have a few.”

  “Listen, I-” He paused, shifting once more and taking a deep breath, furrowing his brow as if rethinking his approach at the last possible second. Then he released his breath and looked me in the eye. “I came to apologize.”

  Time seemed to stand still. Confusion made it almost impossible to breathe as I tried to gauge how I should react.

  I wanted to lash out. Oh, Nathan, we are long past anything an apology can repair. I wanted to reach out. You don’t have the faintest clue how much I love you, do you? I wanted him to get out. I’m better off without you, no matter how much it hurts.

  I kept my expression neutral, which didn’t take a lot of effort. My emotions contradicted each other so dramatically they cancelled each other out, leaving me feeling something close to nothing.

  Time rolled forward again as I finally managed to draw a breath. I cleared my throat. “Okay…”

  “You were right about why I was here last night,” he said.

  I tightened my jaw. “So you-”

  “Let me finish,” he said quietly. “You were right. You were absolutely right. I should have trusted you, and I didn’t. Not as much as I should have.” He swallowed hard. “Zach, I’m sorry. I never should have doubted you as much as I have. You’ve never given me any reason not to trust you.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a long breath in through his nose. “The truth is…” He paused, chewing his lip and staring at the floor between us.

  “What?”

  Squaring his shoulders, he looked me in the eye. “The truth is that I do trust you,” he said. “I trust you more than I have anyone else. Ever. I have from the beginning, and that scared me. I guess I was…” He paused, then sighed. “It scared me. It fucking scared me. So all this time, I guess I was trying to find a reason not to trust you like this.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.” The words came out sharper than I intended. Gentler this time, I said, “Nathan, why would you want to distrust me?”

  He held my gaze, though it seemed to take a great deal of effort. “Because it was safer that way.”

  “Safer? How-” I stopped when the penny dropped in my mind. I understood. If he didn’t trust me, then he’d be vindicated when I eventually betrayed him.

  What he didn’t give me, I couldn’t
break.

  I took a breath. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  He nodded, exhaling slowly and looking anywhere but directly at me. I was surprised he hadn’t needed another cigarette. At this rate, I was tempted to have one. Or maybe he did need one, but wanted to settle this before either of us left this room.

  Running a shaking hand through his hair, he said, “I know that, and I’ve known it all along.” When he looked at me this time, it was hard to tell in the low light of the lobby, but I was almost certain there were tears in his eyes. “I can’t even begin to apologize enough, and I don’t know how I can convince you that this is the God’s honest truth.”

  For a moment, he was silent, probably waiting to see if I’d respond. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how. At this point, I was lucky I still remembered how to breathe.

  After a long silence, he must have assumed I couldn’t-or wouldn’t-reply, and continued.

  “I’ve been holding back from the beginning,” he said. “You put more into this than I ever had any business asking for, even when you weren’t getting a damned thing in return. It shouldn’t have been like that.” He stepped toward me. “It shouldn’t be like that.”

  My heart pounded, blood thundering in my ears. He’d moved us into the present tense, brought us back out of the past and into the now. Of course I’d expected him to suggest getting back together, but now it was out there. Subtle or not, it was there. Spoken. Brought to life.

  He came a little closer. The distance between us shrank, pulling the air out of my lungs.

  “Zach, say something,” he whispered. “Give me-” He caught himself, cursing under his breath and looking away for a moment. When he met my eyes again, he said, “I don’t know what else to say.”

  And I didn’t know either. “Maybe,” I said quietly, “there’s nothing left to say.”

  His eyes widened and his lips parted. “Wait, please-” But he stopped when I took a step toward him.

  “Maybe,” I said. “We’ve said everything we need to say.” Slowly, cautiously, watching him as I did, I reached across the chasm between us and touched his hand.