Angels Fall

I don't remember getting the hammer or the nails. I came out of it with her holding me and crying."
    "Both incidents sound like defensive measures to me. You were scared."
    "Scared doesn't cover it. And there were other incidents. I had night terrors where I could hear the crashing, and the gunshots, the screaming. I'd try to break down doors. I climbed out of the window—the same one I tried to nail shut—one night during one of them. A neighbor found me standing out on the sidewalk in a nightshirt. I didn't know where I was, how I got there." She laid a plate in front of Brody. "That's when I checked myself into the hospital. This could be a  relapse."
    "Which handily happens only when you're alone? I'm not buying. You work at Joanie's a good eight hours, five to six days a week. You spend time with me, with Linda-gail, around town. But you haven't had—what would you call it?—an episode except in your own apartment when no one's around.  Gaslight  ."
    "Are you Joseph Gotten?"
    "I like a woman who knows her classic movies." He touched her hand, just a brush of fingers. "There's another in here.  Rear Window"
    "Jimmy Stewart sees a murder across the courtyard in another apartment while he's laid up with a broken leg." Thoughtfully now, she sat down with her own plate. "No one else sees, no one believes him. Not even Grace Kelly. Not his pal the cop, shoot, shoot, give me a minute—"
    "Wendell Corey."
    "Damn it. Or the always delightful Thelma Ritter. Nobody believes that Raymond Burr's killed his wife."
    "There's no evidence to support our hero's claim. No body, no sign of struggle, no blood. And Jimmy's been acting a little strange."
    "So, in your world, I'm caught up in a mix of  Gaslight  and  Rear Window  ."
    "Watch out for guys who look like Perry Mason and/or have a French accent."
    "You're making me feel better. A couple hours ago…" She had to stop, press her fingers to her eyes. "I was curled up on the floor whimpering. I was all but sucking my thumb. I was back at the bottom."
    "No, just slipped a few rungs. And you got up again. That's courage" She dropped her hands. "I don't know what to do."
    "Right now you should eat your scallops. They're pretty fucking terrific."
    "Okay." She took a deliberate bite, and of course he was right. They were pretty fucking terrific. "I've gained three pounds."
    "Three whole pounds. Where'd I put that confetti?"
    "It's because I'm doing more cooking. Not just at Joanie's, but here. Like this."
    "Whatever I can do."
    "I'm having sex on a regular basis."
    "I repeat, whatever I can do."
    "I had my hair cut and styled."

    "So noted."
    She cocked her head. If she had to pull teeth, she'd get out the pliers. "Well, do you like it or not?"
    "It's okay."
    "Oh, please stop." She waxed a hand. "Must you be so effusive with your compliments?"
    "I'm an effusive kind of guy."
    She flipped her fingers through it. "I like it. If you don't, you should just say so."
    "If I didn't like it, I'd say I didn't. Or I'd say it was your business if you want to have crappy-looking hair all over your head."
    "That's exactly what you'd say," she replied. "Being with you has been really good for me. I like being with you, talking to you. I like cooking for you and sleeping with you. I've felt more like… I won't say  who I was , because you can never go back."
    "Maybe you're not supposed to."
    "No, you're not. I've felt more like who I hoped I could be since I've been with you. But we both know it would be smarter, saner, all around, for you and I to take a step back from each other." He frowned across the table, cutting into a scallop. "Look, if this is about you thinking you're in love with me, and that's getting everything sticky—
    "It's not." She took another, very deliberate bite of scallop. "You should consider yourself lucky I'm in love with you, even if my mental health is questionable. A lot of women may find you sexually attractive, but they'd be put off by your cranky nature."
    "Three-year-olds are cranky."
    "Exactly. It's not about my feelings for you, it's about the situation. If I'm backsliding, I'm not a good bet for even the most casual of relationships. If you're right and it's, well, outside forces, I'm a lousier bet." He picked up his beer, took a contemplative sip. "If you're just a wack job and I back off, it says I can't handle the rough spots. If someone's trying to make you out to be a wack job, same goes. And I miss out on figuring it all out. Plus, I'm not