The Witness

discuss—”
    “You know, ‘discuss’ sounds like we’re going to get into politics.” He frowned at the oven for a moment, then set it to bake the potatoes. “Why don’t we stick with talk?”
    “All right. We need to talk.”
    “About our social connection and interpersonal relationship.”
    In reflex, her back stiffened. “You’re making fun of me.”
    “A little. These are going to take a little while. Maybe we could go sit down. I could build us a fire.”
    Too cozy, she thought. “Brooks.”
    “So you can say it.”
    “Say it?”
    “My name. It’s about the first time you’ve used it.”
    That couldn’t be true. Could it? “You’re confusing me. I haven’t even started and you’re confusing me.”
    “You’re worried about what’s happening between us. Is that right?”
    Relieved to begin, she took a breath. “While I find you attractive, and I enjoyed having sex with you, I’m not willing to engage in a relationship.”
    “You already have.”
    “I—what?”
    “This is a relationship, Abigail, so you’ve already engaged in one.”
    “I didn’t intend to. I’m not willing to continue to engage in a relationship.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “I’m flattered by your interest, and I’ve enjoyed our conversations. However, my work requires a great deal of time, and complete focus. I prefer not to be distracted, and believe you require a more amenable and socially oriented companion.”
    He took a sip of wine. “Did you practice that?” He pointed at her. “You did.”
    Every inch of her body stiffened with mortification. “I fail to see why the fact that I wanted to be certain I articulated my thoughts and opinions clearly is amusing to you.”
    The arctic tone of her voice did nothing to dim his grin. “I guess you’d have to be standing on my side of the room.”
    “That’s just another way to say point of view, which is your rationale for a great deal.”
    “Yeah, it counts a lot to my way of thinking. Abigail, I figure you had to work on that little speech awhile, because most of it’s just bullshit.”
    “If you’re incapable of having a rational discussion, you should go.”
    Wineglass in hand, body angled back to the counter, he remained asrelaxed as she was rigid. “You weren’t planning a discussion. You were going to orate your practiced speech, then I was just supposed to mosey along. If you want me out, Abigail, then I think you’re going to have to tell me what’s bothering you, what you’re afraid of, and what you feel.”
    “I said I wasn’t interested.”
    “But you’re not being truthful. I don’t want to be with a woman who doesn’t want to be with me. So if that’s the case here, tell me, give me enough courtesy and respect to explain it, and I’ll grill up the steaks. We’ll have a decent meal, and I’ll go. That’s about as fair as I can make it.”
    “I told you. My work—”
    “Abigail.”
    There was a world of patience in the word, and it lit a fire under her.
    “Why doesn’t anything go the way it’s supposed to with you? Why can’t you respond logically? I can’t have a discussion with someone who refuses to be rational.”
    “At the risk of setting you off, from where I’m standing I’m being about as rational as anyone could.”
    “Then stop.”
    “Stop being rational?”
    She threw out her hands. “I can’t think!”
    “Answer this. Do you have feelings for me?”
    “I don’t want to.”
    “I take that as a yes, qualified. Why don’t you want to?”
    “I don’t know what to do with them. With you. With this. I just want it to be quiet again. I just want my routine. I think that’s reasonable.” Her voice pitched toward panic again, but she couldn’t stop it from rising. “It’s not quiet when you’re here, and everything’s off schedule and unpredictable. I can’t even go to the market because then I’m walking with you and talking to your mother and playing with a puppy, and your mother’s offering me peach sun tea. I just want to be left alone. I know how to be alone.”
    “Let’s get some air.”
    “I don’t want air!”
    “Honey, you’re shaking, and you’re having trouble getting your breath. Let’s just take a minute, get some air, settle it down.”
    “Don’t take care of me! I’ve been taking care of myself since I was seventeen. I don’t need anyone.”
    Brooks unlocked the back door. “Come on, Bert.” And, taking Abigail’s hand, pulled her outside. “If that’s