One week later (2), first re-write

She stood and walked to the door, letting out a deep breath as she turned the dead bolt.

"Come in."

As he walked through the doorway, she went back and sat on her bed. She'd been there since returning home late that morning and planned on staying there.

Things looked familiar as he walked through the apartment. The bike hung on the wall across from the front door. The antique lamp was on, and still looked like it was going to fall over if you bumped it. There were two small white boxes on the coffee table that hadn’t been there before. Probably take out from China Grill down the street.

He paused as he stood in the doorway to her bedroom, waiting for her to acknowledge him, give him some direction.

She didn't look up. She was slouching with her back against the wall. Her eyes were gazing towards the television on top of her dresser, offering no sign that she noticed him.

Mark really didn't know what to say. The past week seemed like a blur. Bad decisions, arguments, tragedy, it all ran together. He knew that he wanted to be there at that very moment, but he didn't know what he was supposed to do next.

"Mark, I..." her voice trailed off. He moved to a small chair, inside the room, that was next to the closet. She glanced at him briefly, looked back at the television, and then at the wall on the other side of the room.

Mark sat down, kept quiet, and looked around the room a bit. It was dark. The glow of the television and a hint of light from the lamp in the living room were the only sources of illumination in the whole apartment.

He didn't really remember the pattern of the sheets, it's possible they were the same. The blinds were still drawn. One of the dresser drawers was sticking out, he’d caught it with his arm the last time he was here.

Actually, one thing was noticeably different. There were now little wadded up tissues all over the floor. A testament to hours worth of crying.

"I... it's nice of you to come. I'm not... really..." Shannon's voice sounded heavy. "I'm a mess."

Mark looked back at her and saw that she was finally looking at him. That was a relief, but he still wasn’t sure what to say. Looking back into her eyes, he felt that he had to say something.

"Well, I think you have good reason." He paused, he was trying very hard to avoid stepping on a land mine.

She was quiet and still looking at him. 'Damn, now I need to say something else,' he thought.

"I'm just here for you. I don't know what I can do to help, but let me know and I'll try." He was going for the truth, but it didn’t seem like he was offering her much.

She looked away and started sobbing. His stomach sank. 'Shit, I screwed that up,' he thought.

After a moment she stood up, and stepped over to him. He stood up and she buried her face into his chest. She seemed shorter than she really was, she looked crumpled, bent over by the emotional weight.

Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. He could feel her body shake as she cried. She wasn’t steady on her feet so he made sure to support her.

She sobbed loudly at first, but grew quiet quickly.

"I'm... I'm so sorry..." she tried to pull away.

He let her go, unsure of whether he should be doing something different. "I knew what I was signing up for when I called. I was expecting this."

Shannon sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at him with gratitude mixed into the sadness surrounding her eyes, and patted a spot next to her. Mark, grateful that he was finally getting some direction, sat down next to her.

She leaned into him, so he put an arm around her shoulders, and gave a gentle, steady squeeze.

"I really don't want to be alone tonight..." she paused, and then continued, somewhat forced, "I thought I did, but I don't. I would really like it if you would stay with me,” then she paused, “but just as moral support, you know?"

Mark nodded immediately. He had already worked through his various priorities. Right now she needed a friend, and that was what he was going to be tonight.

"Yes, I know. That's fine. You've been through so much, and...", it was Mark's turn to pause.

She pulled away just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes wide, with a look of genuine curiosity. No artifice or guile registered on her face. He felt reassured by her sincerity.

"It's just that I blame myself for part of it..."

"No.” She shook her head. Her voice was firm, but didn’t sound angry. “No. We're both grown ups. You didn't lie to me. You didn't trick me." Mark noticed that there was something child-like about the way she spoke, and the expression on her face. ‘She must be hurting terribly,’ he though to himself.

"Okay. You're right. I just... I probably have some feelings that make you out to be perfect, and place the blame on myself... whether that's realistic or not."

The faintest smile crossed her face, and he was sure that he saw her roll her eyes at him. A good sign. If she could laugh at him, she was probably going to be okay.

She leaned into him again, this time resting her head on his shoulder. He noted that she seemed to be sitting up a bit more.

"So you'll stay?"

"Of course."

"And you're okay with...us not doing anything..."

He wasn't here for that, the funeral had just been this morning for Christ's sake.

"Of course, Shannon, I'm here for you."

He couldn't see it this time, but that brought a brief smile to her face.

"Thank you."

Shannon reached back for the remote and hit mute. They sat on the edge of the bed for a while, in silence, her leaning into him.

"Would you be okay… would you be willing to hold me and see if I can go to sleep. I'm so tired."

Mark remembered holding her a week ago, as they drifted off to sleep. It was a very happy memory. That thought was interrupted by a flash of the consequences, but he pushed that aside.

Hiding his mixed feelings he said, "I'd be happy to. Get comfortable."

He only took off his shoes. He wanted her to feel secure.

Shannon laid down on her side and propped a pillow under her head. Her sweats were comfortable, and warm, so she didn’t even get under the covers. An image from the church that morning came to her when she closed her eyes, the caskets, but she tried to focus on Mark instead.

She knew that she wouldn’t have stopped him, if he had tried… but it wouldn’t have been right. She was still overwhelmed with grief. Not to mention she hadn’t given up hope of trying to work things out with Jana

It was even more soothing than she had hoped, having Mark spoon up behind her. Her body was full of tension from the emotions of the past several days, and it started easing almost immediately. She could feel his arm drape over her, protectively. She leaned back into his chest, and curled up, nestling into him.

After a while she no longer felt like crying. There would be more time for tears tomorrow, she was sure of that. She tried to avoid any thoughts of the funeral, of her parents. She especially avoided thinking of Jana.

She focused on Mark until her feelings slowed down and she felt calm. Then she imagined herself out on a country road, finding her rhythm, just her and her bike, and drifted off to sleep.