Coda 02 -A to Z

the job keeps the bird quiet three nights a week. Sometimes, though, there’s not much for me to do. Tonight they tell me I can go at one in the mornin’. Get all the way into my apartment, all the way to my bed. It’s empty, except for Geisha. I know it’s not where I want to be. Get to Zach’s a little before two. ’Course he gave me a key. I let myself in, go in the bedroom, where he’s sleepin’.
    I get undressed and I’m just about to climb in bed with him when he says, “You’re here.”

    “That okay?”

    “Of course. I’m glad you’re here. I wish you were here every night.”
    There he goes again, always wantin’ for more. Suddenly I’m so annoyed that I wish I was still dressed so I could just walk back out. I don’t know who I’m annoyed at more—him for always pushin’ or myself for bein’ so fuckin’ scared. I sit on the edge of the bed with my back to him, put my head in my hands, try to figure out what to say.
    “What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, but there’s annoyance in his voice too.

    Suddenly that bird is thrashin’ in my chest again, and I have to put my head down between my knees, breathe in and out.
    He sighs, and I don’t know if he’s annoyed at both of us, too, or just me. He gets out of bed, gets on his knees in front of me. I sit up, and he’s lookin’ up at me. “I can’t even say that I wish you were here?”
    “Never happy, are you?” I ask bitterly. “I’ll never be good enough for you.”
    “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
    “No,” he says, and I can tell he’s tryin’ hard to be patient, “it’s not.”
    “Seems like I can’t be what you want, Zach.”
He shakes his head at me. “You are what I want, Ang.” “Doesn’t feel that way sometimes.”
    “Damn it, Ang, I’m telling you—you are! You’re the one who’s so sure that I want something you’re not willing to give.” He sounds so mad, but he’s not yellin’. Still just sittin’ there on his knees in front of me, wearin’ only his boxers. “You need to stop, Ang. Stop assuming that I mean more than what I say. Just because I say I want you here with me, it doesn’t mean I blame you for not being here. I’m just telling you how I feel.”
    Have to think ’bout that for a minute. Makes my anger disappear real fast. I never thought about it that way. Every time he says it, I think he’s mad. Think he’s tryin’ to coerce me into doin’ what he wants. But maybe he’s just sayin’ it. Just like when he tells me that he loves me.
    “Angelo, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around you. I can’t ask you to spend the night. I can’t come to your place. I can’t tell you that I miss you. I’m trying to learn to walk this line you’ve drawn between having you and smothering you, and I feel like I’m never going to get it right.”
    Never meant to make him feel that way. Never thought about how it felt to him.
    “Don’t know why you put up with me,” I say quietly. “Because I’m crazy about you, Ang. But I’m so afraid of losing you I don’t know what to do. I feel like you’re ready to take off if I make one wrong move. You’re like some beautiful, crazy bird, and any second now you’ll just fly away, and I’ll never see you again.”
    I have to smile at that. “You think I’m a bird?” It’s like he knows about that bird in my chest. He’s been seein’ it all along.
    He smiles back but only barely. It’s a sad smile. He takes one of my hands and holds it between his. “Ang, if I move too close, you’ll be gone before I know it, but if I put you in a cage, you’ll just beat yourself to death against the bars.”
    “Can’t believe I ever said you had no sense of romanticism.” “I love you so much it hurts, Ang. I know you hate hearing it, but—”
    “No.” I put my fingers on his lips to stop him. “I don’t hate hearin’ it.” And it’s the truth. I love to hear him say it. Wish I could say it back without that fuckin’ bird beatin’ me to death. “I just, I can’t….” I stop. Not sure how to finish. But I don’t need to.
    He puts one hand on each side of my face, looks into my eyes. “You don’t have to.”

    “Hate it when you’re mad at me.”

    “Don’t you see, though, Ang? That’s the problem. Because I’m never mad at you.”

    “Really?”
    “Really. I’m trying to trust you and to let you set the pace. But I wish you would trust me back. I hate feeling like I can’t