Over the course of the 3 weeks, there were only 3 people who saw me on a regular basis. Monique was the first, the secretary at my new publisher's office, as I returned several times to hand over contractual paperwork only to be given more to sign. The delivery boy from the Thai restaurant that I ate most of my meals from was the second.

The last was Geoff. He was not the happiest of campers when I told him that I needed to focus on my work more, but he shrugged his shoulders and agreed to the arrangement. He would come to see me when I called, getting in his time with me and fulfilling my need to be sexually desired. Every 3 to 4 days I would place a late night call, he would rush over, and we'd wrap our limbs around each other. After a couple hours, he'd get dressed and head back home.

It was on the second week of this that he looked over at me, his face solemn. He had paused in the middle of putting on his shoes, so his left sneaker twirled around in his hand before he took firm hold of it and addressed me.

"How much longer is this going to go on?" he asked. His eyes betrayed no emotion.

"The.... 'situation'?" I responded. We'd taken to referring to where we were as a situation instead of a relationship.

"The writing. The avoidance of the outside world. When are we going to be able to do something other than stay indoors and fuck?" He squeezed his eyes shut and violently shook his head. "I can't believe I just said that."

"So, did you really want me to answer the question then?"

"Actually, yeah. I do."

I sighed. "I'm close to being finished with the book. I'm not entirely sure if there's all that much more that I can add to it. But there will be revisions. I'll need to proof it..."

"There are editors for that," he interjected. "When are we going to be able to have something other than this? I love the fucking, don't get me wrong. But I miss you, Chloe. It feels like I'm with a shell of you. You're here, but you've tucked all other remnants of yourself away in storage. I guess what I'm asking is when that part of you will be able to come out and play again."

His eyes searched my face. I wondered if he could see the guilt wash over me. "I don't know," was the only thing I could manage to say back to him.

He started to put on his other shoe. "Alright. I suppose I'll just wait around for the next call. And when I get it, I'll come running again, so don't you worry about that."

There was a bitterness in his voice. I heard and registered it at that point but decided to file it away and dismiss it in the moment. As I wound down the last few chapters in the final week of my fervent writing, I thought about what Geoff had said again. I had managed to reduce him to little more than a human dildo, a prop that I employed only when the desire so arose in me. I felt guilty, but wasn't sure how to approach the situation.

When I'd finished my first draft of the book, I printed out 2 copies and carefully placed one of the copies in a large envelope, then took it down to the Webber & Nelson offices. Monique took it from me with a small smile. "You were rather quick with this," she commented. "You must really have something to say."

I smiled weakly back at her and simply nodded my agreement. I rode back down the elevator in silence. When I got to my car, I decided to drive to the beach. I wandered around on the sands, my sandals in one hand. The water gently lapped at the shore. It was a Thursday in June, and I had expected to see more bodies littering the beach, but there were only a handful of others besides myself and most were playing with their dogs.

I stopped walking just long enough to reach down and pick up a sliver of blue glass. A long time back I had been in a college course, listening to my classmates as they filed up to the front of the room and introduced themselves. The class was Debate, but on the first day the teacher only wanted to get an assessment of how well we could speak in front of a crowd.

The girl who went up to the podium after me was a tall figure. Her tiny and high pitch voice did not seem at place in her body, large limbs weighing heavily at her sides. She stuttered and fumbled for words, trying to form sentences and producing a smattering of "Um"s and "Uh"s. The teacher had finally asked her to just talk about one thing that she really loved.

"I collect angel tears," she said clearly. Her head lifted and her eyes searched for a focal point. I don't know if it was because I was the last person to speak, but her dull brown eyes came to a rest on my face, and a timid smile quivered on her lips. I had smiled back in reassurance.

"Angel tears are those little pieces of glass that you find at the beach. They can be clear, green, amber colored, or - most rarely - blue. My mom always used to tease me about it, telling me that they weren't special because all they represented was some slob who was too lazy to throw their garbage away in the trash and instead littered. She told me they were little bits of a reminder that humans are so wasteful.

"But I always saw them as a sign of hope. Glass is sharp and can hurt people when it's first broken. It might still be shiny and new, but there is an element to it which is resistant to being appreciated because there is a fear over the possible pain. But when it is taken to the ocean, this vast element that tosses and churns the glass around, it changes. It becomes softer and more refined around the edges. It no longer can cut anyone and I think it has learned that it no longer needs to in order to be appreciated."

She had paused and smiled widely then. The sigh of relief inside of her beamed through. "I collect the pieces because they are representative of transition. That after we get kicked around by life, we've softened and dulled around the edges, but our beauty still remains. We are now in a form in which people can appreciate us more, put us in their pockets and want to keep us around. That's just how I see it, anyway."

The teacher had chastised her for the last line, warning her that admitting she was only voicing her opinion would negate her arguments when in a debate. She'd hung her head and nodded softly, then trudged back to her desk. There was never another time over the course of the semester when her face regained the light that was in it while talking about her angel tears.

I looked down at the weathered piece of blue glass sitting in my palm. It was no bigger than the size of a quarter, but possessed a weight in my hand. I ran my thumb over its surface and felt the smooth nature of it. Finally, I pinched it in my fingers and held it up to the sun. The light bounced through it, casting down shimmering blue sparkles on my upturned face.

I smiled and pocketed the glass, then headed back up the dunes and to my car.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm done." The first person I called was Steph. A miniature squeal of glee greeted me. "I turned it in at the office today. I'm ready to see everyone and apologize for how I've avoided them all."

"Oh, they don't give a shit. They know that what you were doing was important," Steph assured me. "So, you want me to throw something together for tomorrow? When everyone can come?"

"Yeah, I would love that," I said. "And Steph?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

There was a moment of silence. "Chloe, if you don't know that I love you too by now... I'm going to kick the fucking shit out of you when you come to the house tomorrow."

I chuckled softly and then hung up with her. The next person I called was Geoff. I'd last seen him on Sunday, when he'd come over in the afternoon and we'd fucked near wordlessly for two hours. He'd only asked me how soon I was going to be finished and I'd told him that it wouldn't be long. He'd left shortly after that.

"I'm done," I said after his assistant transferred the call to his desk. "I turned in the manuscript this morning."

"Hmmm," was the only response that I got.

"I'll let you go if you're busy."

"I suppose you wanted me to come over tonight?"

"That's not why I was calling. You had wanted to know when I was going to be done and I was letting you know that I was."

"But you must also want me to come over then, right?" His voice was cold and flat.

"No," I answered, feeling the word like acid on my tongue. "I don't."

"Alright then," he responded. "Good job finishing up your book." With that, he hung up and I was left with a dial tone in my ear.

I fished out the blue piece of glass that was still in my pocket. My fingers twisted it around. The motion helped my heart to stop racing. I started to thing that I might have underestimated the depth of Geoff's frustration and anger with me. I tired to determine how exactly I felt about that. I stood and fingered the glass for the next 20 minutes, quietly thinking.

After that time elapsed, I went and curled up on my bed and slept. My dreams were pale and empty.

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"So, the next time we have one of these, you're going to be footing the bill, right?" Casey's voice boomed over the room and the occupants laughed loudly.

"Here's to hoping," I smiled. Nelson had managed to acquire all of my online articles for a reasonable price, and I'd gotten a call that morning informing me that they were going to publish them as a collection. He suggested I bring in a lawyer on Monday so that we could iron out the finer details of how I would be paid. He also informed me that he was personally 3/4 of the way through my book and would have a verdict on that at the same time.

Everyone had shown up to the house, rare for a Friday, and there were hugs and kind words all around. Sean withdrew from me a bit, rolling his eyes and simply saying, "Well, you deserved it," as his way of congratulating me.

Geoff had opted to not show up. I'd called his office in the morning and let him know that there was a celebration planned, but was rebuffed. "Spend time with your friends. They've seen you even less than I have recently."

There was a bitterness still clinging to his voice. As much as I wanted to dismiss it and assign him the "Well, fuck you then," sentimentality, I couldn't. I'd made the decision that I wanted to be with Geoff, and this was just something that I needed to figure out rather than immediately dismiss.

"I hear Geoff still got to see you," Steph purred in my ear at that exact moment. She pulled me outside and down to the circle of chairs where Lilly and Malory were already gathered. I fell back into a chair and took a cigarette that was being offered to me.

"That's true," I admitted.

"So, how is that going?" Malory asked.

"Not great. He's pissed at me right now. That's why he's not here."

"What is he pissed about?" Lilly was yawning as she spoke. I knew how hard she worked on Fridays and was surprised she'd made it tonight. I reached over and squeezed her free hand. She smiled at me.

"It might have something to do with the fact that I only wanted to fuck when I invited him over," I replied.

"That would do it," Malory said with a smile.

"Don't you find that funny, though?" Lilly commented. "If you're in a relationship and you want to do couple things, all they want to know is how soon it will be over so that you can go back to your place and start with the fucking. But if we're the ones to decide it's all about the fucking, suddenly they develop a Southern Belle mentality and feel hurt that they're just being used for their bodies."

Lilly had a point. If Geoff had been the one to suggest our arrangement, I was fairly certain that he wouldn't be so pouty about it. "OK, I'll go along with that. But in all fairness, when that type of proposition is offered to us, the whole 'Hey, this is just about the snoo-snoo,' then we feel like we're being slighted. Right?"

"Unless that's what both of you want, then any agreement like that is going to be thought of badly by one of the parties involved. Someone is going to feel like they're getting cheated." Steph cocked a half smile. "But when both are down for it..." her voice trailed off knowingly. We all smiled. We'd all been in a situation like that at one point.

"I thought you decided that you really wanted to be with Geoff though, Chloe," Malory said. At that moment, Sean came over to sit down, along with Kelly.

"More Geoff talk?" Sean asked. "Gee, I'm so surprised."

"Whatever, Sean. I am STILL out of the loop. Fill a girl in," Kelly added, then snagged a cigarette from Malory.

"I had decided that. But when everything broke in my head..."

"That was one for the wacko book," Sean interrupted. I shot him a glare, then continued.

"Anyhow. I started to wonder if I picked him for what he represented and not for him as a person. That he was just the right choice. People shouldn't be about choices. You should either want or not want them."

"So, do you want him?" Steph asked.

"I'm still deciding that. I need to see him again, somewhere other than my apartment, and talk with him about it."

"We're not at your apartment right now."

The voice came from behind me. Geoff stood expressionless behind me, a beer in his hand. Everyone sitting in the circle jumped about a foot when they saw that he was standing there. I started to rise.

"If you want to finish discussing everything..." Geoff waved a hand at me. "By all means, sit down and figure it out before you come and find me."

I could see Steph's eyes glow in the muted light. I patted her on the arm to hold her at bay.

"Let's go talk then," I said, coming around the chair and taking Geoff by the hand. I pulled him in the direction of the side of the house. They still hadn't fixed the light. We were bathed in darkness and the memories of the first night between us came flooding back to me.

"What do you want out of me?" I asked him.

He was quiet, sipping at his beer and leaning against the house. Our positions had been flipped. I was now the standing aggressor and he was the hesitant participant, body reclined against the wall. I looked down to see if he was toeing the ground as well. He wasn't.

"I want what I can't have anymore," he finally responded. "I want back the connection that we had in the beginning. When you hated me and couldn't wait to get away from me. When it felt like I was talking you into something that you didn't want to do. In the beginning, I wanted you to be with me. I wanted what essentially I have now. You at my disposal. But it doesn't feel the way that I thought it would. It feels like I'm with someone who's relented. I don't want to be with you if you've given up the fight."

I let his words sink into me. Everything he said was dead-on. I'd changed his role in my life and he was now fixed into something less desirable. It never occurred to me why Geoff and I would be attracted to each other in the first place, but at that moment, it made sense. We were both the type of people who craved what they couldn't have and ran fearfully away when they got it. In many ways we were perfect for no one other than each other, but what looked perfect on the surface sank like a stone in the pit of our guts.

"I don't like the idea that it has to end," I finally spoke. "But..."

"There's no other conceivable way to do this," he filled in. "One or both of us is going to be unhappy with the situation at all times. If there's one thing that I think we can safely say about the both of us, it's that we're not complacent people."

"I won't disagree with you there." I reached a hand out and touched the side of his face. His hand closed on my wrist and brought it down, then pulled me close. Our kiss was almost as passionate as the first one, held in that same spot 3 months prior, but it tasted bittersweet.

When he drew back, his eyes were wet. "I loved you, Chloe. There's a part of me that quite possibly will love you forever. What we had, it's not something that can be matched. But it's also too special to fuck up by only half-assing this. I don't want to mar the memory."

"I don't either," I choked. I was close to crying myself, but bit hard on the inside of my cheek, bringing blood, attempting to use the physical pain to diffuse the emotional pain.

"So, goodbye, then." He let me go and stood up straight. Taking one last sip of his beer, he handed me that half drank bottle and made his way to the front of the house. I stood and watched him walk until I could no longer see him.

I drank the remainder of the beer and then hugged the empty bottle to my chest and began to sob.