Sentences at Night

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to wash my face, get out of these clothes, and go to bed.”

“You’re not going to shower?”

“Christ.”

“I’d really prefer it if you washed off before getting into bed, you know that.”

“Is that the grandstanding issue for you, tonight? Really?”

“Oh, did you actually want to have a discussion? Because it looked to me like you were storming off—going to wash your face, strip off your clothes and what not.”

“...”

“I’m more than happy to communicate, if you’re up for that. That’s what I’ve been trying to do. All night, mind you.”

“Well, you’re bad at it. God awful. See, because you don’t even communicate, you just speak and expect me to see reason, like you’re convincing me why you’re right and I’m hysterical.” 

“Ah, so now we’re keeping tabs on who’s right.”

“No! There are no tabs, Clarence! It’s always you and your long winded, suffocating explanations.”

“I’m sorry, what the hell are we talking about right now? That you want to feel like you’re winning an equal amount of arguments? I can’t understand this fight that you’re picking with me.”

“Stop that. You always do that, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“What!” 

“You reduce everything I’m saying to its most simple parts so I sound stupid, or crazy, or like a child!”

“I’m not doing that, I’m just trying to understand.”

“My emotions are not primitive.”

“I'm not saying they are.”

“You make them sound that way!”

“Lord.”

“And that right there, that face. You’re so patronizing, I cannot for a second believe that you’re unaware of it.”

“Lauren, I very much don’t know what it is that you want from me.”

“I want to not feel like I’m always losing because you instinctively think you know better than I do! It’s like I’m not allowed to believe anything ever because it’s already wrong, you already have it figured out and are ready to explain all the ways I’m not seeing things clearly. I just…I just want you to see me as an equal.”

“But I do.”

“No, no, no you don’t. You think I’m a child.”

“Lauren-”

“You do! You may not describe it that way, you’d use words like ‘lively’ or ‘full of fervor’ or some other la-di-da shit, but what it boils down to is ‘childish.’

“No, absolutely not! You are a grown woman and I see you as such.”

“I’m still younger-” 

“Do not-”

“By a lot.”

“Dont, do not fucking turn this into that. It is not that, and you know I never wanted it to be that.”

“Calm down, I’m not calling the age gap heinous, I’m just saying it is an age gap.”

“I know it’s an age gap Lauren, I’ve known since day one and was very clear in addressing my concerns for it, concerns which you cleared up. Concerns you said were unfounded, and trivial, and of no importance.”

“I know-”

“So what is this? I feel too grown up for you? You’re twenty-six for chrissakes.”

“No, I—well, I don’t know. I don’t know. I feel like you’re not listening to me.”

“I’m trying to.”

“Then could you not sound so exasperated?” 

“I can’t help that you’re not making any sense.”

“My god.” 

“Alright, I'm sorry. I’ll admit that was a bit much.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult, I’m really not. It’s not like I go out of my way to frustrate you.”

“I know.”

“Most of the time I wish I was just agreeable, and this whole thing wouldn’t have to be what it is.”

“...”

“Do you even like me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Could you even tell me why?”

“...Because… you see things differently than I do. It’s like living the world twice over, through different lenses. All things considered, I find it beautiful: the way you think. If somehow it turns out I’ve chastised you for that, or made you feel like your perspective is less important than mine, then…well, then I apologize.

I don’t think you’re childish. Perhaps I’m too self important sometimes, and it comes across that way. I’m sorry, but I am the age I am and you are the age you are, and I’m trying to do my best with that. I don’t know.”

“...”

“Do you like me?”

“...yes.”

“Could I ask why?”

“My answer wouldn’t be as good as yours.”

“I’d like to ask anyway.”

“You dress well.”

“Very funny.”

“And you radiate warmth, even when the world is bleak. You still make it seem worth trying.”

“I think you and I are still worth trying. This, and us, and the whole thing.”

“I know. It does feel that way most of the time, but the times it doesn’t…it truly, deeply doesn’t. I’m not sure where to go with that feeling. I’m not sure I can ever have the high ground in a disagreement, and maybe that’s petty, maybe I’m giving it too much weight and we aren’t supposed to be opponents at any point in this relationship, but it feels like if we are, you’re the winner by default. You’re older, and you know more, and things are stacked in your favor inherently because what am I but the frail, silly thing that lives in your apartment?” 

“I don’t see you that way at all, Lauren. I swear to you I don't.”

“Yes, but I think maybe that’s just how it is, whether we want it to be or not.”

“You don't believe that!”

“I’m not sure what I believe.”

“Come now.”

“I just don’t know.”

“So what then? What of us, now?”

“...” 

“...The hour is so late.”

“What?”

“I’ve never noticed my windows look quite that dark.”

“...yes, the moon must not be out tonight.”

"It's strange to see so little light."

"I almost tripped coming in. It fueled my anger a bit, I think.”

“Perhaps this whole thing would have gone differently during a full moon.”

“...maybe. That’s a funny thought. I like that.”

“But…”

“It is a new moon.”

“Yes, it is. I’m tired. We should get our rest. Tomorrow is…another day entirely. I hope it creeps in slowly.”

“I’ve got to shower.”

“It's fine. Let’s lie down together.”

“But your-”

“It’s late, Lauren. None of that matters right now..”

“...are you sure?”

“It’s so late.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Let’s lie down together.” 

“...okay.”